On the morning she was moved to the cemetery, the one where Al Jolson is buried, I enrolled in a ‘Fear of Flying’ class. ‘What is your worst fear?’ the instructor asked, and I answered, ‘That I will finish this course and still be afraid.’
On the morning she was moved to the cemetery, the one where Al Jolson is buried, I enrolled in a ‘Fear of Flying’ class. ‘What is your worst fear?’ the instructor asked, and I answered, ‘That I will finish this course and still be afraid.’
When you can state the theme of a story, when you can separate it from the story itself, then you can be sure the story is not a very good one. The meaning of a story has to be embodied in it, has to be made concrete in it. A story is a way to say something that can’t be said any other way, and it takes every word in the story to say what the meaning is. You tell a story because a statement would be inadequate. When anybody asks what a story is about, the only proper thing is to tell him to read the story. The meaning of fiction is not abstract meaning but experienced meaning, and the purpose of making statements about the meaning of a story is only to help you experience that meaning more fully.
When you can state the theme of a story, when you can separate it from the story itself, then you can be sure the story is not a very good one. The meaning of a story has to be embodied in it, has to be made concrete in it. A story is a way to say something that can’t be said any other way, and it takes every word in the story to say what the meaning is. You tell a story because a statement would be inadequate. When anybody asks what a story is about, the only proper thing is to tell him to read the story. The meaning of fiction is not abstract meaning but experienced meaning, and the purpose of making statements about the meaning of a story is only to help you experience that meaning more fully.
My uncle Sibaso is learning to live without memory, like this spider. He hardly eats. He does not swallow the stars as he used to and takes his rest in the coolness of the house, a pillow held to his belly, a half finished Coca-cola bottle to his side, its mouth sugary, syrupy, black. He keeps a few crumbs in a plate, to feed his ego, he says.
My uncle Sibaso is learning to live without memory, like this spider. He hardly eats. He does not swallow the stars as he used to and takes his rest in the coolness of the house, a pillow held to his belly, a half finished Coca-cola bottle to his side, its mouth sugary, syrupy, black. He keeps a few crumbs in a plate, to feed his ego, he says.
He turned and began swimming–splashing desperately, rather–toward the beach, and suddenly he was praying to God to save him. He would be good in the future, would obey his parents, would not miss mass on Sunday. Then he remembered having confessed to the Sharpies, “I go to church only to see a young lady,” and he felt a knife-sharp conviction: God was going to punish him, to drown him in those turbid waters that he was frantically beating, waters below which an awful death, and afterward hell perhaps, were waiting for him.
He turned and began swimming–splashing desperately, rather–toward the beach, and suddenly he was praying to God to save him. He would be good in the future, would obey his parents, would not miss mass on Sunday. Then he remembered having confessed to the Sharpies, “I go to church only to see a young lady,” and he felt a knife-sharp conviction: God was going to punish him, to drown him in those turbid waters that he was frantically beating, waters below which an awful death, and afterward hell perhaps, were waiting for him.
Why have they spent all this time telling one another their life stories, which maybe are true? The three of them discover an identical need to relate their life stories in full detail, from the time when they were little to these fateful days when so many strange things are happening.
Why have they spent all this time telling one another their life stories, which maybe are true? The three of them discover an identical need to relate their life stories in full detail, from the time when they were little to these fateful days when so many strange things are happening.