(a new book)
on the unexpected appearance of a simple story
a month or so ago i was writing a book and had been for a few months. but my heart wasn’t in it. so i had another idea. it was going to be a sequel to my last novel. i took a lot of notes and wrote the skeleton for the first chapter in a couple of days. i even told a few people about it, because i was excited.
but then, the next day i had another idea and i worked at it relentlessly for four days until it was finished. it’s the story of an aimless nineteen year old called Isaac, who runs into a woman named Alice, an old teacher he was friendly with and used to have a crush on. they end up having a good time walking around a garden, and the encounter is meaningful to both of them.
it was longer than my usual short stories and it was an intense process. i was completely absorbed in helping it come into the world, and for a couple of days after i couldn’t think of anything else. my only options were: keep thinking about the story, or imagine what happens next. and so i did until i was done. the whole story ended up being told in five episodes spread across several years, each focused on a single day. a good chunk of the book is dialogue between the two characters.
i had been listening to an obscure album by Herbie Hancock, called Hear, O Israel, a jewish prayer service set to jazz (beautiful music, just stunning, you should check it out). and somehow that became mingled with the story early on. but then once i saw that there needed to be a sequel, jazz became really quite integrated into the whole thing.
and then something really wonderful happened. for years i mostly listened to things that were influenced by jazz, or jazz adjacent, but as for real jazz, bebop, hard bop, post bop, i hadn’t seriously listened in fifteen years or so. but i wanted to integrate the excitement i used to feel about it into the characters, the enthusiasm i once had. and to do that i had to listen to a lot of it, all the time. and then i became excited as i listened, and as i wrote. and not only did i end up revisiting old favorites but also discovering or finally paying attention to new music (well, old music, but new to me). so the whole book was written while listening to jazz, and two names deserve special mention, Wayne Shorter and Dexter Gordon. i fell in love with jazz again as a process of writing this book. that alone makes it worth it.
it’s a small novel, about half the size of the last one. there are no supernatural elements, except for the fact that people and things exist. it’s about romantic love, and romantic friendship. and creativity, and yearning. and the irony of youth, and of adulthood. it’s about memory, and places, and the importance of places, especially those of our formative years. and it’s also about movies. and european history. and jazz. lots and lots of jazz.
the sketch on the cover is by Ananda Coomaraswamy. very nice to have been able to pay some kind of tribute to perennialism. it was important in my development.
it wouldn’t have been possible to write this book as quickly as i did without the help of my wife. she is a competent and intelligent editor, and she also knows me very well, so her feedback is always indispensable. but more importantly, i couldn’t have done it without her because she is the one where the muse becomes incarnate.
the book is coming soon to your nearness.
i’ll end this with the cover, and a couple of great jazz tunes.
