I love when people haven't read much. It's all ahead of you! I recently reread a few from Wellington library- they have all her novellas in one volume, and they have her late young adult trilogy Annals of the Western Shore in one volume, both are amazing. I love the short story collection The Birthday of the World, which is mostly deconstructions of love and marriage. And as I said in my essay, all her non-fiction is banging. Her last book was a posthumous small book of small poems, So Far So Good, which I found moving, But I find all her work moving- that's why I love her.
There are so many terrible films of amazing books! There are some good film versions too, to be fair, but I think some books are essentially unfilmable.
I think of this "how can I know what happens to my words once they leave my pen? There’s no way to know. Yet I speak here."... And I think of one of the most moving experiences as a teacher I've ever had: with a university class, we were discussing "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry" by Walt Whitman, and these lines and following:
"And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence are more to me, and more in my meditations, than you might suppose."
And I said to them, "look! He is writing this over a hundred years ago, but he sees us! He is thinking of us! He is speaking to us directly and we are in his mind as he is in ours!" .... It felt like the most profound moment of explicit contact across time and space through literature. Yes, we set our paper-boats a-floating, not knowing where they will come home. But we may pitch our sight, by a magical act of the imagination, to see them land, to see them gathered in, on other shores far down the river....
…experiencing someone creatively definitely feels more intimate than looking at a picture of their ass…it is beyond cliche to call substack only fans but words at this point but fitting also it is starting to get infiltrated by those whose creativity is ass photos…the paying world values us more as objects…less as ideas…
Just brilliant! You have repeated something I find hard to explain when I dont want to watch something that I can read. When I prefer not to even listen to podcasts because of the voice destroying my inner imagining of the persons words. In this world and its over emphasis on externalities, looking at things with external eyes, I long for the inner senses that build my own understanding. Just brilliantly put. And I thank you.
Thank you, Rosie, for this. Reading your words about writing, in the darkness of early morning in solitude, after days and days of nearly constant holiday presence—“isness”—is like returning home after vacation travel that was lovely in many ways and filled with visiting with beloveds, but relentlessly stressful in its schedule of movement and its work of packing-unpacking-repacking and lugging.
I do feel a little called out about my substack author photo 😂 but I like being challenged to examine and then to articulate a difference: I really enjoy seeing the faces of writers—much more than seeing illustrations of their work, though I also enjoy that, especially when the author is the illustrator. Reading the words is enough, but/and seeing the face of the person who rendered them feels like a kind of connection, a recognition of their person. I love seeing Ursula LeGuin’s face, for example, and the feeling of delight in seeing a face I’ve imagined through the words I read and how different that face is from the image I had. I enjoy that little schism, then integration.
Yes, I also love Le Guin’s face, and voice, as it happens! I remember being almost shocked that she had an American accent. And that she was so very old! Then I was like- awesome! So judging from that, I mustn’t have read much of her stuff ahead of seeing her. Or I would have known those things about her. But maybe it was more like- theoretically I knew she was American- but her writing voice is so neutral that hearing her speaking voice still gave me a surprise.
I guess maybe it’s the primacy of the mind-to-mind connection I love; like that being the first thing and the main thing, rather than necessarily the ONLY thing. At some point if you love a person’s work you generally find out what they look like.
Leaving Guin is so good. I need to read more of her.
Damn autocorrect. Le Guin. Leaving Guin is very ambiguous though.
I love when people haven't read much. It's all ahead of you! I recently reread a few from Wellington library- they have all her novellas in one volume, and they have her late young adult trilogy Annals of the Western Shore in one volume, both are amazing. I love the short story collection The Birthday of the World, which is mostly deconstructions of love and marriage. And as I said in my essay, all her non-fiction is banging. Her last book was a posthumous small book of small poems, So Far So Good, which I found moving, But I find all her work moving- that's why I love her.
Case in point: The Shipping News and the dreadful film version.
There are so many terrible films of amazing books! There are some good film versions too, to be fair, but I think some books are essentially unfilmable.
Of much interest
I think of this "how can I know what happens to my words once they leave my pen? There’s no way to know. Yet I speak here."... And I think of one of the most moving experiences as a teacher I've ever had: with a university class, we were discussing "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry" by Walt Whitman, and these lines and following:
"And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence are more to me, and more in my meditations, than you might suppose."
And I said to them, "look! He is writing this over a hundred years ago, but he sees us! He is thinking of us! He is speaking to us directly and we are in his mind as he is in ours!" .... It felt like the most profound moment of explicit contact across time and space through literature. Yes, we set our paper-boats a-floating, not knowing where they will come home. But we may pitch our sight, by a magical act of the imagination, to see them land, to see them gathered in, on other shores far down the river....
…experiencing someone creatively definitely feels more intimate than looking at a picture of their ass…it is beyond cliche to call substack only fans but words at this point but fitting also it is starting to get infiltrated by those whose creativity is ass photos…the paying world values us more as objects…less as ideas…
'Those whose creativity is ass photos' LOL touché
…or you might even say tooshy…
Just brilliant! You have repeated something I find hard to explain when I dont want to watch something that I can read. When I prefer not to even listen to podcasts because of the voice destroying my inner imagining of the persons words. In this world and its over emphasis on externalities, looking at things with external eyes, I long for the inner senses that build my own understanding. Just brilliantly put. And I thank you.
Yes, that's true too: even listening to a speaking voice is a risk, in how it can alter the feel of the written voice
Thank you, Rosie, for this. Reading your words about writing, in the darkness of early morning in solitude, after days and days of nearly constant holiday presence—“isness”—is like returning home after vacation travel that was lovely in many ways and filled with visiting with beloveds, but relentlessly stressful in its schedule of movement and its work of packing-unpacking-repacking and lugging.
I do feel a little called out about my substack author photo 😂 but I like being challenged to examine and then to articulate a difference: I really enjoy seeing the faces of writers—much more than seeing illustrations of their work, though I also enjoy that, especially when the author is the illustrator. Reading the words is enough, but/and seeing the face of the person who rendered them feels like a kind of connection, a recognition of their person. I love seeing Ursula LeGuin’s face, for example, and the feeling of delight in seeing a face I’ve imagined through the words I read and how different that face is from the image I had. I enjoy that little schism, then integration.
Yes, I also love Le Guin’s face, and voice, as it happens! I remember being almost shocked that she had an American accent. And that she was so very old! Then I was like- awesome! So judging from that, I mustn’t have read much of her stuff ahead of seeing her. Or I would have known those things about her. But maybe it was more like- theoretically I knew she was American- but her writing voice is so neutral that hearing her speaking voice still gave me a surprise.
I guess maybe it’s the primacy of the mind-to-mind connection I love; like that being the first thing and the main thing, rather than necessarily the ONLY thing. At some point if you love a person’s work you generally find out what they look like.