Inundated though we are by online stuff to read, I always look forward to weekly Saturday emails containing essays from the Atlantic magazine.
A recent entry, by Rich Cohen, describes his experience interviewing the drug-and-alcohol-addled writer Hunter S. Thompson, the self-described "gonzo journalist," who wrote many rebellious, anti-establishment articles for Rolling Stone magazine.
Cohen mentions a writing practice that Thompson employed. I had never heard of it; it may prove valuable to any writer:
"At the outset of his writing career, Hunter copied the entire text [of F. Scott Fitzgerald's novel 'The Great Gatsby'] on his typewriter just because he wanted to feel the sentences, the flow and silk of them, pass through his fingers. Anyone who knows Hunter's work will recognize Fitzgerald's influence, which can be heard in his melancholy dips, the sad, lyrical passages where you catch the echo of the last pages of Gatsby."
Any mention of Fitzgerald triggers my memory of having driven some University of Wisconsin students around the Twin Cities years ago to see the sights; passing 599 Summit Avenue in St. Paul, I pointed out Fitzgerald's landmark home. One student shouted, "Stop the car!" I did, and he raced to ring the doorbell.
A tiny girl, who looked to be about 4, came to the door. The boy blurted out, "Does Fitzgerald live here?"
The girl, in an angelic voice, answered as she must have done many times before: "He used to live here. He doesn't live here anymore."
An eagle eye
