He prided himself on making scholarly topics accessible to readers
and wrote the bestsellers The Western Canon and The Book of J
Harold Bloom, a writer, literary critic and
Yale professor, died Monday at age 89. Photograph: Fairchild Archive/Penske
Media/REX/Shutterstock
Harold Bloom, the eminent critic and Yale
professor whose seminal The Anxiety of Influence and melancholy regard for
literature’s old masters made him a popular author and standard-bearer of
Western civilization amid modern trends, died Monday at age 89.
Bloom’s wife, Jeanne, said that he had been
failing health, although he continued to write books and was teaching as
recently as last week. Yale says Bloom died at a New Haven, Connecticut, hospital.
Bloom wrote more than 20 books and prided himself on making
scholarly topics accessible to the general reader. Although he frequently
bemoaned the decline of literary standards, he was as well placed as a
contemporary critic could hope to be. He appeared on bestseller lists with such
works as “The Western Canon” and “The Book of J,” was a guest on “Good Morning
America” and other programs and was a National Book Award finalist and a member
of the American Academy of Arts and Letters
His greatest legacy could well outlive his own name: the title of
his breakthrough book, The Anxiety of Influence. Bloom argued that creativity
was not a grateful bow to the past, but a Freudian wrestle in which artists
denied and distorted their literary ancestors while producing work that
revealed an unmistakable debt.
He was referring to poetry in his 1973 publication, but “anxiety of
influence” has come to mean how artists of any kind respond to their
inspirations. Bloom’s theory has been endlessly debated, parodied and challenged,
including by Bloom.
Bloom openly acknowledged his own heroes, among them Shakespeare,
Samuel Johnson and the 19th century critic Walter Pater. He honored no
boundaries between the life of the mind and life itself and absorbed the
printed word to the point of fashioning himself after a favorite literary
character, Shakespeare’s betrayed, but life-affirming Falstaff. Bloom’s
affinity began at age 12 and he more than lived up to his hero’s oversized aura
in person. For decades he ranged about the Yale campus, with untamed hair and
an anguished, theatrical voice, given to soliloquies over the present’s plight.
The youngest of five children, he was born in 1930 in New York’s
East Bronx to Orthodox Jewish immigrants from Russia, neither of whom ever
learned to read English. Bloom’s literary journey began with Yiddish poetry,
but he soon discovered the works of Hart Crane, T S Eliot, William Blake and
other poets. He would allege that as a young man he could absorb 1,000 pages at
a time.
He graduated in 1951 from Cornell University, where he studied
under the celebrated critic M H Abrams, and lived abroad as a Fulbright Scholar
at Pembroke College, Cambridge. After earning his doctorate degree from Yale in
1955, he joined the school’s English faculty. Bloom married Jeanne Gould in
1958 and had two sons.
In the ’50s, he opposed the rigid classicism
of Eliot. But over the following decades, Bloom condemned Afrocentrism,
feminism, Marxism and other movements he placed in the “school of resentment”.
A proud elitist, he disliked the Harry Potter books and slam poetry and was
angered by Stephen King’s receiving an honorary National Book Award. He
dismissed as “pure political correctness” the awarding of the Nobel Prize for
literature to Doris Lessing, author of the feminist classic The Golden
Notebook.
“I am your true Marxist critic,” he once
wrote, “following Groucho rather than Karl, and take as my motto Groucho’s
grand admonition, ‘Whatever it is, I’m against it.’”
In The Western Canon, published in 1994, Bloom
named the 26 crucial writers in Western literature, from Dante to Samuel
Beckett, and declared Philip Roth, Thomas Pynchon and Don DeLillo among the
contemporary greats. Shakespeare reigned at the canon’s center.
Many, however, had their own harsh criticism
of Bloom. He was mocked as out of touch and accused of recycling a small number
of themes. “Bloom had an idea; now the idea has him,” British critic
Christopher Ricks once observed.
Bloom’s praises were not reserved for white men. In The Book of J,
released in 1990, Bloom stated that some parts of the Bible were written by a
woman. (He often praised the God of the Old Testament as one of the greatest
fictional characters). He also admired Virginia Woolf, Jane Austen, George
Eliot and Emily Dickinson and the hundreds of critical editions he edited
include works on Toni Morrison, Maya Angelou and Amy Tan. Bloom did write a
novel, The Flight to Lucifer, but was no more effective than most critics
attempting fiction and later disowned the book. In The Anatomy of Influence, a
summation released in 2011, Bloom called himself an epicurean who acknowledged
no higher power other than art, living for “moments raised in quality by
aesthetic appreciation”.
His resistance to popular culture was emphatic, but not absolute.
He was fond of the rock group The Band and fascinated by the Rev Jimmy Swaggart
and other televangelists. He even confessed to watching MTV, telling The Paris
Review in 1990 that “what is going on there, not just in the lyrics but in its
whole ambience, is the real vision of what the country needs and desires. It’s
the image of reality that it sees, and it’s quite weird and wonderful.”
https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2019/oct/14/harold-bloom-literary-critic-yale-professor-dies-89
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