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Death and So Forth: Stories
With Death and So Forth , esteemed writer and editor Gordon Lish returns with a new book of scintillating short fiction. With his trademark precision, wit, and wiliness, Lish writes outside the margins and around the edges of the death, loss, and the fractiousness and fragmentation of language. Death and So Forth collects a number of Lish’s acclaimed stories and introduces eight new fictions, including a tribute to Denis Johnson and so many others lost in the course of a long life. Brilliant and sharp-eyed, this is a treasure for fans of Gordon Lish, new and lifelong.
- GenresShort Stories
168 pages, Hardcover
Published April 13, 2021
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63 people want to read
About the author
Gordon Lish
50 books77 followersGordon Jay Lish is an American writer. As a literary editor, he championed many American authors, particularly Raymond Carver, Barry Hannah, Amy Hempel, and Richard Ford.
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Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews
May 20, 2021
In what is served austerely as the final prose testament of Gordon Lish, the notorious editor, fiction-wrangler, and author of innovatively ignored novels and story collections, proffers a sequence of eccentric doodles, memoirish rambles, and repackaged stories on the moribund theme.
Now, to remark that these pieces read like the stylishly coiffured ramblings of an 87-year-old man might sound unkind, but these pieces read like the stylishly coiffured ramblings of an 87-year-old man (I remark, unkindly). Par example, ‘Hustlers All In the Rogue-Snown Night’, is a bizarrely strained exercise in stylistic incontinence, a stream-of-semi-consciousness ramble in the form of an opaque reminiscence about old nemesis Denis Johnson. Other stories such as ‘Excelsior’, force the reader to pursue an untetherable thread in heaps of prose yearnishly searching for unforced turns of phrase. By aggressively pursuing the unbland, the prose swiftly wobbles into incoherence, mimicking the skittery thought of an 87-year-old man.
On a less unkind note, the more palatable stories are those that temper abundance, such as the powerful ‘Grace’ where Lish relates his frustration at being stood up by his two friends Cynthia Ozick and Frank Lentricchia, tormentedly trying to think up other conversational titbits other than his dying wife. Or in ‘Bloom Dies’, where Lish recounts Harold Bloom’s wish to stare steely-eyed at the wall on his death-bed as a parting fuck-you to life.
The remaining short pieces have an admirable carelessness, showcasing a legendary lexophile having a final frolic with words, livened up with witty and repetitive duologues, continual self-interruptions, and needly editorial snipes on ill-willed word choice. Lish’s voice is one in continual dialogue with itself, a voice constantly in pursuit of a killer clause, a voice still searching for the finest imaginable sentence construction. This jeu d’esprit left me with tender readerly feelings towards the prose, if not a sense of having particularly enjoyed the results. Death and So Forth is the last hurrah from extravagantly eccentric mind at the end of its tether.
Now, to remark that these pieces read like the stylishly coiffured ramblings of an 87-year-old man might sound unkind, but these pieces read like the stylishly coiffured ramblings of an 87-year-old man (I remark, unkindly). Par example, ‘Hustlers All In the Rogue-Snown Night’, is a bizarrely strained exercise in stylistic incontinence, a stream-of-semi-consciousness ramble in the form of an opaque reminiscence about old nemesis Denis Johnson. Other stories such as ‘Excelsior’, force the reader to pursue an untetherable thread in heaps of prose yearnishly searching for unforced turns of phrase. By aggressively pursuing the unbland, the prose swiftly wobbles into incoherence, mimicking the skittery thought of an 87-year-old man.
On a less unkind note, the more palatable stories are those that temper abundance, such as the powerful ‘Grace’ where Lish relates his frustration at being stood up by his two friends Cynthia Ozick and Frank Lentricchia, tormentedly trying to think up other conversational titbits other than his dying wife. Or in ‘Bloom Dies’, where Lish recounts Harold Bloom’s wish to stare steely-eyed at the wall on his death-bed as a parting fuck-you to life.
The remaining short pieces have an admirable carelessness, showcasing a legendary lexophile having a final frolic with words, livened up with witty and repetitive duologues, continual self-interruptions, and needly editorial snipes on ill-willed word choice. Lish’s voice is one in continual dialogue with itself, a voice constantly in pursuit of a killer clause, a voice still searching for the finest imaginable sentence construction. This jeu d’esprit left me with tender readerly feelings towards the prose, if not a sense of having particularly enjoyed the results. Death and So Forth is the last hurrah from extravagantly eccentric mind at the end of its tether.
