by Annie Dillard
It could be that I simply misunderstood the author and her intent with this book. However, I’m not sure what to call it – part memoir, part scolding lecture, part philosophy? There were sections that truly annoyed me, where the author seemed to put screenwriters in a much lower tier than novelists. And the lengthy sections about her interaction with a stunt pilot were, well, too long. I did take away two important truisms: The writer is always influenced by what he/she has read, and if you don’t “love sentences” (that is, love the language and all the nuances of words), you shouldn’t be a writer. Perhaps others could get more from this book, and appreciate its tone.