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The Essays of Leonard Michaels
NONFICTION FROM "ONE OF THE STRONGEST AND MOST ARRESTING PROSE TALENTS OF HIS GENERATION" (LARRY MCMURTRY)
Leonard Michaels was a writer of unfailing emotional honesty. His memoirs, originally scattered through his story collections, are among the most thrilling evocations of growing up in the New York of the 1950s and '60s―and of continuing to grow up, in the cultural turmoil of the '70s and '80s, as a writer, teacher, lover, and reader. The same honesty and excitement shine in Michaels's highly personal commentaries on culture and art. Whether he's asking what makes a story, reviewing the history of the word "relationship," or reflecting on sex in the movies, he is funny, penetrating, surprising, always alive on the page.
The Essays of Leonard Michaels is the definitive collection of his nonfiction and shows, yet again, why Michaels was singled out for praise by fellow writers as diverse as Susan Sontag, Larry McMurtry, William Styron, and Charles Baxter. Beyond autobiography or criticism, it is the record of a sensibility and of a style that is unmatched in American letters.
Leonard Michaels was a writer of unfailing emotional honesty. His memoirs, originally scattered through his story collections, are among the most thrilling evocations of growing up in the New York of the 1950s and '60s―and of continuing to grow up, in the cultural turmoil of the '70s and '80s, as a writer, teacher, lover, and reader. The same honesty and excitement shine in Michaels's highly personal commentaries on culture and art. Whether he's asking what makes a story, reviewing the history of the word "relationship," or reflecting on sex in the movies, he is funny, penetrating, surprising, always alive on the page.
The Essays of Leonard Michaels is the definitive collection of his nonfiction and shows, yet again, why Michaels was singled out for praise by fellow writers as diverse as Susan Sontag, Larry McMurtry, William Styron, and Charles Baxter. Beyond autobiography or criticism, it is the record of a sensibility and of a style that is unmatched in American letters.
224 pages, Hardcover
First published June 23, 2009
About the author
Leonard Michaels
40 books101 followersLeonard Michaels was an American writer of short stories, novels, and essays and a professor of English at the University of California, Berkeley.
Going Places, his first book of short stories, made his reputation as one of the most brilliant of that era's fiction writers; the stories are urban, funny, and written in a private, hectic diction that gives them a remarkable edge. The follow-up, coming six years later (Michaels was perhaps not prolific enough to build a widely popular career), was I Would Have Saved Them If I Could, a collection as strong as the first.
Going Places, his first book of short stories, made his reputation as one of the most brilliant of that era's fiction writers; the stories are urban, funny, and written in a private, hectic diction that gives them a remarkable edge. The follow-up, coming six years later (Michaels was perhaps not prolific enough to build a widely popular career), was I Would Have Saved Them If I Could, a collection as strong as the first.
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Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews
July 14, 2020
Great prose stylist, some inventive blurring of personal and critical, and some outdated and frustrating takes
October 8, 2010
In the essay 'Writing About Myself' Michaels explains that the problem is not to write merely about himself. I think he mastered that art. I’m biased, so far I've only read Sylvia and the Nachman stories aside from these essays. I feel like I know way too much about Michaels himself, but I don’t. This collection of essays was like talking to him. There are some idea, sentences and themes that appear more than once in the various essays and that’s what gives the impression to be having a conversation with Michaels. As he explains in the essay about Ravelstein: ‘Bellow is aware of the repetitions. It’s the way people talk.’
Michael’s interest in language and sentences is something that has always attracted me. Being foreign and flirting a lot with the English language, I’m getting more and more obsessed with it myself. In My Yiddish Michaels tackles the musicality of language:
'Ultimately, I believe, meaning has less to do with language than with music, a sensuous flow that becomes language only by default, so to speak, and by degrees. In great fiction and poetry, meaning is always close to music. Writing about a story by Gogol, Nabokov says it goes la, la, do, la la la, etc. The story’s meaning is radically musical. I’ve often had to rewrite a paragraph because the sound was wrong. When at last it seemed right, I discovered—incredibly—the sense was right. Sense follows sound.'
Still in the language sphere, in 'What’s a Story?' Michaels explores one of his favorite sentences (this is one that gets mentioned more than once) by Kafka: 'A cage went in search of a bird.'
