In the throes of the pandemic, self-described “Larry David historian” Blake J. Harris decided he wanted to write a book about Larry David. Not just any book but the definitive book about the mastermind behind “Seinfeld” and “Curb Your Enthusiasm.” And he wanted to do it only if David agreed to participate, making it the first authorized biography of the comedy legend.
Harris, a journalist who previously wrote books on the video game and tech industries, spent months circling his dream subject, talking to his closest friends and collaborators, before he would finally be introduced to David via email.
“There are far better ways to spend your time,” David assured the writer. “There’s nothing interesting about me, and there’s no interest in me. That’s not being modest. It’s the truth. So why the book? My parents are dead, so now we’re only left with my kids and my wife to read it. I don’t think three books is making it to the best sellers list. Surely there are better subjects who would welcome a biography.”
After some back and forth, with Harris insisting that his project would be less a traditional biography and more a biography of his work, David relented.
“Oh Jesus,” he wrote back. “If we must.”
Six years later, on Oct. 20, Harris published “Emperor of Nothing: The Making of Larry David,” which is the most complete and revealing portrait of a man who does not seem to want to be known. After the book was finished, David told Harris that he “regretted” his participation “immediately, and I still do.” He was joking … wasn’t he? Harris isn’t entirely certain. He’s still grappling with his subject’s feelings on the process.
What did your access to Larry David look like?
I wanted to write this book about Larry, but I only wanted to do so if I had access to Larry, because I think it’s important for people to have the opportunity to tell their own stories. I had heard Larry didn’t want to talk to me, but his friend Alan Zweibel told me, “That’s nonsense. I’ll introduce you.” I thought, “I’ve got to make this count,” and I had this great idea. It felt very George Costanza scheme-like. I said to Alan, “I’d love it if you could introduce me to Larry, but tell him that for this first conversation, of which I hope there will be many, we only talk about the New York Yankees. No ‘Seinfeld,’ no ‘Curb,’ just the Yankees.” And so Larry and I had that first call, and we talked about the Yankees.
To answer your question, for the next six months we talked every week over the phone or over FaceTime. It was during COVID, so I had the advantage of Larry not being able to go anywhere. And then over the next five years, we probably talked on the phone once a month, and I’d see him once every six months in L.A. I would text him and he’d usually write back pretty quickly. It was much more extensive than I ever could have imagined. I feel like a Make-A-Wish kid.
Was there a moment where you felt like you gained his trust?
I think the Yankees call went a long way just to show that I wasn’t going to be coming into this with my list of 10 questions. I’m not some archetypical journalist that he would hate. He really enjoyed some of my archival finds. We talked about him bowling at Neptune Lanes, and I found old advertisements from the ’50s and ’60s of these places that he would talk about. The fact that I was speaking with his friends — and that they seemed to be having a good time — went a long way.
I think it was on our third or fourth phone call when I explained to him my theory for why I thought the “Seinfeld” finale was so disliked. I told him, “You created a narratively driven, very eloquent clip show,” and he’s like, “Yeah, it was a clip show. It was a way to bring back all these people.” And I said, “But you were not in the office; you were working on the script. Meanwhile, in the office, Jeff Schaffer and Alec Berg were working on a clip show that NBC was going to run before the final episode. So what you didn’t realize was that there was a 45-minute clip show before your final episode, which was a clip show.” And he said, “They ran a clip show before?” He couldn’t believe it. “Oh my God! People were so sick of a clip show by the time it came on.” It seemed very therapeutic. Then, at the end of that call, I said, “Can we speak again?” And he said, “Yeah.” I said, “When’s good?” He said, “Whatever you want,” and that was the first time he ever said that.
I think he is much more comfortable turning down interviews.
Along the way, everyone was telling me, “At some point he’s going to stop talking to you. At some point he’s going to probably write his own book just to spite you.”
A spite book!
Yep, a spite book. And that would have sucked, but it also would have led to a book from Larry, and I wouldn’t be upset about that.
He says in the book that he doesn’t find his own life interesting. And he’s also quite hard on himself and his work.
We know Larry as this incredibly successful, iconic guy, but as you know in the book, the first 15 years of his career were miserable. There’s definitely a part of him that still thinks he’s the guy who’s getting heckled and booed and not succeeding. And I don’t really know how you move on from that.
Early on, I pitched the book to him as not a typical biography, but more of a biography of his work. He does think he’s kind of boring as a person, but he likes talking about the shows. I described the book to him as an ensemble story in which he was the protagonist, and he liked the idea of the spotlight not being on him.
