Terrific from first to last, and is, as he liked to put it, quite up-cheering ... It is an ideally slim book. The Man Who Read Everything limits itself to eight of Bloom’s correspondents ... It’s worth mentioning this book’s editor, Heather Cass White ... You feel you are in good hands from the start. Her introduction is exemplary, brisk without being hurried: It’s packed with exactly the information a reader needs before entering.
We are afforded a chance to hear what Bloom had to say for himself ... The persona that emerges from these pages is not ornery or intransigent but passionate and full of quirks ... Full of vivid episodes from a lifetime of literary and academic work. There are some tantalizing theoretical passages for critics, but most of the book’s material is the everyday business of forwarding manuscripts, preparing syllabi, and comparing translations of Lao Tzu ... Beyond the concerns of cultural theory and literary history, this short but rich selection of letters between Bloom and eight fellow writers offers much to ponder in the dim wintry light of our times.
Calling this an edition of Bloom’s 'literary letters' is misleading ... As much as I admire and enjoy his books, it seems like there were plenty of interesting life experiences that Bloom never really said much about ... Instead, Bloom was always ringing the same canonical bell: read and reread Shakespeare, Dante, Homer, Milton, Proust ... Always a Bardolator, poor Bloom, but never quite a bard.
A concise gathering of letters to and from eight writers ... Bloom may have read everything, but there’s plenty of poetry he never deigned worthy of his attention ... Later, Bloom would expound the idea of the canon, but when most of these letters were written, his canon was compact and parochial ... Despite the reiteration of 'ones,' that’s beautifully articulated: whatever reservations you might have about Bloom’s ideas, his reading of poetry—of the rare poetry that interested him, anyway—had a vivifying effect.
The title is silly ... He didn’t waste his time reading more than he had to of what he considered inferior literature. However, the contents are fascinating, for they allow us a valuable glimpse into how this true one-off worked, thought, and communicated with those whose writing he held in high esteem ... It is refreshing to view a different kind of Bloom in these letters, a more humble figure seeking the help, as well as the approbation, of his intellectual idol ... There is much to enjoy.
