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Saul Bellow: Letters

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It's impossible to read this collection of some 700 of Saul Bellow's vast output of correspondence over more than 70 years without feeling a tinge of sadness. That's because our powerful and ubiquitous new modes of electronic communication make it almost certain we'll never see volumes like this one from some of our most talented contemporary authors. Bellow's deluge of commentary on the writing life, friendship, art, love, loss and the effort of one brilliant human being to navigate the choppy waters of a vibrant life almost makes us nostalgic in advance for what we'll be missing.

Novelist and essayist Benjamin Taylor, the editor of this collection (he contributes a brief interpretive essay and a chronology that will be especially helpful to those not intimately familiar with Bellow's work), does an effective job shifting the focus between the personal and professional in Bellow's life. Alongside copious correspondence with the author's Chicago childhood friends, extended letters to many of the major literary figures of the 20th century's second half appear in these pages. Bellow had long and warm exchanges with Ralph Ellison (who lived for a time in a house Bellow owned in Tivoli, New York), Robert Penn Warren and John Berryman. There's even one letter harshly critical of William Faulkner's support for a pardon for the anti-Semite Ezra Pound ("If sane he should be tried again as a traitor; if insane he ought not to be released merely because he is a poet."). His intense relationships with critics like Alfred Kazin and Lionel Trilling seemed to warm or cool based on the reception of his latest work. But in the end, he wrote in 1978 to his friend John Cheever, "There are no critics I could nominate for anything but crucifixion."

Bellow's graciousness and generosity to his fellow writers repeatedly surface in these letters. Perhaps because of his own at first unsuccessful efforts to secure a Guggenheim Foundation grant, once he became a fellow, Bellow actively promoted the applications of writers like Grace Paley ("an excellent writer, fresh, original, independent, clear in her aims") and Bernard Malamud ("I think his merits will be no less plain to the gentlemen of the committee than they are to me."). He was also a keen judge of rising literary stars, first corresponding with Philip Roth in 1957 (Roth was 24), and later nominating him for a Nobel Prize ("His books have been so widely examined and praised that it would be superfluous for me to describe, or praise, his gifts.") and developing a warm friendship with Martin Amis that carried through to the end of his life.

It was not until his mid-40s that Bellow attained anything resembling financial security (he supplemented his writing income with an array of teaching positions at elite institutions throughout his life), and concerns about money surface frequently in his correspondence. And even after capturing the Nobel and Pulitzer Prizes in 1976, he complained to Wright Morris that his stories had been "rejected by the Atlantic, Esquire and others." But with all the acclaim showered on him after the publication of THE ADVENTURES OF AUGIE MARCH and HERZOG, Bellow understood he ultimately would be judged on the quality of his literary craftsmanship. In a 1956 letter to critic Granville Hicks, he wrote:

"[T]here is only one way to defeat the enemy, and that is to write as well as one can. The best argument is an undeniably good book. If that doesn't convince 'em, and it may not for the spirit of denial is very strong, one has at least labored to some purpose in having reached less arbitrary and opinionated souls who have not yet learned of the lamentable obsolescence of fiction."

Bellow's prodigious literary talent perhaps was matched only by the disaster that was his personal life. Married five times and father of a child at age 84, in 1977 he was sentenced to prison for contempt by a judge who concluded he had concealed assets from his third wife in their divorce settlement (he never served time). His observation in the midst of that legal battle that his "experience with courts and lawyers leaves no room for optimism" is hardly surprising. A decade later, he complains that "a new group of lawyers is gnawing at my foundations."

It's the unguarded quality of these letters, in which Bellow lays himself bare far more than in any conventional autobiography that makes this volume so engaging. Bellow's singular voice --- energetic, passionate, often querulous --- gushes from every page. Inevitably, that persona shares the stage with someone who had at least one eye firmly fixed on his literary legacy. And while a few of the more personal letters might have benefitted from some judicious pruning, they're quickly supplanted by more substantial fare.

Saul Bellow had the benefit of a long life (he died in 2005 just two months short of his 90th birthday) and the blessing of good health that allowed him to remain vigorous and productive well into his 80s. Anyone with even a passing interest in the history of American literature in the second half of the 20th century will find rich rewards in these letters.

