Thursday, December 31, 2009
The History of Love, by Nicole Krauss
Art is one of those funny abstract concepts that resist definition. We want art to be something grand, something glorious, something that no one but an artist can create. We want art to be something so simple that it cannot help but be greater than its parts -- brighter than just paint on canvas, words on paper, movements of dancers. Yet we want art to be something bigger than ourselves, something that has touched the divine in humanity and brought pieces of it back to the world on slabs of stone.
And yet, we cannot say what, exactly, makes art art.
Whatever art may be, though, I know it includes The History of Love. This is the kind of book that inspires me to write, to create, to find that spark in me and share it with the world. It is beautiful. It is masterful. But it does not stand apart from those who read it. It is not elusively aloof or ineffable. It touched me deep. And that, more than any definition of style or technique or category, is art.
And at the eleventh hour, I conclude the inaugural year of Alone at the Microphone. No stragglers left over for the new year, none left behind to be filed in the wrong section of Blogger's archive. (Well, except for one. But it has good reason.)
Thank you to all of you who read, follow, share, comment on, enjoy, and support this blog. It's been a project good for my soul. And I'll keep it up so long as I keep reading. But knowing people are out there in several states and countries checking in, wondering what I have to say or what I'm reading... well, that's what really keeps it going.
Guten Rutsch ins neue Jahr. May you find at least one book this year that changes your world.