Limitless variations.
I love words. I can't remember a time when I didn't. I love the sound of words and the textures of them on paper. I love the rise of black ink on white paper. I love the way they feel in my mouth and also the images that just one word can conjure. I love to write in cursive just for the way that the words feel as they move my hand.
"Ululate" has always conjured an image of a cartoon wolf gobbling up a shopgirl in a pale blue suit. Her lips are pink and parted in shock and consternation. Her eyes are wide and rimmed with defined black lashes.
"Glossolalia" has been and always will be the verbal reincarnation of a kiss.
"Bauble" is always a pearl the size of a toddler's fist.
I often think when I've read something beautiful that there's nothing more to write. That there can't be any unsaid, unwritten beauty left in the world. But then I find some other combination of words that is palpable and genius and full of the love of its creator.
Some stand clearly in my mind. I don't have to write them down to remember them because they become the image in my head. These words become the atoms that describe a thing or a moment. Raymond Chandler was good for these sorts of pearls.
"She smelled the way the Taj Mahal looked by moonlight." ~ The Little Sister.
I see this woman in my mind, and I smell something white and cool and intricate as arabesques.
There's a line in John Gardner's The Sunlight Dialogues when he describes a cellar. "Drafts moved through the dark like fish."
I love authors who consider the prosaic and take the time to give minutiae its own celebrated place. Everything is important. There is no detail that does not contribute to what the world is.
"Ululate" has always conjured an image of a cartoon wolf gobbling up a shopgirl in a pale blue suit. Her lips are pink and parted in shock and consternation. Her eyes are wide and rimmed with defined black lashes.
"Glossolalia" has been and always will be the verbal reincarnation of a kiss.
"Bauble" is always a pearl the size of a toddler's fist.
I often think when I've read something beautiful that there's nothing more to write. That there can't be any unsaid, unwritten beauty left in the world. But then I find some other combination of words that is palpable and genius and full of the love of its creator.
Some stand clearly in my mind. I don't have to write them down to remember them because they become the image in my head. These words become the atoms that describe a thing or a moment. Raymond Chandler was good for these sorts of pearls.
"She smelled the way the Taj Mahal looked by moonlight." ~ The Little Sister.
I see this woman in my mind, and I smell something white and cool and intricate as arabesques.
There's a line in John Gardner's The Sunlight Dialogues when he describes a cellar. "Drafts moved through the dark like fish."
I love authors who consider the prosaic and take the time to give minutiae its own celebrated place. Everything is important. There is no detail that does not contribute to what the world is.
posted by Autumn at 8:47 AM
3 Comments:
I know. He's just beautiful. (I say that about people when I love their writing style. They may look like troglodytes, but there's something inherently beautiful there.) I also like "I felt like a half-digested meal eaten in a greasy spoon diner." Oh. And "You have to hold your mouth clamped around Hollywood to keep from chewing on stray blondes." So true.
I like those. I'm not familiar with either title, though. Those aren't Chandler, are they? If they are, I'll never forgive myself. Have you read The Life of Pi? There were some wonderful words in that one. There's one part when the narrator is describing the zoo that his father ran during his (Pi's) childhood. He said that it got smaller and smaller each year until it finally fit inside of his head. (I can't remember the exact quote, but that's pretty damn close.) Beautiful book.
I'll have to check those out. I can't believe there are Chandler stories I haven't read. When I was living in San Diego years ago (with my ex-husband before he was my husband), we were penniless and living in my old beat-up Tracker. It was January and cold and dull - no gas, no fun money, no food, etc. We spent most of our days in the library in the Gas Lamp District, reading magazines and books. I enjoyed the experience, for the most part, and I read book after book by Chandler. Homelessness is a great opportunity for reading. Wow. I just made myself a little melancholy and nostalgic. Funny how time makes past hardships seem beautiful and sweet.
By the way, have we met? I feel like I must know you.
Post a Comment
<< Home