The Art of Burning Bridges: A Life of John O'Hara

Geoffrey Wolff definitely expresses why John O'Hara was not accepted as a high-quality novelist nor as a light-hearted person. O'Hara, as they now say, had issues. And many of O'Hara's issues were self-induced through his temper, his defensiveness and his drinking. Of course, O'Hara was brilliant and a hard-worker, and one might say his search for success was very much an very American trait. But he had insecurities, jealousies and feuds which caused the "elite" reviewers and critics to avoid embracing him. Perhaps they were a bit harsh? Wolff calls O'Hara's last novels "tomes," even though these books were bestsellers and were made into successful movies. Wolff seems to prefer his short stories and O'Hara's first book, "Appointment in Samarra." Personally, I enjoy most O'Hara creations and his epitaph (self-written) claims he was the best interpreter of his times. I agree, even though Wolff does not. If Wolff errs in his biography, he errs with his own wordiness, perhaps being more of a literary critic than a biographer. He did try to find the soul of O'Hara, and found a good bit of it in O'Hara's love for his daughter and grand-daughter. Kids, in a way, are like dogs. They sniff you and accept or reject you. O'Hara was very well-accepted by these kids. He may have been a mongrel, but one with a good heart. I wish Wolff could have seen more of this heart through all of O'Hara's crankiness. by Larry Rochelle, author of ARROW and TEN MILE CREEK

I grew up hearing about O'Hara's novels, and had the unfortunate experience of reading Ten North Frederick first--ugh. Only recently have I read Appointment in Samarra. I can answer the author's question about why Gibbsville/Pottsville people don't rush to claim him: although Julian English may well be a composite, other characters are so closely named that I, and others, know only too well who they were. O'Hara chose to point out the negatives, and neglected the positives: there was culture there, and beauty, and kindness, and not everyone aspired to the clubs or treated the less fortunate or immigrants (like my mother's family) badly. Although I noticed a few of the proofreading errors another reviewer carefully pointed out, and question a few other points of fact, I found Wolff's description of the atmosphere in Pottsville, PA and the surrounding anthracite coal regions highly evocative. It's too bad, however, that the opening quote, albeit accurate, that describes the current state of the city didn't see it even 40 years ago, while it was still quite beautiful. The decline over the period from the first decade of the 20th century through the present is an opportunity for a well-researched social history. I didn't find Wolff's semi-autobiographical inferences "narcissistic", but rather an insightful commentary on the interaction of personal psychology and the challenges facing a writer.