We writers aren't sculpting in DNA, or even clay or mud, but words, sentences, paragraphs, syntax, voice; materials issued by tongue or fingertips but which upon release dissolve into the atmosphere, into cloud, confection, specter. Language, as a vehicle, is a lemon, a hot rod painted with thrilling flames but crazily erratic to drive, riddled with bugs like innate self-consciousness, embedded metaphors and symbols, helpless intertextuality, and so forth. Despite being regularly driven on prosaic errands {interoffice memos, supermarket receipts, etc.}, it tends to veer on its misaligned chassis into the ditch of abstraction, of dream.
by Jonathan Lethem
(0 Reviews)

In Jonathan Lethem's exploration of language, he emphasizes that writers use words and syntax that, once spoken or typed, dissipate into the atmosphere. Unlike tangible materials such as clay, language is intangible and transient, existing only in the moment it is conveyed. He illustrates this concept through vivid imagery, highlighting the ephemeral nature of written expression and its ability to evoke emotions and thoughts in unseen ways.

Lethem also likens language to an unpredictable vehicle, capable of exciting yet erratic journeys. While often used for mundane purposes, words can easily drift into realms of abstraction and imagination. This inherent duality of language, being both practical and dreamlike, reflects its complex nature, filled with nuances that writers must navigate. The challenges posed by metaphor, intertextuality, and self-awareness contribute to the intricate craft of writing.

Stats

Categories
Votes
0
Page views
7
Update
February 19, 2025

Rate the Quote

Add Comment & Review

User Reviews

Based on 0 reviews
5 Star
0
4 Star
0
3 Star
0
2 Star
0
1 Star
0
Add Comment & Review
We'll never share your email with anyone else.
More »

Other quotes in The Ecstasy of Influence: Nonfictions, Etc.

More »

Popular quotes

Taffy. He thinks about taffy. He thinks it would take his teeth out now, but he would eat it anyhow, if it meant eating it with her.
by Mitch Albom
Small towns are like metronomes; with the slightest flick, the beat changes.
by Mitch Albom
Look, if you say that science will eventually prove there is no God, on that I must differ. No matter how small they take it back, to a tadpole, to an atom, there is always something they can't explain, something that created it all at the end of the search. And no matter how far they try to go the other way – to extend life, play around with the genes, clone this, clone that, live to one hundred and fifty – at some point, life is over. And then what happens? When the life comes to an end? I shrugged. You see? He leaned back. He smiled. When you come to the end, that's where God begins.
by Mitch Albom
You say you should have died instead of me. But during my time on earth, people died instead of me, too. It happens every day. When lightning strikes a minute after you are gone, or an airplane crashes that you might have been on. When your colleague falls ill and you do not. We think such things are random. But there is a balance to it all. One withers, another grows. Birth and death are part of a whole.
by Mitch Albom
we get so many lives between birth and death. A life to be a child. A life to come of age. A life to wander, to settle, to fall in love, to parent, to test our promise, to realize our mortality-and, in some lucky cases, to do something after that realization.
by Mitch Albom
I have the tendency to be nervous at the sight of trouble looming. As the danger draws near, I become less nervous. When the peril is at hand, I swell with fierceness. As I grapple with my assailant, I am without fear and fight to the finish with little thought of injury.
by Jean Sasson
The nun said, I can forgive the language. I'm not sure I can forgive your making an obscene gesture at your mother. Ya gotta know her, Holland said. If you knew her, you'd give her the finger, too.
by John Sandford
There's lying," says Mum, fishing out the envelope she wrote the directions on from her handbag, "which is wrong, and there's creating the right impression, which is necessary.
by David Mitchell
But an ink brush, she thinks, is a skeleton key for a prisoner's mind.
by David Mitchell
Unlimited power in the hands of limited people always leads to cruelty.
by David Mitchell