The Uncollected Essays of Elizabeth Hardwick
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4.0 • 1 Rating
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- $11.99
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- $11.99
Publisher Description
Essays on music, art, pop culture, literature, and politics by the renowned essayist and observer of contemporary life, now collected together for the first time.
The Uncollected Essays of Elizabeth Hardwick is a companion collection to The Collected Essays, a book that proved a revelation of what, for many, had been an open secret: that Elizabeth Hardwick was one of the great American literary critics, and an extraordinary stylist in her own right. The thirty-five pieces that Alex Andriesse has gathered here—none previously featured in volumes of Hardwick’s work—make it clear that her powers extended far beyond literary criticism, encompassing a vast range of subjects, from New York City to Faye Dunaway, from Wagner’s Parsifal to Leonardo da Vinci’s inventions, and from the pleasures of summertime to grits soufflé. In these often surprising, always well-wrought essays, we see Hardwick’s passion for people and places, her politics, her thoughts on feminism, and her ability, especially from the 1970s on, to write well about seemingly anything.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
The clever observations of critic and novelist Elizabeth Hardwick (1916–2007) shine in this sharp collection. The essays range from lyrical musings on places Hardwick lived—Kentucky, Maine, and New York—to insights on literature and thoughts on celebrities. In "Piety and Politics," she writes of the Carter family, who "astonish by their sunny intrepidity," and reflects on the time when Jimmy Carter's evangelism seemed to inspire hope—he was a "mysterious figure, charismatic in his ascent rather than in his person," she writes. "Faye Dunaway: The Face in the Dark" sees Hardwick consider the power of film stars and the "electricity" of Dunaway's charm, while in "Women Re Women" she posits that "what seems to be ahead is that the women will have the new problems created by the new problems men have." Hardwick's takes are reliably witty, and her prose is always a pleasure: in "New York City: Crash Course," she describes Manhattan on a "gray Sunday afternoon, smoky light, and a sanctified drowsing... quiet except for the sacrificial athleticism of the joggers... preparing to run in the park, as a rabbit out of its hutch will surely hop off." This is a rousing testament to Hardwick's enduring vision.
