A Time to Write

Issue 229

São Paulo, 2024

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To sit down and place a pen atop a paper is, almost always, an act of nostalgia. Writing is a process of recollection, of organization, it is a method of thinking, that leans ever so slightly toward the past. And if you do begin to scribble with words, you’re much more likely to lean back on your heels than forward on your toes, regardless of whether you’re drafting a constitution or reporting on a technology or polishing a sonnet. At best, you’ll end up looking backward to help describe what’s on the horizon.

These thoughts came into my mind yesterday when I was asked whether I would have preferred to have been born in an earlier time. This is, I should add, the kind of question that you will receive if you talk about literature, or if you are a tad lukewarm about some of our most discussed technologies, and should at least provide a hint as to the tone of the conversation. And this particular question arose in response to my comment—which wasn’t a complaint, I should add—about how much the social position of the writer has changed.

Because there was a time when the five act play was deemed the pinnacle of entertainment, though living in those centuries doesn’t sound so appealing, regardless of whether your first thought is about infectious diseases or marauding armies or the simple delight of access to ripe fruit; there was a time, imagine this, when poets were considered major celebrities, though we’re still missing electricity and penicillin and sweet-smelling shampoo from daily life; there was a time, too, when novelists were treated like film stars, which doesn’t sound appealing at all, though at least it involves an elevation of literature in the culture.