It was not for me, after these last seventy-two hours, to reject as too outlandish the possibility that the situation for him here had driven George crazy. Yet I did reject it. It was just too insipid a conclusion. Not everybody was cray. Resolute is not crazy. Deluded is not crazy. To be thwarted, vengeful, terrified, treacherous--this is not to be crazy. Not even fanatically held illusions are crazy, and deceit certainly isn't crazy--deceit, deviousness, cunning, cynicism, all of that is far from crazy...and there, that, deceit, there was the key to my confusion. Of course!
Philip RothStichwörter: crazy deceit vengeful resolute deluded
...they'll say, 'He never recovered from that breakdown and this was the result. It had to be the breakdown--not even he was that dreadful a novelist.
Philip RothStichwörter: breakdown dreadful-a-novelist
Better for real things to be uncontrollable, better for one's life to be undecipherable and intellectually impenetrable than to attempt to make casual sense of what is unknown with a fantasy that is mad. Better, I thought, that the events of these past three days should remain incomprehensible to me forever than to posit, as I had just been doing, a conspiracy of foreign intelligence agents who are determined to control my mind. We've all heard that one before.
Philip RothStichwörter: conspiracy indecipherable control-my-mind
Would that I were still a ludicrous character in his lousy book!
Philip RothStichwörter: lousy-book ludicrous-character
But I never did escape from this plot-driven world into a more congenial, subtly probable, innerly propelled narrative of my own devising--didn't make it to the airport,...--and that was because in the taxi I remembered a political cartoon I'd seen in the British papers when I was living in London during the Lebanon war, a detestable cartoon of a big-nosed Jew, his hands meekly opened out in front of him and his shoulders raised in a shrug as though to disavow responsibility, standing atop a pyramid of dead Arab bodies. Purportedly a caricature of Menachem Begin, then prime minister of Israel, the drawing was, in fact, a perfectly realistic, unequivocal depiction of a kike as classically represented in the Nazi press. The cartoon was what turned me around. Barely ten minutes out of Jerusalem, I told the driver to take me back to the King David Hotel.
Philip RothStichwörter: detestable-cartoon kike
Come se nel cuore della natura di uno scrittore ci fosse la purezza. Il cielo aiuti un simile scrittore! Come se Joyce non avesse annusato oscenamente le mutande di Nora. Come se nell’anima di Dostoevskij non avesse mai bisbigliato Svidrigailov. Nel cuore della natura di uno scrittore c’è il capriccio. Curiosità, fissazioni, isolamento, veleno, feticismo, austerità, leggerezza, perplessità, infantilismo eccetera. Il naso nella cucitura di un indumento intimo: ecco la natura dello scrittore. L’impurità.
Philip RothStichwörter: writers
They were just bones, bones in a box, but their bones were his bones,
and he stood as close to the bones as he could, as though the proximity
might link him up with them and mitigate the isolation born of losing his
future and reconnect him with all that had gone. For the next hour and a
half, those bones were the things that mattered most. They were all that
mattered, despite the impingement of the neglected cemetery's environment
of decay. Once he was with those bones he could not leave them, couldn't
not talk to them, couldn't but listen to them when they spoke. Between him
and those bones there was a great deal going on, far more than now
transpired between him and those still clad in their flesh.
His mother had died at eighty, his father at ninety. Aloud he said to them,
"I'm seventy-one. Your boy is seventy-one." "Good. You lived," his mother replied, and his father said, "Look back and atone for what you can atone for, and make the best of what you have left.
My God, he thought, the man I once was!
The life that surrounded me! The force that was mine! No "otherness" to be felt anywhere! Once upon a time I was a full human being.
It's a big deal for working people to buy a diamond," he told his sons, "no matter how small.
The wife can wear it for the beauty and she can wear it for the status. And
when she does, this guy is not just a plumber — he's a man with a wife with
a diamond. His wife owns something that is imperishable. Because beyond
the beauty and the status and the value, the diamond is imperishable.
A piece of the earth that is imperishable, and a mere mortal is wearing it on
her hand!
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