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Wed 26 Mar, 2003 11:02 am
If you could summon back any writer from the dead for a conversation over drinks and/or dinner, who would it be? My choice would be either Lord Byron or Oscar Wilde. Who would yours be? And why?
<corny joke deleted because of apparent oversensitiveness of questioner>
Idiotic "jokes" like that are why I carefully said, "If you could summon any writer BACK FROM THE DEAD..."
Shakespeare. I'd like to find out if he really wrote his plays or if someone else did.
...and then I'd command his zombie body to go kill nimh.
the National Institute of Mental Health can't be killed, just defunded.
Jane Austen, because of her great sense of humour. There are others, but she's the first I think of when I get asked this question.
the Baconian theory, hehehe
Lorna
Edgar Allan Poe because he would be fun dead or alive!
Kafka, although I bet I'd terrify him, as many women did. Of course, if I really wanted to scare ole Franz, I'd invite my father over at the same time.
Anyway, as to why, I just think he'd be interesting, although probably rather disturbing to listen to.
Hemingway, because he knew and loved all the places I know now. We could definitely knock back a few together.
William Sarroyan. He must have been a very pleasant and good natured old man. Adore his short stories unconditionally.
Is Hunter S. Thompson dead yet?
I liked nimh's joke.
Hmmm, the writers I tend to like weren't necessarily pleasant people. I'd be happier reading the fruit of their labors than hanging around while they labored (or during their breaks.) I'll say, hmm, James Thurber.
Oh wait Douglas Adams!
Hunter S Thompson is alive and well, still living in Woody Creek
Mark Twain, off hand. Marcus Aurelius.
Actually this is hard. I would like to have a real conversation with an admired dead writer, but first of all that person would have been a writer by definition.
Writers in my own experience, while having rather studied worldviews, are often fairly self-involved, at least in part because they need to be. Would that writer give a fig what I see and think in order to really engage? Would the writer hold the floor or just stare in disgust? I need more ground rules here.
John D. MacDonald, I'd bring him a bottle of Plymouth Gin, we'd go down to the marina at Bahia Mar, look up McGee and Meyeer, prolly sit on the deck of the Busted Flush, and then shuffle over to the neverending party on the 'Bama Gal...
The amount of booze you guys want to consume with your favorite dead writers is amusing and amazing.
I would much enjoy meeting Mary Shelley, also!
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