What do you think?
Rate this book
The Notebooks and Diaries of Edmund Wilson
The Twenties
In these pages, The From Notebooks and Diaries of the Period, the preeminent literary critic Edmund Wilson gives us perhaps the largest authentic document of the time, the dazzling observations of one of the principal actors in the American twenties.Here is the raw side of the U.S.A., the mad side of Hollywood, the literary infighting in New York, the gossip and anecdotes of an astonishing cast of characters, the jokes, the profundities, the inanities. Here is the slim young man in Greenwich Village sallying forth to parties in matching ties and socks. Here is F. Scott Fitzgerald, Edna St. Vincent Millay, John Peale Bishop, H.L. Mencken, Dorothy Parker, e.e. cummings, John Dos Passos and Eugene O'Neill.
- GenresHistoryNonfiction
537 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1975
11 people are currently reading
164 people want to read
About the author
Edmund Wilson
292 books152 followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author by this name in the Goodreads database. See also physicist Edmund Wilson.
Edmund Wilson Jr. was a towering figure in 20th-century American literary criticism, known for his expansive intellect, stylistic clarity, and commitment to serious literary and political engagement. Over a prolific career, Wilson wrote for Vanity Fair, The New Republic, The New Yorker, and The New York Review of Books, shaping the critical conversation on literature, politics, and culture. His major critical works—such as Axel's Castle and Patriotic Gore—combined literary analysis with historical insight, and he ventured boldly into subjects typically reserved for academic specialists, including the Dead Sea Scrolls, Native American cultures, and the American Civil War.
Wilson was also the author of fiction, memoirs, and plays, though his influence rested most strongly on his literary essays and political writing. He was instrumental in promoting the reputations of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, William Faulkner, Vladimir Nabokov, and many others. Despite his friendships with several of these authors, his criticism could be unflinching, even scathing—as seen in his public dismissal of H. P. Lovecraft and J. R. R. Tolkien. His combative literary style often drew attention, and his exacting standards for writing, along with his distaste for popular or commercial literature, placed him in a tradition of high-minded literary seriousness.
Beyond the realm of letters, Wilson was politically active, aligning himself at times with socialist ideals and vocally opposing Cold War policies and the Vietnam War. His principled refusal to pay income tax in protest of U.S. militarization led to a legal battle and a widely read protest book.
Wilson was married four times and had several significant personal and intellectual relationships, including with Fitzgerald and Nabokov. He also advocated for the preservation and celebration of American literary heritage, a vision realized in the creation of the Library of America after his death. For his contributions to American letters, Wilson received multiple honors, including the Presidential Medal of Freedom. His legacy endures through his extensive body of work, which remains a touchstone for literary scholars and general readers alike.
Edmund Wilson Jr. was a towering figure in 20th-century American literary criticism, known for his expansive intellect, stylistic clarity, and commitment to serious literary and political engagement. Over a prolific career, Wilson wrote for Vanity Fair, The New Republic, The New Yorker, and The New York Review of Books, shaping the critical conversation on literature, politics, and culture. His major critical works—such as Axel's Castle and Patriotic Gore—combined literary analysis with historical insight, and he ventured boldly into subjects typically reserved for academic specialists, including the Dead Sea Scrolls, Native American cultures, and the American Civil War.
Wilson was also the author of fiction, memoirs, and plays, though his influence rested most strongly on his literary essays and political writing. He was instrumental in promoting the reputations of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, William Faulkner, Vladimir Nabokov, and many others. Despite his friendships with several of these authors, his criticism could be unflinching, even scathing—as seen in his public dismissal of H. P. Lovecraft and J. R. R. Tolkien. His combative literary style often drew attention, and his exacting standards for writing, along with his distaste for popular or commercial literature, placed him in a tradition of high-minded literary seriousness.
Beyond the realm of letters, Wilson was politically active, aligning himself at times with socialist ideals and vocally opposing Cold War policies and the Vietnam War. His principled refusal to pay income tax in protest of U.S. militarization led to a legal battle and a widely read protest book.
Wilson was married four times and had several significant personal and intellectual relationships, including with Fitzgerald and Nabokov. He also advocated for the preservation and celebration of American literary heritage, a vision realized in the creation of the Library of America after his death. For his contributions to American letters, Wilson received multiple honors, including the Presidential Medal of Freedom. His legacy endures through his extensive body of work, which remains a touchstone for literary scholars and general readers alike.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
April 19, 2018
What makes Edmund Wilson interesting to me is the insight he brings to such diverse bodies of literature as the Civil War, a two-thousand-year-old desert sect, Utopian and Communist movements, and the influence of the French Symbolists on the great works of the early twentieth century. Such versatility and acuity made me curious to read more.
