The Men's Club: An Expanded Edition

by Leonard Michaels

Seven men, friends and strangers gathered to form a men's club, become engaged in a progressively revealing encounter, stripping away their masks and uncovering the violence, lusts, miseries, and loves that lie beneath

Genres: Fiction, Novels, Americana, Psychology, Literary Fiction, Literature, The United States Of America

208 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1981

About the author

Leonard Michaels was an American writer of short stories, novels, and essays, and a Professor of English at the University of California, Berkeley.

Reviews

[Rachel B. Glaser · Rating 5 out of 5]

Though most of my girlfriends (and a few of my guy friends) wouldn't like this, and though some lines made me cringe, I loved this brutal, gripping, candid, unique, and nuanced romp, reading it straight through a five hour plane ride and finishing it later in and out of a bath. Leonard Michaels Is Brilliant! His language is spectacularly spot on. Every page is surprising. His insights are hilarious and crushing. I can't believe more writers don't talk about him and/or this book. He reminds me of Denis Johnson and Paula Fox. I recently read and loved Sylvia and now I must reread (and this time finish) his collected stories.

[David · Rating 2 out of 5]

While very well written, this book does leave one with a feeling of despair, both at one's gender and life in general. Some of the characters elicit sympathy and some are arguably 'nice guys', but others need a slap and a hard one. How much is this a book of its time and how much do the themes and the male ego self-indulgence continue as relevant to this day? I suspect the latter and a lot.

An academic is reluctantly persuaded to attend a new men's group, partly a reaction to the growth of feminist women's groups at the time, by an old friend a former professional basketball player. All the seven men gathered are professionals and well-resourced, which it seems is a good foundation for selfishness and self-indulgence. The seven are well-drawn with widely varying personalities, ensuring that there is comparatively little actual bonding, to my mind. Several seem on the verge of violence for most of the plot.

Helping themselves to a feast that is not there's to take, they gorge like pigs and drink themselves half insensible, with some pot thrown in for good measure (by probably the nicest guy). Most animals would behave better and the more civilised group members will awake with guilt. In this atmosphere the seven begin to swap stories of their current but usually former relationships. Some are brutal tales of perversion, others are tender although generally self-pitying, but not always some being genuinely caring and regretful. The tales are heard respectfully, even the more vile characters managing to keep complete contempt at bay.

On the host's wife's return as nemesis, the party is well and truly over. This is probably the best part of the book as revenge is wreaked.

If one accepts that shite stuff is going to happen at several points in one's life, that one is going to screw up at some point and probably several points, that no one is perfect and that one is going to get into middle age and look back with regret, even if successful (and what the hell does that mean?), then this book holds few lessons for you; other than in how not to behave. If you need this book to tell you something, professional help might be advised.

The book is not a grabber and I did find myself going back to it somewhat reluctantly at times. However, thanks to Nicholas Lezard of the Guardian for bringing to my attention. As a man it leaves me feeling a little dirty and presents life and relationships as really rather a squalid feat of endurance, rather than something to be relished and cherished. On this basis there are a lot of other books to read before another Leonard Michaels, fine literary craftman though he may have been.

[Antonio Lombardi · Rating 4 out of 5]

https://www.instagram.com/p/Bh323rqlE...

[Resh (The Book Satchel) · Rating 3 out of 5]

The Men’s club is set in 1970s in a suburban home in Berkeley, California. Seven men get together in a room that to form a men’s club. None of them know what the club is going to be about. The men in the circle are friends and strangers to some of the others in the circle. As the evening wears on, the men start talking.

Soon they open up about their regrets, love failures, unrequited love and what not. The first few chapters suck me into the book. The pace falls a but towards the middle. But the climax was funny and hilarious and I so did not see that one coming.

Check a detailed review on http://www.thebooksatchel.com/mens-cl...

Much thanks to Daunt Books for a copy of the book. All opinions are my own.

[Peter · Rating 4 out of 5]

Darkly funny and bitter story of seven men who gather one night to drink, eat, laugh, unburden, and try to share and comprehend their lives. True, they are mostly a pack of selfish misogynists and there really isn't even one sympathetic character, but Michaels' prose is so good and true that I couldn't stop reading.

[Josefin Andersson · Rating 2 out of 5]

När män i slutet av 70-talet träffas i en mansklubb talar de om kvinnor. En efter en försöker de bräcka varandra med historier om sina förälskelser, sexuella upplevelser och det hat de känner för sina fruar och flickvänner. Kanske finns det inget annat att prata om när mansklubben startats som en motreaktion på kvinnornas klubbar, där de snarare pratar politik och feminism (och antagligen en del skit om svinen de är ihop med).