May 9, 2021
"The prelude to death, making space for its rude furniture, an intruder barging in to wreck the perfected affectations of a household contrived to convince you everything in it fit and that there would be no other way that it could be confected to suit its residents. Sorry for all the rhyme."
A curious collection of short stories, flitting constantly between memoir and playing with language, but without the playfulness getting "in the way" of the stories themselves. The author is constantly by your side, commenting on his own work, now and then even apologising for it.
"..the ecstasy of it, of their rolling over and over in this unforgettable zeal, smashing into the whole household together, smashing into everything everywhere together , forever rolling over and over in the whole wide world together, rolling the two of them together in the rolling feeling of love."
These are the stories of a man looking back on his life, and realising where he is now, smashing headfirst into, at times, pure poetry. A man recognising his advanced age, and what that means, while keeping a lightness of touch.
"Uncle Charlie, however, and Aunt Dora, they must have both of them known what war was. Me too, am I right? It was fun. War was fun."
The whole collection reminds me most of the poetry found in plays, in monologues. Litt enjoys repetition (as do I), and the musicality it creates, while giving the story almost a maddening quality.
"They gave me a piece of stiff cloth which was in the shape of a shield and which was in the camp colors and which had five blue stars on it. They said that I was the only boy ever to get a shield with as many as that many stars on it. They said that it was unheard-of for any boy ever to get as many as that many stars on it. But I could already feel that I was forgetting what it felt like to do something which would get you a shield with as many as that many stars on it. I could feel myself forgetting and I could feel everybody else forgetting, even my mother and father and God forgetting."
It does sometimes read as something that would be consumed best hearing it read aloud, perhaps even performed to some extent.
"Anyway, that was theater for me. And music for me. And amour for me. And now I am eighty-four years old, and all there is that is left for me is me."
As a volume of stories on its own, I'm not sure it's as strong. That said, it would be a crime to pass on the beautiful poetry that is on display here.
3.5 stars
(Thanks to Dzanc Books for providing me with a review copy through Edelweiss)
Individual scores:
Jawbone - 3 stars
Naugahyde - 3 stars
Grief— 2nd Pass - 5 stars
Tale Of A Horse - 3 stars
Vicissitudes Of Plot - 4 stars
Does This Mean Anythugng? - 4 stars
In September - 3 stars
Physis Versus Nomos - 3.5 stars
Excelsior - 3.5 stars
Into The Bargain - 3 stars
Grace - 3 stars
Coup De Théâtre - 2 stars
Bloom Dies - 3 stars
Speakage - 4 stars
Mr. Goldbaum - 4 stars
Hustlers All In The Rogue-Snown Night - 3 stars
Jamie Gillis, His Letter - 4 stars
June Thirty-Fourth - 3 stars
Watch Out! - 4 stars
The Death Of Me - 5 stars
A curious collection of short stories, flitting constantly between memoir and playing with language, but without the playfulness getting "in the way" of the stories themselves. The author is constantly by your side, commenting on his own work, now and then even apologising for it.
"..the ecstasy of it, of their rolling over and over in this unforgettable zeal, smashing into the whole household together, smashing into everything everywhere together , forever rolling over and over in the whole wide world together, rolling the two of them together in the rolling feeling of love."
These are the stories of a man looking back on his life, and realising where he is now, smashing headfirst into, at times, pure poetry. A man recognising his advanced age, and what that means, while keeping a lightness of touch.
"Uncle Charlie, however, and Aunt Dora, they must have both of them known what war was. Me too, am I right? It was fun. War was fun."
The whole collection reminds me most of the poetry found in plays, in monologues. Litt enjoys repetition (as do I), and the musicality it creates, while giving the story almost a maddening quality.
"They gave me a piece of stiff cloth which was in the shape of a shield and which was in the camp colors and which had five blue stars on it. They said that I was the only boy ever to get a shield with as many as that many stars on it. They said that it was unheard-of for any boy ever to get as many as that many stars on it. But I could already feel that I was forgetting what it felt like to do something which would get you a shield with as many as that many stars on it. I could feel myself forgetting and I could feel everybody else forgetting, even my mother and father and God forgetting."
It does sometimes read as something that would be consumed best hearing it read aloud, perhaps even performed to some extent.
