Point to Point Navigation: A Memoir (Hardcover)

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Editorial Reviews

From Publishers Weekly

It would be too easy to say Vidal's second memoir picks up where Palimpsest left off; as in that earlier book, he essentially lets his memories flow at will, often revisiting yet again the stories of his Washington childhood. The general focus, however, is on the latter half of his life, particularly the deaths of those closest to him, including his longtime companion, Howard Auster. Yet Vidal changes subjects and tone so frequently and abruptly—here tender, here combative—that the family memories and celebrity anecdotes become scattershot, limping to a close with a bizarre summary of somebody else's theory about how organized crime bosses ordered the assassination of John F. Kennedy. Assured of his own genius ("I have never needed an editor"), he repeatedly slams biographer Fred Kaplan as "dull" and sex-obsessed, then jabs at a few other people who've written about him. He also makes frequent observations about the current events unfolding as he writes, and his criticisms of the New York Times and the Bush administration's "oil-and-gas junta" will come as no surprise. In short, the memoir is a perfect encapsulation of Vidal's outsized personality—and readers' reactions will be determined by how they already feel about him. (Nov. 7)
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From The Washington Post

When I was growing up in Washington, WDCA-TV ran a weekly horror-flick showcase called "Creature Feature," hosted by Count Gore de Vol. The count was suave, fond of cheesy movies and inclined to plant his teeth in the nearest neck. In all these respects, he was the double of Gore Vidal, whose vampiric sang-froid has seen him through a long and bustling career of pamphleteerism and historical revisionism -- with plays, novels and screenplays thrown in for ballast. And if Vidal isn't technically speaking undead, there has always been something about his tireless stream of prose that seems unruffled by mortality.

The biggest surprise, then, of Vidal's latest memoir -- more surprising than Eleanor Roosevelt's (allegedly) sapphic passion for Amelia Earhart, more surprising than Jeanette MacDonald (allegedly) groping a strange man, more surprising even than the young Gore's hero-worship of Mickey Rooney -- is the sight of America's iciest provocateur thawing at the prospect of his own endgame. Bereaved, unmoored, hobbled by an artificial knee and ruptured spinal disks, the Vidal of Point to Point Navigation is reduced, like the hero of Samuel Beckett's play "Krapp's Last Tape," to a conversation with old selves.

And what glamorous selves they were. Vidal may be a populist on paper, but he has managed to spend a large part of his life standing on Aubusson rugs. (A typical sentence begins, "One evening as I was dressing to go out to dinner at Mimi Pecci-Blunt's palace outside the Campidoglio. . . .") If he has any veterinarians or accountants among his friends or enemies, they have yet to be revealed. His 50th-birthday party attracted the likes of Princess Margaret and Lady Diana Cooper; while in London for the event, he bumped into Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, a relation-by-marriage whom Vidal, still seething over old slights, ignored. "Bye-bye," she murmured.

Vidal contains multitudes, yes, and at times the names pile up in associative train wrecks: Saul Bellow triggers Mary McCarthy, who sets off Randall Jarrell, Delmore Schwartz, Robert Lowell. The celebrity-juggling, time-skipping structure that proved so effective in Vidal's earlier memoir, Palimpsest, registers now as a helpless subservience to age. Old hates -- Truman Capote, Vidal's own mother -- are brought back for fresh savaging; old anecdotes about Jane Bowles and Tennessee Williams are recycled; and large chunks of the life go missing. To cite one gap, why is there no full account of Vidal's notorious 1968 televised run-in with William F. Buckley Jr.? (For those who think politics was a gentler business in those pre-Rove days, Buckley's ad homo-nem snarl is just the corrective: "Now listen, you queer, stop calling me a crypto-Nazi or I'll sock you in your goddamn face and you'll stay plastered.")

By book's end, Vidal has dragged us perhaps to a few too many dinners, but he remains a peerlessly entertaining companion, especially when he's working in miniature. His snapshot of Orson Welles: "When he laughed, which was often, his face, starting at the lower lip, would turn scarlet while sweat formed on his brow like a sudden spring rain." Jacqueline Susann had "large dark eyes whose thick false lashes resembled a pair of tarantulas in a postcoital state." Compare them with Graham Greene's eyes, which were "curiously glazed, like mica," and Eleanor Roosevelt's "tombstone teeth." Here's Rudolf Nureyev, raging at the president of the United States for refusing to bring over Nureyev's mother: "I told this Carter he would be punished for not allowing an old woman to come visit her son, for his cruelty and his rudeness and then I said that because of this behavior he would lose the coming election, which he did and all thanks to my curse. Very powerful, these Russian curses."

