Creative reading
By Brandon Astor Jones
"Meek young men grow up in libraries, believing it their duty to accept the views which Cicero, which Locke, which Bacon have given, forgetful that Cicero, Locke and Bacon were only young men in libraries when they wrote [their] books ... There is then creative reading as well as creative writing." — Ralph Waldo Emerson, The American Scholar (1837)
I am fortunate to have friends, not the pretentious "fair weather" kind who quickly jump ship in rough seas, but real friends. Emerson conjures up the literary ghost of Cicero, who once wrote, "The shifts of Fortune test the reliability of friends. A friend is, as it were, a second self." I agree; my love for my friends is rivalled only by the love I have for myself.
One of my friends is a prolific writer. I prefer to think of this particular friend's writing as real friend fiction. I coined that term because whenever I read this friend's writing, I never seem to know which part of it is fiction and which part real life.
The writings of John Locke remind us: "No man's knowledge ... can go beyond his experience". Even though I do not personally know my friend's experiences, the reading of what may or may not be them has made them so emotionally vivid that I can see bits and pieces of myself and others in each wordy. The most recent offering employs a less than subtle large pane of glass. It moved me deeply, but I will not spoil it for you, so I will say no more about it.
In 1605 in a work entitled The Advancement of Learning, Francis Bacon wrote, "... men must know that in this theatre of man's life it is reserved only for God and angels to be lookers on". When I read my friend's words, the pain and anguish in them became clear even through my tears. It takes great courage to write such revealing text.
As I absorb Emerson's words and the clear exclusion of women embodied in them, I think of my friend's many strengths and feel very proud. She is like a daughter to me. One day I hope that the world has the real privilege of reading all of her works.
There is a huge literary vacuum that begs to be filled with writing like hers. Her words convey a unique kind of feminist restraint and sincere humility but not the slightest trace of meekness. In her short narrative entitled Emmanuel, there is more than sufficient proof of her power to be both heard and experienced. I warn you, though: it is not a child's bedtime story. If you have the courage and desire to do some "creative reading", you can get a copy of Emmanuel by sending US$5 or the equivalent to S. Connor, 39 Tontine Street, Folkestone, Kent, CT20 IJT, England.
[Brandon has lost the name and address of the person who sent him a short story entitled "The Thin Red Line". Can you please contact him.]
[The writer is a prisoner on death row in the United States. He welcomes letters commenting on his columns (include your name and full return address on the envelope, or prison authorities may refuse to deliver it). He can be written to at: Brandon Astor Jones, EF-122216, G3-63, Georgia Diagnostic & Classification Prison, PO Box 3877, Jackson, GA 30233, USA.]