Herzog – Saul Bellow

And yet another demonstration of the fact that North American Jewish writers do it better, if it was ever needed. Herzog is in many ways like Richler’s Barney: clearly Jewish, clearly really rather smart, a couple of painful divorces in the background, and with a mental stability that leaves a lot to be desired.

Yet, the life trajectories of the two go in opposite directions: while Barney spirals with his writing into dementia, Herzog manages to pick himself up and – although the reader doesn’t see the finished product – we can assume that somehow he will end up fixing up his house and also his life (sentimental and not). Also, as more is discovered about Herzog’s life, the more the reader can forgive him for letting himself down, something that I didn’t necessarily feel for Barney (for much that I loved him).

Herzog’s imaginary graphomania, with letters that are never really sent (with recipients that should range between his family and Queen Elizabeth, just to talk of living people), is one of the greatest literary ideas of the  20^th century.