I just finished Saul Bellow’s Herzog. It is a tale of a man’s divorce/midlife crisis/bad investment, and it basically describes his ruminations on his life and how he got to where he is. (The influence of Proust is clearly evident.) He writes lots of letter, to both acquaintances and celebrities (and deceased historical figures). Most remain unsent, but not all.
The plot is basically him reflecting on his life and his most recent ex wife. He is also trying to come to terms with what it means to live in the modern world.
As much as I would like to praise it, I feel like there is something wanting. It reminds me of Dostoevsky but without a clear resolution at the end. (The protagonist’s main triumph is making his ex wife look briefly foolish.)
I would love to best other people’s opinions on this novel to help me try to make sense of it. #entertainment