The fact that he was part of several intersecting circles of intellectuals during the decade covered in this book added to my curiosity. There was his college classmate and friend Scott Fitzgerald; then Walter Lippmann and the rest of the New Republic staff; Dorothy Parker and the Algonquin Round Table crowd; Eugene O'Neill and the Provincetown Players; and the ethereal yet adventurous poetess who broke Wilson's heart, Edna St. Vincent Millay.
What I found when I read this was something other than what I expected. I thought the book would be a chronicle of great writers and their works. Instead, there was juicy gossip about how libatious and libidinous he and his friends were. And since he seems to have known “everyone,” it’s hard to keep track. Those with lasting fame are mixed indiscriminately with those I’m unfamiliar with. It’s more complicated than a Russian novel. There was only so much curiosity I could muster for the record of his many bedmates or the inordinate attention he and his friends paid to the question of where they would get the next drink. Was this latter the distortion of prohibition?
Generous chunks of the book are devoted to scenic depictions. Wilson’s notebooks are more sketchbook than diary. In the decade treated in this book, Wilson’s ambition as a writer shifted. In the beginning, writing for publications such as Vanity Fair and the New Republic, he is a master of the review, the essay: ephemeral literature. His friends, meanwhile, produced novels, volumes of poetry, history: works that threatened to have lasting value, so his attention turned to longer forms as well. As part of his preparation, the author is practicing his hand at description. Those treating scenes I know, such as the first glimpse of New Jersey when leaving the Holland Tunnel, recreate my mental image, so I expect his descriptions of places I know less well are equally accurate.
In the last third of the book, the accounts of Wilson’s sexual exploits became more graphic. I think this may well have been rooted in his hope to be known as a serious writer. In the course of the 1920s, writers were grappling with how to describe sex in a way that was both graphic and literary. Ninety years on, we’re wondering whether it’s possible to achieve both at the same time, but back then, skilled writers seemed to believe it was. Wilson’s sketches in this vein predate the furor of the Lady Chatterly trial, so he seems to have been slightly ahead of the curve. One could also make the case he succeeds better than Lawrence. Certainly better than Henry Miller.
The book contains some fascinating reflections on the art of writing and the nature of literature, though fewer than I had hoped to find. If you're interested in finding the eminent critic analyzing the achievements of literature, I'd suggest you look at books such as Patriotic Gore, To the Finland Station, and Axel’s Castle. I’m looking forward, meanwhile, to reading his novels, I Thought of Daisy and Hecate County, to see how Wilson succeeded when he turned his hand to fiction.
Somewhere in between comes this book, fascinating not only for its small revelations about famous writers but also for the chance to peek over the shoulder of a craftsman honing his art. Admittedly, aspects of the book reflect the attitudes of its time. The casual anti-semitism, a view of Afro-Americans most charitably described as paternalistic, and the woman as a disposable item cause more than a few winces along the way. And while the scenic descriptions are evocative, precise, and fresh, I’ll admit that I skimmed some of them. But all in all, a good read.
The fact that he was part of several intersecting circles of intellectuals during the decade covered in this book added to my curiosity. There was his college classmate and friend Scott Fitzgerald; then Walter Lippmann and the rest of the New Republic staff; Dorothy Parker and the Algonquin Round Table crowd; Eugene O'Neill and the Provincetown Players; and the ethereal yet adventurous poetess who broke Wilson's heart, Edna St. Vincent Millay.
What I found when I read this was something other than what I expected. I thought the book would be a chronicle of great writers and their works. Instead, there was juicy gossip about how libatious and libidinous he and his friends were. And since he seems to have known “everyone,” it’s hard to keep track. Those with lasting fame are mixed indiscriminately with those I’m unfamiliar with. It’s more complicated than a Russian novel. There was only so much curiosity I could muster for the record of his many bedmates or the inordinate attention he and his friends paid to the question of where they would get the next drink. Was this latter the distortion of prohibition?
