Making a living or a life?
Friday, September 10, 2004
E. B. White, author of Stuart Little and Charlotte's Web, was for many years a writer on the New Yorker. I found a collection of his essays in the local Oxfam book shop and, intrigued a little by the blurb, splashed out the hefty £1.49 required to take him home. As is often the way with the chance discovery of a book and a new author, I have been enjoying the company very much.
Many of the essays date from the 50s, when White and his wife were retreating from New York to live on a small farm in Maine. The pieces are pitched as observations on rural life and the necessary chores of living in such a place but stretch to include much else - and all done with a gentle humour. I've since found out more about White and the character that emerges from his essays seems to be a true picture of the man himself. Definitelt someone you would enjoy spending time with.
In an essay I read last night about his duel with a local fox that was taking his chickens he made a point about the difference between making a living and living itself. He was trying to get across the idea that living in the country and on a farm is such an all-consuming activity that there is no artificial boundary between what you do to live and how you live. This rang a very loud bell for me. For a long time now I have wanted to move back to Scotland and find a house in a rural situation - by a loch, ideally - and work a smallholding of sorts. Pigs, chickens, vegetables, that sort of thing. Laura protests at all turns about making a living. I want to live.
My idea is obviously too romantic and Laura is hidebound by notions of security. I need to find a happy medium.
What's a happy medium? One who's only in contact with dead comedians.
Many of the essays date from the 50s, when White and his wife were retreating from New York to live on a small farm in Maine. The pieces are pitched as observations on rural life and the necessary chores of living in such a place but stretch to include much else - and all done with a gentle humour. I've since found out more about White and the character that emerges from his essays seems to be a true picture of the man himself. Definitelt someone you would enjoy spending time with.
In an essay I read last night about his duel with a local fox that was taking his chickens he made a point about the difference between making a living and living itself. He was trying to get across the idea that living in the country and on a farm is such an all-consuming activity that there is no artificial boundary between what you do to live and how you live. This rang a very loud bell for me. For a long time now I have wanted to move back to Scotland and find a house in a rural situation - by a loch, ideally - and work a smallholding of sorts. Pigs, chickens, vegetables, that sort of thing. Laura protests at all turns about making a living. I want to live.
My idea is obviously too romantic and Laura is hidebound by notions of security. I need to find a happy medium.
What's a happy medium? One who's only in contact with dead comedians.