Mansklubben sätter fingret på varför män i grupp är det vidrigaste som finns. De har sönder saker, beter sig oansvarigt, grisar ned hus och hem och är allmänt svinga. De börjar till och med slåss med varann! Tack och lov dyker en kvinna upp i slutet av boken och hon är djävligt förbannad. Hennes uppenbarelse får männen att blicka utåt istället för inåt, kanske får de en liten liten förståelse för vilka svin de faktiskt är.

Ärligt talat är jag ganska trött på gruppen män. Speciellt den svinga sorten. Och därför blir inte Mansklubben en bok där jag får tjuvlyssna njutningsfullt på männens samtal. Det blir snarare en bekräftelse på varför, ja nu säger jag det bara, jag hatar män.

[Edward Champion · Rating 5 out of 5]

You certainly couldn't accuse Leonard Michaels from shying away from the more unsettling truths -- and here we find it amongst men. I have a feeling that DFW probably cribbed the tone of this when he wrote the interstitial passage of BRIEF INTERVIEWS WITH HIDEOUS MEN, though Michaels doesn't have an axe to grind and he never takes the easy way out. These men are sensitive, acrimonious, pardonable, unpardonable, and everything in and between. There's also a few satirical potshots at California culture in the 1970s and 1980s that I appreciated. Most importantly, there is the gentle eloquence of Michaels's unadorned and sparse prose style that still remains hypnotic four decades after the first version of this was published.

[Matteo Mazzoli · Rating 5 out of 5]

Dopo aver letto Sylvia, obiettivamente uno dei pochi romanzi che negli ultimi anni mi hanno straziato il cuore, mi sono avvicinato a Il club degli uomini con forte desiderio e altrettanto forte timore di venire deluso. Ancora una volta, la scrittura asciutta ma al tempo stesso piena di significato, carica di sensualità e ombre, mi ha colpito al cuore raccontando le storie di uomini che si fanno coro come ululato di lupi (non a caso) in un tentare di riaffermare sé stessi in un momento in cui sembrano a loro modo smarriti, scavando nel passato per raccontare il presente amaro in cui le loro vite sembrano galleggiare inerti. L'occhio privilegiato da cui ci viene raccontata la storia ci dice qualcosa di questi uomini, essendo li presente suo malgrado, ma forse tanto di più lo si evince dagli sguardi, dalle gestualità a volte accennate, altre esagerate volutamente o inconsciamente, in un turbine di emozioni e ricordi e storie, per lo più, di sconfitta. Una resa incondizionata, uno sguardo abbassato di fronte all'ambizione inafferrabile, alla vita scivolata via nel tempo di un incontro, a what if ormai sospesi in un tempo senza possibilità di riavvolgere il nastro e tentare di nuovo. A tutto questo tentano di opporsi gli uomini qui raccontati, in una notte che è forse inizio e fine, alba e tramonto che mai dimenticheranno

[Ranee · Rating 3 out of 5]

To be honest, this would be a great book for men to read. As a woman I can appreciate it in its effort to give insight into what men struggle to share not just with each other but with the women in their lives as well. Although the portrayal of women in the book is unsurprising - the wife, the other woman, the unattainable woman, the women that make men better and worse all at once. The men never quite at fault but sensing something amiss.

Overall, an easy read that was somewhat thought-provoking though I'd not list it as particularly influential for myself personally.

[Benjamin Kahn · Rating 2 out of 5]

Not a great book. The action consists of a club for men that has its inaugural meeting and spends the night telling each other about the women that have been in their lives. The dialogue is very play-like and unrealistic and the slang they use is very dated. There are a couple of moments that I could relate to, but for the most part, the book is a very unconvincing depiction of what men talk about.

On the plus side, it's short and a quick read.

[Alvin · Rating 3 out of 5]

I grew up in Berkeley during the '70s, and this book really reminded me of my parents' world - a world in which new age nonsense collided with a rather shrill feminism and the dying remnants of male chauvinist piggery. The guys are wittily rendered and with more sympathy than perhaps they deserve. A quick read, and a fun-ish one, if you're interested in the whole battle between the sexes bit.

[Eric T. Voigt · Rating 5 out of 5]

Definitely jumped right up into the toppest ranks of my favoritest books of all time forever. Completely deserving of the late hour blow-through. I was gripped. I didn't think putting it down was an option. Almost one hundred mostly uninterrupted pages of awesome. EASILY six stars.

[Pino Sabatelli · Rating 1 out of 5]

Sono pochi i libri che invecchiano bene. Questo non sembra fare eccezione alla regola.

