Tuesday, May 05, 2009

My latest column ...

... is up: The mystery of memory is the mystery of ourselves.

2 comments:

  1. As I have noted elsewhere (where your article appears), your offering is beautifully written! Now, I suppose I should find a copy of Durrell’s Alexandra Quartet and also begin again. Before doing so, though, I would offer two simple observations about memory: (1) The longer we live, we find we have too many memories (both good and bad), and our clear discernment of the past is complicated by plentitude and time; this is, I suppose, both a blessing and a curse; (2) Literature has always been involved in the preservation of memory (like a creature trapped forever in a small block of amber) in that we can perceive it in an altered state but can never really revive it, and that also is a blessing and a curse.

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  2. Susan B.7:10 PM

    What a wonderful essay, Frank. I so agree about the protean nature of time. Certain smells always transport me. This semester at Temple, one of the food vendors made something that smelled exactly like what we in the south call a "corn dog." As soon as I inhaled that, I was back at the State Fair in Jacksonville, Florida, and with the smell came the remembered sounds, particularly the sideshow hawkers. "Come see the Boy from Borneo. He's right here, Folks... Alive and Breathin'!"

    Yes, as long as we are alive and breathing, this is how it will be, our memories will slide through our present time, sometimes eliding whatever is happening in the now with the more powerful presence of the then.

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