A moving meditation in words and pictures on remorse, joy, ancestry, and memory
Maira Kalman’s most autobiographical and intimate work to date, Still Life with Remorse is a beautiful, four-color collection combining deeply personal stories and fifty striking full-color paintings in the vein of her and Alex Kalman’s acclaimed Women Holding Things.
Tracing her family’s story from her grandfather’s birth in Belarus and immigration to Tel Aviv—where she was born—Kalman considers her unique family history, illuminating the complex relationship between recollection, regret, happiness, and heritage. The vibrant original art accompanying these autobiographical pieces are mostly still-lifes and interiors, which serve as counterpoints to her powerful words. In addition to vignettes exploring her Israeli and Jewish roots, Kalman includes short stories about other great artists, writers, and composers, including Leo Tolstoy, Franz Kafka, Gustav Mahler, and Robert Schumann.
Through these narratives, Kalman uses her signature wit and tenderness to reveal how family history plays an influential role in all of our work, lives, and perspectives. A feat of visual storytelling and vulnerability, Still Life with Remorse explores the profound hidden in the quotidian, and illuminates the powerful universal truths in our most personal family stories.
Maira Kalman was born in Tel Aviv and moved to New York with her family at the age of four. She has worked as a designer, author, illustrator and artist for more than thirty years without formal training. Her work is a narrative journal of her life and all its absurdities. She has written and illustrated twelve children's books including Ooh-la-la- Max in Love, What Pete Ate, and Swami on Rye. She often illustrates for The New Yorker magazine, and is well known for her collaboration with Rick Meyerowitz on the NewYorkistan cover in 2001. Recent projects include The Elements of Style (illustrated), and a monthly on-line column entitled Principles of Uncertainty for The New York Times.
This book reads like stand-up comedy for philosophical masses. The stories are snippets: commentary sometimes, sometimes personal stories. And they're delivered with a stand-up's or a performance artist's timing and pithiness, paired with paintings that demand to be looked at alone in a second paging through.
The still lifes are both paintings and moments within stories that manage, in so few words, to make you feel the insanity-causing dichotomies of love and remorse, love and rage, generosity and greediness, and every other opposite that we all contain. All this crazy turmoil of emotions is life. Or as Kalman writes: "the seething savagery / of our mundane lives." (81, slash connotes line breaks, as in poetry)
Maira Kalman is part gleeful sprite and part ancient wise woman. A true original who's found her niche—despite my comments about stand-up comedy and performance artists, this work is exactly what it should be: a book of writing and art. Long may Maira Kalman live, write, and paint.
Maira Kalman is a creative genius; her books are beautiful, thoughtful and surprising.
In this book she tells family stories and intersperses them with stories about famous authors, artists and musicians, showing how messy real lives are, and how most of us have remorse for difficult family relationships. And there’s of course Kalman’s beautiful paintings.
One of my favorite pages:
“Dream
I dreamt someone else was stupid for a change.
Such a relief, albeit a fleeting one.”
I laugh out loud at least once, usually more, when reading a Kalman book.
I only read this book as part of a project to read all the books on NPR's Favorite Graphic Novels list (see below), but it doesn't really fit my definition of a graphic novel. The pages alternate blocks of typeset text with full-page illustrations. There is no sequential storytelling. I feel misled, and I know that's not the fault of this book, but it did get me into a negative mood at the outset, so keep that in mind as I wallop the pitiful thing below.
Maira Kalman sort of tells anecdotes about her family, stretching from their origins in Belarus through their refugee journey to Palestine, Israel and then the United States. She keeps hitting return in the middle of sentences so a generous reader might decide they're a form of poetry and thus deserving of an extra star in the final rating for, y'know, art or sympathy or something. I mean, surely a sentence can't be boring if there's a hard return -- or three or four -- in the middle of it.
If she had stuck to family anecdotes, I might have given this book one more star, but Kalman also drops in random thoughts and stories about writers, painters, poets, and political leaders e.g., Leo Tolstoy, Franz Kafka, Pablo Picasso, Cleopatra, etc. It degenerates into a random mess, with words that become increasingly meaningless. I had to grit my teeth to get through the last half of the book.
Kalman isn't much of an artist either. As promised by the title, there are a lot of still life illustrations. They work a little better than the pictures featuring people, where Kalman's limitations are very much on display. Most of her portrait paintings seem to be poor reproductions of photographs I was able to find online. Maybe her still life studies are also? I don't know, and I don't care to spend the time looking.
