I was reared in 19th Century Russian literature and then the literature of American Jews (Roth, Bellow, etc.) and I always had difficulty with the relative lack of emotion in English lit.
Our political mise en scène has metamorphosed of late into a dark carnival, … confusing and ominous from any vantage point.
No great hand reached down from the sky and made me a writer. I made myself one, by writing.
People, mostly nonwriters, are always surprised when I tell them I wrote so much growing up. They’re incredulous that I would write such a large volume of work, entire novels, and never submit them, or at least rework them (as if all of it wasn’t incredibly sophomoric, amateur as if it wasn’t written by a 14-year-old). But those words, I want to tell them, weren’t written for anyone else the audience who needed to see them and the audience for whom they were written was me.
E.L. Doctorow has been doing that hard work for more than half a century, producing novels and stories that have illuminated the American soul by bringing American history to life. It’s why he deserves his Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters. It’s what makes him a national treasure.
Writing fiction was my emotional test kitchen.
A certain G Fodor Gábor, the strategic director of the Századvég (Century’s End) Foundation … suggests that [László Krasznahorkai] should shoot himself in the head.
No matter how people approach loneliness or solitude or community, we all do. We’re not that different from each other. The way we experience it is different, but we all experience love, pain, loneliness.
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