Wednesday, December 17, 2008

How This Lashes My Soul

True, and hilarious, Adam Gopnik gets off a choice zinger in this quite interesting New Yorker article about recent biographies of Samuel Johnson:

Johnson has no illusions about criticism’s ability to fix or cure. Critics are to writers not as doctors are to patients but as bearded ladies are to trapeze artists—another, sadder act in the same big show.


Ouch.

But then, so so very true.

All of which I suspect makes me a bearded lady trapeze artist. How ever more sad can you get?

2 comments:

A + D said...

Sadder act? Anyone can train to be a trapeze artist. Not every lady is born with a beard. So if you were a writer and a critic, and this analogy/metaphor/whatever applied, you would be a bearded lady trapeze artist. That would be something spectacular.
D.

Chris said...

I'm with A+D on that. A bearded trapeze act was done by Cirque du Soleil long ago and they charged $115 bucks a seat.