So I was talking the other day to a novelist somewhat younger than me--an excellent fellow and writer, by the way--and he asked me when my current novel was set.
"The 1970s," I said.
"Oh!" he said. "Have you done a lot of research?"
I didn't know how to answer that. Finally I said, "I was alive during the 70s."
"I was alive for part of them," he said. "I was born in 1974."
"I was born in 1966," I said.
He looked a bit shocked, and then said, "I'd love to know the name of your moisturizer."
**
I may well do some research, but it's not one of those, "And then I opened the fridge, which was avocado. My brother said, 'Let's go to the movies! I want to see--what's it called? Star Wars?'" kind of 1970s novels.
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(Elizabeth McCracken, authoress)
1 comment:
So I was teaching my MFA creative writing class last night at Rutgers. We were discussing childhood memories, and I offhandedly said to a student,"So you want to think about the culture of the 1970s...." "Please!" she said, greatly insulted. It hadn't occurred to me that anyone in a masters program could have been a child, say, yesterday.
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