Claire Messud
Claire Messud
Claire Messudis an American novelist and literature and creative writing professor. She is best known as the author of the novel The Emperor's Children...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
CountryUnited States of America
writing world way
Yes, writing is essential to me. It's my way of living in the world.
writing way groups
I'm not a writing group member, not a joiner in that way. I don't seek a wide swath of feedback.
being-sad sauce way
Does Being Happy simply Create More Time, in the way that Being Sad, as we all know, slows time and thickens it, like cornstarch in a sauce?),
dream laughing way
Life's funny. You have to find a way to keep going, to keep laughing, even after you realize that none of your dreams will come true. When you realize that, there's still so much of a life to get through.
party ideas way
That's so her. You know, torn between Big Ideas and a party. She's always been that way.
dog people abiding
An abiding preoccupation for me is how much of our lives are invisible and unknown by other people, like the Chekhov story 'The Lady With the Little Dog.'
possibility
We read to find life, in all its possibilities.
reading trouble ifs
If you’re reading to find friends, you’re in deep trouble.
artist definitions world
Maybe that, really, is as good a definition as any of an artist in the world: a ruthless person.
thinking people scary
We live in a culture that wants to put a redemptive face on everything, so anger doesn't sit well with any of us. But I think women's anger sits less well than anything else. Women's anger is very scary to people, and to no one more than to other women, who think my goodness, if I let the lid off, where would we be?
strong long forever
I always thought I'd get farther. I'd like to blame the world for what I've failed to do, but the failure - the failure that sometimes washes over me as anger, makes me so angry I could spit - is all mine, in the end. What made my obstacles insurmountable, what consigned me to mediocrity, is me, just me. I thought for so long, forever, that I was strong enough -- or I misunderstood what strength was.
world appearance lost
But we're lost in a world of appearances now.
who-i-am giving people
Nobody would know me from my own description of myself; which is why, when called upon (rarely, I grant) to provide an account, I tailor it, I adapt, I try to provide an outline that can, in some way, correlate to the outline that people understand me to have -- that, I suppose, I actually have, at this point. But who I am in my head, very few people really get to see that. Almost none. It's the most precious gift I can give, to bring her out of hiding.
memories home ideas
But do you know this idea of the imaginary homeland? Once you set out from shore on your little boat, once you embark, you'll never truly be at home again. What you've left behind exists only in your memory, and your ideal place becomes some strange imaginary concoction of all you've left behind at every stop.