Either/Or

by Elif Batuman

All I was ever trying to do when I wrote, I realized, was to show how much I saw and understood.

Depositing a paycheck, I noticed, immediately produced some dissociation from whatever work you did: a job was a job. (Was that how the Holocaust had happened?)

I didn’t want to describe my bedroom, or anyone else’s bedroom, or my childhood home, or a place I knew well. I wanted to write a book about interpersonal relations and the human condition.

In a lot of ways, being a writer was about endurance more than talent.