I LOVED reading a hard copy edition of Still Life With Remorse by Maira Kalman. I purchased it with a gift certificate at a local brick and mortar bookstore, Watchung Booksellers in Montclair, NJ. It’s funny. It’s touching. It’s ethnic (a touch of Eastern European Shtetl life), it’s pithy and best of all it’s graced with the author’s indistinguishable artwork. I rarely give books five ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️. But I’d give this one ten if they were available.
*”Maira Kalman (Hebrew: מאירה קלמן) is an American artist, illustrator, writer, and designer known for her painting and writing about the human condition.”
“Maira Kalman's most autobiographical and intimate work to date, Still Life with Remorse is a beautiful, four-color collection combining deeply personal stories and 50 striking full-color paintings in the vein of her and Alex Kalman's acclaimed Women Holding Things.” This book is a treasure!
Maira Kalman is pretty much an autobuy author/illustrator for me - I love her quirky take on a variety of subjects. Most of the time, she includes her personal family history alongside observations about life and death (one of her favorite daily practices is to read the obituaries for ordinary people in New York because of all of the wonderful details they include about how people lived). This book contains visual still lives and written still lives focused around remorse in personal life and the lives of other writers and artists. Some of them really made me pause and think about my personal take on what was said. It is a quick read, but it is worth having a personal copy to refer to + to really see the details in the illustrations.
insanely bad writing and colonizer combo makes this the worst time investment i’ve had in the past year. genuinely take the pen and thesaurus.com away from her, i felt like my eyes were glued to an ever-progressing train wreck
I simply adore Maira. Her poetry. The art. In Still Life with Remorse, I appreciate the stark contrast between her vibrant art and her stories. I could feel her sorrow.
Any book by Maira Kalman will make me smile. And laugh. And ponder. Her bright, brilliant paintings paired with her short, quirky family stories in Still Life With Remorse were a delight to read during these morose, overcast January days. And there was fog too. And a little rain. But Maira is therapy for any bland, lifeless day, mixing her prose with flamboyance and reality.
I’ll leave you with one of her short pieces: Dream
I won this book from GoodReads. The idea of a book with paintings appealed to me. The writing was very depressing, the paintings were lovely and bright. Overall it did not work for me.
This book combining paintings and short autobiographical stories looks fascinating.
I saw this book on a list of books for Jewish American Heritage Month that was created by The Artists against Antisemitism. https://bookshop.org/lists/jewish-ame... .
To the reviews below, I’m not sure why anyone would think that a book titled with “remorse” would not be sad or depressing? Not every single book you read has to be happy and some sad/depressing books can be beautiful…like this one…if you care to tap into a soulful view.
Thank you to Goodreads/Harper Collins for this free copy in exchange for an honest review. I love this book. Read it very quickly. The paintings are beautiful and the words are simple yet very, very deep. This is my first time reading anything by this author and she’s going to become one of my favorites very quickly. I love how she weaved so much into the story and paintings that with every page turn it was like a piece of clothing being sewn together with love.
I was sitting in Barnes and Nobel with a pile of magazines, books and my journal, as I love to do. Instead of perusing my large pile, read this book cover to cover. Then, I bought it, brought it home, and read it again.
I began to follow Maira Kalman in the 90's when her children's books were published. My students loved the antics of Kalman's dogs in the Max and Pete picture books. Another picture book Kalman illustrated, Fireboat: The Heroic Adventures of the John J. Harvey (2002), was an important read-aloud for students trying to grasp the events around 9/11. In 2017, her book for adult readers, Principles of Uncertainty, became a treasured book in my library, and since then, I anticipate the release of every new Kalman book. Still Life with Remorse will delight fans of her quirky, whimsical art and storytelling. It includes 50 bold illustrations, most of them still life paintings of artists' ateliers (Monet's Vase with Flowers at Giverny, Cezanne's Studio). The text alternates with stories of Kalman's unusual family history and odd stories of famous authors, artists, and composers ( Tolstoy, Mahler, and others). Her tales are reflections on small incidents that created a degree of remorse and regret. One passage recalls an argument she had with her now deceased husband Tibor. Would she have engaged in their disagreement if she had another chance? Maybe. Regrets and remorse are inevitable, but she suggests we can't allow them to prevent us from living. My favorite passage is about the state of "tsundoku," or surrounding oneself with many books, most of them destined to be unread. I am surrounded by piles of books, too many to read even if I were to live another lifetime. Do I regret buying books I will never get around to reading? Do I feel remorse for using so much space in my home for books? No, they bring me joy. As Kalman writes, "Beautiful stacks of books that may never be read but simply sit happily in your room smiling at you." Who really has time for remorse? I'm too busy living (and reading as much as I can!)
