Usually about the most boring subject imaginable, I find. But I loved this NYT interview with John Irving.
Disappointing, overrated, just not good: What book did you feel you were supposed to like, but didn’t?
Everything by Ernest Hemingway.
What don’t you like about Hemingway?
Everything, except for a few of the short stories. His write-what-you-know dictum has no place in imaginative literature; it’s advice for a journalist, not for a novelist or a playwright. Imagine if Sophocles or Shakespeare or Dickens had heeded that advice! And Hemingway’s sentences are short and simplistic enough for advertising copy. There is also the offensive tough-guy posturing — all those stiff-upper-lip, don’t-say-much men!
Yes! I’ve always read Hemingway and thought, What is all the fuss about? So happy to discover that I’m not alone.
It’s also interesting to compare this interview with the one conducted a few weeks back (and blogged about here) with Drew Faust. The Harvard president, it read to me, made the Times send her written questions and wrote her responses, which made the interview feel flat and artificial and manipulative—not very interesting, except insofar as what it suggested about Faust’s obsession with image control. (Or at least that of the people who work around her.)
But Irving seems to have gotten on the phone with the Times—either that, or he’s just a better, more natural writer than Faust, more sure of his voice—and as a result his personality practically jumps off the page. Like or dislike his answers, you know where he stands and admire his conviction—and he does it all with such flair and erudition.
Have you ever written to an author?
I’ve written to many authors; I love writing to writers.
And do they usually write back? What’s the best letter you’ve received from another writer?
Yes, they write back. Gail Godwin writes exquisite letters. James Salter, too — and Salter uses an old typewriter and rewrites by hand. His handwriting is very good. He uses hotel stationery, some of it very exotic. Kurt Vonnegut was a very good letter writer, too. As you might imagine, he was very funny. Grass writes me in German and in English, which is how I write to him, but his English is much better than my German.
It’s hard for anyone these e-book days to successfully conjure the romance of being a writer, but justthatfast, Irving does it. (“He uses hotel stationery, some of it very exotic”—doesn’t that send the imagination running?)
I’ll admit: I’d love to have a life in which Kurt Vonnegut and I wrote letters back and forth. To my mind, wouldn’t everyone?