Again, your use of recurring physical symbols -- the sheet-rock screw, the fire -- to represent so much in the minds of the characters, especially Robert, hits home. I feel the doubt, fear, anguish. Your detail is amazing.
I so appreciate this comment, as I've seen so little of you lately. Glad you're back, Maybe I'll intrigue enough that you'll keep up. I'm bi on hope even as hope fades.
your description of the fire reminds me of the firestorm we experienced in Central Portugal 7 summers ago, when the fire came too close for comfort. A fire which was neither safe nor controlled. Reading your chapter, it enables me to relate to this powerful sentence:
"The heat of this fire made me understand the power of lightning because the fire burned into me, into every part of me." ~ and it makes so much sense with your use of the word 'conflagration', and the threads with which you weave the burning of inner and outer fires together. Exquisite writing.
The visuals and the video remind me of Chris Marker's notion of the "super cobbler" but then... they're all held together by such incredible language: "One can create a conflagration in marriage or in betrayal of it. This I see now—how I created an unsafe space for the woman I loved and its similarity to a conflagration." Love.
I love this chapter so much. I remember listening to it months ago and deciding to listen again right away, so many elements to pull together and deepen my understanding of the narrator’s plight. How desperately his words try to “pull him from the fire” even though these flames that engulf him are blue and almost indifferent.
Yes, and yes and yes: my dear good reader who gets my intentions so well and makes me feel as if the writing is worth your time and effort to write such an expansive comment. 💕
"The space between us in the bed was a conflagration that neither of us could safely enter. That space was an uncontrolled fire like the fire between the lovers, Isaac and Lena." I loved these lines, Mary. Somehow they make me think of Wagner's Ring Cycle!
What a generous comparison, Jeffrey. I heard Wagner rising from my childhood basement where my father listened to him endlessly -- a memory that resounds like the music that rose and filled our small row house.
What I love about your writing Mary is your attention to detail and getting to the essentials of what matters to the characters and what the reader should know, avoiding the "over-supply." One of the best pieces of advice you ever gave me as a teacher and reader is "cut it." It stays with me every time when I write flash fiction.
What I like about you adding parts of the story here on substack are the visuals and video. Well done.
You can bet, Isabelle, that I did a lot of cutting and worked on the style of the prose as well. You were a terrific student--one of my best and we formed a friendship that lasts.
Again, your use of recurring physical symbols -- the sheet-rock screw, the fire -- to represent so much in the minds of the characters, especially Robert, hits home. I feel the doubt, fear, anguish. Your detail is amazing.
I so appreciate this comment, as I've seen so little of you lately. Glad you're back, Maybe I'll intrigue enough that you'll keep up. I'm bi on hope even as hope fades.
your description of the fire reminds me of the firestorm we experienced in Central Portugal 7 summers ago, when the fire came too close for comfort. A fire which was neither safe nor controlled. Reading your chapter, it enables me to relate to this powerful sentence:
"The heat of this fire made me understand the power of lightning because the fire burned into me, into every part of me." ~ and it makes so much sense with your use of the word 'conflagration', and the threads with which you weave the burning of inner and outer fires together. Exquisite writing.
Your words give me hope. What more can a reader possibly do for a writer? You define hope in all you write and how you offer it to others.
The visuals and the video remind me of Chris Marker's notion of the "super cobbler" but then... they're all held together by such incredible language: "One can create a conflagration in marriage or in betrayal of it. This I see now—how I created an unsafe space for the woman I loved and its similarity to a conflagration." Love.
Any comparison to the work of Chris Marker honors. That the words held you means much. You are such a find, Alisa.
I love this chapter so much. I remember listening to it months ago and deciding to listen again right away, so many elements to pull together and deepen my understanding of the narrator’s plight. How desperately his words try to “pull him from the fire” even though these flames that engulf him are blue and almost indifferent.
Yes, and yes and yes: my dear good reader who gets my intentions so well and makes me feel as if the writing is worth your time and effort to write such an expansive comment. 💕
"The space between us in the bed was a conflagration that neither of us could safely enter. That space was an uncontrolled fire like the fire between the lovers, Isaac and Lena." I loved these lines, Mary. Somehow they make me think of Wagner's Ring Cycle!
What a generous comparison, Jeffrey. I heard Wagner rising from my childhood basement where my father listened to him endlessly -- a memory that resounds like the music that rose and filled our small row house.
What a wonderful memory!
What I love about your writing Mary is your attention to detail and getting to the essentials of what matters to the characters and what the reader should know, avoiding the "over-supply." One of the best pieces of advice you ever gave me as a teacher and reader is "cut it." It stays with me every time when I write flash fiction.
What I like about you adding parts of the story here on substack are the visuals and video. Well done.
You can bet, Isabelle, that I did a lot of cutting and worked on the style of the prose as well. You were a terrific student--one of my best and we formed a friendship that lasts.