The Art of Fiction No. 193
“As you grow older, there’s no reason why you can’t be wiser as a novelist than you ever were before. You should know more about human nature every year of your life.”
It is impossible to conceive of postwar American letters without the bombastic, complicated, and at times volatile presence of Norman Mailer. Born on January 21, 1923, in Long Branch, New Jersey, he was raised in Brooklyn, New York. After serving in the Pacific during World War II, he wrote the novel The Naked and the Dead, which instantly launched the twenty-five-year-old Mailer to literary stardom. One of the few writers to be the subject of two Paris Review Writers at Work interviews, Mailer was the author of more than thirty books of fiction and nonfiction, including The Armies of the Night (1968), which won him the National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize; The Executioner’s Song (1979), which won him his second Pulitzer Prize; and the influential 1957 essay “The White Negro,” which explored the notion of the postwar hipster. Though known for his support of liberal causes—he even went so far as to launch a (failed) New York City mayoral run in 1969—Mailer’s gender politics have long been criticized, oftentimes bringing him head-to-head with feminist critics. His second wife, Adele Morales, describes in her memoir, The Last Party: Scenes From My Life with Norman Mailer, a 1960 incident in which Mailer stabbed her. Mailer remains one of the most controversial literary figures of the twentieth century.
Photograph by Carl Van Vechten, Wikimedia Commons
“As you grow older, there’s no reason why you can’t be wiser as a novelist than you ever were before. You should know more about human nature every year of your life.”
“I don’t know if I need seclusion, but I do like to be alone in a room.”
About four weeks after I took the Vow, I had become so marooned in the repetitions of Raymond James Burns’s course in World Communism that I made the mistake
The ancient Egyptians believed there were seven parts to the soul which all behaved in different fashion after one’s death, some departing quickly, others resting within the body to emerge at the appropriate hour. The Ka, or Double, of the dead man, for example, did not usually present himself until the mummy was resting in his tomb some seventy days and more after death.
What follows are the authors’ discussions on the first stirrings, the germination of a poem, or a work of fiction. Any number of headings would be appropriate: Beginnings, The Starting Point, etc. Inspiration would be as good as any.
The Paris Review Eagle, or “the bird” as it was referred to, was designed by William Pène du Bois, the magazine’s art editor, in the spring of 1952. The symbolism is not difficult: an American eagle is carrying a pen: the French association is denoted by the helmet the bird is wearing—actually a Phrygian hat originally given a slave on his freedom in ancient times and which subsequently became the liberty cap or bonnet rouge worn by the French Revolutionists of the 19th Century.
He wrote other letters that day to Wes Joyce, proprietor of the Lion’s Head where he drank, and to Joe Flaherty the writer who lived in the same house as himself. The letters were all postmarked at three in the afternoon. That evening he went to the Lion’s Head, drank quietly, said little, and studied the faces of Joyce and Flaherty who were also at the bar and would receive his letters in the morning.
Norman Mailer on Norman Mailer being Norman Mailer.