Every summer when I walk into a book store, I see a table with all the books that teachers have assigned or recommended for their students. I spend a lot of time at this table even though most of the books that I see there are the same every summer. I don’t have to mention them, you know which I ones I mean. Every year a few new books make it to the table, but it is rare to see those books there the following year. I confess to you, that one of my greatest aspirations is to write a book that makes it to the table and stays there for a long, long time. Trust me, I’m familiar with impossible dreams, but I also know the energy and power that comes from them. I would like to think that when I sit down to write I am writing with all my strength, mind and heart, going so deep in search of beauty and truth because writing this way is the only way that my book will make it to the table. It is not that the books on that table have sold thousands of copies or won awards all though many have. It is what the books stand for that attracts me the most. Some of the books on the table are there because they provide valuable lessons and themes that teachers love to teach. But there are others, the ones I most admire. These books are the books that last because they offer nourishment and comfort to the human spirit. These are the books that challenge us to grow by the unanswered questions that they raise. They touch on the universal and they do it with beauty and grace. That is why I would like to see one of my books on the table.
September 13, 2009
February 6, 2009
You Take my Breath Away
John Updike, one of my favorite writers died last week. The New Yorker published this week (February 2, 2009) excerpts from John Updike’s writings. I am glad they were excerpts because I could hardly breathe as I read them. So much of John Updike’s writing takes my breath away every time I read it or re-read it. I’ll be reading one of his novels and then GASP all of the sudden there’s not enough air in the room or in the universe. Beauty does that. The beautiful has an affect on the body . . . like love. I write this because, while it is correct to say, as I did a few days ago on another journal entry, that the more truthful your writing, the more beautiful it is, still, I don’t want you to think that “truth” is all there is to good writing. There are writers (like John Updike) whose writings are both truthful AND take your breath away. In writers like Updike, the “How” and the “What” are especially connected if not united, so that, for example, his brilliant metaphors actually reveal a side of reality you had not seen or considered before. People like me need to forego any attempts to dazzle. “Stay on the safe side, and concentrate on truthful writing rather than on trying to take anyone’s breath away”, is what I tell myself. And if you are starting to write, I would strongly recommend you tell yourself something similar. However, sometimes there is no other way of saying it other than by saying it beautifully. If you find that there is ABSOLUTELY no other way of conveying the truth than by taking the reader’s breath away, well then, in that case, please proceed. With Caution.
