While there are artists I admire – writers, songwriters, singers, essayists – there are few I would want to meet. I imagine the magic they exert on my life would change. Do I want to know anything about them personally? Not particularly. They’re entitled to their privacy; I’m entitled to my fantasy.
There a few I might like to meet – but only for a few moments.
Neil Young, well, I’d like to meet him just to say thanks – for the music, the soundtrack to many wonderful moments of my life. And lines like “With those headlights comin’ down the hill between the stars” (from Field of Opportunity)
Alice Munro, perhaps, to ask her how she does it. In her stories, transitions are smooth as glass – a devilish talent. Could we have a conversation about how she writes?
Dorothy Parker? I’d love to sit down around a table at the Algonquin Hotel in New York – but only if I could travel back in time myself.
Here’s the review I wrote this week for the book Farewell, Dorothy Parker by Ellen Meister. Here, Dorothy Parker travels the other way – to modern times.