Book Review | Peter Clothier

July 30, 2014 1:12 AM

6 0

There's a formulation I use when I ask myself why I write -- or why I continue to write well past my realistic "shelf-life" as a writer: it's because this is what I am given to do. That I continue to ask the question is an indication of a level of uncertainty about the way in which I have chosen to define who I am, to myself as well as to others. And writing is really an odd thing to do. I make no money at it. My "name" is known only to those very few people who read my reviews of art and books, or who read my blog. I receive little in the way of the response to what I write, and have at best a tiny readership -- though it's nice to know that there is a handful of people throughout the world who read The Buddha Diaries. So why do it? Because that is what I am given to do. It's that simple.

And yet... I hate that other formulation, "I do it for myself." No. I'd be a fool and a narcissist if I did it for myself. Writing is by definition a means of communication. Words are a way of reaching out into the world and saying something to my fellow human beings that I judge to be of value. The...

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