--- Reviewed by Harvey Freedenberg (mwn52@aol.com)

The humor that courses through these letters is remarkable. To cite just one example, a favorite of mine, is Bellow's letter to Henry Volkening in which Bellow, in a pure flight of fancy, recalls his chance encounter with F. Scott Fitzgerald--long dead at this point--in Europe. Bellow refers to Fitzgerald as "The Master of the Human Heart" and "The great analyst of the soul." It seems Fitzgerald-bashing was fashionable at the time (though I suppose Fitzgerald gets the last laugh now that his book is read by almost every high-schooler). Bellow's energy and wit make this book a joy to read. At times, your head is spinning. However, Bellow can sing in more than one key. Many of the letters are full of sorrow, nostalgia, anger, and joy (including those to the wives, childhood friends, and reviewers). Those to his fellow writers--Roth, Ozick, Cheever, Berryman, Ellison--are among the most engaging. Benjamin Taylor has done an amazing job of editing these letters and it's refreshing to read a collection that is brief but insightful in its annotation. As I believe it's already been said, it is not surprising that Bellow, the author of the letter-ridden Herzog (Penguin Classics), is also a wonderfully engaging letter-writer himself.

I don't think this book would be appealing to someone who isn't already pretty familiar with Bellow.You know who you are .You've read all or most of the novels and probably read James Atlas' biography.The letters on display here tend to be short.They are generally interesting but strike me as guarded. You get some good tidbits.My favorite was reading that I. B.Singer was of bad character .I would have loved a bit more.You generally don't get it.I was also surprised that there is as little discussion of literature as there is .I can think of any number of writers I would have enjoyed reading Bellow comment on.Instead you are more likely to read that Bellow looks forward to seeing Claire Bloom again .I guess I would too but no one would care. Content yourself with the pleasure that comes from reading one of America best novelists and literary intellectuals talking to and occasionally gossiping with his friends.

Saul Bellow never envisioned a collection of his letters. We can thank Mr. Bellow's secretary for saving many of them. And Bellow's good friends and not-so-good friends too. But most of all, we must get down on our knees and thank Benjamin Taylor for this gorgeous book. Taylor only used about 20% of the material he gained access to. What he has crafted here has nothing less than the heft of a novel. Taylor traces the arc of Bellow's full-blown life using the words of the master, deliciously private words. I grew up reading Bellow and I thank my lucky stars Taylor had no agenda, no axe to grind. It's parlous to imagine Bellow's self-portrait in lesser hands. If you're smart, you'll put SAUL BELLOW:LETTERS in your Shopping Cart this minute. If nothing else, your own letters will improve. Thank you, Mr. Taylor, wherever you are. And by the way, I loved your novels, TALES OUT OF SCHOOL and THE BOOK OF GETTING EVEN.- Patricia Volk

Bellow is one of the greatest American writers of the twentieth century. These letters tell us quite about Bellow the man, Bellow in his personal relations. Unlike his famous 'Herzog' letters they are not directed to the dead and the living, the famous and great in many different walks of life. They do not take on for the most part the great intellectual issues. They are personal letters, and primarily concerned with Bellow himself and his own affairs. They reveal a person capable of loyalty and friendship, a writer of tremendously generous spirit capable of praising and forwarding the work of peers and potential rivals. They too reveal a man who loved women, and had and no doubt caused no small heartbreak in his relations with them. One feels in his letters the passion for the women he loved when he loved them. But for me the most impressive letters of all were those he wrote as father, both those to his sons, and those to former wives. Anyone who knows the tremendous pain and difficulty involved in being a divorced and caring father will appreciate Bellow's letters to his ex- wives. They are classic in the way he puts the welfare of the child above all, and the way he deals with the anger, resentment, bitterness, threats , blackmail of former wives. Bellow is of course also throughout these letters a master stylist a writer whose language is alive. He also shows moral backbone in a letter to William Faulkner explaining why he cannot support the release of Fascist propagandist poet Ezra Pound from incarceration. Bellow is also moving in a condolence letter he writes to Nathan Tarcov, the son of Bellow's longtime friend Oscar Tarcov. Bellow has the gift of empathy, of really seeking to feel and understand the person he is addressing. He is at the highest level in his emotional intelligence.

These letters have been highly praised by many of the notable writers who were Bellow's friends. Cynthia Ozick even made the argument in her review that of all the writers of their time it is Bellow who most likely will endure.

I do not believe these letters on the whole and overall have the brilliance of Bellow's greatest works, which to my mind are 'Seize the Day ' 'Herzog' and 'The Old System'. But they are shot through with flashes of brilliance, and enrich the sense of the person Bellow was, and the life he lived.

