Your summation of his life and work reminded me of Sartre's brand of existentialism: life is brutish and contingent, and so it's incumbent on us to gather our rosebuds while we may, and seek personal meaning where we can. Looks like Romanticism cast longer shadows than most Modernists would care to acknowledge.
Editing autofiction is the most fascinating part of the process to me, especially with older work. How to leave the truthful juvenile warts, while improving the syntax and phrasing and overall messaging, is a fun dilemma to grapple with.
At a certain distance, everything is autofiction. The funny part about the best stuff is that it’s all about a personal experience, but stays universal, too.
Your summation of his life and work reminded me of Sartre's brand of existentialism: life is brutish and contingent, and so it's incumbent on us to gather our rosebuds while we may, and seek personal meaning where we can. Looks like Romanticism cast longer shadows than most Modernists would care to acknowledge.
Editing autofiction is the most fascinating part of the process to me, especially with older work. How to leave the truthful juvenile warts, while improving the syntax and phrasing and overall messaging, is a fun dilemma to grapple with.
At a certain distance, everything is autofiction. The funny part about the best stuff is that it’s all about a personal experience, but stays universal, too.