Joseph Epstein demonstrates time and again his talent for taking nearly any subject and polishing it into a gem of sparkling wit and fascination. In Narcissus Leaves the Pool, he displays his signature verve and charm in sixteen agile, entertaining pieces. Among his targets in this collection are name-dropping, talent versus genius, the cult of youthfulness, and the information revolution.
Joseph Epstein is the author of, among other books, Snobbery, Friendship, and Fabulous Small Jews. He has been editor of American Scholar and has written for the New Yorker, the Atlantic, Commentary, Town and Country, and other magazines.
Ah, Joseph Epstein, that most elegant of writers almost from a bygone time, with his jokiness, his brio, his off-the-charts smarts, his round glasses and cable knit sweaters.
Epstein helmed The American Scholar for 25 years, which I know because a) I just looked it up; and b) I was weirdly friends with this old guy who lived with his "child bride" (his words) in a house packed with furniture and books and ashtrays (the living room had two sofas, one in front of the other - it was a little bit like sitting in business class, if business class had fur bestrewn, cigarette burned seats) and he used to subscribe to the NYROB, the New Yorker, NYT Book Reviews, The American Scholar, and the Spectator, among others. He never in a million years read all these things, but he gave it the old college try. He also bought books by the truckload and didn't read most of those, either. It took him half an hour to roll one cigarette, for god's sakes. He was fabulous, but the point is, he used to send me home with bags of these things once he was done with them (or said he was done with them) ... and in short, that’s how I met Joseph Epstein.
The American Scholar, for those who don’t know it, is not for the feeble-minded. Obvious as it may seem, it tends to be for scholars and the odd non-academic who has a snicker-jack mind. I do not have a membership in either of those clubs. Also, let’s keep in mind, I was inundated with this stuff, as well, once it was passed along. The only thing I felt remotely comfortable with was The New Yorker and the NYT Book Review. The NYROB reviewed books like “Unnatural Disaster: The Finer Points of Fracking” or “Emmanuel Kant: True Epistemologist or Aesthetic Dilettante?” and stuff like that there, which was just not, mmmm. The American Scholar I didn’t even pretend to be up for, intellectually. I was also 25 at the time, with not much accredited education to my name, and ... yeah. Didn’t really read any articles.
But I read every essay of Epstein’s in every issue of the Scholar, and they were the most charming, accessible, erudite and witty pieces of writing I’d likely ever come across at the time. There’s something so pleasurable in reading writing that someone seems to just take so much delight in. It’s contagious. There was something kind of funny about looking forward to getting the new Scholar, so I could read his piece. If it sounds like a kid from the 60s waiting for the paper so they can grab the funnies, the analogy is pretty apt.
Epstein's gift for communicating seems so effortless and yet so carefully constructed to evoke empathy in the reader. All of these essays are worth reading ("The Pleasures of Reading," "Grow Up, Why Dontcha?"), but I was especially struck by 2 of his essays. "Will You Still Feed Me?" describes Epstein's experience of aging, both in dealing with a body that doesn't behave as youthfully as it once did and also in interacting with a world that doesn't figure him into the picture anymore. It restirs in me a long-felt indignation with the American society which tosses aside the aged, disregarding their wisdom and divesting them of any value they might contribute to the greater society. "Taking the Bypass" describes Epstein's experience of open-heart surgery and the effects that it has on his psyche and self-perception. These types of ruminations on the shallowness shown by our society as it invests its time and effort into youth and beauty peel back the layers of feigned importance to reveal that there must be something more to life than reaching, sustaining, and trying to regain life at the age of twenty-something.
I found this collection interesting, witty, occasionally profound and worth revisiting in another 20-30 years. Mr. Epstein muses about mostly light subjects (napping, name-dropping, pet peeves), squeezing the intellectual juice out of them into well-crafted essays. Meditations on aging link the pieces in the collection but so too does his opinion that most things in the U.S. – sports, music, writing, dress - have slid terribly downwards since the 1950’s. Sometimes this made me feel sorry for him but at other points his opinions struck me as needlessly fuddy-duddy. Still, I’m sure I’ll pick up another book by Epstein because while I can’t say I “really liked it”, I would say I “quite liked it”. (See p.234: Anglophilia, American Style).
Reflections on life from a superb essayist. He's so honest and humorous and often profound. The best piece is on friendship and is entitled "My Friend Edward."
What I appreciate about Epstein's writing is that he seems more interested in writing clearly than sounding smart. But lest we think him a rube, he is sure to drop quotations from what at first seems like an array of literary giants, but ends up being mostly Henry James. Having never read Henry James, I can't say whether or not he's all Epstein cracks him up to be. (That last sentence was an impersonation of Epsteinian self-deprecation.)
Epstein can be funny, but I rarely found him penetrating. His essays tend to focus on the individual experience--napping, word pronunciation, heart surgery--and he devotes little (if any?) time to social and political commentary. He is, no doubt, a charming man. But he seems, at times, unaware of the world around him. This can make for a pleasant read, but it's not a quality I generally seek from essayists.
A lovely little book of essays, not much that's capital-I important, yet full of insight and excellent writing. I did find it interesting that despite so many of these essays reflect on old age and nearing the end of life, Epstein has lived nearly 25 years past the publication of this book and is still writing. Perhaps there's a lesson there.
Such a treat to read a collection of well-written essays - so witty, funny and erudite. I had to have my iPhone handy to find the definition of more than a few words! I particularly liked “The Pleasures of Reading” and “ My Friend Edward.”
Best said by another reviewer, Epstein's work is "diamond-hard prose" where he is the modern master of the essay. This book is a gold mine of referenced works to read to enrich the hungry mind.
I did enjoy these essays, but I am not in his league. I still got some good laughs and new vocabulary words from this read. Joseph Epstein's writing is full of cutting wit, keen observation, copious amounts of name dropping, with some healthy ego sprinkled in. I should have gotten it on my kindle, then I could have just toggled over to get the definition of one to three words on each page. I should also have just read a chapter at a time, instead of all at once. I probably would have gotten more out of it - although I might just be deluding myself! THE ART OF THE NAP - "My view of students sleeping in my classes is that, what the hell, if they cannot arise from my teaching inspired, let them at least awake refreshed." pg64
- from the jacket: "Joseph Epstein's sixth collection of personal pieces winningly and brilliantly rounds off his twenty-three-year tenure as editor of The American Scholar. "The trick with these essays," he recently wrote, "is to take what seems a small or mildly amusing subject and open it up, allow it to exfoliate, so that by the end something arises that might be larger and more intricate than anyone -- including the author -- had expected." Among the things that arise here are naps, Gershwin, ageing, name-dropping, long books, pet peeves, talent vs. genius, Anglophilia, and surgery -- the head and the heart."
Lent by Mr. Montes (Bernie, my piano teacher). If I ever had aspirations of being a darn good writer (and who doesn't?), I would so want to write like Mr. Joseph Epstein! - This 4-star review (amended today) was written sometime before 2010, surely.
Fast forward to September 5, 2016: I just finished rereading the book, and for his essays on the pleasures of reading, anglophilia and pet peeves, to name a few, I give it 5 stars. The book is notable for the last chapter, as here explains Mr E's friendship with the man he vocally owes so much to, his conscience, Edward Shils.
His last essay entitled "My friend Edward" kept me up through the wee hours of the night. His friend Edward was a remarkable fellow; someone I would have liked to know. Perhaps I will meet someone akin to him later in life. However, I realized that Epstein (nor the reader) could ascertain Edward's eternal state. Epstein's gift for introspection and analysis are penetrating and helpful. After reading Narcissus, I want to read his other essays.
Wow. Maybe his most impressive collection of essays. Love the ones on name dropping and the aged. Never fails to get you thinking along lines you hadn't before.
Epstein doesn’t need me or anyone else to tell him that he’s a superb essayist. His sentences are a real pleasure, and so is his dry humor. I just wish he had more interesting things to say.