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In a Cardboard Belt!: Essays Personal, Literary, and Savage
Joseph Epstein has been called America’s “liveliest, most erudite and engaging essayist” (James Atlas), and In a Cardboard Belt! provides ample proof for the claim. Taking his title from the wounded cry of the once great Max Bialystock in The Producers -- “Look at me now! Look at me now! I’m wearing a cardboard belt!” -- Epstein gives us his largest and most comprehensive collection to date.
Writing as a memoirist, polemicist, literary critic, and amused observer of contemporary culture, he uses to deft and devastating effect his signature gifts: wide-ranging erudition, sparkling humor, and a penetrating intelligence. In personally revealing essays about his father and about his years as a teacher, in deeply considered examinations of writers from Paul Valery to Truman Capote, and in incisive take-downs of such cultural pooh-bahs as Harold Bloom and George Steiner, this remarkable collection presents us with the best work of our country’s most singular talent, engaged with the richness and variety of life, witty in his response to the world, and always entertaining.
Writing as a memoirist, polemicist, literary critic, and amused observer of contemporary culture, he uses to deft and devastating effect his signature gifts: wide-ranging erudition, sparkling humor, and a penetrating intelligence. In personally revealing essays about his father and about his years as a teacher, in deeply considered examinations of writers from Paul Valery to Truman Capote, and in incisive take-downs of such cultural pooh-bahs as Harold Bloom and George Steiner, this remarkable collection presents us with the best work of our country’s most singular talent, engaged with the richness and variety of life, witty in his response to the world, and always entertaining.
410 pages, Hardcover
First published September 6, 2007
1 person is currently reading
80 people want to read
About the author
Joseph Epstein
105 books114 followersJoseph 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.
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Displaying 1 - 21 of 21 reviews
March 3, 2008
My final review differs very little from my initial impressions, given in comment #2 below. So I am taking the lazy way out by cutting and pasting:
I started with those essays flagged as "attacks" (on Mortimer Adler, Harold Bloom, and Edmund Wilson, respectively), because - let's be honest - a skillful intellectual skewering of a suitably pompous target is usually pretty entertaining. But Epstein wields a bludgeon, not a rapier, and his animosity against his targets feels way too personal. For one thing, Adler is a former boss of his, and he doesn't seem to realise that trying to settle scores with a former employer through public attack just makes him (Epstein) look petty. Particularly when part of the attack is to ridicule Adler for his physical clumsiness, and for his failure to pass Columbia's mandatory swim test.
Epstein is also way too fond of the throwaway remark that plunges the stiletto into the ribcage. For instance:
"I do not know of any genuine contribution that Mortimer Adler made to serious philosophy.."
"I don't believe Susan Sontag's celebrity finally had much to do with the power or cogency of her ideas."
"Wisdom, in a critic, is never excess baggage. Edmund Wilson, it begins to be clear, traveled light", having previously characterized Wilson as "a bald, pudgy little man with a drinking problem, a nearly perpetual erection, and a mean streak".
There are far too many of these - often completely gratuitous - asides, whose characteristic feature, aside from the nastiness, appears to be that they are invariably directed at people who have been more successful than Epstein.
And for all that he purports to take down others for the 'pompous' nature of their writing, his own tone in the essays "The Perpetual Adolescent" and "The Culture of Celebrity" pretty much defines old fogeydom. So that it wasn't particularly surprising to read, in the final essay, documenting his tenure as editor of "The American Scholar", that:
"In my twenty-three years as editor, the title 'Ms' never appeared in its pages"
"I moved slowly ... on changing from 'Negro' to 'black'"
"I was not big on 'gay' either.."
Unfortunately, by the time I got through these pieces, I had developed an antipathy to Epstein that made it almost impossible to be enthusiastic about the other essays I tried. (I didn't read the 'personal' pieces). Though I did quite like the pieces on Auden and Keats.
In hindsight, it might have been better to read the "personal" pieces before the attack pieces, as it would have given a greater chance of developing some sympathy with Epstein. I will not be seeking out other work by this author.
