Often, in the view from my window, sea and sky merge. Obviously different elements and entities and yet there on the horizon is an intimation that one disappears into the other. Sometimes they merely reflect each other like a blend of fact and fiction.
I have been reading Any Human Heart. Had I bought the book rather than a download I might have thought twice. It’s quite a tome and I usually go for short. But I’m having a William Boyd fest at the moment and the note stating five hours left to read, that would normally send a frisson, ‘have I five hours left to give?’ I ignore happily. It’s a really enjoyable read. Logan, the (anti?) hero, witnesses and participates in the major events of the twentieth century in a grand sweep, meeting novelists, artists, even the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. I like the improbability of the names and the pretence. A blur of real and unreal that can constitute a good novel.
Reflecting on the improbability of life and fiction, William Boyd and me both, a few choice quotes worth pondering.
What do you believe in?
‘(A) credo of two hates and three loves: hatred of injustice, hatred of privilege, love of life, love of humanity, love of beauty.
The meaning of life?
‘That’s all your life amounts to in the end: the aggregate of all the good luck and the bad luck you experience. Everything is explained by that simple formula.’
Advice for budding writers perhaps?:
‘In good prose precision must always triumph over decoration…Wilful elaboration is a sign that the stylist has entered a decadent phase….sometimes a plain dish of lentils is all that the palate craves even if one insists that the lentils come from Puy.’