tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21165575.post3101075208483737658..comments2024-03-10T20:46:19.274-04:00Comments on In the Middle: Utter solitudeCord J. Whitakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06224143153295429986noreply@blogger.comBlogger6125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21165575.post-85607443823728846232008-02-15T14:50:00.000-05:002008-02-15T14:50:00.000-05:00This comment has been removed by the author.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21165575.post-12005563539538107832008-02-10T23:09:00.000-05:002008-02-10T23:09:00.000-05:00Nice post, and good to be reminded of this guy's w...Nice post, and good to be reminded of this guy's work.<BR/><BR/><I>He contrasted this view with Ian McEwan, for whom trauma is much more individualized -- and for whom the atonement of his recent book title can happen at a personal rather than communal level.</I><BR/><BR/>That's a fascinating distinction and one I'm going to have to think about in relation to all the McEwan I used to read in the mid-90s (the film <I>Atonement,</I> BTW? Try to watch it without the music, if possible. It's like having a yak behind you, bawling on your shoulders).<BR/><BR/>As for making a lousy Anchorite: I'm remembering an article on the social function of Anchorites that I read for a Christina of Markyate paper, and irrc, they were often centers of news and gossip, pillars, you might say, of their community. In other words, you would have made a great anchorite; a lousy hermit, yes, but an anchorite? Not so bad, so long as you had a friendly priest to pass you books.Karl Steelhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03353370018006849747noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21165575.post-21507200641501339502008-02-09T12:00:00.000-05:002008-02-09T12:00:00.000-05:00Well, then I read this:http://philpaine.com/mycene...Well, then I read this:<BR/>http://philpaine.com/mycenea/modules/content/index.php?id=51Steve Muhlbergerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18136005762428407135noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21165575.post-40123224869754958202008-02-09T11:36:00.000-05:002008-02-09T11:36:00.000-05:0011:36 AM and this is already the best thing I'm go...11:36 AM and this is already the best thing I'm going to read today. Or maybe this week.Steve Muhlbergerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18136005762428407135noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21165575.post-7313729686023719372008-02-07T08:46:00.000-05:002008-02-07T08:46:00.000-05:00Interestingly enough, Nadeem spoke of the affinity...Interestingly enough, Nadeem spoke of the affinity he feels towards Roy's work, and the rage that she expresses through it at social structures gone badly wrong and forcing people into the wounding of the self and others. He contrasted this view with Ian McEwan, for whom trauma is much more individualized -- and for whom the atonement of his recent book title can happen at a personal rather than communal level.Jeffrey Cohenhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17346504393740520542noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21165575.post-57014385430687696192008-02-07T01:27:00.000-05:002008-02-07T01:27:00.000-05:00This is a beautiful post, and I very much want to ...This is a beautiful post, and I very much want to read Nadeem's book. My sister, by the way, once lived in a Datsun B210 in which the front passenger seat had been removed so that a board could be placed between the front and back seat and used as a bed. She lived in this car while working as a tree planter for a company that made diapers and other paper-based products: they were committed to re-forestation of areas they had devastated and my sister was paid three cents for every pine tree sapling she planted. She took this job because she was trying to get into the Peace Corps by demonstrating that she had certain "practical" skills--it worked, but the irony was that she was ultimately contracted as an AIDS educator (in the Central African Republic), not as a forestry or agriculture worker.<BR/><BR/>I am a very gregarious person who, for most of my life, has never really liked being alone, but ever since I left my partner and daughter in S. Carolina in 2002 to take a job at the University of N. Carolina-Asheville and then at Southern Illinois, I have mainly lived on my own [except for the summers and winter holidays]. I spend many many quiet days and evenings by myself and I find that it makes me a bit psychotic. I must admit that I get a lot of work done, but sometimes I wonder if it is worth it. I agree with Nadeem that it is an honor to devote oneself to art, and to making things that, hopefully, are beautiful, but I also know firsthand that to really commit to the process, you *do* have to become somewhat inhuman, or at least eschew sensual human contact.<BR/><BR/>Incidentally, Jeffrey, your remark of how broken up you were by the "the small detail of human heat imprinted on cold flooring" in Nadeem's novel reminded me of a similar moment in Arundahati Roy's "The God of Small Things": as the mother is dying in a derelict hotel, the only sound in her room is that of the legs of a cockroach scuttling-rasping across the floor. It's a small detail, but a devastating one.Eileen Joyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13756965845120441308noreply@blogger.com