I pick up everything Maira Kalman does. Quirky ideas for books, whimsical watercolor art. This one the publisher describes as: "A moving meditation in words and pictures on remorse, joy, ancestry, and memory." With fifty paintings sometimes connected to the words. It's not a graphic novel, but an illustrated set of writings the publisher calls poetry, and I know these are fighting words, but mostly they are just family anecdotes shaped into short lines with random endings of the lines.
The central part of this is family history, from Belarus to Tel Aviv (where Kalman) was born, to Manhattan. She tells family stories which are sometimes amusingly pointless, where she admits she can't recall what the issues were in a conflict: Something. The writing isn't all that great as story or insightful as to meaning. Then, since biological family is only one part of her, she tells stories about favorite writers such as Kafka and Tolstoy.
What's the gist of all these stories? Conflict, inter family, inter-relational fighting, for which she and some others have remorse, but at the end of the book she says, eh,get over it and be happy for what you have. Dance, instead. But the book mainly records remorse, not celebration or joy!
So this is as usual a beautiful artfact, great design, fifty still life watercolors, so it's nice to look at. I like her warm four color art. The writing, though, is just okay, which pains me to say is not great as this is very personal for her. Her family story! I just don't think it quite comes together as writing (poetry?!). or philosophizing. But I am sure a lot of people will pick it up, as she is, after all, Maira Kalman, to whom, I remain, a fan.
I read this aloud to/with my husband over the course of an afternoon and evening, and I think I enjoyed it more this way than I would have if I'd just read it on my own. Reading it aloud with someone else encouraged me to pause after each vignette (there are 39 of them) and to linger over the paintings (of which there are 51) more than I might have if I were reading silently (I'm a fast reader). This book, whose subtitle is "Family Stories," has a lot in it about Kalman's family—her parents, her grandparents, aunts and uncles and cousins, her husband, her in-laws, her sister. As the title suggests, remorse figures in a lot of the vignettes: remorse about arguments, about rifts, about grudges held, about things said. There are also vignettes about the lives of some writers and musicians—Tolstoy, Schumann, Gérard de Nerval.
In general I liked the paintings (which are gorgeous—I love Kalman's use of bright color) more than the text, but I liked the interplay. And some of the text is great—my husband and I both laughed at this, at the end of a story about Kalman's uncle: "He could have been swept out to sea. But he was not. But he could have. This is what we call the possible-probable remorse tense. Suffering after the fact over a disaster that could possibly have happened but did not. This tense occurs very frequently in our household. Daily. Even hourly."
You can see some images of this book on Kalman's website to get a sense of what the book looks like—it really is beautifully designed and printed. Also: if you read this book, look at the index: it has some very funny things in it.
Maira Kalman’s Still Life with Remorse is an intimate, visually rich meditation on memory, remorse, family, and identity, blending Kalman’s characteristically whimsical and moving observations with vibrant paintings. These stories range from personal reflections on her family to brief, poignant vignettes about historical figures like Tolstoy, Kafka, and Mahler. With each story, Kalman’s succinct, understated prose pairs beautifully with her bold, colorful paintings, creating a dynamic that takes readers on a rollercoaster of emotions. Or perhaps it’s more of a blender of emotions, as opposing feelings swirled together unpredictably .
The book's strength lies in how these stories, though often brief, manage to pack such an emotional punch. Kalman’s insights on family, heritage, and the subtle sorrows of life are relatable and powerful, often revealing universal truths through her uniquely personal lens.
While Still Life with Remorse is a lovely and moving read, I had a small yet persistent issue with it, a minor frustration that chipped away at a perfect rating. It’s something that could be likened to drops of water gradually wearing away at a stone—subtle, yet just pervasive enough to detract from an otherwise five-star experience. Despite this, Still Life with Remorse remains a beautiful exploration of life’s contradictions and emotional depths.
Taking a tiny break from ALA YMA season (because it is Dr MLK holiday in the dark shadow of DT part 2), this was either the worst or best distraction. Sad. Profound. Vague. Angry. Grief and all the undefinable echoes.
pg88 She has piles of books, many unread. There is a word for that in Japanese. Tsundoku. And it is not a criticism. It is meant as a delight. Beautiful stacks of books/that may never be read/but simply sit happily in your room/smiling at you.
pg89 ... in the little village of Lenin in Belarus, the Nazis forced one brother to kill the other. My cousin's father was very gentle and kind. He had a crooked finger, which always fascinated me. He came into the kitchen to talk to my aunt Shoshana. She have him a glass of seltzer and I looked at his finger. He always smiled. But also looked like he was on the verge of crying. His face was all crinkled up. My cousin said he was an angel. You can't decide to be an angel. It has to be in your essence.
pg91 Back to our beloved books./They ask for nothing./They fill the room/with everything you need./Salvation in their presence.