The Men in My Life

By Vivian Gornick 

Boston Review

A very wise man once said: "Normal love isn’t interesting. I assure you that it’s incredibly boring." Though this person was referring to the type of love that can sometimes exist between two living people, I’ve always thought it could be applied elsewhere as well. Love has no boundaries, after all. 

The bulk of my friends and I find our true love and lust in the seat of a movie house. We immerse ourselves in the minds and bodies of passionate cinematic auteurs of the new, old, and very old. Other people I know sit in museums day after day, hour after hour, and stare at various sculptures, relics, and canvasses in the hope of uncovering their secrets and forming a deeper connection between themselves and the art. We're all connected to different things for different reasons, no matter how crazy it might seem to someone who doesn’t understand that kind of ardor. 

For Vivian Gornick, the author of The Men in My Life, her loyalties have always lain with the written word, the great literature of the past and present whose characters and craftsmanship speak directly to her soul. Gornick's solitary relationship with words coupled with her political sensibilities has reared its beautiful head on more than one occasion in her own work. In her most famous book, The End of the Novel of Love, Gornick analyzed the very essence and idea of love in the form of literature. She is a devout feminist and liberal who places incalculable thought into what she sees, hears, and most importantly, feels. 

As far as literary criticism goes, The Men in My Life feels kind of like a harmonious valentine to many of the world’s most significant male authors—from the likes of H.G. Wells to Allen Ginsberg to Saul Bellow. Through nine different chapters and essays (and an insightful preface), Gornick examines their work and the men themselves in an effort to shine a light on some of the more troublesome traits and tendencies they possess. She looks at Bellow and Phillip Roth through a feminist lens, and exposes the inherent misogyny of their work. My favorite essay, "H.G. Wells: The Beginning of Wisdom," takes a look at the man behind the pen by studying his kooky autobiography, along with the person who wrote it. Like all of the essays, it is both joyful and edifying. 

Though I'm only familiar with half of the authors Gornick analyzes, she skillfully related all of her ideas and theories to me in a way that never felt patronizing. It's clear that this book is a true labor of love, and her enthusiasm shows throughout the text. Gornick may disagree with some of the author’s ideologies, but her earnest appreciation for the work outweighs most of their foibles. Like the many friends Gornick has made with the authors and their characters, I'm sure I'll return to The Men in My Life several times because of its insightful view on life, literature, and humanity. 

Review by Sara Freeman