I was too much of a Bronx kid to read Emerson or Hawthorne.
Don DeLilloMots clés reading youth literature ralph-waldo-emerson nathaniel-hawthorne robert-mccrum bronx
I'm not reclusive at all. Just private.
Don DeLilloMots clés autobiography privacy robert-mccrum reclusiveness
It was only after two years' work that it occurred to me that I was a writer. I had no particular expectation that the novel would ever be published, because it was sort of a mess. It was only when I found myself writing things I didn't realise I knew that I said, 'I'm a writer now.' The novel had become an incentive to deeper thinking. That's really what writing is—an intense form of thought.
Don DeLilloMots clés writing writers philosophy autobiography thought novels self-actualization publishing robert-mccrum americana-novel
It's my contention that each book creates its own structure and its own length. I've written three or four slim books. It may be that the next novel is a big one, but I don't know.
Don DeLilloMots clés books writing literature novels narrative robert-mccrum dramatic-structure length-of-a-novel
We are not native. We have no generations of Americans behind us. We have roots elsewhere. We are looking in from the outside. To me, that seems to be perfectly natural.
Don DeLilloMots clés americans american-literature philip-roth robert-mccrum paul-auster
Everyone who does not live in Berlin lives in Brooklyn now.
Don DeLilloMots clés brooklyn berlin robert-mccrum point-omega
It is all falling indelibly into the past.
Don DeLilloI long for the days of disorder. I want them back, the days when I was alive on the earth, rippling in the quick of my skin, heedless and real. I was dumb-muscled and angry and real. This is what I long for, the breach of peace, the days of disarray when I walked real streets and did things slap-bang and felt angry and ready all the time, a danger to others and a distant mystery to myself.
Don DeLilloIf serious reading dwindles to near nothingness, it will probably mean that the thing we're talking about when we use the word "identity" has reached an end.
Don DeLilloAs a volunteer reader to the blind, Babette had some reservations about the old gent's appetite for the unspeakable and seamy, believing that the handicapped were morally bound to higher types of entertainment. If we couldn't look to them for victories of the human spirit, who could we look to? They had an example to set just as she did as a reader and morale-booster. But she was professional in her duty, reading to him with high earnestness, as to a child, about dead men who leave messages on answering machines.
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