Andrew Blackman

The other day, I picked up a copy of The Times because of the news of J.D. Salinger’s death on the cover. I read about Catcher in the Rye and its skewering of “phonies”, and how Salinger retreated to his home in New Hampshire and ignored the world for about forty years. Then I read the rest of the paper, an unusual thing for me to do these days. I read an article about Britain’s measure of inequality hitting a new high, and why this was not a bad thing. I read about the latest inquiry into the Iraq War, and how the commission is mostly composed of Tony Blair’s old friends. I read about how Blair, surely the very definition of a phony, would appear before the commission and justify his decision. I read and I read, and the more I read, the more attractive the idea sounded. A house in New Hampshire, the life of a recluse, an escape from the lies and shallowness. Reading The Times these days, or any other Murdoch paper, often has that effect on me.

Anyway, I’m rereading Catcher in the Rye this weekend. I read it years ago but can’t remember much about it. My memory’s awful. I’ll post a review when I’m done. RIP Mr Salinger. In an age where self-publicising seems almost compulsory, it’s refreshing to hear of someone who just didn’t bother. There’s even a rumour that he was writing all that time, not for the world or for fame or for approval or for money, but purely for the love of it. What a strange concept.

Andrew Blackman Literary news death, J.D. Salinger, phony

A man dies slowly and in great agony. He ponders the meaning of life, and this increases his anguish: even worse than the physical pain of a slow, lingering death is the spiritual anguish of realising he has wasted his life.

Tolstoy’s main target here is dishonesty and hypocrisy. This is established from the opening scene, when Ivan Ilyich’s death is announced, and the reaction of his colleagues is to think about how this will affect their promotion chances, while speaking the usual lines about it being a “sad business” and so on. Even his widow, Praskovya Fiodorovna, is more concerned about herself than her dead husband: after telling a mourner about his three days and nights of incessant screaming, she says “Oh, what I have gone through!” Then she tries to find out how she can increase the government pension money due to her from her husband’s death.

Then Tolstoy takes us on a quick tour back through Ivan Ilyich’s life, showing us that he also participated fully in this dishonesty, concerning himself with appearances and advancement. In every decision, even marriage, he is heavily influenced by what other people will think. With each promotion in his career as a judge, he attains more power and money, but it’s never enough. At each stage he simply spends more money imitating people higher in the social scale than he is, and wanting to attain that next level. It’s not coincidental that he sustains his fatal injury while climbing a ladder to show a workman exactly how he wants a new curtain to be hung. The novel is saturated with vanity, pettiness and materialism, and they cause Ivan Ilyich’s spiritual and physical death.

Long before Kubler-Ross, Tolstoy hit on the stages of grief in the character Ivan Ilyich. He goes through denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance, although not always in that order. He often swings violently between the different emotions, depending on his own state of mind and on outside events like a doctor getting his hopes up.

The only examples of honesty in the book are in children (both Ivan Ilyich’s own childhood and his young son Vassya) and in the character of Gerassim, the butler’s assistant. Vassya and Gerassim don’t lie to him or see him as an inconvenience – they display simple human affection and love for him.

Indeed, love seems to be what Tolstoy is saying life is all about – not romantic love necessarily, but a broader kind of love for your fellow human beings and for God. This is what was missing from Ivan Ilyich’s life as he immersed himself in petty advancement and the acquisition of meaningless accoutrements. This deathbed revelation at first causes him great agony as he rages against all the lost time, but in the end it’s what allows him to find peace.

Andrew Blackman Book reviews bargaining, book review, death, god, ivan ilyich, tolstoy