Vidal himself is not above cursing, but readers of Palimpsest were startled to find him doing something quite opposite: holding a torch for a childhood sweetheart named Jimmie Trimble, "the unfinished business of my life," killed on Iwo Jima at the age of 18. (Don't get the author started on "good wars.") From the evidence, one could believe that Vidal's heart was killed off in the same instant -- were it not for this second volume's moving testament to the late Howard Auster, Vidal's companion for more than half a century. They met on Labor Day 1950. Years later, Auster told Vidal "that he thought he was just passing through my life and was surprised as the decades began to stack up and we were still together. But then it is easy to sustain a relationship when sex plays no part and impossible, I have observed, when it does. Each had a sex life apart from the other: all else including our sovereign, Time, was shared."

Until lung and brain cancer began to do their work. Heading into surgery, Auster asked Vidal, out of the blue, to kiss him. "I did. On the lips, something we'd not done for fifty years." The end came not long after. "I passed a hand in front of his mouth and nose. Nothing stirred. . . . The eyes were open and very clear. I'd forgotten what a beautiful gray they were -- illness and medicine had regularly glazed them over; now they were bright and attentive and he was watching me, consciously, through long lashes. Lungs, heart may have stopped but the optic nerves were still sending messages to a brain which, those who should know tell us, does not immediately shut down. So we stared at each other at the end."

Vidal soon scurries back inside his "WASP glacier," but the spectacle of an intellectual carapace cracking under the weight of grief is as affecting here as it was in Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking. Nothing in the above should suggest that Gore Vidal has gone "soft." (Donald Rumsfeld would be well-advised not to turn his back on him.) But for a few pages, he hammers his stake into his own heart, and something discombobulatingly sweet comes pouring out. Who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?

Reviewed by Louis Bayard
Copyright 2006, The Washington Post. All Rights Reserved.

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Product Details

• Hardcover: 278 pages
• Publisher: Doubleday; 1st edition (November 7, 2006)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 0385517211
• ISBN-13: 978-0385517218
• Product Dimensions: 9.1 x 6.3 x 1 inches
• Shipping Weight: 1.2 pounds (View shipping rates and policies)
• Average Customer Review: 4.2 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (30 customer reviews)
• Amazon.com Sales Rank: #329,119 in Books (See Bestsellers in Books)

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99 of 103 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars The "Fruit of Eden" a review by Christine Smith, Colorado, November 7, 2006

By	EJG - See all my reviews

Mark Twain wrote "Grief can take care of itself, but to get the full value of a joy you must have somebody to divide it with," and so it is, too, with historian and author Gore Vidal.

Point to Point Navigation is best described as a stream of consciousness. Reflections, observations, and reminisces, not in any chronological order necessarily, but as one thought leads to another Vidal recollects interesting as well as poignant memories from throughout his life. Filled with Vidal's wit and observations, one comes away from the book with a sense of what it must be like to sit down with this renowned author simply for a talk together.

Aptly titled, "Point to Point Navigation" refers to the dangerous navigation Vidal had to use during World War Two when as first mate on an army freight-supply ship they had to maneuver without compass (inoperable due to weather) but rather by memorized landmarks and without radar, a process which the writing of this memoir made him feel as if he "were again dealing with those capes and rocks in the Bering Sea," for the memoir presents a nonlinear reflection of a life whose course and recollection thereof has twist and turns but which remained on course.

Vidal is one of America's finest biographers: author of twenty-five novels including his fascinating informative Narratives of Empire series, six plays, many screenplays, and more than two hundred essays. He is an esteemed political commentator who has expertly utilized rationality and erudite humor regarding topics such as sex, religion, politics, literature, and history of empire.

I have loved the man's works since I was a teenager, from his essays and earliest novels to his more recent pamphlets regarding American imperialism, his words have educated, enlightened, and given me much to ponder. When I consider Vidal, I think of knowledge. As I recall the many Vidal essays, novels and interviews I've read, I am reminded yet again of a Twain quote Vidal exemplifies, "I cannot call to mind a single instance where I have ever been irreverent, except toward the things which were sacred to other people." (from Twain's Is Shakespeare Dead?) Such unrestrained candor is what makes Vidal a pleasure to read.

Though subtitled "A Memoir 1964-2006" the book reaches far back into Vidal's earliest childhood years with touching stories of his fascination with cinema (including a charming anecdote of seeing his first movie in 1929), as well as his family and early exposure to politics and politicians. All this is presented with a wry humor and beautiful style we've come to expect from him, such as this indicative gem, "Contrary to legend, I was born of mortal woman, and if Zeus sired me, there is no record on file in the Cadet Hospital at the U.S. Military Academy, West Point..."

