Harold Bloom, author of ‘Anxiety of Influence,’ dies

Harold Bloom, the eminent critic and Yale professor whose seminal “The Anxiety of Influence” and melancholy regard for literature’s old masters made him a popular author and standardbearer of Western civilization amid modern trends, died Monday at age 89.

Bloom’s wife, Jeanne, said that he had been IN failing health, although he continued to write books and was teaching as recently as last week. Yale says Bloom died at a New Haven hospital.

Bloom wrote more than 20 books and prided himself on making scholarly topics accessible to the general reader. Although he frequently bemoaned the decline of literary standards, he was as well placed as a contemporary critic could hope to be. He appeared on bestseller lists with such works as “The Western Canon” and “The Book of J,” was a guest on “Good Morning America” and other programs and was a National Book Award finalist and a member of the American Academy of Arts and Letters. A readers’ poll commissioned by the Modern Library ranked “The Western Canon” at No. 58 on a list of the 20th century’s best nonfiction Englishlanguage books.

His greatest legacy could well outlive his own name: the title of his breakthrough book, “The Anxiety of Influence.” Bloom argued that creativity was not a grateful bow to the past, but a Freudian wrestle in which artists denied and distorted their literary ancestors while producing work that revealed an unmistakable debt.

He was referring to poetry in his 1973 publication, but “anxiety of influence” has come to mean how artists of any kind respond to their inspirations. Bloom’s theory has been endlessly debated, parodied and challenged, including by Bloom. The book’s title has entered the culture in ways Bloom likely never imagined or desired, such as The New York Times headline that read “JayZ Confronts the Anxiety of Being Influential” or the Canadian rock band that named itself “Anxiety of Influence.”

Bloom openly acknowledged his own heroes, among them Shakespeare, Samuel Johnson and the 19th century critic Walter Pater. He honored no boundaries between the life of the mind and life itself and absorbed the printed word to the point of fashioning himself after a favorite literary character, Shakespeare’s betrayed, but lifeaffirming Falstaff. Bloom’s affinity began at age 12, when Falstaff rescued him from “debilitating selfconsciousness,” and he more than lived up to his hero’s oversized aura in person. For decades he ranged about the Yale campus, with untamed hair and an anguished, theatrical voice, given to soliloquies over the present’s plight.

The youngest of five children, he was born in 1930 in New York’s East Bronx to Orthodox Jewish immigrants from Russia, neither of whom ever learned to read English. Bloom’s literary journey began with Yiddish poetry, but he soon discovered the works of Hart Crane, T.S. Eliot, William Blake and other poets. He would allege that as a young man he could absorb 1,000 pages at a time.

“The sense of freedom they conferred,” he wrote of his favorite books, “liberated me into a primal exuberance.”

Hearst Connecticut Media file photo Author, critic and Yale University professor Harold Bloom died Monday at age 89.