As a writer who doesn't write, I spend a fair bit of time thinking about what I would write if I did. For prose and poetry, this is rarely a problem. I've recently come to the realization that I am not a poet, and I have never had a problem producing prose.
But for narrative, I am at a complete standstill. Some years ago I made up my mind to be a novelist. I've never put down that decision even though I've not nearly carried it out. The problem is that I am not particularly gifted at narration. Nearly every word in literally every sentence has to be wrenched from the deepest creative recesses of my brain. I can come up with some pretty good sentences. But it is a pain. There is no flow.
Then there's Jhumpa Lahiri. I almost never read fiction. I can count the fiction I've read in the last 5 years on one hand. But for some reason, I picked up Ms. Lahiri's "Interpreter of Maladies." I don't know how much time Ms. Lahiri spends on her sentences but they read like magic. Her writing is true from start to finish, and there is something effortless about it. She makes worlds. And after 2 or 3 lines you are in those worlds. Period. In rooms with characters really too real to be called characters.
And for the life of me I cannot figure out how she does it. Why is her woman standing at a stove so much more real than my woman standing at a stove? I find myself asking while (thinking about) writing, "How would Jhumpa Lahiri tell this story?"
She really is brilliant.
No comments:
Post a Comment