The writer’s last brief words in this bountiful volume of letters, set down fourteen months before his death, should all at once break open the hidden-in-plain-sight code that reveals why Bellow stays:
[My parents] needed all the help they could get. They were forever asking, “What does the man say?” and I would translate for them into heavy-footed English. That didn’t help much either. The old people were as ignorant of English as they were of Canadian French. We often stopped before a display of children’s shoes. My mother coveted for me a pair of patent-leather sandals with an elegantissimo strap. I finally got them—I rubbed them with butter to preserve the leather. This is when I was six or seven years old.... Amazing how it all boils down to a pair of patent-leather sandals.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Ozick on Bellow ...
... Lasting Man. (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)
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