From Publishers Weekly
Goran (Mrs. Beautiful) and the late Singer, winner of the 1978 Nobel Prize for Literature, taught creative writing classes together at the University of Miami from 1978 to 1988. Goran also served, for a time, as the translator of Singer's Yiddish stories. Although they began as friends, Singer's apparent lack of teaching ability and bizarre classroom behavior (he once barked like a dog when a student was reading her story) alienated Goran, who was pressured by the university to retain the star writer on staff. According to Goran, Singer was verbally abusive to his wife, hated other writers (Saul Bellow and Irving Howe in particular) and disliked women in general. Aging and paranoid, Singer became convinced that Goran was his enemy. Perhaps out of retaliation, this memoir presents a portrait that some Singer devotees will consider cruel; still others will find it convincing. Photos not seen by PW. Copyright 1994 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From Kirkus Reviews
Sometimes a memoir writer makes the unfortunate decision to turn a potentially good 20-page article into a work many times that length. Goran's book is Exhibit A. Goran, a novelist (Mrs. Beautiful, not reviewed, etc.) and English professor at the University of Miami, co-led a weekly creative writing course there with Isaac Bashevis Singer for a decade (197888) while also helping translate and edit some of Singer's stories. His portrait of their friendship consists largely of seemingly verbatim transcripts of conversations; how they were remembered or recorded is never explained. Occasionally puckish or otherwise witty, these exchanges far too often consist of forgettable banter. Goran works diligently to capture an intense, decade-long friendship, and offers an occasional piquant observation (e.g., a reference to Singer's ``giddy savage world''). But for a teacher of writing, he also delivers himself of some peculiar, portentous prose (e.g., ``He remains for me the spokesman of our dilemma of unbelonging'') and cites some dubious second- and third-hand reports of ``acts'' and ``quotes'' (he quotes Singer as having remarked that Elie Wiesel, a fellow Jewish-European-American Nobel laureate, allegedly complained to a friend in Paris that ``Isaac Singer is the worst enemy of the Jews after Hitler''; Goran apparently made no effort to verify these words). At times, he does step back from their conversations to portray more vividly the very sad, even pitiable, man Singer had become at the end of his life: often lonely, misanthropic, melancholy, self-centered, and emotionally withholding. In his last few years (the octogenarian Singer died in 1991) his tendency towards absentmindedness and fearfulness became considerably more pronounced. But this memoir is sad too for what it reveals about the author, who seems largely unable to winnow out much of substance from a great deal of oral fluff. -- Copyright ©1994, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.

From Book News, Inc.
A chronicle of 10 years in the life of the influential Yiddish novelist, as witnessed and shared by his friend and colleague Lester Goran. In 1978, with a mixture of hero worship and academic responsibility as director of creative writing at the U. of Miami, Goran brought 74-year old Singer to teach at the Coral Gables campus. Goran writes a touching, humorous, and revealing account of Singer's past, his moral concerns and peculiar preoccupations, his philosophies about life and art, and the two men's extraordinary friendship. Annotation copyright Book News, Inc. Portland, Or.

FROM THE PUBLISHER

The Bright Streets of Surfside chronicles 10 years in the life of Isaac Bashevis Singer, as witnessed and shared by a fellow writer close to him at the time. In 1978, with a mixture of hero worship and academic responsibility as director of creative writing at the University of Miami, Lester Goran brought Singer to teach at the Coral Gables campus. The eminent Polish-American author was then 74 years old and five months away from receiving the Nobel Prize. Goran became Singer's closest friend and translator as they taught advanced courses in creative writing together until Singer retired in 1988. With a sometimes painful authenticity, Goran recounts the course of their extraordinary friendship. It was a fascinating time, writes Goran, recalling his frustration at Singer's intractable desire not to teach (he mistrusted the faculty and was bewildered by the students) and his pleasure in Singer's company. Touching and humorous, the memoir offers a rare opportunity to learn about this influential Yiddish writer who often concealed his real beliefs, feelings, and personal history from the public. Goran tells the tale with an honesty that is unsparing of his own dilemmas while it is deeply sympathetic to a great writer at odds with himself and his time. Looking frankly at a crucial time in his own life as a writer, Goran derives some understanding of the moral dimensions of Singer's art as he was menaced by the burdens of loss, age, and fame. Goran discusses Singer's philosophies about his life and art, his works in progress, and his lifelong devotion to literature. In addition, he offers his own reflections on working with the last grand Yiddish novelist and on his role in keeping Yiddish alive.

FROM THE CRITICS

Publishers Weekly

Goran (Mrs. Beautiful) and the late Singer, winner of the 1978 Nobel Prize for Literature, taught creative writing classes together at the University of Miami from 1978 to 1988. Goran also served, for a time, as the translator of Singer's Yiddish stories. Although they began as friends, Singer's apparent lack of teaching ability and bizarre classroom behavior (he once barked like a dog when a student was reading her story) alienated Goran, who was pressured by the university to retain the star writer on staff. According to Goran, Singer was verbally abusive to his wife, hated other writers (Saul Bellow and Irving Howe in particular) and disliked women in general. Aging and paranoid, Singer became convinced that Goran was his enemy. Perhaps out of retaliation, this memoir presents a portrait that some Singer devotees will consider cruel; still others will find it convincing. Photos not seen by PW. (Nov.)

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