True Stories (2010)
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In our eReader you can find the full English version of the book. Read True Stories Online - link to read the book on full screen. Our eReader also allows you to upload and read Pdf, Txt, ePub and fb2 books. In the Mini eReder on the page below you can quickly view all pages of the book - Read Book True Stories
What reading level is True Stories book?
To quickly assess the difficulty of the text, read a short excerpt:
The fact that there had been a gap of eight years since my previous novel, The Children’s Bach, was much remarked upon by journalists, although in the intervening time I had published a collection of stories, written two screenplays and had them produced, and continued to earn a living by various forms of journalism. One critic said that to let such a gap occur ‘in one’s career’ was ‘dangerous’. This way of thinking about work—a treadmill, never relaxing, always looking back over your shoulder, ...hearing footsteps—seems to me at worst exhausting and corrupting, and at best simply beside the point.
The word ‘career’ is one I can never imagine applying to what I do. ‘Career’ is a word that can only be applied from without. It’s a word with connotations of speed and certainty, of a smooth forcefulness, like the trajectory of a comet seen from a great distance. How can one speak without irony of one’s own career?
It’s unimaginable, to me, to use the word ‘career’ to refer to this daily slog; the absolute inability, while you’re working, to judge whether or not what you’re doing has any value at all—thus, the blind faith and grim stubbornness required in order to keep going; the episodes of elation, the occasional sense of hitting your stride, or of being in tune with the force that creates—the feeling that now you’ve got it, now you can’t put a foot wrong—then the guilt you feel, when your work’s going well, that you are allowed to spend your days having this much fun and ultimately being paid for it, while others have jobs in offices or schools, and bosses, and laid-down work hours they have to stick to—then the arrival next morning at your desk, the dropping away of the floor from under your feet as you see the thinness of what yesterday seemed so rich and right; the picking up of the pen, the dogged keeping going—the sickly envy of people with jobs, because they have got bosses to tell them what to do next, and work hours that finish at a certain regular time so they can go home, and holidays, and secretaries, and superannuation—and they’re allowed to ask for help; the pathetic pleas for encouragement you make, invariably to the wrong person—a child, a husband, a parent—someone who can’t possibly know the right thing to say, or who is in the grip of some barely conscious hostility towards you that they can’t help expressing at the most destructive possible moment; the hatred of your own name, because of its connection with this slogging labour and with the expectations which you have caused the outside world to have of you, and that you’re afraid you’ll never live up to; the despair of feeling trapped inside your own style.
What to read after True Stories?
You can find similar books in the "Read Also" column, or choose other free books by Helen Garner to read onlineMoreLess
To quickly assess the difficulty of the text, read a short excerpt:
The fact that there had been a gap of eight years since my previous novel, The Children’s Bach, was much remarked upon by journalists, although in the intervening time I had published a collection of stories, written two screenplays and had them produced, and continued to earn a living by various forms of journalism. One critic said that to let such a gap occur ‘in one’s career’ was ‘dangerous’. This way of thinking about work—a treadmill, never relaxing, always looking back over your shoulder, ...hearing footsteps—seems to me at worst exhausting and corrupting, and at best simply beside the point.
The word ‘career’ is one I can never imagine applying to what I do. ‘Career’ is a word that can only be applied from without. It’s a word with connotations of speed and certainty, of a smooth forcefulness, like the trajectory of a comet seen from a great distance. How can one speak without irony of one’s own career?
It’s unimaginable, to me, to use the word ‘career’ to refer to this daily slog; the absolute inability, while you’re working, to judge whether or not what you’re doing has any value at all—thus, the blind faith and grim stubbornness required in order to keep going; the episodes of elation, the occasional sense of hitting your stride, or of being in tune with the force that creates—the feeling that now you’ve got it, now you can’t put a foot wrong—then the guilt you feel, when your work’s going well, that you are allowed to spend your days having this much fun and ultimately being paid for it, while others have jobs in offices or schools, and bosses, and laid-down work hours they have to stick to—then the arrival next morning at your desk, the dropping away of the floor from under your feet as you see the thinness of what yesterday seemed so rich and right; the picking up of the pen, the dogged keeping going—the sickly envy of people with jobs, because they have got bosses to tell them what to do next, and work hours that finish at a certain regular time so they can go home, and holidays, and secretaries, and superannuation—and they’re allowed to ask for help; the pathetic pleas for encouragement you make, invariably to the wrong person—a child, a husband, a parent—someone who can’t possibly know the right thing to say, or who is in the grip of some barely conscious hostility towards you that they can’t help expressing at the most destructive possible moment; the hatred of your own name, because of its connection with this slogging labour and with the expectations which you have caused the outside world to have of you, and that you’re afraid you’ll never live up to; the despair of feeling trapped inside your own style.
What to read after True Stories?
You can find similar books in the "Read Also" column, or choose other free books by Helen Garner to read onlineMoreLess
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