an excerpt from Francine Prose's Reading Like a Writer: A Guide for People Who Love Books and for Those Who Want to Write Them
"I was somehow unaware that no one lived that way any longer--that is, in circumstances that encouraged and facilitated the telling of long stories."
"In an era in which air travelers compare notes on how best to prevent their seatmates from making casual conversation (the eyeshade! the open earplugs! the open magazine!) it seems far less likely that one passenger would tell another (as happens in Tolstoy's 'The Kreutzer Sonata') a long, tormented account of how sexual jealousy ruined his marriage and his life. Perversely, it's more likely that someone might 'share' this confession with a national TV audience. Now that anyone who talks for more than a few seconds--that is, anyone who prevents us from talking for more than a few seconds--is generally regarded as a bore, what are the chances that a group of gentlemen will gather before a fire to exchange the detailed histories of long-past love affairs, as they do in Checkhov's 'On Love'?"
While I can (and do) utter a hearty "amen!" I am not guiltless. I can't count the number of times I've nodded, "yes, yes, mmm. Sure. Right. Really?" But all the while, I'm waiting for the slightest chance to silence the bore with my own two bits. Do we really love stories? Or just our own?
Posted by stephanie at February 29, 2008 02:38 PM | TrackBackThanks for this thought provoking comment. Perhaps this is what bother me so about that new reality show where families tell all (hurting all) for mear pieces of paper.
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