Thursday, February 17, 2011
When I read Norman MacLean
I know I am reading something that is just about as pure as I can stand it.
As with fire, wood, or whiskey,
the silence is in the grain.
When I read Norman MacLean out loud it sounds so simple.
There is no artifice between the teller and the listener. The story lives in the voice of the teller and the mind of the listener, although the teller has been dead for many years.
It is beautiful.
And yet it is a puzzlement. As all things beautiful must be.
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Poetry - Original
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