"Anyway, that was theater for me. And music for me. And amour for me. And now I am eighty-four years old, and all there is that is left for me is me."
As a volume of stories on its own, I'm not sure it's as strong. That said, it would be a crime to pass on the beautiful poetry that is on display here.
3.5 stars
(Thanks to Dzanc Books for providing me with a review copy through Edelweiss)
Individual scores:
Jawbone - 3 stars
Naugahyde - 3 stars
Grief— 2nd Pass - 5 stars
Tale Of A Horse - 3 stars
Vicissitudes Of Plot - 4 stars
Does This Mean Anythugng? - 4 stars
In September - 3 stars
Physis Versus Nomos - 3.5 stars
Excelsior - 3.5 stars
Into The Bargain - 3 stars
Grace - 3 stars
Coup De Théâtre - 2 stars
Bloom Dies - 3 stars
Speakage - 4 stars
Mr. Goldbaum - 4 stars
Hustlers All In The Rogue-Snown Night - 3 stars
Jamie Gillis, His Letter - 4 stars
June Thirty-Fourth - 3 stars
Watch Out! - 4 stars
The Death Of Me - 5 stars
December 22, 2020
https://rogueliterarysociety.com/f/de...
Just when you believe the eccentric old man has completed his life’s work he shows up with another collection of short fiction, some retreaded through personal selection, but a sprinkling of new work is included and obviously posted in order to set records straight or produce additional mysteries behind the literary personage. Gordon Lish is an anomaly, compared at times to the great Samuel Beckett, but more often than not fairly or unfairly despised and ridiculed for bad behavior and less than stellar writing. Lish is most infamous for his severe editing of the great minimalist Raymond Carver, but his sexual escapades both on the page and after class are gargantuan in number and pathetically weakened through saturated efforts on his own part to make a long recorded history of them. Not to mention my own part in furthering this iconic folklore.
By the time I hooked up with Lish in 1995 he was already unfavorably looked upon as an unemployable editor and perceived by most as a kiss of death for any aspiring writer such as myself. But I didn’t care. By the time I fully discovered Gordon Lish as teacher and editor I only cared about good writing and making history on the page. Fame and fortune were not in the cards for me, or at least I placed them on the back burner for the next couple decades as I perfected both my reading and my craft. I cared nothing for what others might think of me, and my focus persisted in learning everything I could from this master teacher and editor. I even talked my wife into considering going to bed with him as a way to thank him for all he was doing for me. A sort of celebration for our mounting gratitude. Getting published because of my connection to Lish was never a criteria for these rather extreme expressions of gratitude. Only the love of literature and where it might lead me was the driving force behind my every salacious thought and adulterous idea regarding sharing my wife with him. But the eventual consummation after over twenty years of sexual nonsense that included notes, letters, and nude photographs never did take place. My wife has remained monogamous, which ultimately resulted perhaps in my best friend feeling slighted. It hurts me that Gordon and I have not spoken in the last two years. Lish suddenly went dark on me, and I am not the first nor will I be the last person he has appropriated his ill feelings on and even rejected or forgotten ever having known or been involved in a friendly, or often intimate, relationship. I wrote extensively, with his knowledge and written blessing, of our long relationship in a book I published a while back titled The Mad Habit.
This latest Lish collection is predictably enjoyable, but not in my opinion indicative of his very best work. Even the blurbed and anticipatory tribute to Denis Johnson was in essence a veiled disdain for Lish not being recognized and thanked by Johnson appropriately for bringing his fiction to the page. One of the surefire ways to get Gordon Lish to diss you is by not publicly recognizing him as the great editor he was and by not publicly thanking him profusely enough for his efforts at championing your work. Ask Sheila Kohler what happens when Lish feels under appreciated. I have a Quarterly Lish signed and inscribed for me back in the nineties, a book that featured a short piece by Kohler, and he profusely abused her name with language unfitting for print here. He wrote terribly crude and angry words that would not be accepted these days in light of the topically justified Me Too movement. Lish could very well eventually achieve a “hands off” warning for those one day interested in promoting his work. Analogous to currently having a Confederate flag or Civil War statue proudly displayed in the yard. But he will not be rejected by me. Gordon taught me lots. I learned from him how to incisively read. I believe I even gathered a bit of know-how enough to self-edit. If nothing else he instilled in me the confidence and courage to proceed on my own and make my way into the magnificent world of great and meaningful literature.