I started with those essays flagged as "attacks" (on Mortimer Adler, Harold Bloom, and Edmund Wilson, respectively), because - let's be honest - a skillful intellectual skewering of a suitably pompous target is usually pretty entertaining. But Epstein wields a bludgeon, not a rapier, and his animosity against his targets feels way too personal. For one thing, Adler is a former boss of his, and he doesn't seem to realise that trying to settle scores with a former employer through public attack just makes him (Epstein) look petty. Particularly when part of the attack is to ridicule Adler for his physical clumsiness, and for his failure to pass Columbia's mandatory swim test.
Epstein is also way too fond of the throwaway remark that plunges the stiletto into the ribcage. For instance:
"I do not know of any genuine contribution that Mortimer Adler made to serious philosophy.."
"I don't believe Susan Sontag's celebrity finally had much to do with the power or cogency of her ideas."
"Wisdom, in a critic, is never excess baggage. Edmund Wilson, it begins to be clear, traveled light", having previously characterized Wilson as "a bald, pudgy little man with a drinking problem, a nearly perpetual erection, and a mean streak".
There are far too many of these - often completely gratuitous - asides, whose characteristic feature, aside from the nastiness, appears to be that they are invariably directed at people who have been more successful than Epstein.
And for all that he purports to take down others for the 'pompous' nature of their writing, his own tone in the essays "The Perpetual Adolescent" and "The Culture of Celebrity" pretty much defines old fogeydom. So that it wasn't particularly surprising to read, in the final essay, documenting his tenure as editor of "The American Scholar", that:
"In my twenty-three years as editor, the title 'Ms' never appeared in its pages"
"I moved slowly ... on changing from 'Negro' to 'black'"
"I was not big on 'gay' either.."
Unfortunately, by the time I got through these pieces, I had developed an antipathy to Epstein that made it almost impossible to be enthusiastic about the other essays I tried. (I didn't read the 'personal' pieces). Though I did quite like the pieces on Auden and Keats.
In hindsight, it might have been better to read the "personal" pieces before the attack pieces, as it would have given a greater chance of developing some sympathy with Epstein. I will not be seeking out other work by this author.
December 30, 2011
Mr. Epstein's essays are tedious, muddy, and what's worse, they miss the point.
In general I dearly love a snob, and cackle happily when Nabokov takes down Dostoyevskii or Jenny takes down charcuterie that lacks savoriness. So I was looking forward to Epstein on Bloom, or even Epstein on hyperrhetorical PoMo academia. But where my favorite critics bring to their criticism an openness because of their love of beauty, Epstein seems closed, bricked in behind his old-white-guy tastes and prejudices. Could he, would he, find beauty and value in a work about gay sex written by a Black man? Even if that work had wondrous literary qualities, I doubt it. He remarks on his own dislike of affirmative action in hiring (and what he sees as affirmative action in publishing, criticism, and awarding prizes) without ever making the case for his position. His further comments that there are increasingly fewer great minds overall these days lead me to think that there isn't some (male, hetero, white-skinned) paragon of virtue he really feels deserves these jobs, prizes, etc., it's just that he doesn't like what he didn't grow up with.
For example, he has to explain and apologize each time one of his literary heroes is gay. On W.H. Auden's queerness: "with which he seems lifelong to have been on entirely comfortable terms, quite without self-pity, though at the same time he never romanticized it." (148) What? As if the natural and expected response to being gay is self-pity? As if it's like consumption? This and other bits here and there (e.g. the use of 'homosexual' rather than lgtbq or gay or queer, the scoffing of queer theory without ever subjecting it to measured intellectual consideration, frequent phrases to the effect of get-that-gay-off-me) make me suspect Epstein of something ugly.
So: Epstein doesn't actually lay out his arguments, he just makes insults. He doesn't value literary qualities wherever they are found, only where they are convenient and nonthreatening to him. His book drags, his jokes are cheap, his reflexive homophobia is an irritating tic.
The point is beauty, humanity, and learning, Mr. Epstein. I won't read another of his books.
antes de leer:
Books in Print: Nonfiction Connection recommended this for a fan of Consider the Lobster. It is more literary--dissing on Harold Bloom and the MLA--and possibly more peevish. But with "wry humour and perceptive erudition" (Publishers Weekly review).
