I Try Not To Have Anything Too

I Still Found Literary Criticism To Be A Suspect Activity

My Father Once Nearly Came To Blows With A Female Dinner Guest About Whether A Particular Patch Of Embroidery Was Fuchsia Or Magenta. But The Infinite Gradations Of Color In A Fine Sunset - From Salmon To Canary To Midnight Blue - Left Him Wordless.

It Was A Vicious Cycle, Though. The More Gratification We Found In Our Own Geniuses, The More Isolated We Grew.

I Do Sometimes Miss Doing That Lighter, More Humorous Work, And I Find There's A Heavier Responsibility That Goes Along With A Literary Reputation. You Have To Start Knowing What You're Talking About And You Have To Go Have Public Conversations With Writers. That's Been Pretty Intense; I Have To Really Stay On Top Of Things In A Way I Didn't Before.

It Was Not A Triumphal Return. Home, As I Had Known It, Was Gone.