[Elliot · Rating 5 out of 5]

Shows what happens when you put the Jewish-American writer’s form of choice, monologue, in conversation. Make it a dialogue and the ugliness really reveals itself. The novel’s really carefully structured, and the presence of a woman at the end of the novel derails the men’s project of “honesty” and reveals it for what it is: power preservation, violence, etc. Interesting in the wake/presence of Roth et. Al, form reflects content, Michaels rejects the dominant form of the writers he’s so often compared to, so on....

[Harrison]

Funny book about men. Will read more by this guy

[Filippo Petriliggieri · Rating 2 out of 5]

L'idea di base è forte: un'club degli uomini' in cui ci si possa raccontare liberamente e intimamente.
Quello che non mi torna sono alcuni personaggi che popolano questo libro, sopra le righe, eccentrici e in alcuni casi così ricercati da far risultare il tutto un po' falso.

[David Peterson · Rating 4 out of 5]

Sju medelålders män samlas i en villa i universitetsstaden Berkeley. Det är 70-tal och olika kvinnogrupper är på frammarsch. Varför männen grupperar sig i en egen klubb vet de inte riktigt under det första famlande välkomnandet. Alla får varsin öl av värden. Michaels jagberättare funderar över huset inredning. Det är en kvinnas vardagsrum, slår han fast när han ser de gröna växterna och den brandgula mattan. Tanken löper vidare från växterna och berättare bestämmer sig: “poängen med klubben var att få umgås med män, inte att bekymra sig för kvinnor.”

Män som ska umgås. Vad ska de prata om? Vad ska de göra? När värden, och initiativtagare, plockar fram en låda med hundratals fotografier, bilder på alla kvinnor han legat med, blir det tydligt – de ska berätta livshistorier, episoder de skäms över eller vill skryta om. Berättelserna avlöser sedan varandra och vävs ihop med kvällens fortlöpande.

Plötsligt, efter att en av männen berättar om hur han planerade att skjuta sig i huvudet framför sin fru för att “visa hur han uppfattade förhållandet”, blir alla hungriga. Men ingen har planerat för mat. Kanske brukar den sysslan lämnas till fruar och flickvänner. Men männen har tur – nästa kväll ska en kvinnogrupp samlas i huset och kylskåpet är redan proppat med buffémat, dessert och kaliforniska viner. “Jag ger er alltihop, killar,” säger värden utan att tveka.

Mansklubben älskar att få bete sig som svin. Att de roffar åt sig kvinnogruppens mat gör bara att det smakar godare. Det är en destruktiv energi, en kaoskraft som samlas. Här börjar någon form av förvandling – från ansvarstagande samhällsmedborgare till män från grottorna. De berättar grövre och grövre historier. De tar fram knivar och börjar kasta dem mot dörrar och väggar. Till slut står alla sju i vardagsrummet och ylar “tills det verkade som om vi var en enda man i ylandena som steg och steg och lyfte oss uppåt.”

Det är inte sant att skriva att jag känner igen mig i Michaels bok. Men ändå, och trots att boken först gavs ut 1981, finns det sanningsenliga teman och scener om män i grupp.

[Madhuri · Rating 3 out of 5]

Men in the age of therapy: it says on the back-cover. These 7 men in Michaels short novel do feel the need to talk. For some the talk even appears to be therapeutic. The story turns women's club on its head. A group getting together away from the other sex, but constantly talking about this other they are apparently escaping from. If Leonard Michael intended to look reprovingly at such clubs, he has done that well.

He has made each of the men a little vile, repulsive, a bit animal-like. Perhaps the point was exaggeration, perhaps he just thought idiosyncratic characters were easier to create and identify. He supports them with fantasy like stories which are interesting to read, and with a short, neat prose. The ending was very well executed.

I have been told he is a great American writer - well this is certainly not the book that could have given him that accolade.

[Virginia Felloni · Rating 5 out of 5]

Erano quattro amici al bar... (Anche se qui in realtà erano sette!)

Sono arrivata all’ultima pagina esclamando “No!!”. Avrei letto almeno altre 200 pagine e invece è finito subito.
Dopo Sylvia, ovviamente, ero partita con altissime aspettative che però non sono state smentite.

La verità? Essere come un terzo occhio che ha preso parte alle storie di questi 7 uomini è stato terribilmente esaltante, provo un fascino inaudito verso la semplicità con la quale si instaurano i rapporti maschili, quella pura sincerità e non-competizione che nell’universo femminile di rado c’è.

Anche questa volta la scrittura di Leonard Michaels si conferma densa di contenuti e piena di sfumature.
Un libro bellissimo, ora recupero il film.

