Sheed was born in London to Francis "Frank" Sheed and Mary "Maisie" Ward, prominent Roman Catholic publishers (Sheed & Ward) in the United Kingdom and the United States during the mid-20th century. Wilfrid Sheed spent his childhood in both England and the United States before attending Downside School and Lincoln College, Oxford where he earned BA (1954) and MA (1957) degrees.
A dated, creaky profile of “a son of a bitch in an imperfect world”: an aging critic. There’s one joke that’s still relevant: the struggle of the critic to engage authentically with art and life when they are constantly monitoring their thoughts to come up with the snappiest bon mots to encapsulate their perspective. Kind of the core malady of the social media age, too. But the book rambles like an aging, sporadically coherent raconteur more amused by their own cleverness than amusing to listeners.
devastating portrait of the critic as someone incapable of restraining judgment of every little thing, including all of their own thoughts—full of arrogance, cynicism, rage and insecurity. funny until it’s tragic, and breezily dense, full of associative free-indirectness. pairs precisely with Anomalisa in its depiction of narcissistic male sexual interest as briefly humanizing its female targets, before dissolving back into solipsism
I have read this novel twice decades apart. It is a gem . A sharp forceful mind may be an essential tool for a critic , the protagonist’s occupation , but is a death ray when it cannot be dimmed illuminating personal relationships .
It's a book about a whiny critic whining about his own life. He has trouble with women because he screws too many of them. His wife won't let him see his kids. I watched Woody Allen's "Deconstructing Harry" last night. Harry's got the same problems as Max does. The whining is more interesting and entertaining.