Friday morning, July 5, 2013
If I suddenly fell into a pit of money, or an inheritance, and if I were left to my own devices, I think would stay in bed for a month reading back issues of The Sun and Granta literary magazine. The writing is so delicious, it makes me delirious with joy that human beings with such depth of perception on the human condition exist!
Last night I tried to muffle the sound of fireworks by playing Byron Katie (“Who would you be without your story?”) full blast on YouTube. Then, when I lost internet service, I dove under the covers with Honey and Chico and a stash of Nourishing Lemon Ginger Odwalla Bars. I was feeling a little glum, and pitiful; the fun of being alone all day had worn off. I reached into my basket of Granta magazines and randomly began reading Saul Bellow’s Memoirs of a Bootlegger’s Son. I soon rejoiced at the mirth in which he recounts his rough childhood. Even better than letting go of your story is telling it so that you’re rolling around laughing and can barely get the words out!
I right away saw that, in telling the tale, Saul Bellow breaks every single writing rule that ever existed . . . so brilliant that it leaves you gasping for more!
Only a master writer can get away with this.
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