{"id":6099,"date":"2007-03-12T16:59:37","date_gmt":"2007-03-12T20:59:37","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=6099"},"modified":"2022-10-12T15:31:31","modified_gmt":"2022-10-12T19:31:31","slug":"word-came-today","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=6099","title":{"rendered":"“Word came today”"},"content":{"rendered":"

This post made me cry<\/a> – it’s a swept-away and yet articulate response to Richard Powers’ Gold Bug Variations<\/a>\"\"<\/i> It brought me back to my own experience reading that extraordinary book … and how blown away I was (and still am) by it. I’ve never written about Goldbug Variations<\/i> because … I find the prospect daunting, I guess. Where to start?? The same with Hopeful Monsters<\/a>\"\"<\/i> – a book that means more to me almost than any other. I can’t seem to bring myself to write about it. The last big book on my personal-fave list (and I always think of these three together) is Mating: A Novel<\/a>\"\"<\/i> – and that one I DID manage to write about.<\/a> In a frenzy. I find some books hard to talk about. Because not only are they a good story, a good book – but they are sometimes like angels, come into my life at the perfect reason, to help me struggle with a certain issue … the books show up<\/i> – These 3 books were like that. There was no reason for me to read them. I picked up Hopeful Monsters<\/i> because I liked the cover art and the description of the plot on the back. I picked up Mating<\/i> because the description of the plot on the back spoke to me. Nobody recommended it. I read it a couple years after it won the National Book Award. And I picked up Goldbug Variations<\/i> for … I have no idea why. But these three books – together – ended up being woven together into a rope, a strong rope – for me to hold onto – until the bad-ness passed. This was in the late 90s. Each book is dog-eared from re-readings. I love them as BOOKS, but I also love them as saviors. Goldbug Variations<\/i> came at a time when I was ricocheting around in my own loss, and I had been for about a year. Everything was cold, I was always walking into the wind. Goldbug<\/i> it was challenging, a real feat<\/i>, it takes concentration – and it’s an intellectual battle. But (as it so often is for me) – the intellect is PART of the passion. It’s not either\/or. I don’t separate. And an intellectual love affair … hmmmm … what would that <\/i>be like? I know exactly what it would be like, and it is the only kind of relationship possible for me. There is a hopelessness in that. A swoon of necessity, of self-knowledge. And in these 3 books I list here – I’ve seen such a relationship described, dissected, analyzed. (Possession<\/a>\"\"<\/i> is another one, actually).<\/p>\n

But alongside of (or woven into) the intellectual rigor of Goldbug Variations<\/i> is this keening note of mourning, longing, bittersweet love … Oh, how I know that. I know it better than anything else.<\/p>\n

He feels a strange euphoria, an overwhelming sense of inevitability. The thing about to make its grand entrance surprises him by its uncanny familiarity.<\/p>\n

— Richard Powers, Goldbug Variations<\/i><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

The first words he said to me were, “Are you waiting for someone?”
\nI didn’t say what I wanted to say, which was, “Yeah. You.” Instead, I smiled up at him, strange how familiar he seemed, uncanny familiarity<\/i>, and said merely, “Yeah.”<\/p>\n

I still haven’t written about Goldbug Variations<\/i>. I still don’t feel ready.<\/p>\n

Here’s the link again to the post that started off my brain a-spiralling<\/a>. Thinking about that book makes my heart pound faster.<\/p>\n

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