I read two more essays by Marilynne Robinson from her collection When I Was A Child I Read Books. One was titled “Freedom of Thought” and the other was “Imagination and Community”. Both touched on similar philosophical and sociological themes that revolved around the process of writing fiction. Her essays give me much “food for thought” as well as someone who can express my thoughts about reading much better than I can. I also learn new words when I read her essays. The new word this time around was “apophatic” meaning “involving a mention of something one feigns to deny”. Robinson uses this word to discuss the concept that there are ideas worth writing about that do not necessarily have words to describe them or “reality that eludes words”.
She looks at her own life as a writer with some wonder and a little disbelief. I enjoyed her description of a day in her life when she forgets to call her “real-life” mother because she is involved with a dilemma one of her fictional characters needs to work through.
She writes a wonderful paragraph in which she illustrates the concept of community by using her book shelf:
I love the writers of my thousand books. It pleases me to think how astonished old Homer, whoever he was, would be to find his epics on the shelf of such an unimaginable being as myself, in the middle of an unrumored continent. I love the large minority of the writers on my shelves who have struggled with words and thoughts and, by my lights, have lost the struggle. All together they are my community, the creators of the very idea of books, poetry, and extended narratives, and of the amazing human conversation that has taken place across millenia, through weal and woe, over the heads of interest and utility.
At one point, Robinson asks the question “Why write fiction?” Her answer is simply “I don’t know”. I would venture an anwer to that question using some of the ideas she talks about: there are ideas and concepts in the world we live in that are best described in stories as opposed to text books.