The writer is the person who stands outside society, independent of affiliation and independent of influence.
Don DelilloRead
In a repressive society, a writer can be deeply influential, but in a society that's filled with glut and repetition and endless consumption, the act of terror may be the only meaningful act.
Interpretation
The quote explores the complexities of a writer's influence in different societal contexts.
Don Delillo reflects on the dichotomy between repression and excessive consumption in society, suggesting that while a writer can wield great influence in a repressive environment, their voice may be overshadowed or rendered meaningless in a society overwhelmed by saturation and repetitiveness. In such saturated contexts, extreme acts may emerge as the only resonant form of expression amidst the noise.
In practice
During a literary conference discussing the power of writing in oppressive regimes.
The writer is the person who stands outside society, independent of affiliation and independent of influence.
War is the form nostalgia takes when men are hard-pressed to say something good about their country.
American writers ought to stand and live in the margins, and be more dangerous.
For me, writing is a concentrated form of thinking.
I used to think it was possible for an artist to alter the inner life of the culture. Now bomb-makers and gunmen have taken that territory.
[I]n the American soul there is a lonely individual standing in a vast landscape. He is either on a horse or driving a car, depending, and either way he’s carrying a gun. This is one of the essential images in American mythology.
She had dreamed some brilliant dreams during the past winter and now they lay in the dust around her. In her present mood of self-disgust, she could not immediately begin dreaming again. And she discovered that, while solitude with dreams is glorious, solitude without them has few charms.
There's a certain point, when you're writing autobiographical stuff, where you don't want to misrepresent yourself. It would be dishonest.
The mind of the Renaissance was not a pilgrim mind, but a sedentary city mind, like that of the ancients.
Here halt, I pray you, make a little stay. O wayfarer, to read what I have writ, And know by my fate what thy fate shall be. What thou art now, so shall thou be. The world's delight I followed with a heart Unsatisfied: ashes am I, and dust.
Gentleman, you have come sixty days too late. The depression is over.
The mere physical man is like the ant crawling on the paper, who observes black lettering and attributes its production to the pen and nothing more.
Subscribe for the occasional hand-picked quote. No noise.