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• William Saroyan Biography
• William Saroyan Quotes

SynopsisA vagrant young man, imprisoned in a Matador, Texas jail for raping another man’s wife, strikes up a conversation with the jail’s cook, a local girl in her teens, and attracts her strongly. Afraid that he will be attacked in the deserted jail by the offended husband, the young man sends the girl home to get her father’s gun. While she is away the husband and a group of his friends appear. The young man reveals that the wife is a loose woman, and the incredulous husband shoots him. The girl returns as the angry mob carries off the young man’s body.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:William Saroyan and the Critics IN FRESNO, where William Saroyan kept two cluttered tract houses during the final years of his life, his closest chum, Varzat Samuelian Mektrichi, is working on a sixteenfoot statue of the author. Varzat explains the jumble of his own studio in a broad accent: 'If it be clean, it don't be artist's place. It be restaurant, maybe, or bank.' 'Willie' Saroyan would agree heartily, for his own workplaces were never confused with restaurants or banks. With disaster areas, maybe.

William Saroyan Biography

135 THE OTHER CALIFORNIA He actually used one of his Fresno houses to store possessions, while he lived in the other, described by Bob Sector as 'a typical tract-type home with a mad tangle of sunflowers, weeds and fruit trees in the yard. The inside of his house was just as disheveled, a mishmash of books strewn everywhere.' And Saroyan's Paris apartment was 'systematically disorganized,' according to Dickran Kouymijian. The same has been said of Saroyan's literary philosophy.

He was very much his own man. Critic Robert Kirsch noted that Saroyan believed that if he wrote enough, something interesting or intelligible would eventually come out of it.

Also some things magical and unique and controversial. Few American writers have risen as fast or tumbled as dramatically as William Saroyan. There were many reasons for this beyond his disordered output, not the least of which was his personality. To some, Saroyan's self-centered, sometimes abrasive character became more important than his writing.

He was, during the first half of his career, as much a public figure as an artist. The confusion of those two roles-by him as well as by critics-made it easy to ignore his literary accomplishments once his notoriety faded. At the end of his life, he was reclusive, having retreated into Fresno's Armenian-American community. An artist's psychological contradictions are finally much less important than the quality of his art, and from his first published volume (TheDaringYoungMan on the FlyingTrapeze andOtherStories,1934)until his last (Obituaries,1979)-both of which were cited as among their years' best books-Saroyan was an authentic, singular American genius.

William Saroyan Quotes

He was also his own biggest fan, a fact that offended critics and readers alike. A major factor, probably the major factor, in the Fresno native's fall from critical grace was the adversarial relationship he had developed with critics. He wrote in 1940: 136 WILLIAM SAROYAN AND THE CRITICS What is lacking in. Criticism is the fullness and humanity of understanding which operates in myself, in my work, and in my regard for others. Consequently, it isdifficultforthem to make sense in themselves of that which is complicated and unusual for them. What should enlarge them because of its understanding, drives them more completely behind the fort of their own limitations. Little wonder he was a prime candidate for literary ostracism.

Today, with his personality no longer a factor, Saroyan'sart is enjoying critical reevaluation. It, not his ego or pugnaciousness or reclusiveness, is at issue, and it stands up very well indeed. As David Kheridan recently observed: His writing had a quality of innocence and eagerness and wonder about a moment-any moment of living-that made us feel more alive ourselves-more alive, that is, than we actually were, but for this very reason it made us yearn and stretch and seek a way to grow. After World War II, Saroyan fell with a thud from critical fashion. Not only were the books he published attacked but-more remarkably-his earlier achievements were, until recently at least, ignored or slighted, making him a kind of literary nonperson. 'Saroyan has been patronized and underinterpreted,' asserts H. Even in his native West, his accomplishments were neglected, although much of his best writing was set there.

My Heart's in the Highlands, The Time oYour Life, and Hello Out There, Saroyan's three finest plays, employed distinctly western settings and tones. He was very much a writer of his time, of his place, and of his dynamic cultural blend, Armenian-American. Add to his distinguished dramas such stories as 'The Daring 137 THE OTHER CALIFORNIA Young Man on the Flying Trapeze,' 'The Pomegranate Trees,' and 'Seventy Thousand Assyrians,' and Saroyan's position in American letters should be secure. Few twentieth-century American authors have produced a richer, more diverse body of work. Unfortunately, he also produced more than his share of mediocre-to-poor material.