CheeverA Life

A fond but appropriately unflinching look at a gimlet-eyed observer
The writer John Cheever was known for capturing the dual essence of human nature in his short stories and books: he delved into the dark secrets that lay behind the white picket fences and manicured lawns of the suburbs. It makes sense that the man knew of what he wrote, as explored in the new biography by Blake Bailey "Cheever: A Life." Cheever, who taught at the University of Iowa writers workshop and prided himself on his Brooks Brothers suits, deployed his Katherine-Hepburn-esque East Coast accent as a defense mechanism to cover up insecurities relating to his self-loathing, alcoholism, less-than-blueblood origins and occasionally repressed homosexuality. Any writer will recognize a bit of him or herself in Cheever, a man desperate for adoration who swung between astonishing arrogance and crushing depression. Yet, as revealed in his letters and journals, Cheever somehow retained an irrepressible charm and humor, even through his self-pity, manipulation and sense of entitlement. Bailey is unflinching when cataloguing Cheever's faults as a human and writer, but is clearly fond of the man as well. The drollness comes through especially in the audiobook as read by Malcolm Hillgartner, who hilariously amplifies his own sometimes-stentorian voice when the occasion calls for it. Whether readers are well-versed in Cheever or have never read a word, Bailey's biography is intense, in-depth and very satisfying.