Happy Birthday, Winifred Holtby, born 23 June 1898, died 17 September 1935
- We’re so busy resigning ourselves to the inevitable that we don’t even ask if it is inevitable. We’ve got to have courage, to take our future into our hands. If the law is oppressive, we must change the law. If tradition is obstructive, we must break tradition. If the system is unjust, we must reform the system.
- But questioning does not mean the end of loving, and loving does not mean the abnegation of intelligence.
- I am a feminist because I dislike everything that feminism implies. I desire an end to the whole business, the demands for equality, the suggestion of sex warfare, the very name feminist. I want to be about the work in which my real interests like, the writing of novels and so forth. But while inequality exists, while injustice is done and opportunity denied to the great majority of women, I shall have to be a feminist.
- The things that one most wants to do are the things that are probably most worth doing.
- I took my courage and curiosity in both hands and chose the writer whose art seemed most of all removed from anything I could ever attempt, and whose experience was most alien to my own… . I found it the most enthralling adventure–to enter, even at second-hand, that world of purely aesthetic and intellectual interests, was to me as strange an exploration as it would have been for Virginia Woolf to sit beside my mother’s pie and hear my uncles talk fat-stock prices and cub-hunting. I felt that I was learning and learning with every fibre of such brain as I have.
Holtby was an English novelist and journalist, best known for her novel South Riding, and her biography, Virginia Woolf: A Critical Memoir
Source for Image
Happy Birthday, David Leavitt, born 23 June 1961
- Obviously any fiction is going to be a combination of what is invented, what is overheard, what is experienced, what is experienced by people close to you, what you are told, what you have read, all mixed together into this kind of soup which, like any good soup, at the end you cannot really distinguish the ingredients.
- Novels are forged in passion, demand fidelity and commitment, often drive you to boredom or rage, sleep with you at night. They are the long haul. They are marriage. Stories, on the other hand, you can lose yourself in for a few weeks and then wrap up, or grow tired of and abandon and (maybe) return to later. They can cuddle you sweetly, or make you get on your knees and beg.
- When one writer tries to silence another, he silences every writer-and in the end he also silences himself.
- We all spend so much time worrying about the future that the present moment slips right out of our hands. And so all we have left is retrospection and anticipation, retrospection and anticipation.
- In a memoir, I think, the contract implies a certain degree of truth. I think you have to be as true to your memory and your experience as you possibly can.
Leavitt is an American writer of novels, short stories, and non-fiction.
Source for Image
Friday afternoon research.
Fascimile illustration of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s last words in Die Gartenlaube March 22, 1832.
His last words were “Mehr Licht” (“More light”).
"To write is to escape. But it’s also to create. So it’s not like you’re running away when you’re writing; it’s kind of the opposite, a definitive confrontation with who you are and what limits you have, in the open and limitless world of fiction. Reading was good for me when I was a…
Great Summer Read. Historical fiction.
The Seamstress by Frances de Pontes Peebles
Two sisters torn apart in a land feud in Taquaritinga do Norte, Brazil, 1928. One is abducted by a band of outlaws traveling through the barren backcountry. The other marries the son of a doctor and enters Brazilian high society. A story of political feuds, family secrets, love and courage set in 2014 World Cup territory, what else could you want for a summer novel?
If a disappear this week you’ll know where to find me…
Appropriately named for our final destination - The Last Bookstore in Los Angeles, CA. The labyrinth upstairs has thousands of used books for $1 - rummaging through its dusty shelves is overwhelming in the best sense of the word. -LG
Wow 600 notes for The Last Bookstore!
"The lament of a fallen poet now looks like a salamander eaten away by ants." Zbigniew Herbert
"Now as I watch the death of words, I know there is no limit to decay. All that will be left of us in the black earth will be scattered syllables. Accents over nothingness and dust."