From Publishers Weekly
In defiance of fashionable critical theories, Costa (Edmund Wilson: Our Neighbor from Talcottville) refuses to isolate literature from life, so his loosely knit collection of essays interweaves scholarship and memoirs and is frequently more anecdotal than analytical. Focusing on those writers who were "pattern makers" in his personal and professional development, he begins with a reverential section on Maugham; then turns to sometimes problematic literary relationships; devotes part three to comments on such comic writers as Kingsley Amis and Dorothy Parker; and concludes with reflections on several antiheroes in recent fiction. Costa is certainly aware of trendy criticism: His analysis of Joseph Heller's Something Happened incorporates the ideas of Bakhtin, and the essay titled "The Anxiety of Confluence" displays more than a nodding acquaintance with Harold Bloom. Nevertheless, he presents himself as a "plain reader" rather than an academic specialist. By his own admission, he is sometimes pretentious in accounts of meetings with Maugham and other literary greats, but such excess may result from his determination to rescue books and their authors from over-eager deconstructionists and neohistoricists. Copyright 1994 Reed Business Information, Inc.
From Booklist
Costa left the field of journalism at age 44 to pursue graduate work and ultimately a literary life. Here he skillfully blends memoir with biographical essay, lucidly illustrating one single premise, that literature is the fuel capable of nourishing every aspect of one's life. Fortunately, Costa's observations are free of academic posturing in personal reminiscences brought to bear on controversial personalities, including Edmund Wilson, Conrad Aiken, and Somerset Maugham. Other essays reflect provocatively on Malcolm Lowry's life (and his tour de force, Under the Volcano) and bestow due credit on Richard Ellmann's definitive work on James Joyce. Readers who share Costa's passion and look toward books for sustenance will revel in this writer's astute observations and literary sentiments. Alice Joyce
Appointment with Somerset Maugham: And Other Encounters with Literary Life FROM THE PUBLISHER
"Now, just ask yourself," Maugham said without the least suggestion of a stutter, "wouldn't it be a dreadful world if pleasure ruled?" But pleasure has ruled Richard Costa's world - the pleasure of books and their writers. In this charming and insightful reminiscence, he introduces readers to a host of literary lives that have touched him: Somerset Maugham, H. G. Wells, Malcolm Lowry, Conrad Aiken, Edmund Wilson, Kingsley Amis, Dorothy Parker, Edith Wharton, and others. The journey of the mind and heart Costa traces has some illustrious guides. Reading and re-reading the works of memorable writers of our time, interviewing them, and writing about them, he has woven literature into his life in a way that provides illumination and just plain interest for those who read the story here. In his intellectual and literary chronicle, readers will find much humor, much memory, and much food for thought.
FROM THE CRITICS
Publishers Weekly
In defiance of fashionable critical theories, Costa (Edmund Wilson: Our Neighbor from Talcottville) refuses to isolate literature from life, so his loosely knit collection of essays interweaves scholarship and memoirs and is frequently more anecdotal than analytical. Focusing on those writers who were ``pattern makers'' in his personal and professional development, he begins with a reverential section on Maugham; then turns to sometimes problematic literary relationships; devotes part three to comments on such comic writers as Kingsley Amis and Dorothy Parker; and concludes with reflections on several antiheroes in recent fiction. Costa is certainly aware of trendy criticism: His analysis of Joseph Heller's Something Happened incorporates the ideas of Bakhtin, and the essay titled ``The Anxiety of Confluence'' displays more than a nodding acquaintance with Harold Bloom. Nevertheless, he presents himself as a ``plain reader'' rather than an academic specialist. By his own admission, he is sometimes pretentious in accounts of meetings with Maugham and other literary greats, but such excess may result from his determination to rescue books and their authors from over-eager deconstructionists and neohistoricists. (Dec.)