He also loved that I made it clear in the first chapter how much he did not want this book to happen. His worst fear was that people thought this was a vanity project that he commissioned somebody to write.
Did he read the book?
Yes. I often share my material with subjects in advance. I have the final say, so sharing it with them just gives me more information. I wrote in my inscription of the book to Larry: “Larry, your work on Seinfeld is the reason that I wanted to become a writer. So in many ways, this book is actually your fault.”
Did he give you any notes?
There were things he wanted removed that I did not agree with. The things he objected to were when I showed a sweeter side of him. I had a quote from Mary Steenburgen talking about how Larry is really a sweetheart, and that, when asked to list the in-case-of-emergency person, she would consider putting Larry down. He crossed it out and wrote, “Too nice, embarrassing!” I ended up using half the quote. It feels very Larry that he didn’t care about looking stupid, but he didn’t want to look nice.
There’s not much on either of his marriages. I know the book is a biography of his work, but was his love life something he was hesitant to talk about?
It’s something I did not really bring up. I think that’s the fairest criticism of my book, that it doesn’t delve too much into his romantic histories — not just his marriage, but his divorce — and that was largely because I was not very interested in it. He never didn’t answer a question I asked, but I’m sure, on some level, I knew he probably didn’t want to talk too much about his marriage.
The only thing Larry cares about is being funny, which I say because I think you get from the book that the two greatest joys in his life, even more than golf, are his daughters Cazzie and Romy. Some of the other stuff he wanted to cut, which I did not cut, was the stuff about them, because he’s like, “Oh, this isn’t funny.” And I’m like, “Yes, it’s not supposed to be funny. It’s supposed to show you that you’re a human and a father.”
How different is the Larry that you’ve gotten to know from the Larry that you’ve watched on “Curb Your Enthusiasm”?
To me, the most interesting thing is how different he thinks they are, because everyone else in his life — including his wife — says they’re basically exactly the same. That’s being a little bit hyperbolic, but he sees them as these vastly different people. In reality they’re very similar, except the real-life Larry has much more of a heart. There are times over six years of talking when there was a little bit of conflict, and one of us would apologize after, which is something the onscreen character never does.
Can you give an example?
When he finished reading the manuscript of the book, he called me and we talked about some of his thoughts. I thought he was going to maybe reflect on his life, but he said, “Yeah, if I could do it again, I wouldn’t do it. I regret doing the book.” This is my life’s work, so I was a little hurt by that comment. But he sensed that, and instead of doubling down like his character in the show would, he said, “No, no, not because of anything you did. You did a great job. I just don’t want people knowing about me.” That was a small moment where he didn’t have to go out of his way to assuage my concern, because he really does, I guess, to some degree, regret it. But he sensed that he created discomfort, and he wanted to alleviate that.
Who wouldn’t sit down with you for the book?
Only one person. One of the joys of working on the book is that almost all the people that I wanted to speak with were very happy to speak with me, because they too were big fans of Larry, and they wanted to talk about the influence he had on their career, or what a loyal friend he was. The only person who didn’t was Larry Charles, because when I reached out, he was working on a documentary that he described as a rival project to mine. I was disappointed.
His was the HBO documentary that never ended up coming out, right?
Yes, his was the HBO thing called “The Larry David Story.” His project is my worst fear — the fear that I’ve had all this time. Even though we’re a week away from publication, there’s still a part of me that’s worried that the book will get yanked at the last second, like the Larry Charles documentary did. It had commercials, and then the day it was supposed to air, it did not air.
My understanding is that it got yanked because Larry wanted it yanked.
Yeah, Larry David wanted it yanked. So that’s my concern: After all these years, Larry is still going to try to yank my book at the last moment.
But he doesn’t have that power.
No, you’re right. It’s an unreasonable fear. It was fortuitous for him that the documentary was with HBO, where he was still doing a show and therefore had some sway. He has no such sway with HarperCollins. But also it would be disappointing to me if he regretted the book so much that he went out of his way to try to stop it, even if he couldn’t stop it.
It’d be good marketing, though.
It would be good marketing.
Do you have a sense of what Larry will do next?
No, I have no insider information. Otherwise I’d be more coy. This is pure speculation on my part. One thing I really liked about “Life, Larry and the Pursuit of Unhappiness” as a concept was that while it was conceived as a celebration show for America’s anniversary, the title does not necessarily reflect that. If Larry wanted to tackle a season about famous sports incidents or famous moments in music history, the format opens itself up to something in that regard. Since that’s a container or vessel that he’s already working with, I would think it’s more likely that he would return to it in some way.
This interview has been edited and condensed.