Harold Brodkey
Harold Brodkey
Harold Brodkey, born Aaron Roy Weintraub, was an American short-story writer and novelist. He is the father of Temi Rose, born Ann Emily Brodkey...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth25 October 1930
CountryUnited States of America
alike anger explosions immediacy reviewers seen stage vanity
His brutish explosions of anger, his displays of vanity on stage were seen by pretentious and unpretentious reviewers alike as having an immediacy new to the theater.
opinions thousands
I have thousands of opinions still, but that is down from millions, and as always, I know nothing.
firsts television ill
Almost the first thing I did when I became ill was to buy a truly good television set.
sleep odds decay
I am in an adolescence in reverse, as mysterious as the first, except that this time I feel it as a decay of the odds that I might live for a while, that I can sleep it off.
way metamorphosis young
I awake with a not entirely sickened knowledge that I am merely young again and in a funny way at peace, an observer who is aware of time's chariot, aware that some metamorphosis has occurred.
memories ifs hard
I have the sense that if I push too hard or too far into memory I’ll come apart.
writing games knows
You really can’t write unless you read. You have to know what the game is all about.
collision mutual distaste
Death and I are head to head in a total collision, pure and mutual distaste.
winning instinct
But death's acquisitive instincts will win.
said-life people should
The disparity between what people said life was and what I knew it to be unnerved me at times, but I swore that nothing would ever make me say life should be anything...
announcements has-beens written
Nothing I have ever written has been admired as much as the announcement of my death.
liars writing thinking
I distrust summaries, any kind of gliding through time, any too great a claim that one is in control of what one recounts; I think someone who claims to understand but is obviously calk, someone who claims to write with emotion recollected in tranquility, is a fool and a liar. To understand is to tremble. To recollect is to re-enter and be riven. ... I admire the authority of being on one's knees in front of the event.
reality illumination drunk
If you like to read, sometimes it's interesting just to go and see what the reality is, of the word, of the seedy or not so seedy fiction writer, the drunk or sober poet... Sometimes you can go looking for illumination.
real miracle disease
God is an immensity, while this disease, this death, which is in me, this small, tightly defined pedestrian event, is merely and perfectly real, without miracle—or instruction.