“The clear awareness of having been born into a losing struggle need not lead one into despair. I do not especially like the idea that one day I shall be tapped on the shoulder and informed, not that the party is over but that it is most assuredly going on—only henceforth in my absence. (It’s the second of those thoughts: the edition of the newspaper that will come out on the day after I have gone, that is the more distressing.) Much more horrible, though, would be the announcement that the party was continuing forever, and that I was forbidden to leave. Whether it was a hellishly bad party or a party that was perfectly heavenly in every respect, the moment that it became eternal and compulsory would be the precise moment that it began to pall.”
- Christopher Hitchens, Hitch 22
—————-
A sad night for those of us who cherish good writing, intellectual vigor, passionate debate, and a fine sense of humor. Mr. Hitchens has officially left the party. Rest in peace, sir.
I was thinking about this last night after watching a movie and pretty much every single post on my Dashboard is someone getting hysterical over his death and no doubt that it is a great loss. Anytime someone who engaged life with a fiery pen is a great loss. So when it comes to life and death situations and a writer dying young of course one turns inward and only thinks of oneself. So, I asked myself: what is it about my disgusting habit of reading a writer after he or she is dead? It happened with David Foster Wallace and now it is likely to happen here with Hitchens. Is it a desire to not feel so attached to someone’s writing after they’re dead? I don’t know. Or self-flagellation for not getting to know him until after he’s gone with no chance of ever seeing him. Who knows. Besides his appearances on the Daily Show and the articles of the debates he has, particular this one with Tony Blair, I just thought—what an interesting guy, I’ll get to around to reading him, but I felt no rush to do so because he came off as a bit of a prick, and I’m generally allergic to those kinds of people. Doesn’t mean he wasn’t great, because he was a very smart man and a very eloquent writer, but I never felt a sense of urgency, because he came off as an asshole. And generally the very best in this world come off as assholes, I think. There is something there that probably has something to do with wit and drive and a sense of being a character that being an asshole allows for doors to open in this society and allow you in, but it is in those written words that truly makes you exceptional, and I think that being a jerk makes people pay more attention to your words because they want that reassurance that you are, in fact, a jerk. I think that I don’t know what I’m getting at—if I’m getting at anything—I guess I’m asking: what would you recommend I read? My default is his memoir, and I’ve read some of God is Not Great.
