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A Piece of My Mind: Reflections at Sixty
From the author of To the Finland Station comes a deeply personal and incisive memoir, A Piece of My Mind .
Edmund Wilson, often considered to be the greatest American literary critic of the twentieth century, reflects back on life in his sixth decade with this insightful intellectual autobiography that covers topics ranging from Religion, War, the USA, Europe, Russia, Jews, Education, Science, Sex, and much more, all examined with his characteristic wit and intelligence.
Edmund Wilson, often considered to be the greatest American literary critic of the twentieth century, reflects back on life in his sixth decade with this insightful intellectual autobiography that covers topics ranging from Religion, War, the USA, Europe, Russia, Jews, Education, Science, Sex, and much more, all examined with his characteristic wit and intelligence.
- GenresEssaysNonfictionMemoir
239 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1956
About the author
Edmund Wilson
172 books162 followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author by this name in the Goodreads database. See also physicist Edmund Wilson.
Edmund Wilson Jr. was a towering figure in 20th-century American literary criticism, known for his expansive intellect, stylistic clarity, and commitment to serious literary and political engagement. Over a prolific career, Wilson wrote for Vanity Fair, The New Republic, The New Yorker, and The New York Review of Books, shaping the critical conversation on literature, politics, and culture. His major critical works—such as Axel's Castle and Patriotic Gore—combined literary analysis with historical insight, and he ventured boldly into subjects typically reserved for academic specialists, including the Dead Sea Scrolls, Native American cultures, and the American Civil War.
Wilson was also the author of fiction, memoirs, and plays, though his influence rested most strongly on his literary essays and political writing. He was instrumental in promoting the reputations of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, William Faulkner, Vladimir Nabokov, and many others. Despite his friendships with several of these authors, his criticism could be unflinching, even scathing—as seen in his public dismissal of H. P. Lovecraft and J. R. R. Tolkien. His combative literary style often drew attention, and his exacting standards for writing, along with his distaste for popular or commercial literature, placed him in a tradition of high-minded literary seriousness.
Beyond the realm of letters, Wilson was politically active, aligning himself at times with socialist ideals and vocally opposing Cold War policies and the Vietnam War. His principled refusal to pay income tax in protest of U.S. militarization led to a legal battle and a widely read protest book.
Wilson was married four times and had several significant personal and intellectual relationships, including with Fitzgerald and Nabokov. He also advocated for the preservation and celebration of American literary heritage, a vision realized in the creation of the Library of America after his death. For his contributions to American letters, Wilson received multiple honors, including the Presidential Medal of Freedom. His legacy endures through his extensive body of work, which remains a touchstone for literary scholars and general readers alike.
Edmund Wilson Jr. was a towering figure in 20th-century American literary criticism, known for his expansive intellect, stylistic clarity, and commitment to serious literary and political engagement. Over a prolific career, Wilson wrote for Vanity Fair, The New Republic, The New Yorker, and The New York Review of Books, shaping the critical conversation on literature, politics, and culture. His major critical works—such as Axel's Castle and Patriotic Gore—combined literary analysis with historical insight, and he ventured boldly into subjects typically reserved for academic specialists, including the Dead Sea Scrolls, Native American cultures, and the American Civil War.
Wilson was also the author of fiction, memoirs, and plays, though his influence rested most strongly on his literary essays and political writing. He was instrumental in promoting the reputations of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, William Faulkner, Vladimir Nabokov, and many others. Despite his friendships with several of these authors, his criticism could be unflinching, even scathing—as seen in his public dismissal of H. P. Lovecraft and J. R. R. Tolkien. His combative literary style often drew attention, and his exacting standards for writing, along with his distaste for popular or commercial literature, placed him in a tradition of high-minded literary seriousness.
Beyond the realm of letters, Wilson was politically active, aligning himself at times with socialist ideals and vocally opposing Cold War policies and the Vietnam War. His principled refusal to pay income tax in protest of U.S. militarization led to a legal battle and a widely read protest book.
Wilson was married four times and had several significant personal and intellectual relationships, including with Fitzgerald and Nabokov. He also advocated for the preservation and celebration of American literary heritage, a vision realized in the creation of the Library of America after his death. For his contributions to American letters, Wilson received multiple honors, including the Presidential Medal of Freedom. His legacy endures through his extensive body of work, which remains a touchstone for literary scholars and general readers alike.
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
March 31, 2013
Not one of Wilson's best. This book confirms, if one needs confirmation, that even an intelligent, incisive critic can think and write a great many foolish and parochial things. As always, Wilson writes with precision and verve. At one point, in an essay about education, he references "the great Trinity: Lucidity, Force, and Ease," [161], and those principles, along with an astounding self-assurance, characterize Wilson's own style.
Take, for example, this analogy, deployed in an essay arguing that a standard liberal education should include "courses in the literature and history of the Jews": "One is offered certain opportunities for learning about Greece and Rome; but the approach to the Hebrew record...more or less is still diverted by religious bias. The supposed divinity of Jesus has caused a wrinkle in history not unlike Einstein's fold in space, which used to be compared to a hill that looks like flat earth from above: one cannot see the hill is there except by observing the fact that everybody goes around it." [151] The point is thoughtful - Christians have been blinded to major contributions of Jewish culture in part because Christian theology hasn't invited a genuinely historical appreciation of them - and the image of people avoiding a hill is clear. Would the reference to Einstein's fold in space have made any sense to most readers in 1956? Or is it just there as an offhand gesture - this author is so up-to-date, he can casually reference spacetime in an essay about curriculum? (Quibble: spacetime is distorted by gravity wells, not hills, so where did this analogy come from?) And, implicitly, it places the observer - Wilson and perhaps his audience - on high, surveying the subject from above.