[Antonio Parrilla · Rating 3 out of 5]

Descritto come il "romanzo definitivo e attualissimo sull'identità maschile", questo libro è stato una grandissima delusione.
I personaggi sono una manica di "sfigati" (ma ovviamente tutti professionisti affermati, come sempre capita con libri falsamente "progressisti" e di satira costume), poco interessanti e, soprattutto, poco rappresentativi dell'universo maschile; lo stile di scrittura non è adeguato al tono del racconto, che si vorrebbe ironico e provocatorio; la trama è inesistente, e si limita a unire tra loro le storie, poco coinvolgenti, che ciascun protagonista racconta.
Sarebbero due stelle e mezza, ma oggi mi sento buono.

[Roberta · Rating 2 out of 5]

"Potrei raccontarne altre, di storie senza senso. Mi capita spesso. Comincio a parlare pensando che ci sia un senso e poi non lo trovo. E che cos'è, ad ogni modo, il senso? Le cose succedono. Te ne ricordi. Tutto qui. Se le guardi da una prospettiva più ampia, ti renderai conto che il senso non c'è mai. C'è soltanto a prospettiva."

"Sono un flipper. Una donna ne rende necessaria un'altra."

"Deborah esagerava in tutto. Parlando di lei, io faccio lo stesso. Si fissava su tutto e niente si fissava su di lei, capite cosa voglio dire?"

[Shozo Hirono · Rating 2 out of 5]

Beware of books (or movies) with the word "Club" in the title. If you loved that Cassavettes movie Husbands, you may like this book though. In fact, I bet Michaels was a big fan of Cassavettes and that movie in particular. I thought that there was some good writing in this book, but it was too self-indulgent and kind of childish in attitude. I much preferred his earlier novel Sylvia. But I can see how The Men's Club was a huge influence on lots of macho writers who came later.

[Rob · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dated, but alive.

[Javier · Rating 2 out of 5]

I like Lenny Michaels. I really like him. Yet, or therefore, I cannot finish this book.

[Carrie LeAnne · Rating 2 out of 5]

I was not impressed. Don't recommend. Somewhat discomforting.

[Frank · Rating 2 out of 5]

This was moderately amusing, but also shabby and immature. More than once I heard an imaginary accusatory voice asking: haven't you got anything better to do with your time?

[Grazia · Rating 1 out of 5]

Ma perché tutto questo?

[Giovanna Tomai · Rating 2 out of 5]

Una storia così così.
La scrittura merita ma non ha fatto impazzire.

[Peter G · Rating 5 out of 5]

“Women,” Michael Leonard’s narrator tells us in the first line of this story, “wanted to talk about anger, identity, politics, etc.” And, almost as a hostile response to this period of growing women’s agency, his old good friend Cavanaugh decides to start up a men’s club of his own which he invites the narrator to join. And so the question of what exactly men want to talk about, becomes the central idea that the novel ends up riffing around. There are seven men there in the club’s very first meeting; a tax accountant, a lawyer, two psychotherapists, two professors, and Cavanaugh the former professional basketball player and icon of hale American masculinity (“If something was wrong with Cavanaugh, it was wrong with the universe”). Thinking, with some reluctance, of the possibility of an evening of male company, the narrator notes: “Some of my married colleagues had love affairs, usually with students. You could call it a regular social possibility. It included emotional chaos. Gonorrhoea. Even guilt. They would have been better off in a men’s club.” So, with a certain glum lack of expectation, he heads off to a suburban home near his house but not before assuring his wife he’ll be home before midnight.

We, the readers, already can safely assume that this isn’t going to happen. But it is the particular form of chaos that this get-together releases that makes this book the fun that it is. They get past the awkward introductory phase where they share a few drinks, smoke weed, and gorge on a sumptuous feast that their host, Kramer’s, wife has put aside for her woman’s evening set to occur on the following evening. Then, like a Toastmaster’s from hell, the men each take turns sharing impromptu stories drawn from their lives. In the very worst way they kind of tell on themselves, revealing just how pathetic and shallow they are in the way they interact with the women in their lives. The narrator gets to be a slightly detached observer, free to make wry commentary and shine spotlines on moments of absurdity. For example, after Kramer, ever to accommodating host, takes out a ringbinder of photos he’s taken of all the women he’s slept with, he intones that “…to me Kramer’s women looked fundamentally the same. One poor sweetie between twenty and thirty years old forever. On a beach, leaning against a railing, a tree, a brick wall, with sun in her eyes, squinting at the camera. A hundred fragments, each complete if you cared to scrutinise. A whole person who could say her name. Maybe love Kramer. That she squinted touched me.”

