Monday, September 22, 2008

A writer

When I am asked what I do I try to avoid an answer. Besides, who dares to say of himself that he is a writer? At best he can say: I have written some books. Now and again I even think that I am unable to define clearly what the subject of my work is, or what distinguishes real literature from mere writing, the kind that anyone is capable of, even if he never went to school to learn his letters.

Ivan KlĂ­ma, Love and Garbage, Vintage International
(translated from the Czech by Ewald Osers)

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