aesopsfables.us
Leafing through Mortification (edited by Robin Robertson) last night, and this from James Wood:
"For those who make a living from writing, getting things wrong constitutes the formal, not to say canonical nightmare. To publicize error is to multiply it infinitely. And how much more acute is the embarrassment of error for one whose job, as a critic, is to correct others’ fallacies?…Like most writers, and certainly most journalists, I work, and work most happily, from memory. Memory is organic. The notorious fact-checkers of The New Yorker are irritating not only because they often prove how fallible are our memories, but because they seem to mechanize what ought to be a natural, unmediated, fast-moving process."
This, because I’ve been thinking about blogging lately, in part due to this pedantic assault, in part because of this charming retort, from which:
"An intellectual congratulates himself upon being centripetal, not meandering; he does not “come across” or “happen upon” something, he goes looking for it. A good part of being a hedgehog involves feeling superior to foxes…."It [the fox] borrows what is true and rejects what is false, and assembles the truths into a temporary dwelling. It looks with suspicion and disgust upon the sort of education in which a pupil submits to the authority of a recognized master, replacing it with a kind of serial discipleship—sitting at the feet of this one and that one. It licks the icing off books."
This clearly isn’t The New Yorker here. What ‘we’ are is, as plainly indicated at the top of this web page, a space which holds:
"Musings on the Book, Literature, Poetry, Literary Criticism, Collecting, Media, Life and the Arts, and Audio Interviews pertaining to same by a writer, broadcaster, bibliophile. In short, a commonplace book blog: A place to quote, abridge, and commonplace passages of rhetorical, dialectic and factual interest, mix them with comment and reflection, and index them to facilitate retrieval and use, notably in the composition of my own prose."
As D. G. Myers again, in referring to commonplace bloggers and Isaiah Berlin foxes, aptly and melodiously tells us:
"These are writers united not by doctrine or ideological commitment, but by an ambition to copiousness and eloquence—and the secret handshake that passes between those who have spent a life among books. They are proud to be foxes. They don’t avoid hedgehogs; they just don’t want to be one. They are happy knowing many small tricks. Or, rather, such knowledge brings them great happiness."
If in the reader this blog’s magpie collections and musings in any way stimulate thought, motivate response, result in pleasure – so much the better.