To which, he comments: 'Literally preposterous, Kafka’s whole sentence mimics the action of life, as if there were no other way to seize a certain weird, ultimately inexplicable, institution: The meaning of life is that it stops.'
There is another sentence that Michaels loves and repeats to us, “Whereof we cannot speak, we must be silent” of Wittgenstein. Because some things lie too deep for the scummy touch of words.
Michael’s interest in language and sentences is something that has always attracted me. Being foreign and flirting a lot with the English language, I’m getting more and more obsessed with it myself. In My Yiddish Michaels tackles the musicality of language:
'Ultimately, I believe, meaning has less to do with language than with music, a sensuous flow that becomes language only by default, so to speak, and by degrees. In great fiction and poetry, meaning is always close to music. Writing about a story by Gogol, Nabokov says it goes la, la, do, la la la, etc. The story’s meaning is radically musical. I’ve often had to rewrite a paragraph because the sound was wrong. When at last it seemed right, I discovered—incredibly—the sense was right. Sense follows sound.'
Still in the language sphere, in 'What’s a Story?' Michaels explores one of his favorite sentences (this is one that gets mentioned more than once) by Kafka: 'A cage went in search of a bird.'
To which, he comments: 'Literally preposterous, Kafka’s whole sentence mimics the action of life, as if there were no other way to seize a certain weird, ultimately inexplicable, institution: The meaning of life is that it stops.'
There is another sentence that Michaels loves and repeats to us, “Whereof we cannot speak, we must be silent” of Wittgenstein. Because some things lie too deep for the scummy touch of words.
September 14, 2010
Even after googling and reading a number of write-ups that assess his writing I can't really explain why I found it so appealing, if forced I'd say it was because he hit me as direct, effective, always interesting, and effortless to read. If you loathe 70s film writer/directors you'll want to stay away and vice versa.
Michaels grew up in NYC, went to Michigan, and taught at Berkley. Months ago This Recording put up an except from Sylvia and before reading it I inexplicably scoured amazon reviews and reserved a collection of his short stories, "In the Fifties" is my initial favorite. Many more short stories, two weekend length novels, and his diary have since been sped through.
The essays, my favorite, were divided into critical and personal. The latter surprised me by topping the critical first half of the collection which would have still been super enjoyable even if it hadn't given me a page and a half of references/names/vocab words to wikipedia, a more than small pleasure in and of itself.
Michaels grew up in NYC, went to Michigan, and taught at Berkley. Months ago This Recording put up an except from Sylvia and before reading it I inexplicably scoured amazon reviews and reserved a collection of his short stories, "In the Fifties" is my initial favorite. Many more short stories, two weekend length novels, and his diary have since been sped through.
The essays, my favorite, were divided into critical and personal. The latter surprised me by topping the critical first half of the collection which would have still been super enjoyable even if it hadn't given me a page and a half of references/names/vocab words to wikipedia, a more than small pleasure in and of itself.
February 17, 2011
In the drip-drop of literary journal essays I have never found a fist to balls approach to thinking and exegesis. Michaels will re-learn you some essayin'.
March 8, 2015
I enjoyed the autobiographical essays a lot more than the critical essays. "My Father" was my favorite by far.
April 15, 2022
Each line a revelation. Essay on Max Beckmann, writing about himself, essay on Edward hopper. All fab
August 8, 2023
His son was the singer in Operation Ivy, but I won’t hold that against him.
Read
August 28, 2009i read it thanks to the new york publich library, people! a thinker, now late. I still remember something he said about Hegel 25 years ago, those without power watch and wait, a theory of revolution. power only wants more power. he was the first no bullshit writing teacher I had, him and Thom Gunn, wiry and charismatic, and there's some good stuff in here. classy guy, don't listen to the Player Haters. Don't even hate the Game, its a good one.
May 7, 2017
I read his "Sylvia" by accident and couldn't stop reading his other works. This led me to this book. Got a glimpse into 60s, 70s America. Leonard writes about simple and honest incidents inspired from his life. A pleasure to read. Sad that he is not well known around the world.
April 4, 2012
Sometimes I think that to read and re-read the essay on his father is enough. It's perfect.
October 1, 2020
Essays, feeling like naturally historicals of “clasticity” (ibid a New Canaan Advertiser 1968 high school graduation article), conjured up, to describe future resolutions of willy nilly cultural angsts, at play in Las Praderas del Cielo, conversational prosody.
It just so happened my sixth grade West School self captioned the painting of a flying baby dinosaur “Neatsi Keeno,” a phrase which came forth from deep within, while on the playground, also staying after second grade South School days to write out sentences right handed “to correct left hand writing,”.. still willy nilly left hand drawing labeled pictures, upon the desk of rewriting a right hand sentence. The teacher asked the room “Who did this?” pointing at my pictures desk. I wondering, said “me?” For, who knows why, I somehow began walking home daily, neatsi keeno after regular schooling hours concluded.
“Writing is an act of faith, not a trick of grammar,” (ibid E.B. White, in time). Novel words and apt pictures of good will, help.. of course seems about ‘At Home’ (Nathanael Greene Slater drawing and writing pictorial nonfiction novel ii of vii c.2017, 272 captioned panels following book i, ‘Abc Dadb’ c.2012 about two kids exploring neatsi keeno places with their father, charm of that to be content, with conversation, at home, as well mathness); all seven book volumes describe naturally historical art of work and love in life further beyond WWII’s Normandy beach landings, way following upon way showing how it can, silly
interconnectedness even disarming terminal seriousness.
Metaphor goes only so far. Truth and mirth apparently go hand in hand as well side by side; character and beauty fascinating to live.
An ‘At Home’ early chapter panel caption persists to be “Grim truth never was the whole truth, regardless life’s always 100% fatal, it never ends“.. forgiving, recovery through progress of generations, inevitably simplified toward complex yet understandable horizons.
An ancient apprehension, likewise, is all which lives grows out of what has died. And so courses nurturing production remain important doableness wise.
Thought now is the seven pictorial non-fiction novel book volumes have to do with original inclination, unraveling horizons, surprises yummu talk: mouth-watering charm.
Essay impels a person to stop and think; hope wondering to avoid how far can getting a way with foul plays go, naturally inclined to be a dream come true, rewriting so kind competence emerges, hopefully healthy, for likewise the beautiful other’s “.. omphaloskepsis might be contemplation of one's navel as an aid to meditation” of long remembering conversation meeting in a room where you sat in a looking chair, looking.
Perhaps we’re entering an era of reconciling complications caused by malicious intent; relative climate, infections, culture, to be at home with love and peace “of a dream trying to be true” (Walt Disney describing something good of the WWII era).
To bring up tastes of something good, with mirth, not by forgetting, but by remembering, just how tunings of existance move something good further beyond whatever, agreeably, to be seen again, still original, completing what’s always present.
Who knows? We’ll see. And we shall find words to express what, deep within where there’s no place to hide, arise for dear others; “.. you remember the places, the people, the names.” (1978 “Darkness On The Edge Of Town, Bruce Springsteen, Adam Raised A Cain”)
Having to Google “clasticity,” especially after spell check prompted “plasticity” and “elasticity” but not “class”
or “city” or “-ity,” or even “itty bitty,” my spell check remains okay compared to what others have to say about theirs.
And so, “clasticity” appeared to be a beautiful and apt word, given when it was invoked, to describe original culture emerging as well composed with fragments of distinct prior cultures. Cultural anthropology describing comprehension stepping up to the plate of what’s to do next.
So well, “clastic” rocks are composed of fragments, or clasts, of pre-existing minerals and rock. A clast is a fragment of geological detritus, chunks and smaller grains of rock broken off other rocks by physical weathering. Wikipedia conversational word play stuff.
Furthermore, “-ity” is a suffix: forming nouns denoting condition (“humility"), or denoting a quality (“a profanity").
This circumscribes fun of reading these short Leonard Michaels nonfiction essays in the interesting order given; historicals concluding each essay include date originally published, giving slant to content relative latter half of the 20th century.