As for Denis Johnson, his name was evoked supposedly in order to heap praise on him. I did not read the story that way. Gordon used the bit to not only attack the dead Johnson but also past officials at Esquire, and if time permitted he would have gone after Knopf people as well. Early in my relationship with Gordon I offhandedly mentioned that I was no fan of Denis Johnson’s writing. I failed to see even way back then the value in his prose. I did not know what all the fuss was about then, and I feel the same way now. But Gordon took critical umbrage with my comment. He immediately informed me that I was nobody, and at that early point in my writing career I could not disagree. Ashamed and embarrassed I faded back into the sea of classroom desks and attempted to make myself invisible, hiding behind my obviously thoughtless remark. Later in our relationship Gordon came to accept my criticisms, even asking me what I thought of a certain writer, film, actor, or porn star, or even a specific book. I once sent him a novella Eugene Marten self-published titled Waste that I believed Gordon would like. Gordon loved the book so much that he went on to praise and garner publishing contracts for the unknown writer. But now, all is darkness, even in light of my never really knowing why.
The collection ends with one of Lish’s best short stories of all-time titled The Death of Me.
Just when you believe the eccentric old man has completed his life’s work he shows up with another collection of short fiction, some retreaded through personal selection, but a sprinkling of new work is included and obviously posted in order to set records straight or produce additional mysteries behind the literary personage. Gordon Lish is an anomaly, compared at times to the great Samuel Beckett, but more often than not fairly or unfairly despised and ridiculed for bad behavior and less than stellar writing. Lish is most infamous for his severe editing of the great minimalist Raymond Carver, but his sexual escapades both on the page and after class are gargantuan in number and pathetically weakened through saturated efforts on his own part to make a long recorded history of them. Not to mention my own part in furthering this iconic folklore.
By the time I hooked up with Lish in 1995 he was already unfavorably looked upon as an unemployable editor and perceived by most as a kiss of death for any aspiring writer such as myself. But I didn’t care. By the time I fully discovered Gordon Lish as teacher and editor I only cared about good writing and making history on the page. Fame and fortune were not in the cards for me, or at least I placed them on the back burner for the next couple decades as I perfected both my reading and my craft. I cared nothing for what others might think of me, and my focus persisted in learning everything I could from this master teacher and editor. I even talked my wife into considering going to bed with him as a way to thank him for all he was doing for me. A sort of celebration for our mounting gratitude. Getting published because of my connection to Lish was never a criteria for these rather extreme expressions of gratitude. Only the love of literature and where it might lead me was the driving force behind my every salacious thought and adulterous idea regarding sharing my wife with him. But the eventual consummation after over twenty years of sexual nonsense that included notes, letters, and nude photographs never did take place. My wife has remained monogamous, which ultimately resulted perhaps in my best friend feeling slighted. It hurts me that Gordon and I have not spoken in the last two years. Lish suddenly went dark on me, and I am not the first nor will I be the last person he has appropriated his ill feelings on and even rejected or forgotten ever having known or been involved in a friendly, or often intimate, relationship. I wrote extensively, with his knowledge and written blessing, of our long relationship in a book I published a while back titled The Mad Habit.
This latest Lish collection is predictably enjoyable, but not in my opinion indicative of his very best work. Even the blurbed and anticipatory tribute to Denis Johnson was in essence a veiled disdain for Lish not being recognized and thanked by Johnson appropriately for bringing his fiction to the page. One of the surefire ways to get Gordon Lish to diss you is by not publicly recognizing him as the great editor he was and by not publicly thanking him profusely enough for his efforts at championing your work. Ask Sheila Kohler what happens when Lish feels under appreciated. I have a Quarterly Lish signed and inscribed for me back in the nineties, a book that featured a short piece by Kohler, and he profusely abused her name with language unfitting for print here. He wrote terribly crude and angry words that would not be accepted these days in light of the topically justified Me Too movement. Lish could very well eventually achieve a “hands off” warning for those one day interested in promoting his work. Analogous to currently having a Confederate flag or Civil War statue proudly displayed in the yard. But he will not be rejected by me. Gordon taught me lots. I learned from him how to incisively read. I believe I even gathered a bit of know-how enough to self-edit. If nothing else he instilled in me the confidence and courage to proceed on my own and make my way into the magnificent world of great and meaningful literature.
