In The Great Gatsby, its narrator asserts in the opening paragraphs that he makes a point of not judging people. He then goes on, roughly one paragraph later, to start judging and barely a page goes by in which he fails to not only judge people, but do so in a delightfully dry and atContinue reading “Judging Judgment (Ugh, What A Self-Consciously Cutsey Title. This Isn’t a Great Start)”
Author Archives: Jack Canfora
Memorial Day
So my great uncle was, I think, 19 (let’s say 19) and stationed in England as a private in the US Army on the eve of the Normandy invasion. And he was scared out of his wits. So much so, he placed a call to his oldest brother, my grandfather, and confessed he was thinkingContinue reading “Memorial Day”
Words, Words, Words
I’m a sucker for words of all shapes, sizes, and especially, sounds. But its chief function is communication… if you have an arcane word that is the absolute mot juste, have at.
But [a word like] stochastic? Its only pragmatic functions to show off. It’s sure as hell not trying to communicate, is it?
The Numbing of America
What I feel – or, more accurately, fail to feel about this latest shooting – is the result of residual trauma that’s become an ambient, barely perceptible distorted noise in the back of every American’s head.
Trying to Get Organized
There are people, and you’ve likely met some of them, hell, some of you may even be some of them, who are, and there’s simply no polite way of saying it, organized. You know the type. The types who always take out the correct recycling on the right night. Who never misplace their car keysContinue reading “Trying to Get Organized”
On Punching Up
It’s Not Rocket Science, Although Given My Utter Ignorance of Rocket Science, Maybe Part of It Is But I doubt it. I recently tweeted something on the Twitter machine – a silly, mildly amusing tweet that said, “I have never been in any way harassed or demeaned by Scott Rudin; this isn’t meant to condoneContinue reading “On Punching Up”
A Couple of Quickies:
“Writer’s Block” implies to me that I’m driving along and I’ve hit a wall. It feels somehow visceral and violent. That’s different from simply getting stuck because you’ve run out of gas. One’s a collision, the other’s a petering out. One is a – you get the point.
April, 1945 and April, 2022
I sometimes think about those first few Allied troops who stumbled upon the death camps that Nazi Germany had infected Europe with and the obscene spectacle they had to behold and absorb while trying to help the poor ragged souls who were somehow still alive. As we bear witness to stomach-twisting sights of sadism inContinue reading “April, 1945 and April, 2022”
Killing Your Darlings. In Your Writing, I Mean. Not In Some Jim-Jonesian Way.
Hemingway said you should write your story, and then take all of the “best” lines out. Would we like F. Scott Fitzgerald, or Toni Morrison, or James Baldwin half as much if they took our their best lines?
What I Think I’ve Learned So Far, Though I Don’t Always Act Like I Have
I had my birthday this week – I had been putting it off for a while now – which means I turned 53. And so I got to thinking, “What, if anything, do I feel I can honestly say I’ve learned in this half century and change? Here’s what I’ve come up with, and nowContinue reading “What I Think I’ve Learned So Far, Though I Don’t Always Act Like I Have”