What do you think?
Rate this book


464 pages, Hardcover
Published September 25, 2018
Your offer of $100 to review the book and have the review printed in the Post embarrasses me and, I hope, yourself. Were I a publicity agent the offer would be a legitimate and welcome business item. Unfortunately I attempt to be a critic. Were I to review your book and praise it I should lay myself under the implication (even to myself) of having been venally influenced. Were I to dispraise the book (and I fear that I could not like a poem containing the line “Dream with the stars, America, one constellation lighting the world” or containing the idea or the phrases that one can find in America “Palaces—alabaster walls, bordered with purple grapes and passion flowers”) I could not but feel that I was cheating you.Trilling was something of a Jewish pioneer, the first to get tenure in Columbia's English department. In an early letter he turns down membership in the Columbia Club owing to its discrimination against Jews; in a later one he discusses his family background and Jewish roots. Clearly he took pride in showing that Jews could be as cultured, as aesthetically sensitive and sophisticated, as any WASP. But it is clear that he found little meaning in religion, despite a handful of letters from rabbis and Jewish leaders trying to engage him in speeches. (Even so it surprised me that Trilling, who was raised Orthodox, refers to the Jewish ritual bath as a "mitzvah".) He writes of the great impact the Menorah Journal had on him as an undergraduate, which was the first time that he found "content and meaning" in a specifically Jewish context. One of its editors, Elliot Cohen (a frequent interlocutor) later founded Commentary, which continued to cover Jewish issues aimed at educated, non-practising Jews, while also achieving wide mainstream appeal under Trilling's student Norman Podhoretz at its 1960s peak (though in a late letter here Trilling rejects the latter's turn to neoconservatism).
There were two things he was crazy about, the thirteenth century and Greek: if the thirteenth century had spoken Greek I believe it would have killed him not to have been alive in it. He didn’t know anything about, or care anything for, science, unless it was several hundred years old—or several thousand, for choice; he loved it then. He would say, “What do we know that Aristotle didn’t know?” But he wouldn’t let you tell him; it was a rhetorical question. He had diabetes and used to get an injection of insulin every day, but I don’t believe he ever got one without wishing it were Galen giving it to him...