If only "bird" really was the word...
Last night, while getting ready for work, i was listening to CBC Radio One's "Writers & Company". The host, Eleanor Wachtel, was speaking with author Ian McEwan. In Eleanor's introduction, she said that she had been "reading Ian McEwan" for a long time ... but i had never heard of him.
I found the interview interesting, and i enjoyed it. In conversation, McEwan made reference to Kingsley Amis and Leo Tolstoy. I had a familiar feeling that i didn't belong in the room -- i had never heard of McEwan, i have never read any Tolstoy, and i've only ever read one book by Amis (Lucky Jim -- and i can't even remember if i enjoyed it). I'm sure there are many people who can't even claim as much as this, but still, i felt silently ashamed.
How can i even think that i might one day write a book when i have read so few?
I found the interview interesting, and i enjoyed it. In conversation, McEwan made reference to Kingsley Amis and Leo Tolstoy. I had a familiar feeling that i didn't belong in the room -- i had never heard of McEwan, i have never read any Tolstoy, and i've only ever read one book by Amis (Lucky Jim -- and i can't even remember if i enjoyed it). I'm sure there are many people who can't even claim as much as this, but still, i felt silently ashamed.
How can i even think that i might one day write a book when i have read so few?