In the last days of his life Kafka, suffering tuberculosis of the larynx, was ordered not to speak. He communicated by scribbling notes on scraps of paper.
Deborah Eisenberg on Wallace Shawn: “It’s an interesting feature of human life that 1 shrinks & expands according to whom 1 is talking. Talking to Wally, I discovered in myself large reserves of mental energy & emotional activity that had simply been unavailable to me before.”
Gabriel García Márquez’s daily schedule (in 1999):
5-7 am: reading
7-10 am: breakfast, newspapers and email
10-2.30 pm: writing
2.30 pm: lunch
Afternoon and evening: “appointments, family, and friends”
Until 10 days ago this novel, one of the great reading experiences of my life, had sat unread on various shelves in various houses for 20 years, patiently minding its business. Just sitting there!
Stewart Lee once asked Alan Moore why he began his first novel with 20 pages of unintelligible Neanderthal speech. ‘To keep c***s out,’ he said. Happy 70th, Alan.
Alasdair Gray was born today in 1934. This line from his masterpiece, Lanark, seems more appropriate than ever:‘The world is only improved by people who do ordinary jobs and refuse to be bullied.’ People like nurses, ambulance workers and RMT members.
In his new book George Saunders spends some time discussing whether literature boosts empathy, & is therefore a force for good. He begins in favour, then picks holes in his own position (he’s always careful to do this, which I admire), & then writes this wonderful passage:
It’s Samuel Beckett’s birthday. I was going to write something about the prevalence of isolation in his work, but all I really want to do is admire his Gucci man bag.
I love this: JG Ballard on the future of the novel/the unknowability of others (from a Guardian book review, 2002, and included in Selected Nonfiction 1962-2007)
The conversation I have every time I send someone a copy of my book.
Post office worker: Nothing of value inside?
Me, internally: On the contrary, contained within is a book I spent years writing, into which I poured my very essence.
Me, externally: No, nothing of value.
“Most of the books I have written... originate from the thought that it will be impossible for me to write a book of that kind: when I have convinced myself such a book is completely beyond my capacities of temperament or skill, I sit down and start writing it.” Italo Calvino.
My book has been published and is on bookshop shelves. That’s a sentence I’ve wanted to be able to say since before there was an internet on which to say it.
Unbelievable news: Mothers has been longlisted for the Rathbones Folio Prize. I can’t believe it. Thanks to the Academy (probably the only chance I’ll ever get to say that) and congratulations to all the nominated authors. Did I mention this is unbelievable?
Bolaño said he could “live under a table reading Borges”. I think I could live under a table reading Chekhov. I’ve written about his influence on the modern short story in this week’s
@NewStatesman
:
This Sunday’s Open Book is an episode-long discussion of the life & work of Katherine Mansfield, the only writer Virginia Woolf admitted to being jealous of. With biographer
@claire_harman
, short-story writer & expert
@beingvarious
, & modernism specialist
@CMourant
@BBCRadio4
Yesterday I found this James Kelman novel in
@OxfambooksN1
(a great shop). I would have loved to buy a new copy and give Kelman a royalty, but like most of his books it’s out of print. It’s unbelievable to me that a writer of his talent and importance should be so neglected.
I can’t quite believe that yesterday morning I got to interview one of my favourite writers: Gerald Murnane. Gerald has never worn headphones before so it was a day of firsts all round. You can hear our conversation on
@BBCRadio4
’s Open Book this Sunday afternoon at 4 pm.
It’s a bittersweet week to have a
@guardianreview
cover story. Thanks to all the writers who took the time to speak to me about their reading habits during lockdown. Buy the
@guardian
today if you can, and consider a subscription or regular contribution.
Crónicas are something between reportage, narrative non-fiction & short stories, & now we have 12 of them by the brilliant Fernanda Melchor set in her native Veracruz. One of the books I’m most excited about reading this year.
Elizabeth Taylor died 43 years ago today. She’s not lost to oblivion or anything, but not nearly enough people read her. Especially given she could write like this.
Publication day. Here’s a very valuable text from a couple of years ago when I was in despair about how to write my novel. It didn’t solve everything but it helped a lot; I finished the book & I’m proud of it. Now you can read it if you want & see if
@leorobsonwriter
was right.
Roberto Bolaño died 18 years ago today. I needed to dip into 2666 earlier this year for a piece I was writing and ended up rereading the whole thing. What a novel.
I interviewed Claire Keegan yesterday and she told me she wrote “at least” 40 drafts of this book. Time well spent. Hear the rest of our conversation on
@BBCRadio4
’s Open Book, 4 pm Sunday afternoon
#r4openbook
I don’t make New Year’s resolutions, but if I did I’d steal them from Anna Kavan’s diary entry for 30/10/26: “I want to sleep a long time, eat a lot, sit about in the sun and be sexual pretty often.”
‘like every writer, he measured other men’s virtues by what they had accomplished, yet asked that other men measure him by what he planned someday to do’ - from ‘The Secret Miracle’ by Borges
Anyway, he was a genuine and unique artist and it makes me so sad that he died in his 60s. It sounds like hyperbole, but I think ‘Emergency’ is the best story anyone’s written in the last 30 years:
Bolaño would have been turning 65 today. 65! Imagine all the novels and stories (and poems and essays) we might have had. As it is, he’s given me some of my most indelible reading experiences. Feliz cumpleaños, Roberto.