I had a sudden memory jolt yesterday of being about 14 and paralysed by how many words there are. So many to choose from, how could you ever plump for one let alone a set of words together and the things they do to each other? (I was clearly a blast).
It was weird to remember because I don't feel at all like that now. I guess you start choosing because you have to, and then one day you realise you have patterns. Words and phrases you use all the time. Which is kind of necessary and presumably part of what you'd call an Identity. But also perhaps a kind of loss.
Camille at Dentsu London.
On the way back from Newcastle research.
Nicer photos here.
When you don't finish a book (which I'm finding I do more and more as I feel I'm running out of book time somehow, and can't waste it on not brilliant books), what happens to the characters? Do they get lost? Somewhere in you? Unresolved and wandering, in a kind of limbo? You might remember them when you're eighty, and not be sure whether you met them, dreamt them, read them, or what happened to them.
There seems to me something irresponsible about leaving characters hanging like that. But I'm not sure who the responsibility is to. Similarly it seems irresponsible to write bad characters. It's like people you've only half met, but they linger in your brain. Do writers owe us good archetypes? And do we owe it to them to finish reading and understand?