Point to Point Navigation seems shorter than Vidal's first memoir, Palimpsest, and also seems to contain shorter chapters, and in the latter chapters it digresses into quotes/excerpts/and Vidal's commentary upon other's books: that of Dennis Altman's Gore Vidal's America, Marcie Frank's How To Be An Intellectual In The Age of TV: The Lessons of Gore Vidal, and Lamar Waldron and Thom Hartmann's Ultimate Sacrifice.

As a reader of most of his works, I appreciated his occasional comments on the writing of such greats as Myra Breckinridge, Washington D.C., and occasional references throughout the book on his life during the writing of other works.

But in the primary quest to learn more of Vidal's experiences, the reader is generously rewarded, with this reader at times nearly brought to tears, with other passages making me laugh a loud at his signature wit and sarcasm. Far more than entertaining, Point to Point Navigation delves into what this reader would consider painfully personal experiences, as well as Vidal's recounting of tidbits from the huge array of well known personalities he has known including among others Jack and Jacqueline Kennedy, Eleanor Roosevelt, Saul Bellow, Orson Welles, Greta Garbo, Federico Fellini, Elia Kazan, and Francis Ford Coppola.

My personal favorites of Vidal's memories of those he has known are of Tennessee Williams, Johnny Carson, Rudolph Nureyev, Paul Bowles and Amelia Earhart. Recollections of his father, Gene Vidal, were poignant. Of his mother, Vidal is extraordinary in his objective perception and awareness of her even from his youngest years (a most difficult task for most children even as adults).

For a man who is, as he has oft repeated, not his own subject, Vidal superbly permits the reader to observe the seasons of his life, heart and mind: taking us on a journey from the spring, summer, autumn and now into the winter of his life, even venturing into dreams of Edgewater, Howard Auster, and his father.

Both throughout the writing of the memoir and the years covered, a number of Vidal's friends and acquaintances of his age-range, die...with the notification or recollection thereof resulting in yet more memories and thoughts.

Vidal begins with prose reminiscent of his Screening History, with several stories regarding his youth including memories of the army's dispersion of the First World War veterans at a Boners' camp in 1932 at Anacostia Flats of which Vidal always remembered, causing him to be alert to all films regarding the French and Russian revolutions; his fascination with twins or "doubleness," including commentary upon the film The Prince and the Pauper"; and memories of his favorite theaters and the films he viewed and which stayed with him sometimes for a lifelong effect. Later he ventures into his decision and details of his two campaigns for public office (1960 & 1982).

Willing to share even the most personal experience of the loss of his partner of fifty-three years, Howard Auster, Point to Point Navigation was particularly beautiful because of Vidal's joyful memories of Auster (told in a perfect "past present" tense to use one of Vidal's terms), his sharing of their time during Auster's illness, Vidal's references following Auster's death of the plans for trips or celebrations which will never be realized, as well as Vidal's poignant reflections on death and grief.

It is because of Vidal's willingness to share such deep personal experiences and observations of his beautiful friendship with Howard Auster, that I began this review with Twain's quote upon grief. I was particularly touched by Vidal's references of the "we" (he and Auster) now having become the singular "I, " except, of course, in Vidal's memories where the "we" remains as if in the seeming present...making such recollections of their years and travels together all the more poignant and conveying to the reader the joy of such deep friendship.

Vidal has indeed been the "Fruit of Eden" for many (a phrase Tennessee Williams noted in a letter to Vidal). May he never deviate from his thus far ever so accurate point to point navigation. Despite what may transpire in these dire days of "the last empire," may he stand firm, without compromise, behind the strong message he has consistently spoken and written for years.

In summary, 'Point to Point Navigation,' as with 'Palimpsest,' brought to my mind and heart Grieg's Piano Concerto in A Minor, Adagio, a composition reminiscent to me for years of Vidal's life from childhood to the man now in his eighties. A life of solitude amidst the many around him...a life of reflection amidst worldly distraction...a life of truth in a world of lies. A life well-lived, and through which we may all gain more wisdom, intellectual insight, and knowledge with Point to Point Navigation being one more piece in a lifetime of literary work I highly recommend.

16 of 16 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Toward the Door Marked Exit, December 28, 2006

By	Izaak VanGaalen (San Francisco, CA USA) - See all my reviews (TOP 500 REVIEWER)    (REAL NAME)

If name dropping bothers you, you will not want to read this book, for most of the author's best friends belong to the Who's Who of the 20th century. And if egotism and self-glorification annoy, you will have even more reason not to open this book. But then let's be open-minded, in memoirs the Self always plays the starring role, and in Gore Vidal's case, he always shines and often outshines some of the 20th century's most interesting characters.