Generous chunks of the book are devoted to scenic depictions. Wilson’s notebooks are more sketchbook than diary. In the decade treated in this book, Wilson’s ambition as a writer shifted. In the beginning, writing for publications such as Vanity Fair and the New Republic, he is a master of the review, the essay: ephemeral literature. His friends, meanwhile, produced novels, volumes of poetry, history: works that threatened to have lasting value, so his attention turned to longer forms as well. As part of his preparation, the author is practicing his hand at description. Those treating scenes I know, such as the first glimpse of New Jersey when leaving the Holland Tunnel, recreate my mental image, so I expect his descriptions of places I know less well are equally accurate.
In the last third of the book, the accounts of Wilson’s sexual exploits became more graphic. I think this may well have been rooted in his hope to be known as a serious writer. In the course of the 1920s, writers were grappling with how to describe sex in a way that was both graphic and literary. Ninety years on, we’re wondering whether it’s possible to achieve both at the same time, but back then, skilled writers seemed to believe it was. Wilson’s sketches in this vein predate the furor of the Lady Chatterly trial, so he seems to have been slightly ahead of the curve. One could also make the case he succeeds better than Lawrence. Certainly better than Henry Miller.
The book contains some fascinating reflections on the art of writing and the nature of literature, though fewer than I had hoped to find. If you're interested in finding the eminent critic analyzing the achievements of literature, I'd suggest you look at books such as Patriotic Gore, To the Finland Station, and Axel’s Castle. I’m looking forward, meanwhile, to reading his novels, I Thought of Daisy and Hecate County, to see how Wilson succeeded when he turned his hand to fiction.
Somewhere in between comes this book, fascinating not only for its small revelations about famous writers but also for the chance to peek over the shoulder of a craftsman honing his art. Admittedly, aspects of the book reflect the attitudes of its time. The casual anti-semitism, a view of Afro-Americans most charitably described as paternalistic, and the woman as a disposable item cause more than a few winces along the way. And while the scenic descriptions are evocative, precise, and fresh, I’ll admit that I skimmed some of them. But all in all, a good read.
September 4, 2015
Raw material from Wilson's notebooks and diaries compiled by someone else after Wilson's death. Not the book Edmund Wilson would have put together - fascinating reading.
June 26, 2020
I read this in college, when I was completely enamored of the Twenties, and especially Fitzgerald (who went to Princeton with Wilson, but if you're bothering to read this, you probably know that). Now I'm thinking I may have only read the first half, because there was much in that which was familiar, but the second half was all new to me.
The literary scene of the 20s does get a lot of attention in that first half, along with a lot of physical descriptions of land and city scapes. The second half seems primarily concerned with Wilson's sex life (again, interspersed with purely descriptive passages about the world around him). It does come up in the first half, but he's pretty discrete. The second half contains a lot of explicit descriptions of his affair with a "working girl" named Anna. Interestingly, there is nothing nearly as graphic when he talks about his relationships with either of his wives, or, in fact, any of his other mistresses (Wilson seems to have had quite active sexual appetites).
Anyway, if you are interested in the literary scene of the Jazz Age -- including, in addition to Fitzgerald, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Dos Passos, e.e. Cummings, and others, read the first half. If, for some reason, you're interested in Wilson's sex life, read the second half.
The literary scene of the 20s does get a lot of attention in that first half, along with a lot of physical descriptions of land and city scapes. The second half seems primarily concerned with Wilson's sex life (again, interspersed with purely descriptive passages about the world around him). It does come up in the first half, but he's pretty discrete. The second half contains a lot of explicit descriptions of his affair with a "working girl" named Anna. Interestingly, there is nothing nearly as graphic when he talks about his relationships with either of his wives, or, in fact, any of his other mistresses (Wilson seems to have had quite active sexual appetites).
Anyway, if you are interested in the literary scene of the Jazz Age -- including, in addition to Fitzgerald, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Dos Passos, e.e. Cummings, and others, read the first half. If, for some reason, you're interested in Wilson's sex life, read the second half.
July 30, 2025
It's interesting to see Wilson's roots. Some things about him didn't change over the long term. I think this is the first book I've read that makes plain, though doesn't make rational, the way (some?) men are completely captive to women at the same time that they are womanizers and chauvinists. I sound negative, but I really mean it in a compassionate way. I don't understand it, but Wilson somehow makes it real, while demonstrating with stories from his own life, not by analyzing or criticizing other men around him. That's vulnerable, and courageous, not to take others to task hypocritically for the actions of oneself.
Some of the behavior is "dastardly," like having a torrid affair with a Childs restaurant waitress right up to the point he was about to marry a woman of his own class with whom he was deeply in love. Or was he deeply in love? Was it a class thing, that he had to marry her, and certainly didn't write about her in his diary the way he wrote about the waitress, whom he seems also to love deeply, until he doesn't any more. I'm making him sound like a rat, but it seems to have been the way of the upper middle classes at the time. Maybe it still is! I live in a bubble!
