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I'm slowly coming to terms with the death of Saul Bellow. Another loss of the American voice. It seems that we are in the midst of a purging. What is next? My ear says that there is no one to take his place. Not that he was a special or towering voice. But he was just there. Like Hemingway. Like Faulkner. Eliot. Pound.

I suppose there are still people who can make me weep with envy with their craft. I can think of a few. Singer. Cormac McCarthy is still among us. Who else? Perhaps Eliot really was right after all. We live in a wasteland.

Bob