814.54
In general I dearly love a snob, and cackle happily when Nabokov takes down Dostoyevskii or Jenny takes down charcuterie that lacks savoriness. So I was looking forward to Epstein on Bloom, or even Epstein on hyperrhetorical PoMo academia. But where my favorite critics bring to their criticism an openness because of their love of beauty, Epstein seems closed, bricked in behind his old-white-guy tastes and prejudices. Could he, would he, find beauty and value in a work about gay sex written by a Black man? Even if that work had wondrous literary qualities, I doubt it. He remarks on his own dislike of affirmative action in hiring (and what he sees as affirmative action in publishing, criticism, and awarding prizes) without ever making the case for his position. His further comments that there are increasingly fewer great minds overall these days lead me to think that there isn't some (male, hetero, white-skinned) paragon of virtue he really feels deserves these jobs, prizes, etc., it's just that he doesn't like what he didn't grow up with.
For example, he has to explain and apologize each time one of his literary heroes is gay. On W.H. Auden's queerness: "with which he seems lifelong to have been on entirely comfortable terms, quite without self-pity, though at the same time he never romanticized it." (148) What? As if the natural and expected response to being gay is self-pity? As if it's like consumption? This and other bits here and there (e.g. the use of 'homosexual' rather than lgtbq or gay or queer, the scoffing of queer theory without ever subjecting it to measured intellectual consideration, frequent phrases to the effect of get-that-gay-off-me) make me suspect Epstein of something ugly.
So: Epstein doesn't actually lay out his arguments, he just makes insults. He doesn't value literary qualities wherever they are found, only where they are convenient and nonthreatening to him. His book drags, his jokes are cheap, his reflexive homophobia is an irritating tic.
The point is beauty, humanity, and learning, Mr. Epstein. I won't read another of his books.
antes de leer:
Books in Print: Nonfiction Connection recommended this for a fan of Consider the Lobster. It is more literary--dissing on Harold Bloom and the MLA--and possibly more peevish. But with "wry humour and perceptive erudition" (Publishers Weekly review).
814.54
February 8, 2021
A terrific collection of perfect essays, In a Cardboard Belt reminds the reader of a time when ideas mattered, when essays written by generalists for intelligent readers appeared more often, and when poetry was still alive. (Epstein's portrait of Auden is one of the best pieces in the book.) Epstein has read widely and well: his allusions are as instructive and illuminating as his arguments. His personal essays on his father, teaching college English (and the moment he decided he could no longer teach Henry James), and purging his hime of books are entertaining; his examinations and appreciations of Auden, Proust. Keats, and Karl Shapiro will make the reader want to reread these writers; his takedowns of Harold Bloom, Edmund Wilson, and the contemporary cult of the adult adolescent are spot-on. These essays feature one perfect sentence after another and showcase Epstein's intelligence, sense of humor, and skillful turn-of-phrase. To be reminded of a world in which people admired Mortimer Adler and in which Epstein's attack of him would have raised eyebrows is a treat. He's a terrific, terrific writer.
November 14, 2017
An excellent collection of essays. Even when I expected not to be interested in a subject, Epstein managed to draw me in for at least the length of his article.
February 28, 2018
I really wanted to like this book, and some of the essays are interesting (such as getting rid of books) but many of the essays were just not worth the time to even read.
October 31, 2009
There are few things in life that get me more excited than the discovery of a new writer. I am not referring here to just your general excellent writer. Here I reference the kind of writer who comes along - or whom one discovers - only once every few years. The kind of writer who, within the first ten pages, you realize is something special. Who, ten pages later, has you wondering how many other books they've written. Who, after still another ten, has filled you with delight.
I discovered Joseph Epstein in early 2008. If you are familiar with his work you may be thinking, "well, what took you so long?", for Epstein is now in his seventies and has been publishing since the 1960s. Certainly I had heard of him, and his reputation. But when you are like me and always have a list of twenty of more books you are dying to read (most of which you secretly know you'll never have time to get to), some books and writers are bound to get lost in the shuffle. Epstein's "Friendship: An Expose" had been on a list in my wallet for a few years back then but I never took the bait. But, in early 2008, after reading Terry Teachout's review of Epstein's book "In a Cardboard Belt!: Essays Personal, Literary, and Savage", I bit. I'll never regret it.