I'd give this book 5 stars except for a few difficulties. This was compiled from his diaries and notebooks for writing by a friend after Wilson's death (as a completion of an entire cycle of such books starting from his youth, covering then until the 196os). The friend says Wilson didn't want a scholarly approach, which I appreciate, but the very large cast of characters--Wilson seems to have known everyone--was hard to keep track of, and the index is bare bones. There were an awful lot of men named Ted, and their last names were only given sometimes. SO a little more structure and citation would have helped. The other element I had a lot of difficulty with are long passages of his prose descriptive of landscapes, sunsets, cityscapes. The editor may have been right to include them as representative of Wilson's writing at the time, but god they were DULL. Such a shock, given my love for Wilson's critical prose, incisive, exact, truthful. He also writes so observantly and lovingly about people. I did a lot of skipping when I realized long chunks of adjectives describing a drive or a walk were coming up--I can't imagine what possessed him. But he was young!
Some of the behavior is "dastardly," like having a torrid affair with a Childs restaurant waitress right up to the point he was about to marry a woman of his own class with whom he was deeply in love. Or was he deeply in love? Was it a class thing, that he had to marry her, and certainly didn't write about her in his diary the way he wrote about the waitress, whom he seems also to love deeply, until he doesn't any more. I'm making him sound like a rat, but it seems to have been the way of the upper middle classes at the time. Maybe it still is! I live in a bubble!
I'd give this book 5 stars except for a few difficulties. This was compiled from his diaries and notebooks for writing by a friend after Wilson's death (as a completion of an entire cycle of such books starting from his youth, covering then until the 196os). The friend says Wilson didn't want a scholarly approach, which I appreciate, but the very large cast of characters--Wilson seems to have known everyone--was hard to keep track of, and the index is bare bones. There were an awful lot of men named Ted, and their last names were only given sometimes. SO a little more structure and citation would have helped. The other element I had a lot of difficulty with are long passages of his prose descriptive of landscapes, sunsets, cityscapes. The editor may have been right to include them as representative of Wilson's writing at the time, but god they were DULL. Such a shock, given my love for Wilson's critical prose, incisive, exact, truthful. He also writes so observantly and lovingly about people. I did a lot of skipping when I realized long chunks of adjectives describing a drive or a walk were coming up--I can't imagine what possessed him. But he was young!
February 16, 2020
Is it a novel? A biography? A journal? Weird writing style with pieces that are put one after another, yet the connection is missing. I also did not know anything about the people in the text which contributed to increasing the distance between the contents of this book and me. At a certain point I didn't care about turning the pages.
Read
September 13, 2020Read this for research; wouldn’t recommend for use otherwise.
November 29, 2021
See my notes on Wilson's Upstate if you care for one man's opinion.
April 3, 2020
This is book that should never have been published. And I am going out on a limb to say that Edmund Wilson would have thought so himself.
This is clearly the editor trying to make a quick buck of publishing the notebook writings of one of the big names in writing, shortly after he died, but which were clearly never intended for showing to public like this.
I quickly skipt to survey reading when I figured out that most of the notes are about connections with people who meant a great deal to him, but mean not so much for a normal reader, if there not set in the structure of a story. Typical case of "you'd probably had to be there".
The same points go for sometimes marvelous detailed descriptions of cities and landscapes he encounters, but which have no relevance when not set in to a story or essay.
Left over are few good observations about the state of humanity and the struggle of mankind. But you probably will find those back in one of the books that he actually wrote based on these notes.
This is clearly the editor trying to make a quick buck of publishing the notebook writings of one of the big names in writing, shortly after he died, but which were clearly never intended for showing to public like this.
I quickly skipt to survey reading when I figured out that most of the notes are about connections with people who meant a great deal to him, but mean not so much for a normal reader, if there not set in the structure of a story. Typical case of "you'd probably had to be there".
The same points go for sometimes marvelous detailed descriptions of cities and landscapes he encounters, but which have no relevance when not set in to a story or essay.
Left over are few good observations about the state of humanity and the struggle of mankind. But you probably will find those back in one of the books that he actually wrote based on these notes.
May 7, 2016
The literary equivalent of sitting in your great-grandmother's parlor during the Super Bowl, with no TV, friends, windows or food aside from hard candy.
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews