joyce carol oates


I’m really into this essay I’m working on about the deliberate ambiguity of the boundaries between ‘non-fiction’ and ‘fiction’ narratives within postmodern literature. I’m not doing a traditional dissertation but if I was I think I would do it on this. 

Occasionally, however, a woman writer is told gravely, “You write like a man.” Since this is the highest accolade, presented as a judgment from above and closed to any further discussion, it would be impolite to ask, “Which man? Any man? You?”
—  Joyce Carol Oates, Why Is Your Writing So Violent? 
Hay personas- afortunadas ellas- que pueden experimentar la vida sin la menor necesidad de añadir nada a ella, ningún tipo de “esfuerzo creativo” y hay otras- ¿malditas ellas?- para quienes las actividades de su cerebro y su imaginación son lo más importante. Es posible que para estos individuos el mundo sea infinitamente rico, satisfactorio y seductor, pero no es lo más importante. El mundo puede interpretarse como un regalo que solo se obtiene si uno ha creado algo por encima de ese mundo.
—  Memorias de una viuda, Joyce Carol Oates
The root of the word memoir is memory. When memory is cast back decades it is likely to be imprecise as a torn net haphazardly cast that may drag in what is irrelevant as well as miss what is crucial. Our lives are enormous waves breaking on the shore, retreating and leaving only a few scattered things behind for us to contemplate—
—  Joyce Carol Oates, from “Afterword,” The Lost Landscape: A Writer’s Coming of Age (Ecco, 2015) 
…I know enough, however, to trust the passage of time. A night’s sleep and much is changed in my interior landscape. I don’t have to think… don’t have to consciously plan certain things. They will evolve by themselves. The difficult part is to trust that evolution, to have faith in it. A bad hour is so uniquely convincing…
—  Joyce Carol Oates, from The Journal of Joyce Carol Oates, 1973-1982