‘Closing Time’: My Lost Literary World
As one grows older and reaches one’s sixties and seventies, the world grows smaller and the air seems to thin, reminding one that mortality hovers. This sense of an ending comes with a melancholic recognition that everything, including vibrant and entrenched style of intellectual engagement, is fleeting.
November 1, 2019
Harold Bloom, 1930–2019
We were Bloom’s only company that morning in June, apart from his caregivers; his wife, Jeanne, was out shopping, and he seemed lonely at his table, a king without a court. Perhaps his stream of well-wishers had dried up, frightened by his extreme frailty.
October 15, 2019