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UD is...
"Salty." (Scott McLemee)
"Unvarnished." (Phi Beta Cons)
"Splendidly splenetic." (Culture Industry)
"Except for University Diaries, most academic blogs are tedious."
(Rate Your Students)
"I think of Soltan as the Maureen Dowd of the blogosphere,
except that Maureen Dowd is kind of a wrecking ball of a writer,
and Soltan isn't. For the life of me, I can't figure out her
politics, but she's pretty fabulous, so who gives a damn?"
(Tenured Radical)

Sunday, September 09, 2007

The Intensity and Clarity
Of the Inner Life




Norman Mailer's frailty and age
-- he just spent four days in the
hospital with breathing difficulties;
he's 84 -- have UD thinking of him,
and recalling in particular her delight
in his hilarious book
The Prisoner of Sex,



















which, among other things,
is a fervent defense of her
beloved Henry Miller. She hasn't
read the thing in, oh, thirty years.




Here are some excerpts from a Paris Review interview with Mailer in 1964:


"[G]ood style is a matter of rendering out of oneself all the cupidities, all the cripplings, all the velleities.... I try to go over my work in every conceivable mood. I edit on a spectrum that runs from the high, clear manic impressions of a drunk, which has made one electrically alert, all the way down to the soberest reaches of depression where I can hardly bear my words. By the time I'm done with writing I care about, I usually have worked on it through the full gamut of my consciousness.... The moment you borrow other writers' styles of thought, you need craft to shore up the walls. But if what you write is a reflection of your own consciousness, then even journalism can become interesting."

"Booze, pot, too much sex, too much failure in one's private life, too much attrition, too much recognition, too little recognition, frustration. Nearly everything in the scheme of things works to dull a first-rate talent. But the worst probably is cowardice - as one becomes older, one becomes aware of one's cowardice; the desire to be bold which once was a joy gets heavy with caution and duty."

"[T]he audience which has no tradition by which to measure their experience but the intensity and clarity of their inner lives. That's the audience I'd like to be good enough to write for."

"[A friend of mine said he wrote because] 'The only time I know that something is true is at the moment I discover it in the act of writing.' I think [this is why one writes]. [You're] in love with the truth when you discover it at the point of a pencil. That, in and by itself, is one of the few rare pleasures in life."

"One's condition on marijuana is always existential. One can feel the importance of each moment and how it is changing one. One feels one's being, one becomes aware of the enormous apparatus of nothingness - the hum of a hi-fi set, the emptiness of a pointless interruption, one becomes aware of the war between each of us, how the nothingness in each of us seeks to attack the being of others, how our being in turn is attacked by the nothingness in others."



Well, the interview did take place in 1964.... Though actually this comment about our being and nothingness wars made me think of something I read just the other day on Lucky Jane's blog, about a horrible lunch Jane had with a new faculty member:


'The play date with my new colleague in another department has come and gone, and boy howdy was it a waste of time. She was twenty minutes late. She was reticent and awkward to interact with. She had table manners that made me gasp; e.g., with her tongue she deposited little wads of chewed-over broccoli fibers onto the edge of her plate mid-sentence, reminding me ever so vaguely of Lena Grove’s inner monologue in Faulkner’s Light in August: “Like a lady I et. Like a lady traveling.” And she was a downer. Before her department chair, she lamented her two-block walk to the parking garage, JPU’s surly and unresponsive students (already?), the danger she perceived lurking in the dark shadows of big bad funky new city, the difficulty of meeting people here, the tightness of her shoes, whatever. I hope I didn’t sound like her last year. I was relieved to have had less than an hour for lunch, because I was exhausted by the time I choked down my cupcake and sped off to meet with students. I don’t consider myself a new age-y person, but every now and then I encounter people who siphon off my energy. These people are emotional black holes, and I fear them.

Newbie is one of those people.'