Merle Roth Rubin

We knew Merle Rubin as Merle Roth when she was at Yale, SM ’71, where she met Martin Rubin, BK ’71. Merle and Martin got married in 1972 while studying in the English PhD program at the University of Virginia. After grad school they moved to Pasadena, where Martin taught English at Caltech, and Merle and Martin both became full-time freelance book reviewers — to our knowledge the only husband-and-wife team of freelance reviewers writing in English.

In the LA Times (12/6/06), for which Merle was a frequent contributor, Mary Rourke said,

Rubin was gracious and fair-minded in her reviews but also honest. Writing about “The Tree” by botanist Colin Tudge, she noted that he included some fascinating details, such as how trees communicate with one another to repel predators.

But she also wrote: “For readers in search of a quick overview, this book may provide too much information…. A less justifiable weakness … is Tudge’s tendency to be roundabout and repetitious.”

“Merle thought of the reader,” said Nick Owchar, Times deputy book editor. “She wanted to be sure they had an experience of the book by reading her review, whether they read the book or not.”

She was not effusive, but she could be vivid. “Delectably astringent,” she wrote of “The Tent,” a book of short prose pieces and poems by Margaret Atwood.

Martin writes (3/2/09): “Two of our nicest encounters [with authors whose works he and Merle had reviewed] were with Dame Antonia Byatt (A.S. Byatt) and Hilary Mantel, two English novelists we met when they were visiting LA. Here are the letters they wrote to be read out at Merle’s memorial:

“‘Here are a few words – not adequate but meant. My thioughts are indeed with you. Passed away is horrible, I agree, it makes one cringe. I have put the word myeloma in what i have written for that reason – I shall never forget Merle telling me about it with such interest in it. Today in England is a foul grey damp day – I hope you have some sun. Tell me how it went – we must keep in touch. Exactly what time is the gathering? All best wishes.  Antonia

“‘I knew Merle Rubin’s work before I met her. She was a wise, discriminating, and formidably intelligent reviewer – she also had a true love of books and good writing. I met her only once, with Martin, in an anonymous hotel room in Los Angeles. Early in the conversation she smiled and said, almost with amusement, “You know, I have a mortal illness”. She used language very precisely and elegantly.  She told me about her myeloma practically, with a mixture of courage and almost impersonal curiosity about its nature. And then we went on, all three, to have one of those real conversations about books, and ideas, and the history of literature and literary criticism during our time, which remind one – reminded me – of what really matters in the life of the mind. And I knew I had made real new friends. We talked a little on the email and I am deeply sorry that I never saw her again though I hope to see Martin when I next come to California. My thoughts are with you today. I shall always remember Merle. She had a sharp and shining intelligence, and curiosity, which is a major virtue.'”

***

And from Hilary Mantel:

“‘Dear Martin,
“‘Something for Merle.

“‘Long before I met Merle I had been an admirer of her acute and informed reviews, and particularly grateful for her perceptive comments on my own books. We met just once, on a June day when Merle and Martin took me to see the Simon Norton museum. When I look back on that day I feel enveloped in the generosity and warmth of their company, just as I was enveloped in the day’s hot mist. It was a day like a gift, and I have kept the notebooks I brought at the museum in the right hand drawer of my desk, as a sort of talisman, a guarantee that the outing would be repeated, perhaps in Los Angeles or perhaps in London. In the years since, I’d had the pleasure of exchanging many letters with Merle, getting to understand and value her open and curious way of thinking. I took it for granted that we would meet again and that she would always be part of my life. It’s hard to believe we don’t have claims any more on that cleverness and wit, all that stored knowledge and expertise. Not a bit of it was wasted when she was with us, and what we owe to her is to apply ourselves to life and work in the same unsparing, intrepid spirit.

“‘much love, Hilary'”

***

Martin also sent this from Louis Auchincloss:

December 4, 2006.

Dear Martin:

In all the many decades of my publishing career I have almost never written to a reviewer, but when I read a review of one of my novels in the Los Angeles Times by Merle, it struck me as so sympathetic, so deeply understanding of what I was trying to say, so utterly unlike the bulk of reviews by persons who insisted in seeing only idle tales of the rich where I was seeking to penetrate to the heart of our American dream, that I could not resist sending her my deepest gratitude. She suggested that we continue to correspond about life and how it is seen in books, and I eagerly agreed, and so we exchanged long epistles every couple of months until her demise. We ultimately went far beyond literature; our letters included travel, politics, family and the whole business of being alive. I profited by her deep insights and was encouraged in dark moments by her extraordinary sympathy and understanding, particularly at the sadness in my family caused by a grandchild with cerebral palsy.

We never met, and we never had to. Our relationship was unique in my life and a great boon to me.

Sincerely yours,

Louis.