I feel this very deeply. Sometimes, for all its flaws, I find myself longing for the days of pre-ubiquitous internet, for the types of human interactions I had as a child that feel harder to find now, having struggle to find the same sort of depth and complexity, and the feeling of not being watched, rated, recorded, analyzed. The way that lack of permanance and importance and feeling that the gaze of society was always on you made people freer with their words, sometimes for ill I do remember, but often just in a more open way. I don’t know if this is just the nostalgia we get when we are older or if we’re missing something about how we communicate now. I don’t think I have the complete backward looking nostaligia, I know some things are better now. But still I miss something about the freeflowing conversations with so much less worry about being judged that had so many more shades of a person’s individuality in them.
This is a flat-out wonderful piece of cultural criticism, witty and smart and ironic and propulsive. I love the comparison of the speculative fiction and the trash can. I love how artfully you allow us to get to know aspects of your life without this becoming memoir-y or overly intimate. When I first read down the list of "subscriber writing" on FdB's blog, my heart sank. Everyone, it seems, thinks he or she is a writer, I thought. But I took a chance on this, and, boy, am I glad I did. You ARE a writer, an excellent one. Many thanks for this. (And blessings on your mother.)
This is the best thing I’ve read in quite some time.
My husband and I had our first pivotal conversation in college about Dracula. And I also recently read my first lesbian romance novel, written by one of our fellow lovely FDB commenters. Perhaps I shall read my first gay novel based on your starred review and my personal history with that particular vampire.
I loved this essay and just subscribed! I am embarrassed to admit that I didn’t even know you had a Substack, because the app doesn’t list our Substack titles next to our comments. Anyway, sorry it took me so long!
And please tell your mom that I do the exact same thing as she does after a trip!
“green hooded stalks shot through with translucent red veins” is a lovely turn of phrase that, if the rest of the piece hadn’t already made a subscriber of me, sealed the deal
Some people can paint so beautifully with words. I had no idea what this email was or from where it came, but I'm glad I opened it and I will be sure to read anything else you write. The last passage about your mom in the forest was brilliant, poetic. Thanks, Sarah.
Just commenting to say the Vienna Teng title reference drew me to click, and the best writing I've read in (a month? 6 months? What does time matter it was great) made me a subscriber.
I feel this very deeply. Sometimes, for all its flaws, I find myself longing for the days of pre-ubiquitous internet, for the types of human interactions I had as a child that feel harder to find now, having struggle to find the same sort of depth and complexity, and the feeling of not being watched, rated, recorded, analyzed. The way that lack of permanance and importance and feeling that the gaze of society was always on you made people freer with their words, sometimes for ill I do remember, but often just in a more open way. I don’t know if this is just the nostalgia we get when we are older or if we’re missing something about how we communicate now. I don’t think I have the complete backward looking nostaligia, I know some things are better now. But still I miss something about the freeflowing conversations with so much less worry about being judged that had so many more shades of a person’s individuality in them.
This is a flat-out wonderful piece of cultural criticism, witty and smart and ironic and propulsive. I love the comparison of the speculative fiction and the trash can. I love how artfully you allow us to get to know aspects of your life without this becoming memoir-y or overly intimate. When I first read down the list of "subscriber writing" on FdB's blog, my heart sank. Everyone, it seems, thinks he or she is a writer, I thought. But I took a chance on this, and, boy, am I glad I did. You ARE a writer, an excellent one. Many thanks for this. (And blessings on your mother.)
This is a wonderfully rich piece of writing that thankfully pulls my brain away from wanting to analyse and quantify it. Thank you!
This is the best thing I’ve read in quite some time.
My husband and I had our first pivotal conversation in college about Dracula. And I also recently read my first lesbian romance novel, written by one of our fellow lovely FDB commenters. Perhaps I shall read my first gay novel based on your starred review and my personal history with that particular vampire.
I loved this essay and just subscribed! I am embarrassed to admit that I didn’t even know you had a Substack, because the app doesn’t list our Substack titles next to our comments. Anyway, sorry it took me so long!
And please tell your mom that I do the exact same thing as she does after a trip!
“green hooded stalks shot through with translucent red veins” is a lovely turn of phrase that, if the rest of the piece hadn’t already made a subscriber of me, sealed the deal
Some people can paint so beautifully with words. I had no idea what this email was or from where it came, but I'm glad I opened it and I will be sure to read anything else you write. The last passage about your mom in the forest was brilliant, poetic. Thanks, Sarah.
Just commenting to say the Vienna Teng title reference drew me to click, and the best writing I've read in (a month? 6 months? What does time matter it was great) made me a subscriber.