Even as a critic writing closely reasoned and sometimes scholarly pieces, or when producing what some now call “cultural journalism,” or as an occasional polemicist, I write for the ear as much as for the eye. Always. I hear all my writing as speech. If it doesn’t sound right when spoken aloud, I revise until it does. […]
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For a lad still a tad, who had passed through and adapted himself to three linguistic environments — Manhattan, southern France, London, and then back to Manhattan — in three years, this came as music to the ears. That Joycean play with language, in a form accessible even to a sprat like me, heightened my consciousness in relation to the spoken and written word by making the very act of reading — not the experience of following a story line, but the savoring of language itself, its slipperiness and mutabiity, its multivalent possibilities — fun. […] |
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