I only acquired this book because the author of “Delights”, Ross Gay, recommended it as one of his favorite books. I almost quit reading it but kept going because I wondered why he loved this book. Perhaps if you watch a lot of movies (I am not a movie person), it would be better because Shields critiques a lot of movies, almost none of which I had ever even heard of. He also seems to prefer non-fiction and critiques a lot of non-fiction essay writers. To be honest even though I read hundreds of books, most of the books he mentions I have never read. His taste apparently differs greatly from mine. I have read Joan Didion, John Cheever, Gertrude Stein, Yeats, as he has and I do agree with him about the essay, “Killing an Elephant”. In this essay George Orwell describes a horrible event he experienced as a young man while working for the British in Burma (now Myanmar). I agree with Shields that this essay describes better the horrors of colonialism and racism better than most books written on those subjects.

What bothers me about this work by Shields is the relentless negativity. I consider myself to be a rather realistic person, often perhaps too blunt for my own good. Nevertheless, I do not view my life or that of others as nearly as hopeless and lonely as Shields seems to view it. Here is a quote from near the end of the book:

“I believe in art as pathology lab, landfill, recycling station, death sentence, aborted suicide note, lunge at redemption. Your art is most alive and dangerous when you use it against yourself. That’s why I pick at my scabs” and four pages later at the end: “I wanted literature to assuage human loneliness, but nothing can assuage human loneliness. Literature doesn’t lie about this–which is what makes it essential.” I know lots of folks talk about the plague of loneliness permeating society these days. He focuses on this relentlessly for 207 pages. Do most people feel this awful a lot of the time? Am I naive? How did I escape it?