What I love about this book is that it is an accumulation of journals and, as such, has the sort of urgency and private feel to it that almost represents voyeurism. Between lists of Sontag's readings and cinema rankings, ideal short fiction collection ideas, glimpses at her analysis of how some of her work was experienced, and general thoughts about intellectualism/intellectuals of her acquaintances, there was also this extreme analysis of self and identity. In tiny parcels. I loved the parts ab...

A book of amazing ideas, but not a cover to cover read. For researchers of Sontag, this would be a great reference. Unlike Anais Nin's journals, this journal is a collection of disparate ideas and contemplations.

first off, it's so extraordinary to have sat through over 30 years of a person's life through their diaries — nearly a thousand pages of a person's thoughts — ideas that grow and stagnate. it's such a gift to know this side of a person. i know it makes her kid david uncomfortable to edit these, but i'm desperately seeking part 3 and it's been...8 years. hello?? can someone please connect me to david rieff?this installment is less exciting than vol 1. to me. part of it is that part 1 is an initia...

I'm not generally interested in memoirs, (auto)biographies, or diaries/journals/letters, for reasons I won't mention here, but, after reading some of Sontag's nonfiction (On Photography, Regarding the Pain of Others, and some essays from Against Interpretation), I admittedly became intrigued by and, frankly, enamoured of Sontag's mind. I haven't read every page. Rather, on occasion (usually at night, before bed), I grab the book and flip through the pages, reading with relish the many nuggets of...

The more important question is, "What did Carlotta think?"

Decline of the letter, the rise of the notebook! One doesn't write to others any more, one writes to oneself.So we have 500 pages of such musings, a mixed and often undercooked lot. Through the process, a human portrait is revealed: vain, slothful, codependent. Finishing this last night, I pondered whether Sontag would've approved of her son editing and publishing these writings to herself. The amount of personal information I publish here weekly in the course of reviews and comments made that c...

An invaluable resource for Sontag fans and those in need of a book a-brim with ideas, opinions, questions, fears, film lists, autobiographical snippets, analyses.A fascinating and revealing glimpse into the interior of a great humanitarian and tireless seeker of knowledge. Read in one gulp and revisit at leisure.

Susan Sontag was a thinker. To read her journals is to have the impression she was only that, lacking a side as woman, lover, mother, or friend. But she was all of those things, as she knew. Her journals seem to be attempts to weld the two sides of herself into one person, to harness her enormous intellect and interests to the flesh of the woman she was. She says she's not saying things in absolute terms. She claims to be allowing something to be said, something independent of herself. I'm not s...

Worse than the other diaries of Sontag I've read, but at the same time more relatable. Rather than Sontag the wunderkind, you get Sontag the kind of confused, pretty smart, but on the whole mostly confused writer of fragments that you feel like you could know -- I felt like I could have written many of these myself, which, despite the fact that I do take pride in my writing, should be a bit of a dig on a writer of Sontag's stature. Also, saying things like "Fantasia is like, fascist" should be c...

Solitude is endless. A whole new world. The desert. I am thinking—talking—in images. I don’t know how to write them down. Every feeling is physical. Maybe that’s why I can’t write—or write so badly now. In the desert, all ideas are experimental in the body. I touch a central place, where I have never lived before. I wrote from the margin, dipping down into the well but never fully gazing down. I drew up the words—books, essays. Now I’m down there: in the center. And I find, to my horror, that th...

I was fortunate to be reading this along Rapt Attention and the Focused Life; Sontag's journal is an excellent example of how focus works. Sontag was - or seemed - very effective in directing her attention and _organising her interests into projects and areas for further study_. (She also suffered from severe case of tunnel vision romantically, or so she comes accross). I believe the standard response to this volume is to wish to write more - notes, lists, projects.

4.5 - I disagree with many other reviews here in that I absolutely do think this book lends itself to being read cover to cover. It's an extraordinary insight into an incredible woman's mind which can and should be savored.

If weird and bizarre Orientalist aphorisms are dealbreakers for you (and they are for me. We all have our Things) then it would be best to skip 1968 and parts of 1972-73. There's also some REALLY UNFORTUNATE RACIST/ABLEIST TERMS used at around p.345, so maybe skip that too. Maybe you're wondering why I even bothered giving this any stars at all? It's because it's a diary, and because there are a lot of moments where Sontag really exquisitely lays bear this deep pain and melancholy. I disagree wi...

I love all the tortured parts—Sontag's relationship insecurities with other women and her feelings of not writing enough—which is the best thing about this book. I don't care for her son's terrible bracket edits (ugh), nor reading her fragments for pages and pages, though yeah I know this is a notebook. I kept thinking about Nin while reading Sontag, one so emotional and sensual in the prose, the other so intellectual and tense. This took me a long time to finish because I had so many parts to c...

Her emotional life is very easy to relate to-- and therefore quite moving. However her observations and opinions in this were usually either slightly embarrassing or just underwhelming. Whatever moves me is worth more to me than everything (anything) else, so I did enjoy this, but that is also the extent of it.

A few short passages from As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh:*A miracle is just an accident, with fancy trappings.*One man thinks before he acts. Another man thinks after he acts. Each is of the opinion that the other thinks too much.*If I can’t bring judgement against the world, I must bring it against myself.I’m learning to bring judgement against the world.*Every act is a compromise (between what one wants + what one thinks is possible.)*Ivan searching for a reply to something I said: “Wa...

I learned about this book from the blog "brain pickings" which reviews off the beaten track books. Disjointed, passionate, brilliant snippets from the personal journals of Susan Sontag, edited by her son. At times, I felt like I was looking at things she really would have preferred to keep private. At other times, the writing felt strangely disconnected from reality: "The right hand =the hand that is aggressive, the hand that masturbates. Therefore, to prefer the left hand!..to romanticize it, t...

This is a great book to understand more thoughts beyond Susan Sontag's interviews and novels. I wanted to say more here, but probably I'd better go back to my proposal and nail that one first. She categories writers with three teams. And the publishing of this book already made her in the third team, as she wanted, to be like Kafka, that her words "become reference points for successive generations in many languages."

shelved under books-that-you-have-to-keep-putting-down-bc-it-made-you-want-to-write-something-in-your-journal

I really enjoyed reading this, but I wish it had been slightly less edited - there are some passages that are nearly impossible to read because of how many square-bracketed explanations there are. Plus, abbreviations like “betw” feel very different than “betw[een]” so I do kind of wish those had just been left alone. Still definitely worth reading though!