'At his best, Hoagland rejects both the cynic’s lie that everything superficially beautiful must be rotten underneath, and the romantic’s lie that everything apparently ugly must possess some essential nobility.'
I was also reading an obit for J.D. Salinger in Rolling Stone this week, where these same themes of romanticism, cynicism, mockery, etc. were in focus. Here's what I took away:
'One reason Holden finds phonies everywhere, Salinger ever-so-quietly insinuates, is that he's unable to find pleasure anywhere.'
Wow - that stopped me cold. That a cynic might be a person who has given up on pleasure?
And what about this, which I found in the bowels of Mary Karr's Lit, when she's discussing the differences between happiness and joy:
'Never have I felt such blazing focus for another living creature. I can't stop looking at him. Joy, it is, which I've never known before, only pleasure or excitement. Joy is a different thing, because its focus exists outside the self--delight in something external, not satisfaction of some inner craving.'
Karr is talking about the moments after giving birth to her son. I remember that feeling. I also know something about self loathing, self importance, self pity, giving up on romanticism, fear of cynics, and a lot of other stuff. Today, Bob bought me flowers, beautiful pink blooming cyclamen from the Farmers' Market. There was a day when I would have felt gyped because they weren't cut flowers, what a real romantic husband would give his wife, but today I felt joy joy joy -- unexpected and welcome. And now I have to wash his underwear while he pays the bills. Joy joy joy.
