The much-anticipated book LEONARD COHEN UNTOLD STORIES: FROM THIS BROKEN HILL, VOLUME 2 by Michael Posner came out at the end of 2021 at the time my dear husband Peter died. Having now buried him and got over the shock of losing my old friend after spending 28-years together, I sat down last night and read Posner’s fascinating 463-page book in one sitting.
Some 45 years had elapsed since I first met Leonard in Los Angeles when Michael Posner approached me to recount my memories of him. My first concern was to find out about Posner to make sure that his book about Cohen would be a serious undertaking. It did not take long to figure out that Posner was an award-winning biographer and respected journalist.
One does not easily forget an involvement with the likes of Cohen. He was by all accounts a remarkable person but would I be able to do him justice by my recollections? Fortunately, just like Leonard, I kept everything. Each version of my novels and screenplays, articles, and copies of correspondence were stored in dusty boxes. The letters in particular were helpful. Some 25 of them I had written to Cohen over a period of one year from September 1977 to 1978 would trigger my memory as accurately as if it were yesterday.
So diligent was Posner in interrogating me that he could have made a brilliant prosecutor. It was, however, an excellent way of waking up the grey cells into remembering the slightest details. I could sense myself reverting back to being 27 years old, about to be made homeless in Los Angeles, financially insecure and ambitious to make it as a screenwriter when Leonard appeared into my life and lifted me above the mediocrity of my everyday existence. Leonard brought joy and laughter and love. All of a sudden, everything seemed possible. He could have been a guardian angel for all I cared.
I trust that each and every person Posner interviewed for this ambitious project of using direct quotes from those who knew Cohen well would have gone through the same treatment. Each statement provoked a question, and another, and then another until the essential truth could be harvested. Cohen was a complex person. It is taking three volumes to arrive at the essence of his character. Leonard was not perfect by any means, but in many ways, he was a blessing to those who would take the best of him and forgive the rest. That is what I did and, consequently, his influence was only positive. So much so, that in my novel Glastontown I created a character (Lee Jaccson) that spoke like him, behaved like him, and enchanted those who would enjoy his lighthearted company without taking him too seriously. Leonard would have been amused that Jaccson was a hardened, rebellious black youth with an IQ of 152.
Leonard Cohen untold stories would make necessary reading to those who admire his work as a poet and singer and those who are just curious about this strange, magnetic personality that few men or women could resist.