East of Eden

Reflections of a working writer and reader

Finding yourself in a hole, at the bottom of a hole, in almost total solitude, and discovering that only writing can save you. To be without the slightest subject for a book, the slightest idea for a book, is to find yourself, once again, before a book. A vast emptiness. A possible book. Before nothing. Before something like living, naked writing, like something terrible, terrible to overcome. Marguerite Duras

At fifteen, I was obsessed with East of Eden . . .
Maud Newton, posting on newcritics, raises the spectre of a Nobel prize winning writer.

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Filed under blogging, literature, miscellaneous, reading, writing
Related Tags: books, modernism, nobel, novel, steinbeck
This was posted on Tuesday, February 13th, 2007 at 11:04 am. You can follow any responses through the RSS 2.0 feed.

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East of Eden

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