“He did not remember the surprise of seeing a college classmate’s name on the jacket of a novel not long after they graduated, or the respect he had felt after reading the book. He did not remember the pleasure of giving respect.”
—Tobias Wolff, “Bullet in the Brain.”
“Bullet in the Brain” is one of the greatest short stories of our time. This two-page story (as originally published in the New Yorker, longer in other formats) is like gazing into water, into a tide pool or the dark Pacific off the side of a dock, seeing the surface, the oil rainbows drifting from boats, then the depths, and fish moving, then new life in the corners, and still finding more…
You can find the whole story here:
https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/1995/09/25/bullet-in-the-brain
If you have trouble with that link, you can Google it. Many profs have made pdf’s. It is short and amazing and infinite.
There was a time when I worked as a book reviewer. Books came in the mail, daily. My shelves were overflowing. I stacked books up along one wall, then along the next wall, and the next, until they were on all sides of my already small living room, in stacks that ran as high as a Great Dane’s back, as tall as an average American fifth grader, perhaps, as high as a Portland pothead, and I was rich in other people’s words. The only way to navigate those ever-growing stacks was to cut, ruthlessly. A book that didn’t interest me on the first sentence went in the out-going pile. I was paid very little, per review, and the faster I could make decisions, the better in terms of paying the bills.
It started to seem like an unhealthy relationship to literature, words and other people’s lives. That’s capitalism, isn’t it. Being a book reviewer is not, in my opinion, conducive to generosity. After a few years, I moved on but I remember that direction and that relationship to books, and I try to let it go. It’s better to be open-hearted.
“He did not remember the pleasure of giving respect….”
When I read the line, it sang to me.
It is good for our hearts to grant respect, to each other in our work and our lives.
Maybe try extending the same, to your own process or endeavors? You are your own first critic, I’m sure. I know I am.
Enjoy the day, go easy on yourself.
Huge thanks for following my work!
Every gesture of support is appreciated—click, like, share…? All of it. xo
Yes. My inner critic is always in my head. So hard to let it go. Thank you.