“Remember, the fifth of November.” 1605 qed John Lennon Plastic Ono December 1970 ‘
https://youtu.be/NgnRDBp3JPA
It just so happened my sixth grade West School self captioned the painting of a flying baby dinosaur “Neatsi Keeno,” a phrase which came forth from deep within, while on the playground, also staying after second grade South School days to write out sentences right handed “to correct left hand writing,”.. still willy nilly left hand drawing labeled pictures, upon the desk of rewriting a right hand sentence. The teacher asked the room “Who did this?” pointing at my pictures desk. I wondering, said “me?” For, who knows why, I somehow began walking home daily, neatsi keeno after regular schooling hours concluded.
“Writing is an act of faith, not a trick of grammar,” (ibid E.B. White, in time). Novel words and apt pictures of good will, help.. of course seems about ‘At Home’ (Nathanael Greene Slater drawing and writing pictorial nonfiction novel ii of vii c.2017, 272 captioned panels following book i, ‘Abc Dadb’ c.2012 about two kids exploring neatsi keeno places with their father, charm of that to be content, with conversation, at home, as well mathness); all seven book volumes describe naturally historical art of work and love in life further beyond WWII’s Normandy beach landings, way following upon way showing how it can, silly
interconnectedness even disarming terminal seriousness.
Metaphor goes only so far. Truth and mirth apparently go hand in hand as well side by side; character and beauty fascinating to live.
An ‘At Home’ early chapter panel caption persists to be “Grim truth never was the whole truth, regardless life’s always 100% fatal, it never ends“.. forgiving, recovery through progress of generations, inevitably simplified toward complex yet understandable horizons.
An ancient apprehension, likewise, is all which lives grows out of what has died. And so courses nurturing production remain important doableness wise.
Thought now is the seven pictorial non-fiction novel book volumes have to do with original inclination, unraveling horizons, surprises yummu talk: mouth-watering charm.
Essay impels a person to stop and think; hope wondering to avoid how far can getting a way with foul plays go, naturally inclined to be a dream come true, rewriting so kind competence emerges, hopefully healthy, for likewise the beautiful other’s “.. omphaloskepsis might be contemplation of one's navel as an aid to meditation” of long remembering conversation meeting in a room where you sat in a looking chair, looking.
Perhaps we’re entering an era of reconciling complications caused by malicious intent; relative climate, infections, culture, to be at home with love and peace “of a dream trying to be true” (Walt Disney describing something good of the WWII era).
To bring up tastes of something good, with mirth, not by forgetting, but by remembering, just how tunings of existance move something good further beyond whatever, agreeably, to be seen again, still original, completing what’s always present.
Who knows? We’ll see. And we shall find words to express what, deep within where there’s no place to hide, arise for dear others; “.. you remember the places, the people, the names.” (1978 “Darkness On The Edge Of Town, Bruce Springsteen, Adam Raised A Cain”)
Having to Google “clasticity,” especially after spell check prompted “plasticity” and “elasticity” but not “class”
or “city” or “-ity,” or even “itty bitty,” my spell check remains okay compared to what others have to say about theirs.
And so, “clasticity” appeared to be a beautiful and apt word, given when it was invoked, to describe original culture emerging as well composed with fragments of distinct prior cultures. Cultural anthropology describing comprehension stepping up to the plate of what’s to do next.
So well, “clastic” rocks are composed of fragments, or clasts, of pre-existing minerals and rock. A clast is a fragment of geological detritus, chunks and smaller grains of rock broken off other rocks by physical weathering. Wikipedia conversational word play stuff.
Furthermore, “-ity” is a suffix: forming nouns denoting condition (“humility"), or denoting a quality (“a profanity").
This circumscribes fun of reading these short Leonard Michaels nonfiction essays in the interesting order given; historicals concluding each essay include date originally published, giving slant to content relative latter half of the 20th century.
“Remember, the fifth of November.” 1605 qed John Lennon Plastic Ono December 1970 ‘
https://youtu.be/NgnRDBp3JPA
April 10, 2017
He makes philosophy interesting!!! That's not easy to do!! His essays are so good, esp his essays on Yiddish and Hopper (tho they're all so good how can they even be separated by what's best??)
May 2, 2009
I reviewed this book for Library Journal, so I can't talk about it. It's on this page somewhere... http://www.libraryjournal.com/article...
February 6, 2012
A great book. taught me and informed me and sent me into introspection.
December 2, 2016
This guy has talent by the balls and puts it in a sack.
Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews