a fabulous recounting of a scintilating relationship consumated by mail alone! whosoever could claim such today? i was deeply moved. hats off elysium!

I came about Rorem 'round about-ly -through videos of interviews and liner note snippets - and was greatly intrigued by his blatantly keen mind. While learning the music, I put the 'word' into it all and it plunged me even deeper. Between his impish candor and spotless observation one experiences a fine chunk of a true artistic pursuit. Also, his reflections on the two worlds of Paris and New York and the creative flora and fauna therein are priceless.

Cocteau will not appeal to thinkers who admire clarity and concise thinking. He is not a professional thinker one might say. he prides himself on his amateur standing and will appeal to others who find the word amateur appealing. He is a dilettante, granted he is the grandest of the dilettantes but a dilettante nonetheless. His rather slender examinations of different topics makes one realize he is driven exclusively by his own ego whose highest value is sensibility, namely his own, so the essays strike one as self celebrations more than serious investigations. This will interest those who love Cocteaus every word and gesture but there is not really that much in his writing to recommend him to a wide readership. he can be very amusing and occasionally you will find an insight that is striking and completely original but not that often. Mostly this is someone who writes in a comfy chair and concocts little sketches which remain rather sketchy albeit charming much of the time. In his time there was something rebellious about being defiantly amateur but there are limits to what one can accomplish when ones wayward instincts remain ones only driving force. That and the continual refining of sensibility. He remains a kind of enfant terrible and when he got older he was a much mellowed enfant terrible. He is an important figure that everyone interested in any or all the art forms must respect because he certainly made a contribution to nearly every form there is but these essays are not for rigorous thinkers. There is a vagueness in everything Cocteau did that makes it seem that maybe this was the key to his sensibility. I would recommend the book Les Enfant Terribles over this, there is literary power in that. These essays just leave you feeling hungry they are so slight.

Astonishing autobiography that also serves as a cultural history of the post-war literary and musical worlds of New York and Paris.

Most people who would be interested in reading "Knowing When to Stop" are probably familiar with Rorem's diaries. His memoir ends the year he first started the journals contained in "The Paris Diaries," and "Knowing When to Stop" not only fills the autobiographical, pre-diary gap, but also stands as one of most extraordinary self-portraits ever written. Rorem recounts, in his graceful, inimitable style, his childhood, musical training, early sex life (of course), his first years in Europe and, most absorbingly, his friendships with some of the most famous artists, both musical and otherwise, of the century. Bernstein, Cage, Katchen, Thomson, Copland, Boulez, Capote, Paul and Jane Bowles--Rorem describes them with sympathy and insight. Rorem's own mortality hangs shadowlike over every page of "Knowing," and his assessments of his work and life are penetrating and brutally honest. All in all, one of the best books I've ever read and a poignant, profound meditation of life and art.

just because there's SO much to devour. So much reading that can become from such a book. Sometimes the detail is much, but that's just more fodder to store away until later. I think I've read the whole book yet, but I'm deliciously curious to find out if I really have...

This was my introduction to Ned Rorem, a man I'd heard about for a while but never gotten around to. Thank God I found this book - delicious, often shocking, and winningly knowing, just like Ned has often come off in real life. Readers' bonus: if you haven't seen more recent pictures of Ned than in this book, he will stay forever young and gorgeous.

This latest book by Rorem is a desperate attempt to continue reporting on his witty and sometimes scandalous life. However, the wit is trying and desiccated. Further, what Rorem now hopes we will find scandalous has more to do with his disdain of the words "pundit" or "grunge" than anything truly controversial. One can't blame Rorem; his lover's illness and decline was probably devastating. He might have done better to wait until he had some time to heal. LIES is more a study of a fraying and distracted man than a heartfelt account of fame and death.

This was my first exposure to the writing of Ned Rorem and perhaps because of this, I found "Lies" to be thoroughly readable. Yes, there are moments when he does come across as a sort of whining name-dropper; but there are also times when he sheds light on dying, relationships, music, composing and the like that make it a worthwhile read.

As far as actual literary value goes, I won't even comment ... the other reviews to this point seem accurate on content, having not read other Rorem it may or may not be so that this is below par, and frankly, upon getting into the book I wasn't paying much attention to all of that so much as, getting towards the end, the on-the-spot accounts of watching a loved one die. Perhaps it's voyeurism, but, to me the raw honesty in that alone made this book if not entirely riveting, definitely worth reading.