“You should start,” he told his young friend, “with no skeleton or plan.  The natural one will grow as you work. Knock away all scaffolding. Neither have exordium or peroration. What is it you are writing for, anyway? Because you have something new to say?  It is the test of the universities and I am glad you have made it yours.”

From Richardson, First We Read, Then We Write: Emerson’s Creative Process, page 25,  “Practical Hints”   (University of Iowa Press, 2009)

From the description of Flesh of My Flesh (Stanford University Press):

What is a woman?  What is a man?  How do they—and how should they—relate to each other? Does our yearning for “wholeness” refer to something real, and if there is a Whole, what is it, and why do we feel so estranged from it? For centuries now, art and literature have increasingly valorized uniqueness and self-sufficiency. The theoreticians who loom so large within contemporary thought also privilege difference over similarity. Silverman reminds us that this is but half the story, and a dangerous half at that, for if we are all individuals, we are doomed to be rivals and enemies. A much older story, one that prevailed through the early modern era, held that likeness or resemblance was what organized the universe, and that everything emerges out of the same flesh.

From the book:

“All of our stories really are part of the same great volume: the Book of Life. And unlike the logos, the words in this book do not have to become flesh in order to save us. They are flesh.”  Introduction, page 14.

Some 125 people crowded into the Musical Offering Cafe on October 29 to hear a riveting  discussion of this new book.

From the discussion:

“I never write about books I don’t love.”  Kaja Silverman