Yet, in many of these essays, skilled writing carries small-minded judgments. Here's his take on Catholicism: "The Catholic, then, does not have to be honest in the sense that the term is ordinarily used - any more than the Communist does....he is free to think whatever he pleases if he makes a routine submission."[17]. Or, on sex: "The purpose of sexual intercourse, and hence of what we call love, is to secure the survival of the human race and, if possible, improve the breed." [197] He professes surprise that most people he knows disagree with this (at least with respect to love), as he launches into an essay that mostly examines sexual feelings in literature (rather than in life), describes homosexuality as a "cul-de-sac" because it can't (directly) result in offspring, and ends with a prediction of the inevitability of eugenics. Wilson's ruminations on the Russian national character combine genuine insights into Russian history, and a sympathetic appreciation of Russian literature with dreadful chauvinism.
Ultimately, Wilson is at his best when he is closely examining previous writers and thinkers in their cultural contexts -- as in his works To the Finland Station, on Russian revolutionaries, or Patriotic Gore, on American writers before, during, and after the Civil War. There just isn't that much of that kind of analysis in this bunch of essays. What to some extent redeems the collection - and is especially worth reading for anyone interested in Wilson himself - is the last piece in the book, 'The Author at Sixty'. It's actually a memoir of his parents' marriage, and especially of his father. While it is clearly a constructed document - Wilson filters and interprets what he shares - it is deeply revealing about Wilson's own motivations, personality, and the roots of his sense of self.
Take, for example, this analogy, deployed in an essay arguing that a standard liberal education should include "courses in the literature and history of the Jews": "One is offered certain opportunities for learning about Greece and Rome; but the approach to the Hebrew record...more or less is still diverted by religious bias. The supposed divinity of Jesus has caused a wrinkle in history not unlike Einstein's fold in space, which used to be compared to a hill that looks like flat earth from above: one cannot see the hill is there except by observing the fact that everybody goes around it." [151] The point is thoughtful - Christians have been blinded to major contributions of Jewish culture in part because Christian theology hasn't invited a genuinely historical appreciation of them - and the image of people avoiding a hill is clear. Would the reference to Einstein's fold in space have made any sense to most readers in 1956? Or is it just there as an offhand gesture - this author is so up-to-date, he can casually reference spacetime in an essay about curriculum? (Quibble: spacetime is distorted by gravity wells, not hills, so where did this analogy come from?) And, implicitly, it places the observer - Wilson and perhaps his audience - on high, surveying the subject from above.
Yet, in many of these essays, skilled writing carries small-minded judgments. Here's his take on Catholicism: "The Catholic, then, does not have to be honest in the sense that the term is ordinarily used - any more than the Communist does....he is free to think whatever he pleases if he makes a routine submission."[17]. Or, on sex: "The purpose of sexual intercourse, and hence of what we call love, is to secure the survival of the human race and, if possible, improve the breed." [197] He professes surprise that most people he knows disagree with this (at least with respect to love), as he launches into an essay that mostly examines sexual feelings in literature (rather than in life), describes homosexuality as a "cul-de-sac" because it can't (directly) result in offspring, and ends with a prediction of the inevitability of eugenics. Wilson's ruminations on the Russian national character combine genuine insights into Russian history, and a sympathetic appreciation of Russian literature with dreadful chauvinism.
Ultimately, Wilson is at his best when he is closely examining previous writers and thinkers in their cultural contexts -- as in his works To the Finland Station, on Russian revolutionaries, or Patriotic Gore, on American writers before, during, and after the Civil War. There just isn't that much of that kind of analysis in this bunch of essays. What to some extent redeems the collection - and is especially worth reading for anyone interested in Wilson himself - is the last piece in the book, 'The Author at Sixty'. It's actually a memoir of his parents' marriage, and especially of his father. While it is clearly a constructed document - Wilson filters and interprets what he shares - it is deeply revealing about Wilson's own motivations, personality, and the roots of his sense of self.
August 23, 2018
An uneven miscellany, drawing only incidentally on Wilson's strength as a literary critic and explorer. The best pieces are "The Author at Sixty", actually a memoir of Wilson's parents, and the short story "The Messiah at the Seder". This latter would now be considered an instance of "cultural appropriation", with the author indirectly justifying his liberty in the essay on Jew-obsessed Gentiles preceding the story; nevertheless it would fit nicely into an anthology of Jewish-American stories.
August 15, 2020
I find Wilson's prose irresistible, and have since I first read him 30 years ago, after stumbling on his work in the card catalog at my big Midwestern grad school library with the intriguing title, The Wound and the Bow. I don't always agree with him but I love the way he says most of what he says. The final piece in this book of selected writing is titled The Man at Sixty but mainly is about his parents, rather than himself, and his coming to terms with them and how they, their surroundings and community formed him.
Oh and his essay on science is in the form of a dialogue between a zoologist and a marine iguana of the Galapagos islands. The iguana wins.
Oh and his essay on science is in the form of a dialogue between a zoologist and a marine iguana of the Galapagos islands. The iguana wins.
May 20, 2017
Reading any collection of essays by Edmund Wilson, I have always found to be a joy and an education. This one is no different.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews