We’re running out of giants
Say “so long” to Saul Bellow.
In the eighties, during my formative years (although some might say I have yet to be completely formed…still being a little undercooked in the middle), Bellow along with Bernard Malamud, John Cheever, and Jorge Luis Borges were the men I wanted to be when I grew up. Obviously that never happened.
In reading his obituary I was surprised at how much Bellow I’ve read in my life. In fact Bellow may be third to only “Kenneth Robeson” (over 70 novels read between the ages of nine and 12) and Wallace Stegner. I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for Henderson the Rain King, but only because I was too young when I read Herzog. There was something in Henderson’s “I want. I want.” that struck a chord with me at that time. Now I find that what “I want” is to go back and read Herzog again to find out if I have grown any wiser.
Who knew that would be the answer…