Cynthia-Ozick

Cynthia Ozick is revered by those who love literature. She’s written novels, but also short stories and essays. Her fiction has been nominated for various awards and she’s received high praise from critics as well as her fellow writers.

But you won’t find her on best-seller lists. Ozick seeks neither fame nor fortune from her writing. For Ozick, she feels it a necessity to write. “I can’t not,” she says.

Why Does Cynthia Ozick Write? ‘I Simply Must,’ She Says 

Forget about ‘write about what you know.’ Write about what you don’t know. The point is that the self is limiting. The self—subjectivity—is narrow and bound to be repetitive. We are, after all, a species. When you write about what you don’t know, this means you begin to think about the world at large. You begin to think beyond the home-thoughts. You enter dream and imagination… Our gray cells aren’t our limitations. It’s our will to enter the world; by the world I mean history, including the history of thought, which is the history of human experience. This isn’t an intellectual viewpoint. In fact, it asks for the widening of the senses and of all experience.
—  Cynthia Ozick

Cynthia Ozick’s stirring defense of Kafka, the man: “Whoever utters ‘Kafkaesque’ has neither fathomed nor intuited nor felt the impress of Kafka’s devisings. If there is one imperative that ought to accompany any biographical or critical approach, it is that Kafka is not to be mistaken for the Kafkaesque.”

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She only stood, because if she ran they would shoot, and if she tried to pick up the sticks of Magda’s body they would shoot, and if she let the wolf’s screech ascending now through the ladder of her skeleton break out, they would shoot; so she took Magda’s shawl and filled her own mouth with it, stuffed it in and stuffed it in, until she was swallowing up the wolf’s screech and tasting the cinnamon and almond depth of Magda’s saliva; and Rosa drank Magda’s shawl until it dried.
—  Cynthia Ozick, from “The Shawl”