In his excellent introduction to the work, the Letters' editor Benjamin Taylor does not discuss the question of 'fairness and objectivity'. i.e. A far more sympathetic picture of Bellow emerges from these letters than from the most significant biography yet, that of James Atlas.

The Letters whether in every way or not a representative selection are more work of a writer of the kind and level most readers will always be happy to have more of.

Thank you Saul. You were the best.

Despite his Canadian origins (and Russian heritage), Saul Bellow was widely viewed as one of the leading voices on the American condition. His novels were among the top of his generation as well as the stuff of many awards including the Nobel Prize in literature. "Letters," painstakingly assembled by Benjamin Taylor and spanning seventy years of documents, covers the long life and times of the prolific writer and clearly serves as the autobiography Bellow never wrote.

In it, there resides a remarkable treasure trove of history, relationships with family, lovers and friends, and most distinguishing, the author's relentless interactions with his fellow writers - everyone from Faulkner and Cheever to the (then) younger generation of Philip Roth and Martin Amis. The letters, many of which were written far from his Chicago base, as Bellow was constantly moving from city to city, lecturing and teaching in addition to writing, cover a wide range of emotions, reflections and in-the-moment demeanor. (Taylor tapped hundreds of sources, from the deceased author's descendants - sometimes for a single letter - to various collections and was even the beneficiary of a public call by the New York Review of Books.)

Bellow's mood swings from wistful joy to grinding angst to philosophical ennui in ways that seem at times mercurial yet always filled with detailed yet oft-times interpretative reflections on the events of his day. Beyond his relationship with the literati, "Letters" bares witness to Bellow's growing involvement in a broader society as he intermingles with politicians to Hollywood movers and shakers, still seemingly finding the time to recount every detail through these traveling missives. In one revealing glimpse, this self-described "scrapper" reflects on his task, exclaiming how hard he has to work "just to keep the record straight."

Even his relationship to the letters themselves changes and evolves over the decades. Late in life, he writes to Stanley Elkin, "I lost the habit of writing long personal letters - a sad fact I only now begin to understand. It wasn't that I ran out of friendships altogether. But habits changed. No more romantic outpourings." Later, recounting an encounter with Issac Rosenfeld he says the writer told him, "`I threw away all your letters.' And he made it clear he meant to shock me, implying that I would feel this to be a great loss of literary history. I felt nothing of the sort," says Bellow. "I was rid of future embarrassment."

Hardly. Bellow's manuscripts, photographs, ephemera and more are archived at the University of Chicago. The ambitions and hard working nature of his life are chronicled for all to explore. "Letters" is the first-hand personal guidepost of a journey through the literary history of the 20th Century. As the chronicle of a far reaching life and with it, the raw emotions, sophisticated writing and abundant personal intimacy, it is the furthest thing from a `future embarrassment.'

I ordered http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B004Y6MUM2/ref=cm_cr_rev_prod_title Saul Bellow: Letters as a gift for my husband. NO WHERE in the description of the book was the note that it was a remaindered copy with the tell tale black mark across the pages on the bottom of the outside. While he certainly cares about the content of the material, just that one marker line devalues the book itself. Certainly it would have been simple to include that note on what was purported to be a new book. That meant I bought it assuming it was in pristine condition. Tsk, tsk.

I purchased this book for my Father's 75th birthday, and he absolutely loved it. He is an enormous fan of Bellow's work, and will readily tell anyone that "Henderson the Rain King" is his favorite novel. This is no small thing considering the fact that he is an avid reader.

He thoroughly enjoyed reading Bellow's day to day writing in the form of his letters and found them no less enchanting than the author's more formal works.

While I did not read the book, I would highly recommend it as a gift to those who appreciate and enjoy Bellow's work.

Not every great writer is a great writer of letters. Saul Bellow is the exception, as this exhilarating collection of his eloquent prose, from the vernacular to the oracular, reveals. "Style" is difficult to describe but we know it when we see it, and we see it on virtually every page of this remarkable collection meticulously selected and edited (his preface is itself a work of art) by Benjamin Taylor, a gifted novelist. It is increasingly clear that in our era of sound-bites, tweets, and hurried email exchanges there are going to be few documents like this one, collections of unhurried correspondence filled with humor, insight, and elegance. Perhaps years from now when Philip Roth's correspondence is published, or that of Annie Proulx, we will have another work of this importance, but for now this collection stands beside that of Flannery O'Connor's letters as a rare and irresistible treasure.