Epstein, as the title of this book makes clear, is an essayist - an essayist supreme. I love the format of the short personal essay - ten or twenty pages about a particular subject from the author's unique point of view. I'm not sure anyone does it better than Epstein. These essays are of such high quality and are so entertaining - so much fun! - they leave you filled with delight. As I alluded to above, with some writers it is immediately clear that they are perfect at what they do, and Epstein is one of them. This book is simply wonderful. I went on to read six more of his collections during the summer of 2008 (for me it was The Year of Reading Epstein) and I can recommend all of them, especially "Narcissus Leaves The Pool," "A Line Out For a Walk," and "Snobbery: The American Version." Silly as it sounds, by the end of last summer I felt like I had a new friend.
I discovered Joseph Epstein in early 2008. If you are familiar with his work you may be thinking, "well, what took you so long?", for Epstein is now in his seventies and has been publishing since the 1960s. Certainly I had heard of him, and his reputation. But when you are like me and always have a list of twenty of more books you are dying to read (most of which you secretly know you'll never have time to get to), some books and writers are bound to get lost in the shuffle. Epstein's "Friendship: An Expose" had been on a list in my wallet for a few years back then but I never took the bait. But, in early 2008, after reading Terry Teachout's review of Epstein's book "In a Cardboard Belt!: Essays Personal, Literary, and Savage", I bit. I'll never regret it.
Epstein, as the title of this book makes clear, is an essayist - an essayist supreme. I love the format of the short personal essay - ten or twenty pages about a particular subject from the author's unique point of view. I'm not sure anyone does it better than Epstein. These essays are of such high quality and are so entertaining - so much fun! - they leave you filled with delight. As I alluded to above, with some writers it is immediately clear that they are perfect at what they do, and Epstein is one of them. This book is simply wonderful. I went on to read six more of his collections during the summer of 2008 (for me it was The Year of Reading Epstein) and I can recommend all of them, especially "Narcissus Leaves The Pool," "A Line Out For a Walk," and "Snobbery: The American Version." Silly as it sounds, by the end of last summer I felt like I had a new friend.
Read
October 30, 2007I am really enjoying reading this collection.
About this book, Booklist says, very perceptively, I think:
"Epstein's essays have appeared in venues as diverse as the Atlantic Monthly and Commentary; his books include short story and essay collections, a brief life of Alex de Tocqueville, and popular treatises on snobbery, friendship, and envy. He has taught English and writing and served for 23 years as the editor of American Scholar. A writer of intellectual rigor, strong and often grating opinions, and high self-regard, Epstein is a consummate stylist, and this is his most adventurous essay collection to date. Epstein analyzes his 33-year habit of keeping a journal. In literary essays that can serve as models for the form, he illuminates overlooked aspects of Proust, Isaac Bashevis Singer, and Max Beerbohm. He is at once vicious and hilarious as he attacks Mortimer Adler and Harold Bloom. A delving thinker, Epstein can also be flip, even juvenile when writing of women and sex. But even when his truculence feels gratuitous, he writes so darn well that one can't help but keep reading. Zingers abound, as do splendid analogies and metaphors, and the illuminations far outweigh the diminutions."
Well, I;m not sure about "truculence feels gratuitous", but it's a very good collection.
Ed
About this book, Booklist says, very perceptively, I think:
"Epstein's essays have appeared in venues as diverse as the Atlantic Monthly and Commentary; his books include short story and essay collections, a brief life of Alex de Tocqueville, and popular treatises on snobbery, friendship, and envy. He has taught English and writing and served for 23 years as the editor of American Scholar. A writer of intellectual rigor, strong and often grating opinions, and high self-regard, Epstein is a consummate stylist, and this is his most adventurous essay collection to date. Epstein analyzes his 33-year habit of keeping a journal. In literary essays that can serve as models for the form, he illuminates overlooked aspects of Proust, Isaac Bashevis Singer, and Max Beerbohm. He is at once vicious and hilarious as he attacks Mortimer Adler and Harold Bloom. A delving thinker, Epstein can also be flip, even juvenile when writing of women and sex. But even when his truculence feels gratuitous, he writes so darn well that one can't help but keep reading. Zingers abound, as do splendid analogies and metaphors, and the illuminations far outweigh the diminutions."
Well, I;m not sure about "truculence feels gratuitous", but it's a very good collection.
Ed
November 17, 2007
"Having a high threshold for praise, I also don't in the least mind meeting strangers who tell me that they take some delight in my writing...
