It's good how these posts, which I happen to know have been rewritten several times, make me realize we can reread your writing as if it's the first time. I find that good writing can be read and reread many times because not only have you changed but so have I as your reader. I even change as I read you, which is the best trick language plays on us. That thought sticks in my mind.
A perfect read on a gloomy Friday morning, before my coffee, meditation or morning pages. I felt the jolt of coffee, stillness of meditation and discoveries unfolding as when morning pages hits a mark. Or do I mean mourning pages? When do I feel a bone in my throat? How have I convoluted my memories? Now I have much to ponder.
I keep re-reading this post -- so many threads to follow, but this particularly: "When has anything you thought about the future turned out as you imagined it?"
It was a piece you posted about the movie Klute that first drew me to your excellent writing, Laurie. I have a file now where I save your posts about films I haven't seen but plan to, so I can get your take on them after I've watched 'em.
I know some movie reviews show up in your other collections, but I'd cherish a compendium of JUST your film reviews (either alphabetical or chronological by release date), as sort of a different version of the Leonard Maltin Movie Guide. I would go to them and read your comments after I've watched or rewatched each one. (I do this already with some Pauline Kael collections that I own, although I haven't always agreed with her. I also do this with the episode reviews of one of my favorite TV shows ever - in Marc Scott Zicree's indispensable "Twilight Zone Companion.")
Thanks so much for your comment. I don't think of the writing I do about film and streaming shows as reviews. I do understand it's possible to read them that way. I think of them as dramatic narratives or monologues, where the narrator is telling you a story about what happened to her and what she thought as she experienced something. That's so different from feeling a sense of responsibility to the artist who made the work to care for it and care about it in the terms they would most want. I'm reckless along those lines, I think. But hey, if you think it's a worthwhile project, I'll give it some thought. The best thing along those lines would be if a publisher wanted to do it and thought they could sell it. Anyone out there interested?
"the narrator is telling you a story about what happened to her and what she thought as she experienced something." But, as Richard suggests, it reads as if we're hearing it for the first time. It reminds us that memory changes with each telling.
i don’t remember ever reading that lydia davis story tho it could be i didn’t “get” it either so forgot i read it. but i love your recollection of it and how being corrected @ your summary triggered another memory of paul and how he’s become the bone in your throat—the way it all weaves and connects. i hope that cake was as gooey and delicious as it smelled.
Once again you open memory to endless possibility that at the same time feels certain. Your gorgeous piece is the first thing I read this morning and I feel it moving in me as I sit to do some writing of my own, a bone in my throat.
The fact that we finally came up with the wheel just five and a half thousand years ago has always alarmed me. I wonder which part of the brain that was. Wonderful writing. Always enjoy your personal story essay style. Thank you!
It's good how these posts, which I happen to know have been rewritten several times, make me realize we can reread your writing as if it's the first time. I find that good writing can be read and reread many times because not only have you changed but so have I as your reader. I even change as I read you, which is the best trick language plays on us. That thought sticks in my mind.
I feel the same when I read your brilliant writing, and anyone who hasn't ventured to Richard's stack, you can find it at richardtoon1.substack.com.
A perfect read on a gloomy Friday morning, before my coffee, meditation or morning pages. I felt the jolt of coffee, stillness of meditation and discoveries unfolding as when morning pages hits a mark. Or do I mean mourning pages? When do I feel a bone in my throat? How have I convoluted my memories? Now I have much to ponder.
Thank you Laurie!
Thanks Carline, and huge thanks for supporting the stack. xxL
I keep re-reading this post -- so many threads to follow, but this particularly: "When has anything you thought about the future turned out as you imagined it?"
It was a piece you posted about the movie Klute that first drew me to your excellent writing, Laurie. I have a file now where I save your posts about films I haven't seen but plan to, so I can get your take on them after I've watched 'em.
I know some movie reviews show up in your other collections, but I'd cherish a compendium of JUST your film reviews (either alphabetical or chronological by release date), as sort of a different version of the Leonard Maltin Movie Guide. I would go to them and read your comments after I've watched or rewatched each one. (I do this already with some Pauline Kael collections that I own, although I haven't always agreed with her. I also do this with the episode reviews of one of my favorite TV shows ever - in Marc Scott Zicree's indispensable "Twilight Zone Companion.")
Thanks so much for your comment. I don't think of the writing I do about film and streaming shows as reviews. I do understand it's possible to read them that way. I think of them as dramatic narratives or monologues, where the narrator is telling you a story about what happened to her and what she thought as she experienced something. That's so different from feeling a sense of responsibility to the artist who made the work to care for it and care about it in the terms they would most want. I'm reckless along those lines, I think. But hey, if you think it's a worthwhile project, I'll give it some thought. The best thing along those lines would be if a publisher wanted to do it and thought they could sell it. Anyone out there interested?
"the narrator is telling you a story about what happened to her and what she thought as she experienced something." But, as Richard suggests, it reads as if we're hearing it for the first time. It reminds us that memory changes with each telling.
Powerful and AMAZING writing that I stumbled through because I kept tripping over the elegance and timeless structure of your words.
Thanks so much. If you are a new reader, welcome!
i don’t remember ever reading that lydia davis story tho it could be i didn’t “get” it either so forgot i read it. but i love your recollection of it and how being corrected @ your summary triggered another memory of paul and how he’s become the bone in your throat—the way it all weaves and connects. i hope that cake was as gooey and delicious as it smelled.
Once again you open memory to endless possibility that at the same time feels certain. Your gorgeous piece is the first thing I read this morning and I feel it moving in me as I sit to do some writing of my own, a bone in my throat.
I love to read other writers as a way to find a prompt. Enjoy! (No bones.)
The fact that we finally came up with the wheel just five and a half thousand years ago has always alarmed me. I wonder which part of the brain that was. Wonderful writing. Always enjoy your personal story essay style. Thank you!
Thanks!
"Paul remains to this day a bone in my throat."
A lovely capper.
I loved every word of your writing. Missing the death of a loved one. Mystical movie about space, life and path of humanity. Thank you
You are such a thoughtful reader. Much appreciated.
You have just given me a prompt for a scene I’ve been avoiding in my novel in progress. Thank you!
Can you describe the scene in one sentence that's an action, not a summary? "No" is a perfectly okay answer!
Not yet (I just got the prompt!) but that's the goal. Stay tuned.