New Yorker Fiction Podcast

Jeffrey Eugenides is on the New Yorker’s fiction podcast with Deborah Treisman this month reading Harold Brodkey’s “Spring Fugue.”  They talk the anthology Eugenides edited and why he’s drawn to Brodkey.  If you’ve never listened to the New Yorker fiction podcast, do.  There are some lovely writers reading stories not their own, and then a bit of discussion with Treisman.  Beware, though.  Sometimes I find it unsettling to hear an author’s voice after I’ve read their novels.  Fortunately, Eugenides has a nice voice and there was nothing too strange (in the sense of “oh, I didn’t imagine him sounding like that“).

If you’ve got some time, or if you have household chores, check out this dialogue between Salman Rushdie and Eugenides.  They discuss Rushdie’s most recent book among other things.  Eugenides tells a story about trying to visit Rushdie when he was young and had just read Midnight’s Children.

Eugenides reminds me why I love good writing.  At the sake of sounding like a spiritual weirdo, there’s something transcendent about the sense of awe that comes from brilliant writing.  I think of O’Connor’s Mystery and Manners, in which she touches on mystery in religion and literature.  I suppose all good art (whatever that means or however you would define it) brings a person to their knees (hopefully not in idol worship but in appreciation of the creation, perhaps the Creator, too, at least for the Christian [if I were to  digress further, I’d mention Romans 1:20).  For example, I have never liked swimming.  I don’t like getting wet and I’d much rather be running if I have to be active.  But after watching the U.S. Olympic swimmers and Michael Phelps’ historic feat last night, I was awestruck by their strength and athleticism and the sheer technicalities of their sport.  Ryan said he’s become “a student of swimming” in the last week, and he explained a little about the way the “wake” affects a swimmer.  (Forgive me my ignorance of swimming terminology, and please ignore any blunders.)  At any rate, I think a person can find beauty and meaning in things as vastly different as sport and art and science and even cleaning.  A person who does something well allows others to see the beauty in their work (be it auto mechanics, landscaping, or writing).  I’m reminded of Donald Miller’s initial words in Blue Like Jazz.