Ahhh, Memory

I can't wait for Kazuo Ishiguro's new novel, The Buried Giant.  It's his first foray into high Fantasy, and since he and I are the same age, I can identify.

I also felt him a bit when I read this about him in the Times.  The full article is here ...

Despite his wandering appetite when it comes to genre, Mr. Ishiguro
has been remarkably consistent in his pared-down prose style and in the
themes he returns to obsessively. Time and the porous nature of memory
are long-running preoccupations of Mr. Ishiguro’s, and lately, they’ve
become more of a practical than a philosophical concern. At 60, he says he
feels his mental powers slipping. He points to revered authors like
Faulkner, Dickens and Hemingway who produced their best work in their
30s and worries about how he will age as a writer.

“Everything’s declining,” he said. “I used to be able to hold really
complicated things in my head at once, complicated worlds. Now if I have
an idea, I write it down.”

I peeled this off the Times website and I knew it 
would be screwed up, so there you are.

[bit of a pause]

Now I've managed to fix the excerpt but 
everything else is screwed up.  What the hell
am I doing way over here?  I wonder if this 
happens on Wordpress.

Anyway, the beauty of painting is that you don't have to remember anything, functionally speaking.  That is to say, while writing chapter ten you don't have to remember what happened in chapter four because it's all just sitting there in front of you.