I’m about twenty pages from the end of American Pastoral, which I highly recommend, and I realize I should probably wait until tomorrow when I’m done, but I won’t, because I want to say that the thing about books that I just love, good books, of course, that I have loved since I was a kid, is just this way that they have of completely immersing me into someone else’s life. Okay, if you’ve read American Pastoral, you might be wondering why I’d want to be in these people’s lives, but it’s not so much that I get the feeling of living their life, but being – at the party so to speak. I feel like I completely know who these people are, I can see them in my head. And I love the idea that what each reader sees is just a little bit different just because each reader is different.
Once in a while, every now and again a movie does this for me, but part of the problem with movies is that I don’t get to bring my own imagination to it, not in the same way, anyway, and part of the problem, I am convinced now, is movie stars. I go to see Erin Brockovich, I can not help but see Julia Robertskovich. Ever since Me and You and Everyone We Know, I have a little fantasy where all movies in the future will have entirely unknown actors, because for me that helps. I realize that would put a lot of people out of work, and will never happen.
2 comments:
I think anybody that considers themselves a reader (or writer) sees the world this way. I couldn't agree more and wish that people spent more time with the written word because if anything, it lets our imaginations run.
Cheers
http://liquidthoughtspm.blogspot.com/
What an irony ! (I know you don’t like those reverse i...). You describe far better than I will ever do my feelings about your first book i finished a month ago (in its french translation). Standing again alongside all these women that once i was so close to. They nearly have come out of my mind since i used to go around with them in high school or at university, when we were sharing our days in courses and our nights in bars, at parties or cinemas, although i was never steady to understand what were their inner desires. And now, twenty years later, it’s just like they have abruptly called me back, offering me to read (chosen) parts of their diary, a selfmade testimony of their last 20 years wounds and achievments, a letter of intention for the 10 next,...
Thank you for your sixteen stories that are still lively in my mind. After all, it’s rather unfrequent that i have the opportunity to thankfull an author that has enlighten my evenings.
Thomas (of South France)
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