A collection of 68 vignettes, each named after a location (like Fresno, Paris, an orphanage), where Saroyan reflects on memories, people, and moments, exploring themes of belonging, time, freedom, and his Armenian heritage, often focusing on his relationship with his deceased father and his unique, non-chronological perspective on life's "places," viewing them less as physical spots and more as states of being or memory anchors.
William Saroyan was an Armenian-American writer, renowned for his novels, plays, and short stories. He gained widespread recognition for his unique literary style, often characterized by a deep appreciation for everyday life and human resilience. His works frequently explored themes of Armenian-American immigrant experiences, particularly in his native California, and were infused with optimism, humor, and sentimentality. Saroyan's breakthrough came with The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze (1934), a short story that established him as a major literary voice during the Great Depression. He went on to win the Pulitzer Prize for Drama in 1940 for The Time of Your Life, though he declined the award, and in 1943, he won an Academy Award for Best Story for The Human Comedy. His novel My Name Is Aram (1940), based on his childhood, became an international bestseller. Though celebrated for his literary achievements, Saroyan had a tumultuous career, often struggling with financial instability due to his gambling habits and an unwillingness to compromise with Hollywood. His later works were less commercially successful, but he remained a prolific writer, publishing essays, memoirs, and plays throughout his life. Saroyan's legacy endures through his influence on American literature, his contributions to Armenian cultural identity, and the honors bestowed upon him, including a posthumous induction into the American Theater Hall of Fame. His remains are divided between Fresno, California, and Armenia, reflecting his deep connection to both his birthplace and ancestral homeland.
Aug 29 ~~ Review asap. Aug 31 ~~ Another delightful collection of Saroyan essays. I am so happy I treated myself to it.
WS had a simple idea: write short pieces about the various places that were important to him for whatever reason during his lifetime.
The orphanage where he had to live for a time after his father died. The apartment he had in Paris many years later. A racetrack. A hotel here and another there. A casino, a library and many more.
This intriguing little book has 68 chapters, jumping back and forth in time, sharing memories, emotions and heartfelt wonder for life itself, wherever it was lived and in whatever circumstances WS found himself.
I kept wondering which of the places from my own life I would write about if I were to do such a project. I can certainly think of a few magical places that touched me deeply. Maybe I will go make some notes right now.
There is some sort of special relationship between myself and William Saroyan - it began when I was 18 just struggling with trying to figure out who I was. His voice was sincere and full of compassion for the entire human race. I stumbled upon this book in the Wilkinsburg High School library getting rid of cart. I picked it up on Tuesday and was done by Sunday. This book is just a bunch of short ramblings about where he has been and how that affected him as a person. It was refreshing to read him again and I believe I am the only person to read this book since in was published in 1972 and housed in the Wilkinsburg library. Thanks again Saroyan!
"Places make us - let's not imagine that once we're here anything else does. First genes, then places - after that it's every man for himself, God help us, and good luck to one and all."
In Places Where I've Done Time, a memoir, William Saroyan remembers "places in which a sense of reality came to me that impelled me to feel great". Saroyan reflects upon his life by going back to the places that "made him". William Saroyan leads the reader in a journey through America and Europe and he does so with his usual lighthearted, vivid and humorous voice:
"At Tanforan I used to feel great. Why did a little San Francisco race track affect me that way? Well, some places are happy places and some aren't, and that's pretty much all you can say about the matter. But if you think on it, you soon discover that no place is totally without happiness, possibly not even the grave - but we're not going there, you and I. When we die, it just isn't going to be us. Coming around the stretch, boxed in, we're going to find a little opening, and before anybody knows what's going on, we're going to ease through, and move out, and come down to the wire all alone, and go away, hollering and laughing, uncaught again, again uncatchable".
Anecdotes as antidote? Saroyan is shades of Bradbury, shades of John Fante-- and Fante could kick his reminiscent ass. Writes like he's trying to bless everything-- as if trying not to offend any places/people/pain mentioned in his travels. That's great. Good ol' life, whimsical and Circular. And the schizo timeline, I went shrug, screw it, Goodwill bag, sorry mister, you're probably very likable to People With a Soul.
It's a series of short vignettes about the places Saroyan has known in his life, what happened there, why he remembers them. They're all out of order and interspersed with little cartoons. What a wonderful way of organizing an autobiography! I like the way he writes, too- makes you feel like you're sitting at a bar with this crusty guy who's been everywhere.
“Places make us--let's not imagine that once we're here anything else does. First genes, then places--after that it's every man for himself, God help us, and good luck to one and all.”
William Saroyan had a hell of a life. It was very different than mine—he drifted from place to place, spending time in bars and hotels and whorehouses. He didn’t seem to sweat a lot of stuff, and appreciated simple pleasures, and seemed to mainly live day to day. But despite pretty much none of this describing my own life, I found this collection of vignettes, organized around locations he visited and/or lived in during his own life, irresistible. Saroyan has a Vonnegutian quality, cutting right through the trappings of life to the truth at the core, and this really sucked me in. If you’ve never read Saroyan, this is a great place to start, and if you have, you should read this one too.
I really enjoyed some of these vignettes, or whatever you want to call them. I felt there were some weaker ones bunched up near the end, but overall a nice, quick and engaging read. An added bonus: John Fante makes a couple of appearances.
One of those books on living a life, working for a living, and the lessons all of it teaches a forming writer. For me they tend to be the best books. Much to be admired here.