Sentences — June 26, 2007, 10:51 pm

Interview: Wyatt Mason on Leonard Michaels

Contributing Editor Wyatt Mason wrote about the neglected works of author Leonard Michaels (1933–2003) in “The Irresponsibility of Feelings” in the July Harper’s. Subscribers can read his essay now; non-subscribers can read it in late July.


[Archive]

LEONARD MICHAELS

Fiction

Jealousy
March 1997

After a Fight, from Sylvia
December 1992

Essays

The Action of Metaphor
January 1987

Literary Talk
December 1987

Diary of an Ex
December 1989

WYATT MASON

The Irresponsibility of Feelings, on Leonard Michaels
July 2007

How did you come to Leonard Michaels?

Through good luck. I knew nothing of Michaels until 1993, when I was living in New York City. A roommate had Sylvia, Michaels’s second novel, among his books, and I was intrigued by the cover, a pencil sketch of a woman who seemed to be keening while smoking. The pencil drawing, I learned, was a self-portrait by Sylvia Bloch, Michaels’s first wife, about whom the events of the novel turn. Anyway, at 24, this book was properly devastating for me. It was about a young man my age in a marriage that one–at least I–could not fathom. A terrifying struggle, but rendered in a prose as measured as the events it described were not. I had been reading a lot of Nabokov around that time, and Michaels’s approach to style struck me as astonishing. Effect without affect was new to me. An education in every sense, that book. Storytelling with very different aesthetic concerns.

Michaels wrote (in this magazine in 1987) that “the problem of storytelling is how to make transitions into transformations.”

I think that begins to get at what he was trying to do. It sounds a bit abstract, but it’s a way of asking what separates the rote from the revelatory in fiction? Transitions–from sentence to sentence; from paragraph to paragraph; from section to section–are the connective tissue of telling a story. A storyteller, speaking to an audience, can raise and lower his or her voice, pause for emphasis, raise an eyebrow, stamp a foot–in other words, cheat.

Leonard Michaels

There are endless ways of cheating on the page, often profitably, to create pace or alter mood, or, less ideally, of padding out a story with pretty writing for its own sake. There are certain dependable tropes upon which all writers rely, sometimes overly, and which wear unevenly from overuse. Ford Madox Ford liked to begin his paragraphs with “Of course . . .”; “But”; “And then . . . ” All of which are means of massaging the reader’s movement through the unfolding story, but they’re somewhat conventional, conspicuous means. I suspect that it was Michaels’s preference to attempt to avoid such conventions as much as possible. Not out of a desire for novelty so much as a wish that a story could surprise in all its elements. As a good tailor tries to hide his seams, he attempted to hide those transitional conventions.

Michaels did not, as a writer, particularly in his last decade, have the kind of vanity that needed to have his prose stroked for its fineness, and thus he avoided conspicuous effects–obvious alliteration, enormous sentences–in favor of potent images and syntactical economy. All fine prose writers are putting on a show, of course, but Michaels, as he developed, wasn’t interested in using smoke machines or lasers. His stage is austere, and the emphasis is on intelligibility over theatricality. The yield of that austerity is enormous.

What should we read first?

Readers new to Michaels, or those who knew his early work in the 1960’s and 70’s, should start with the seven stories about mathematician Raphael Nachman, completed at the end of his life, and thus found at the back of the new omnibus volume The Collected Stories. What makes these stories in large part unique is the intelligence of the central character. We are usually denied the pleasure of genuinely intelligent characters in fiction–that is to say, emotionally, morally, and rhetorically sophisticated characters. Nachman is all three, and a great deal more. He is the equal of the considerable intelligence of the author.

Who, like Michaels, deserves more attention than he or she is getting?

Guy Davenport. He was the finest American critic of the postwar era. I say this in sight of the work of Trilling, Howe, Kazin, and Wilson. Davenport is unequaled in the depth of what he draws upon across the arts, not to say the lightness of touch with which he deploys that knowledge, always to the end of revealing what a particular piece of literature does–how, and how well. He’s out of fashion, in part because he had no philosophical motives, no political aims, only aesthetic interests–very rigorous ones. He cared about how art works, and how artists, through their work, talk to each other through time. I’d start with his The Geography of the Imagination, forty essays about literature and art. Then there’s Davenport’s fiction, also too little known, and his poetry, which is very fine, particularly his long poem, Flowers and Leaves.

And I would urge everyone to read as much of the poet Frederick Seidel as they can.Editor’s note: Harper’s will publish four poems by Seidel in August 2007. The poems of Ooga-Booga, his most recent book, are doing the imaginative work that a great many contemporary novels don’t begin to approach.

michaels1996umbriaitaly_450
Leonard Michaels, Umbria, Italy, 1996

Share
Single Page

More from Paul Ford:

From the May 2010 issue

Just like heaven

Weekly Review March 23, 2010, 12:00 am

Weekly Review

Weekly Review November 24, 2009, 12:00 am

Weekly Review

Get access to 168 years of
Harper’s for only $45.99

United States Canada

CATEGORIES

THE CURRENT ISSUE

December 2018

FEATURED ON HARPERS.ORG

Article
Combustion Engines·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

On any given day last summer, the smoke-choked skies over Missoula, Montana, swarmed with an average of twenty-eight helicopters and eighteen fixed-wing craft, a blitz waged against Lolo Peak, Rice Ridge, and ninety-six other wildfires in the Lolo National Forest. On the ground, forty or fifty twenty-person handcrews were deployed, alongside hundreds of fire engines and bulldozers. In the battle against Rice Ridge alone, the Air Force, handcrews, loggers, dozers, parachutists, flacks, forecasters, and cooks amounted to some nine hundred people.

Rice Ridge was what is known as a mega-fire, a recently coined term for blazes that cover more than 100,000 acres. The West has always known forest fires, of course, but for much of the past century, they rarely got any bigger than 10,000 acres. No more. In 1988, a 250,000-acre anomaly, Canyon Creek, burned for months, roaring across a forty-mile stretch of Montana’s Bob Marshall Wilderness in a single night. A few decades on, that anomaly is becoming the norm. Rice Ridge, for its part, swept through 160,000 acres.

At this scale, the firefighting operation is run by an incident management team, a group of about thirty specialists drawn from a mix of state and federal agencies and trained in fields ranging from aviation to weather forecasting and accounting to public information. The management teams are ranked according to experience and ability, from type 3 (the least skilled) to type 1 (the most). The fiercest fires are assigned to type 1s. Teams take the name of their incident commander, the field general, and some of those names become recognizable, even illustrious, in the wildfire-fighting community. One such name is that of Greg Poncin, who is to fire commanders what Wyatt Earp was to federal marshals.

Smoke from the Lolo Peak fire (detail) © Laura Verhaeghe
Article
Rebirth of a Nation·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Donald Trump’s presidency signals a profound but inchoate realignment of American politics. On the one hand, his administration may represent the consolidation of minority control by a Republican-dominated Senate under the leadership of a president who came to office after losing the popular vote by almost 3 million ballots. Such an imbalance of power could lead to a second civil war—indeed, the nation’s first and only great fraternal conflagration was sparked off in part for precisely this reason. On the other hand, Trump’s reign may be merely an interregnum, in which the old white power structure of the Republican Party is dying and a new oppositional coalition struggles to be born.

Illustration by Taylor Callery (detail)
Article
Blood Money·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Over the past three years, the city of South Tucson, Arizona, a largely Latino enclave nestled inside metropolitan Tucson, came close to abolishing its fire and police departments. It did sell off the library and cut back fire-truck crews from four to three people—whereupon two thirds of the fire department quit—and slashed the police force to just sixteen employees. “We’re a small city, just one square mile, surrounded by a larger city,” the finance director, Lourdes Aguirre, explained to me. “We have small-town dollars and big-city problems.”

Illustration by John Ritter (detail)
Article
The Tragedy of Ted Cruz·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

When I saw Ted Cruz speak, in early August, it was at Underwood’s Cafeteria in Brownwood. He was on a weeklong swing through rural central Texas, hitting small towns and military bases that ensured him friendly, if not always entirely enthusiastic, crowds. In Brownwood, some in the audience of two hundred were still nibbling on peach cobbler as Cruz began with an anecdote about his win in a charity basketball game against ABC’s late-night host Jimmy Kimmel. They rewarded him with smug chuckles when he pointed out that “Hollywood celebrities” would be hurting over the defeat “for the next fifty years.” His pitch for votes was still an off-the-rack Tea Party platform, complete with warnings about the menace of creeping progressivism, delivered at a slightly mechanical pace but with lots of punch. The woman next to me remarked, “This is the fire in the gut! Like he had the first time!” referring to Cruz’s successful long-shot run in the 2011 Texas Republican Senate primary. And it’s true—the speech was exactly like one Cruz would have delivered in 2011, right down to one specific detail: he never mentioned Donald Trump by name.

Cruz recited almost verbatim the same things Trump lists as the administration’s accomplishments: the new tax legislation, reduced African-American unemployment, repeal of the Affordable Care Act’s individual mandate, and Neil Gorsuch’s appointment to the Supreme Court. But, in a mirror image of those in the #Resistance who refuse to ennoble Trump with the title “president,” Cruz only called him that.

Photograph of Ted Cruz © Ben Helton (detail)
Article
Wrong Object·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

H

e is a nondescript man.

I’d never used that adjective about a client. Not until this one. My seventeenth. He’d requested an evening time and came Tuesdays at six-thirty. For months he didn’t tell me what he did.

The first session I said what I often said to begin: How can I help you?

I still think of what I do as a helping profession. And I liked the way the phrase echoed down my years; in my first job I’d been a salesgirl at a department store counter.

I want to work on my marriage, he said. I’m the problem.

His complaint was familiar. But I preferred a self-critical patient to a blamer.

It’s me, he said. My wife is a thoroughly good person.

Yawn, I thought, but said, Tell me more.

I don’t feel what I should for her.

What do you feel?

Photograph © Joseph S. Giacalone (detail)

Average life span, in years, of a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon:

25

Researchers in California succeeded in teaching genetically engineered E. coli bacteria to communicate using a new chemical “language”; the research aims at turning cells into tiny robots.

Theresa May’s Brexit proposal was rejected; Trump suggested raking to prevent forest fires; Jair Bolsonaro insulted Cuban doctors working in Brazil

Subscribe to the Weekly Review newsletter. Don’t worry, we won’t sell your email address!

HARPER’S FINEST

Happiness Is a Worn Gun

By

Illustration by Stan Fellows

Illustration by Stan Fellows

“Nowadays, most states let just about anybody who wants a concealed-handgun permit have one; in seventeen states, you don’t even have to be a resident. Nobody knows exactly how many Americans carry guns, because not all states release their numbers, and even if they did, not all permit holders carry all the time. But it’s safe to assume that as many as 6 million Americans are walking around with firearms under their clothes.”

Subscribe Today