'You're slightly famous, aren't you, Grandpa?' my then 8-year-old granddaughter once said to me. 'I am slightly famous, Annabelle,' I replied, 'except no one quite knows who I am.' ....The only large, lumpy kind of big-time celebrity outside movie celebrity, is to be had through appearing fairly regularly on television. I had the merest inkling of this fame when I was walking along one sunny morning in downtown Baltimore, and a red Mazda convertible screeched to a halt, the driver lowered his window, pointed a long index finger at me, hesitated, and finally, the shock of recognition lighting up his face, yelled, 'C-SPAN!' (p 371)
"The first rule in avoiding writer's block is never to think of writing as in any way a creative activity, with its own dramas and tensions. For as soon as one does think about writing as creative-- a bogus word in any case-- one thinks about all that can go wrong with it. Much better, I have always found, to demystify writing as completely as possible. I frequently remind myself that formulating sentences remains one of the most amusing of all pastimes-- and, besides (though I shouldn't want this to get around), it beats working all to hell." (p 330)
'You're slightly famous, aren't you, Grandpa?' my then 8-year-old granddaughter once said to me. 'I am slightly famous, Annabelle,' I replied, 'except no one quite knows who I am.' ....The only large, lumpy kind of big-time celebrity outside movie celebrity, is to be had through appearing fairly regularly on television. I had the merest inkling of this fame when I was walking along one sunny morning in downtown Baltimore, and a red Mazda convertible screeched to a halt, the driver lowered his window, pointed a long index finger at me, hesitated, and finally, the shock of recognition lighting up his face, yelled, 'C-SPAN!' (p 371)
"The first rule in avoiding writer's block is never to think of writing as in any way a creative activity, with its own dramas and tensions. For as soon as one does think about writing as creative-- a bogus word in any case-- one thinks about all that can go wrong with it. Much better, I have always found, to demystify writing as completely as possible. I frequently remind myself that formulating sentences remains one of the most amusing of all pastimes-- and, besides (though I shouldn't want this to get around), it beats working all to hell." (p 330)
June 23, 2013
Lots of insights, and ideas (and motivation) for future reading.
notes:
title from max bialystock quote
26 pullups at 70!
auden...let all your thinks be thanks
--my decay proceeds roughly on schedule...not yet acquired one of those funny walks
4..dad example of decency
--keep low overhead
10..father's bad financial decisions, misjudgements about people
steadfastness one of his virtues...a man you could count on
mother's cancer....he did the shopping, the laundry, the cooking, never letting his spirits fall.
a sentimentalist for his family
Great reverence for his mother, always repeating her sayings, marveling at her wisdom.
13..his failures leave one with a permanently bleak view and an overwhelming dark imagination of disaster.
27..assassin's cloak...irene & alan taylor
46..the generations of American men who owned no clothes whatsoever for leisure
48..i like home too much and seek no escape from it.
74..the last word...NYT obits...russell baker
100..pruning library...i ceased dropping into used book stores, those pool halls for the bibliomane
102..read herzen's My Past thoughts, before checkout time
104..Ravel's writings
122..Valery's Notebooks
194..no distinction between reading and experience, reading IS experience. Proust is our man.
202..Berner...read
209...karl shapiros Updike compilation
notes:
title from max bialystock quote
26 pullups at 70!
auden...let all your thinks be thanks
--my decay proceeds roughly on schedule...not yet acquired one of those funny walks
4..dad example of decency
--keep low overhead
10..father's bad financial decisions, misjudgements about people
steadfastness one of his virtues...a man you could count on
mother's cancer....he did the shopping, the laundry, the cooking, never letting his spirits fall.
a sentimentalist for his family
Great reverence for his mother, always repeating her sayings, marveling at her wisdom.
13..his failures leave one with a permanently bleak view and an overwhelming dark imagination of disaster.
27..assassin's cloak...irene & alan taylor
46..the generations of American men who owned no clothes whatsoever for leisure
48..i like home too much and seek no escape from it.
74..the last word...NYT obits...russell baker
100..pruning library...i ceased dropping into used book stores, those pool halls for the bibliomane
102..read herzen's My Past thoughts, before checkout time
104..Ravel's writings
122..Valery's Notebooks
194..no distinction between reading and experience, reading IS experience. Proust is our man.
202..Berner...read
209...karl shapiros Updike compilation
November 12, 2007
I've been a devoted reader of Joseph Epstein's since the early 1980s when I read an essay in "Commentary" magazine by him called "My Friend Martin." That essay was so engaging, well written, and touching that I've actively sought Epstein out since then. It's been my pleasure to be in the audience of his essays and short stories for the last quarter century.
Epstein's latest essay collection features many of his chief interests: literature, literary reputations, academics (both education and professors), the explication of pet peeves, and books of all sorts. He writes about reading with such love that his essays on the topic should be assigned to middle school students: young people who are at a point in their lives when their minds can be turned in a direction that, whether they know it or not, is ultimately favorable to themselves.
By turns amusing, informative, corrective, and always stylish and fun, "In a Cardboard Belt!" provides a mix of passions that make it a good place for readers new to Epstein to start. I especially recommend this book to anyone interested in literature, good writing, and literary personalities.
Epstein's latest essay collection features many of his chief interests: literature, literary reputations, academics (both education and professors), the explication of pet peeves, and books of all sorts. He writes about reading with such love that his essays on the topic should be assigned to middle school students: young people who are at a point in their lives when their minds can be turned in a direction that, whether they know it or not, is ultimately favorable to themselves.
By turns amusing, informative, corrective, and always stylish and fun, "In a Cardboard Belt!" provides a mix of passions that make it a good place for readers new to Epstein to start. I especially recommend this book to anyone interested in literature, good writing, and literary personalities.
March 18, 2009
I want to love this book. The topics are funny and insightful, but I couldn’t get past the somewhat smarmy and cantankerous tone. The writer himself even said, “Life is not easy for me being a snob and a reverse snob simultaneously.” His style flows between supercilious to sincere, and in sections becomes slightly condescending. I admire his career and volume of work, and found his essay, Oh Dad, Dear Dad, quite sentimental and unfeigned. Yet other times his thoughts rely too heavily on his favourite writer’s works and musings. Although I found him pompous and questionably racist, sexist and homophobic, he manages to express sincere love for writing and literature. He eschews scholarly honors and maintains that he just wants to write personal work to be admired by thoughtful readers. I would like to read this again in a few years, and perhaps get a fresh look when I am just a little savvier. Also, it’s very difficult for me to dislike a fellow lover of W.H. Auden.
September 5, 2011
The essays of In A Cardboard Belt are divided into four sections and I would rate each very differently. The personal essays sparkle and are 5 star, the literary essays are 4.5 and even made me want to read Proust, the attacks 3.5 (I appreciate attacks on Harold Bloom and Mortimer Adler, but they do seem such easy targets) and the intellectual 3 (because they are too concerned with the "oppression" of the politically correct and events now passed (or past)).
July 30, 2011
Joseph Epstein is my hero. His essays are worth a cocktail of superlatives: sensitive, intelligent, wildly funny in a subdued HL Mencken kind of way, urbane, serious and elegant. In this collection, my favorites are: "Is Reading Really at Risk?" "Talking to One's Self" "What ya talking, my Dad" "Talking about the Dead"
April 5, 2016
My fourth or fifth by Mr. Epstein. And he's getting to be more honest now--take that, Mr. Harold Bloom! Curmudgeonly too, but with the way he writes, he's entitled to be (I happen to like curmudgeonly). Wrote to him at the onset of reading this, and he wrote back a week later, just when I was about to finish off. Like most books by writers I enjoy, I took my sweet time with this one.
July 20, 2008
Bailing out of this one pretty early on. I don't like the smarmy, supercilious tone, nor am I particularly interested in the topics. I was seduced by a great cover with strong blurbs. Story of my life.
September 13, 2013
If you like essays by well read very smart people that read effortless, this is about as good as you can get. the UR of that kind. Title comes from a line from The Producers once Max Bialstock loses all his money he says "Look at me! I'm in a cardboard belt!"
June 22, 2008
Worth the cover price just for his two viciously funny pieces on Mortimer Adler and Harold Bloom.
July 13, 2008
Superb as always - personal and literary essays.
August 25, 2009
Aristides!
September 14, 2009
I love all of Joseph Epstein's personal essays. It's been awhile since he's done one.
February 16, 2013
I always feel a little smarter after finishing one of Mr. Epsteins's books.
Displaying 1 - 21 of 21 reviews