Vidals list of friends and acquaintances include Tennessee Williams, Truman Capote, Anais Nin, Johnny Carson, Rudolph Nureyev, Eleanor Roosevelt, Paul Newman, Orson Welles, Saul Bellow, JFK, Princess Grace, Princess Margaret, Amelia Earhart, Greta Garbo, Federico Fellini...just to name a few. One notices that most of these people are no longer among the living and Vidal, now 82 and in failing health, is pondering his own journey "toward the door marked Exit."

There is no continuous narrative in this book. The stories jump from the Hudson Valley to the Hollywood Hills to Ravello and back again. It zooms back and forth in time as well with 30 and 50 year jumps, so the metaphor of point to point navigation is apt. I have read only a few of Vidal's novels (Kalki, Messiah, Myra Breckenridge, Creation) but I have read, I think, most of his essays. Some critics predict that Vidal's American chronicle series of novels are his best work (I couldn't finish them.) but I believe that his essays will be his lasting legacy.

Vidal's essays are always witty, observant, and his prose is always a precision instrument. He often repeats himself, especially in this book. He recognizes that his memory is failing and wonders out loud whether he has already told some these anecdotes. But the telling is always entertaining. He alwalys consults his master, Montaigne: "..describe what you see, not how you feel." ( That's approximate, I'm quoting from memory which also has lapses.)

Although many of his essays are glib and supercilious, there is a moving and heartfelt account of his companion of 53 years, Howard Auster. Auster has been mentioned before over the course of Vidal's long career but this is the first time Vidal has written about him at any length. Towards the end of his life when Auster asks, "Didn't it go by awfully fast?" Vidal's reply was, "We had been happy and the gods cannot bear the happiness of mortals."

In an elegiac tone, not only with Auster's death but the deaths of most of his friends, Vidal is readying himself for his own departure. He had thought of calling this book "Between Obituaries." All things considered, this is still a wonderful if gloomy memoir of one of the century's most brilliant literary careers.

15 of 15 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars These Rehersals For Death- Between Obituaries, December 9, 2006

By	prisrob "pris," (New EnglandUSA) - See all my reviews (TOP 500 REVIEWER)

"No other writer has peered so intently under the hood of American Society. None can match his uncanny gift for "telling us what we want to know' about public life, including politics, theatre and the movies. Three worlds he has noted where 'no one is under oath'. But this author kept one subject under cover: himself. His new book is a sad, spotty chronicle that would suggest Gore is stuck in a fog from a dwindling set of landmarks. Vidal's' imagination has always been able to get into the past. With his first memoir, Palimpsest, Vidal finally took the witness stand." James Marcus

None of us know much about Gore Vidal, he likes it that way. His two memoirs have finally put sight on himself, and the people he liked and those he loved. Gore's wit could cut someone, usually politicians, to the core without them even realizing they had a sliver. However, with his contemporaries, authors,per say, he is even tempered and respectful. His stories about Tennessee Williams, whom he adored, but wrote about with sarcasm and satire are ones to savor. As are his stories about and with Johnny Carson. Carson and Gore liked each other and when Gore appeared on 'The Tonight' show, that was what television was all about. There are witty remembrances of Paul Bowles, Federico Fellini, Amelia Earhart, and Jackie Onassis. Gore Vidal's father had a 'fling' with Amelia Earhart and this inside is a story in itself. And, the stories of Saul Bellow, 'a man of Bentha glimpsed checking out some sexy nuns with Albetto Moravia.' Of course, the fact that Gore Vidal had entrance to the Camelot known as the Kennedy Administration, was his forte. He and the Kennedy's had spats, but one of the final chapters in this memoir is about Kennedy and his death and this portrayal has credence.

The most painful portion of this book is the time and death of Vidal's companion Howard Austen. Vidal gives s a vivid portrayal of his life just before Howard's death, and the final moments of Howard's life, when he checks for breathing 'by passing a hand in front of his nose and mouth'. These are poignant and give us insight into the man that is Gore Vidal. We learn about Gore Vidal's entry into politics and why it did not work out. The writing of his forty-six books, his philosophy of life and the writers he revered. Gore Vidal loved his grandfather, the blind senator, T.P. Gore.

"In due course, he moved west to the Indian territories and helped organize Oklahoma as a state where he served as their first senator from 1907 through 1937. His last years were spent working as an attorney for several Indian tribes that had been cheated of their land by the US Government."

"Gore Vidal has the looks of a prince, the connections of a prince, more wit than any prince, and a prose style that should be the envy of the dwindling few who realize that prose style matters." Larry Mc Murtry.

This is a book to be revered for all of us Gore Vidal fans. Gore Vidal is now eighty-one and his memoirs may end at book two, but a trilogy would be most welcome. Highly Recommended. prisrob 12/09/06