I would like to know who, at the Paris Review, took the photograph above, showing me (on, it need hardly be said, the right) and some random fellow on the left.
Yes, the “gestalt” of the image is clear: books “lift” one up out of the parochial stuntedness (spell check protests but I assure it, it is a word) of one’s and everyone else’s limited perspective. But lost in the photo, I fear, is an acknowledgment of how much actual physical labor it cost me to find and stack the books.
Well, never mind. I am used to such neglect. What does not kill me makes me stronger, unless it wounds me, in which case it makes me weaker. Meanwhile, now we know what librarians mean by “the stacks.”
Do not be surprised that I remain
Yours as ever,