Hm, I think there’s a misunderstanding crept in somewhere. Virginia Woolf had a horrible life and was clinically suicidally depressed. She was also a great writer. Why do you think I disagree?
In a series of comments to a post which I have trouble finding, but I think it was called something like Hypotuse you mentioned her in what seemed a dismissive manner. Straight after I posted about her. You mentioned how normally happy or unhappy isn’t good enough or deep enough. The various comments continued how victims of abuse try and outstrip each other in the seriousness of their conditions. A few times, even with reference to Sylvia Plath you mention the exclusive club victims of abuse seem to hold. I took umbrage. If I’m wrong, I’d love to be enlightened.
Nope, you’re mistaken. Read the comments again and you’ll see I said exactly the opposite about Virginia Woolf and I never mentioned Sylvia Plath at all or victims of abuse. I’m sorry you think I’d be so crass as to mock anyone in that position. The point I was trying to make was that there seems to be a fashion for writing from the perspective of someone who is deeply unhappy or traumatised and I don’t believe all these writers are. I think it’s a fad, and I don’t much like it.
Nothing to apologise for. We both have strong opinions and we air them. I shouldn’t get so irritated by what I perceive to be pretentious poetry. Nobody’s making me read it.
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Sounds like a good beginning of a Native tale of, well beginnings. 🙂
Haven’t thought of that!
Beautiful, and sad.
Hi Susan.
This has the feel of great tragedy about it.
Yes, the kind that would be classed as abnormally unhappy. The kind which killed Virginia Woolf.
Hm, I think there’s a misunderstanding crept in somewhere. Virginia Woolf had a horrible life and was clinically suicidally depressed. She was also a great writer. Why do you think I disagree?
In a series of comments to a post which I have trouble finding, but I think it was called something like Hypotuse you mentioned her in what seemed a dismissive manner. Straight after I posted about her. You mentioned how normally happy or unhappy isn’t good enough or deep enough. The various comments continued how victims of abuse try and outstrip each other in the seriousness of their conditions. A few times, even with reference to Sylvia Plath you mention the exclusive club victims of abuse seem to hold. I took umbrage. If I’m wrong, I’d love to be enlightened.
Nope, you’re mistaken. Read the comments again and you’ll see I said exactly the opposite about Virginia Woolf and I never mentioned Sylvia Plath at all or victims of abuse. I’m sorry you think I’d be so crass as to mock anyone in that position. The point I was trying to make was that there seems to be a fashion for writing from the perspective of someone who is deeply unhappy or traumatised and I don’t believe all these writers are. I think it’s a fad, and I don’t much like it.
Okay. I accept my perception was faulty. Apologies.
Nothing to apologise for. We both have strong opinions and we air them. I shouldn’t get so irritated by what I perceive to be pretentious poetry. Nobody’s making me read it.
I am thinking of one of those seeresses (sp?) who have to convey bad news. Wow. This is great.
Not a seer(ess) but one who has been there.
Heartbreaking in just a few words.
Yes, it is. Thanks Merril.