I think visitors are screened.
I am continuing in Reading Like a Writer. Francine Prose writes of Gertrude Stein’s love of sentences and of Hemingway. A couple of examples are given of Hemingway writing about an aging bullfighter.
The bullfighter is toughing it out in spite of depressing experiences brought on by age. Given Hemingway’s choice of ending in life, I gave prophetic nature to his words. As in many writings, what we think it means, it may not mean at all.
Writing brings me closer to the prophetic, but I think in ways that might change the future. Writing can take my fears and lay them out in twilight. Sometimes I find the sun to be rising and at others to be setting. As I see it, writing’s job is take me to where Hemingway took the bullfighter. Against all odds, toughing it out. Being brave where the brave dare not go.
But maybe not. What say you?
David will have to tell us, did he put the picture and the prose together, or was it packaged that way already. For me I was drawn by the picture and captivated by the words.
“Even now, all possible feelings do not yet exist, there are still those that lie beyond our capacity and our imagination. From time to time, when a piece of music no one has ever written or a painting no one has ever painted, or something else impossible to predict, fathom or yet describe takes place, a new feeling enters the world. And then, for the millionth time in the history of feeling, the heart surges and absorbs the impact.”
—Nicole Krauss, from The History of Love
I am convinced I didn’t buy Reading Like a Writer to be inspired, but it is continually doing so. Years ago I went to see a counselor in part because in writing a story I couldn’t get further than a beginning. I love beginnings.
I have a story due by the end of the day Saturday. I am further along with it than a beginning but I haven’t quite found an ending. Today, as I read more of Reading Like a Writer, I may have received the wrong kind of inspiration as the author provides several wonderful examples of clever opening sentences to inspire my own creations.
While I am convinced my opening sentence could use some work, what I need more is a startling closing sentence. I believe that searching for it will lead me to the clues I need to have a complete story. A story with an ending. A story ready for a class on Sunday.
The New York Times book review reviewed two books this week on what is called the trolly problem. Would you throw the fat man off the bridge?
Two situations are offered. The first has five people tied to a track sure to die when the trolly rolls over them unless you throw a switch that diverts the trolly onto a side track. If you do, it will roll over only one person tied to the side track. What do you do?
The second scenario has a fat man standing next to you on a bridge over the tracks. Five people tied to the tracks below can be saved if you toss the fat man off the bridge knowing his body will be large enough to stop the trolly. What do you do?
Apparently there are all kinds of philosophers interested in people’s varied reactions. It even has a name, trolleyology.
Most startling to me was this sentence from the reviewer, “When Americans dropped atom bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki on the argument that a quick end to the war would save lives, by some macabre coincident, the Nagasaki bomb was nicknamed Fat Man.”
Makes one wonder, did the namers know about trolleyology? No answer given in the review, but reviewer Sarah Bakewell does tell us that”trolleyology now forms part of the philosophy course at West Point.”