The novel is full of these neat little revelatory moments, presented with the sort of comic timing that a stand-up would be envious of. Cavanaugh, after describing his extensive history of cheating, hits just the right brusque tone of a man adopting a position of seemingly vulnerability only to be irked as his wife refuses to play into the expected role of meek forgiveness: "I told her I was sorry. It was our anniversary. The kids were staying with my mother. We went camping up north. High pine woods. River. Burning yellow moon. Suddenly I had to tell her everything and I felt it would be okay. I told her about Kansas City, El Paso, New York – the women. You wouldn’t believe what she said. She said, “I want a divorce.” I told her it wouldn’t happen again. I wanted her to forgive me. She said, “I want a divorce.” Like I had one in my pocket. I was getting irritated.”

As the night goes on, and the club descend further into their misanthropic bitterness their behaviour reverts and they start to squabble and fight. Then, in a perfect comic set-piece they destroy a wooden door with a brace of throwing knives and, in a moment of pure bathos, are discovered by the lady of the house howling like a pack of wild dogs. The moment that domestic order is reasserted is sudden, violent, and funny.

This is a book that feels at times a bit stagy and outdated. But it also feels so richly comedic and funny and like it has a real heart to describe the despair of masculine figures within a modernity that seems to increasingly not need them. Michaels is brave enough to represent his seven men in as ugly and garish a light as he can muster, but also captures a core logic of the lives in their desperation to have more genuine connection with each other and the objects of their stories. This is a book that can feel like it's not about anything at all until you battle through the one-liners and the vivid description to uncover its heart. Lovely and touching.

[Andi Popandi · Rating 5 out of 5]

Simply brilliant! Brilliant dialogues, brilliant monologues. Episodes of the highest humor and wit. This book is much more of a play than a novel, even if Michaels didn't write it that way. In this respect, it is reminiscent of the best material by Edward Albee and Tennesse Williams, and in a contemporary version even of Yasmina Reza. Snotty arguments, grotesque twists, deep characterizations, and all this on the basis that Michaels simply lets his protagonists talk as naturally as their (sometimes sexist, racist and body-shaming) beaks grow. Only one woman appears in this “Mens Club”. At the jaw-dropping end, it is the host's wife herself who surprises the unleashed horde in the late hours of the night. And HOW she does it! You really want to see this word carnage on a stage (you see it all the time anyway). Or in a theatrical film adaptation. This novel from 1978 is knee deep and rooted in the kind of 70's American literature I love (Updike, Roth, Kotzwinkle, etc.). And another incredible haul of my random reads from my ancestral favorite literary phone booth. I didn't know Leonard Michaels at all. Neither did my Dad (who encouraged and taught me to read all 20th century Americans). An absolute Dad book! I will be reading more from Leonard Michaels in the future. Simply brilliant!!


Simply brilliant!! Brilliante Dialoge, brilliante Monolge. Episoden von allerhöchsten Humor-Gnaden und Sprachwitz. Dieses Buch ist viel mehr noch in der Anlage ein Theaterstück als ein Roman, auch wenn Michaels den Text nicht so angelegt hat. In dieser Hinsicht erinnert er an die besten Stoffe von Edward Albee und Tennesse Williams, in einer zeitgenössischen Variante gar an Yasmina Reza. Rotzfreche Auseinandersetzungen, groteske Wendungen, tiefe Personenzeichnungen, und das alles auf der Grundlage, dass Michaels seine Protagonisten einfach aufs Natürlichste quatschen lässt, wie ihnen der (mitunter sexistische, rassistische und body shamende) Schnabel gewachsen ist. Nur eine Frau taucht in diesem "Mens Club"auf. Am die Kinnlade weit offen stehen lassenden Ende ist es die Frau des Gastgebers persönlich, die die entfesselte Horde in der weit fortgeschrittenen Nacht überrascht. Und WIE sie das tut!! Man will dieses Wort-Gemetzel wirklich auf einer Bühne sehen (man siehts die ganze Zeit sowieso). Oder in einer theaterhaften Verfilmung. Dieser Roman von 1978 ist knietief veranlagt und verwurzelt in die Art amerikanischer Literatur der 70er Jahre wie ich sie liebe (Updike, Roth, Kotzwinkle etc.). Und wieder ein unglaublicher Fang meiner Random-Readings aus meiner angestammten Lieblings-Literaturtelefonzelle. Ich kannte Leonard Michaels gar nicht. Mein Dad (der mir sämtliche Amerikaner des 20. Jahrhunderts nahegelegt und mich sie zu lesen gelehrt hat) auch nicht. Ein absolutes Papa-Buch! Ich werde mehr von Leonard Michaels lesen. Simply brilliant!!