May Kasahara, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
“…people have to think seriously about what it means for them to be alive here and now because they know they’re going to die sometime. Right? Who would think about what it means to be alive if they were just going to go on living forever? Why would they bother? Or even if they should bother, they’d probably just reckon, ‘Oh, well, I’ve got plenty of time for that. I’ll think about it later’. But we can’t wait till later. We’ve got to think about it right this second. I might get run over by a truck tomorrow afternoon. And you, Mr. Wind-up Bird: you might starve to death. One morning three days from now, you could be dead in the bottom of a well. See? Nobody knows what’s going to happen. So we need death to make us evolve. That’s what I think. Death is this huge, bright thing, and the bigger and brighter it is, the more we have to drive ourselves crazy thinking about things.”
___________________________________________________
"This sentence has five words. Here are five more words.
Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous.
Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of
it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety. Now
listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The
writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short
sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes, when I
am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of
considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with
all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the
cymbals–sounds that say listen to this, it is important."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)