‘If you’re an artist with work that lands just outside the culture—misunderstood, overlooked, and, worst of all, ignored—it is a bit like walking around a city where you can’t speak the language.” What a splendid analogy. I have a copy of Bellow’s “Dangling Man” but never finished it. Its diary format felt discursive, lacking a plot. But I liked his writing. I might have to revisit it.
That's one of the two novels before The Adventures of Augie March. The other one, The Victim, I consider worth reading, and an intriguing portrait of the time. But you might find his essays a good place to start. They are rewarding—especially in style and sensibility if you compare them to what's common today—and they're a good way into his novels. Thank you for the comment.
This is really interesting Charles, in part because I can’t figure out who the “you” you keep addressing is ... Is it “you,” the author, keeping your own feelings at a distance? If is “me,” the reader, and you’re supposing I may feel this way? Or is it Bellow? I know, I’m supposed to figure it out, right? That’s the job of the reader. But in this medium, in this age, may I ask?
Thanks for the comment. That's a fair question, though I'm not sure that I have a fair answer. I'm usually allergic to the royal 'we' in writing—which you commonly see in political editorials—but there are places where a similar tone seems to work. When the first person feels unjustified, and a more traditional essay persona seems too cold, or even inaccurate, the second person can be just right: there's a directness that brings immediacy and intimacy that fits some subjects. Although I could certainly be wrong—which is a sentence that I'll always put in the first person.
Thanks Charles. This applies to those of us who paint as well, and the blank canvas mocks. But one must pick up the brush and press on... Appreciate your fine thoughts!
‘If you’re an artist with work that lands just outside the culture—misunderstood, overlooked, and, worst of all, ignored—it is a bit like walking around a city where you can’t speak the language.” What a splendid analogy. I have a copy of Bellow’s “Dangling Man” but never finished it. Its diary format felt discursive, lacking a plot. But I liked his writing. I might have to revisit it.
That's one of the two novels before The Adventures of Augie March. The other one, The Victim, I consider worth reading, and an intriguing portrait of the time. But you might find his essays a good place to start. They are rewarding—especially in style and sensibility if you compare them to what's common today—and they're a good way into his novels. Thank you for the comment.
Thanks for the recommendations.
This is really interesting Charles, in part because I can’t figure out who the “you” you keep addressing is ... Is it “you,” the author, keeping your own feelings at a distance? If is “me,” the reader, and you’re supposing I may feel this way? Or is it Bellow? I know, I’m supposed to figure it out, right? That’s the job of the reader. But in this medium, in this age, may I ask?
Thanks for the comment. That's a fair question, though I'm not sure that I have a fair answer. I'm usually allergic to the royal 'we' in writing—which you commonly see in political editorials—but there are places where a similar tone seems to work. When the first person feels unjustified, and a more traditional essay persona seems too cold, or even inaccurate, the second person can be just right: there's a directness that brings immediacy and intimacy that fits some subjects. Although I could certainly be wrong—which is a sentence that I'll always put in the first person.
Thanks Charles. This applies to those of us who paint as well, and the blank canvas mocks. But one must pick up the brush and press on... Appreciate your fine thoughts!
Thank you for the kind words—I'm glad to hear it.