The first panacea for a mismanaged nation is inflation of the currency; the second is war. Both bring a temporary prosperity; both bring a permanent ruin. But both are the refuge of political and economic opportunists.
All our words from loose using have lost their edge.
When people talk, listen completely. Most people never listen.
There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.
This month the book club read The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway. An interesting choice after having read A Paris Wife by Paula McLain a while back.
Our monthly book club meets twice, once on a Tuesday night (originally for those who worked during the day) and Wednesday morning (for those who didn’t want to get out at night.) Over the years these two groups have developed their own personalities.
The night meeting is smaller and more, for lack of a better word, intellectual. At least two members do background work on the book or author before coming to the meeting. The retired English teachers gravitate toward this group. I like it because I learn a lot and am able to share it with the Wednesday meeting. But we also have at least one member who likes this meeting because when she doesn’t get into a book, like this month’s selection, she comes to try to figure out what she might be “missing.”
Last night we had an interesting discussion about the writer’s voice.
This morning’s group will be bigger, and freer with their own voices.
So in preparation for today’s group I look at more of Hemingway’s words.
Who was this guy? A WWI veteran. A drunk. A depressive. Married four times. A writer of sparse and simple language.
One last quote to get a handle on his style…
If a writer knows enough about what he is writing about, he may omit things that he knows. The dignity of movement of an iceberg is due to only one ninth of it being above water.