The Verdict on Writers: All Bloody Nuts (Phew)

Dorothy Parker once bought a new typewriter because she couldn't change the ribbon on the old one. Ernest Hemingway used to write standing up. Truman Capote wrote lying down, and could not tolerate the presence of yellow roses - although they were his favorite flower.

These are just a few facts I've gathered from the first three of 16 meaty Paris Review Interviews, the first volume of which was just published by Picador. I was lucky enough to catch Paris Review editor Philip Gourevitch in conversation with screenwriter Stephen Gaghan (Traffic, Syriana) at the downtown library recently, and I picked up two copies of the book, one for myself, and one for my style council gal pal Caroline, whose copy Gourevitch inscribed "Happy Birthday." I thought of my friend Alysia, who once asked Rick Moody to inscribe The Ice Storm "to Alysia, a great writer" and almost requested some totemic words for myself along those lines, but I felt - let's face it - kinda stupid and not so great at that moment.

Philip Gourevitch is a great writer. His 2002 New Yorker profile of James Brown is so insightful, so compassionate, so fearless, and so damn funny that I nearly wept from the sheer virtuosity of it - and the terror that I'd never come close to anything like it. The theme of his talk with Gaghan was "the art of the interview" and as they chatted about cruising in Brown's limousine (Gourevitch) and being blindfolded and shoeless for a meeting with some scary Arab bigwig (Gaghan) they agreed on the secret to a great interview: sit back and let the person write their own autobiography.In the end Gourevitch just wrote "For Steffie" and signed his name, but it's still an inspiration each time I open the book's bright yellow cover. Before I left and let the impatient masses get their own copies signed, I told Gourevitch that his James Brown piece was one of my favorite pieces of writing, ever. He seemed almost surprised, and gave me a big grin and thanked me. It's nice to know that no matter how great a writer is, a compliment still counts for something.

Roy Lichtenstein painting courtesy of leninimports.com

posted by Steffie

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