As for Denis Johnson, his name was evoked supposedly in order to heap praise on him. I did not read the story that way. Gordon used the bit to not only attack the dead Johnson but also past officials at Esquire, and if time permitted he would have gone after Knopf people as well. Early in my relationship with Gordon I offhandedly mentioned that I was no fan of Denis Johnson’s writing. I failed to see even way back then the value in his prose. I did not know what all the fuss was about then, and I feel the same way now. But Gordon took critical umbrage with my comment. He immediately informed me that I was nobody, and at that early point in my writing career I could not disagree. Ashamed and embarrassed I faded back into the sea of classroom desks and attempted to make myself invisible, hiding behind my obviously thoughtless remark. Later in our relationship Gordon came to accept my criticisms, even asking me what I thought of a certain writer, film, actor, or porn star, or even a specific book. I once sent him a novella Eugene Marten self-published titled Waste that I believed Gordon would like. Gordon loved the book so much that he went on to praise and garner publishing contracts for the unknown writer. But now, all is darkness, even in light of my never really knowing why.
The collection ends with one of Lish’s best short stories of all-time titled The Death of Me.
March 22, 2021
DEATH AND SO FORTH by Gordon Lish is a new collection of short fiction including eight new fictions. I’ve never read any Lish before but right away while reading this book I could tell he has quite the way with words. I really liked the stories where he was a character and the way he dealt with the recurring theme of death and loss. My fave stories were In September, Grace and Watch Out! I especially liked In September where he as a character talked about his kids. I really liked how in that piece he used poetry and repetition to create a nice flow in his writing. My least fave was Does This Mean Anythugng? because it was confusing and hard to read. Maybe it was trying to be funny and I didn’t get it? I’d definitely be interested to read more Lish now!
Thank you to Dzanc books for this ARC!
Thank you to Dzanc books for this ARC!
August 19, 2021
it is such a rare treat when contemporary “literary” fiction is actually funny
August 6, 2021
This is my first time reading Lish. I'll be honest I think the only reason I gave it a 3 star and not lower was that I feel like it's above my knowledge base and I am intimidated by how difficult it was. I struggled to finish each story. The last few stories saved the book for me. But that may have also been because I was finally starting to acclimatize myself to his style. It makes sense that he edited Barry Hannah because it reminded me of him.
I love Dzanc books and am ever grateful that they sent me this book to read and review.
I love Dzanc books and am ever grateful that they sent me this book to read and review.
Read
June 8, 2021"Walking away from Death and So Forth, the most memorable thing will be the language: its rhythms, recursions, its playfulness. It is, perhaps, language for language’s sake — which would be unsurprising for a man who once wrote a grammar textbook. Gordon’s “admission” may only be that he is entirely unrepentant."
Full review on Full Stop: https://www.full-stop.net/2021/06/08/...
Full review on Full Stop: https://www.full-stop.net/2021/06/08/...
April 9, 2021
I would first like to thank Dzanc books for giving me an ARC! I won this during a giveaway and I was really excited to see what was going on in Lish's mind. Apparently, some of the stories just didn't go right with me. Maybe it was the writing style, maybe it was something else, idk.
Either way, 3/5. It's a decent read :)
Either way, 3/5. It's a decent read :)
August 22, 2022
I came up with four different reviews for this and couldn't pick one. Inspired by Gordo himself I just used them all:
Gordon Lish is the genius you don’t want to have coffee with because he’ll keep apologizing for talking too much but then keep talking too much because, deep down, he doesn’t think he should have to stop.
Occasionally illuminating, more often irritating.
People who consider themselves very clever will decide that this book is very clever.
The editor needed an editor.
Gordon Lish is the genius you don’t want to have coffee with because he’ll keep apologizing for talking too much but then keep talking too much because, deep down, he doesn’t think he should have to stop.
Occasionally illuminating, more often irritating.
People who consider themselves very clever will decide that this book is very clever.
The editor needed an editor.
March 24, 2023
Interesting shtick
January 2, 2026
This one wasn’t totally for me but I think Gordon Lish is totally for me
January 18, 2023
There isn't a great story in this collection, but the writing is great, highly energized, considering the subject. He's not eulogizing or celebrating lives lost. He's doing something else. Call it lishing. Definitely a new way to write about death. "Bloom Dies" was my favorite.
Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews