I have a few friends with literary aspirations, and the subject of writing is tricky. It's useful, because "shoptalk" can be fun. At the same time, there is always competitiveness and ego. (The writer Simon Rich captures the silliness of ego in "The Baby," a story about a novelist who discovers that his little fetus has enviable storytelling talent. The actual baby is the published novelist, not the emotionally mature fetus.)
One friend has released various picture books, and I'm always excited for him, and also slightly miffed. (When Anne Lamott watched a colleague soar to new heights of success, she grew very tired. She grew impatient, saying "wonderful! wonderful! so wonderful!" while half-ignoring the voice in her iPhone.)
Because of my own history, I'm drawn to "What Are You Going Through," a novel about a thorny literary friendship. It's essentially the story of Sigrid Nunez and Susan Sontag. Sontag discovers that she has fatal cancer; she wants to die in a graceful way. She asks Nunez to assist with the suicide. Because Nunez believes that anyone should have the option to die with dignity, and because Nunez senses that Sontag has mysterious life lessons to impart, Nunez says yes.
This is such a terrific setup for a novel. Entombed in the "death house," the two women argue. Sontag offers unsolicited thoughts on her friend's love life. Nunez points out something obvious--"you lost your pills because, subconsciously, you're ambivalent about suicide"--and the observation quickly becomes explosive. Nunez leans on dishonesty; she chooses not to say, It's brutal to see you like this. Amazingly, Sontag is quite honest; as much as possible, she wants to confront reality. She wants to "make eye contact" with death.
The novel steers clear of sentimentality. It shows the deepening of a relationship without using any "signposts"; things seem to happen in an organic way. It's a miraculous book.
If you asked me to design a dream film adaptation, I might mention Julianne Moore and Tilda Swinton, and I might even mention John Turturro. I can't wait for "The Room Next Door."
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