Dear Readers:
Dr. Ink mourns the passing of George Plimpton, a writer known in popular culture for his adventures as the “participant observer.” His book “Paper Lion” describes his misadventures as a stunt stand-in for a professional quarterback. He also tried his hand at boxing, baseball, hockey, and the circus trapeze. His curiosity and self-deprecating humor more than made up for his clumsy physical performance.
This George Plimpton, the popular writer/huckster, should not be permitted to shadow George Plimpton, American Man-of-Letters. In 1953 he helped found The Paris Review, a journal of modest resources and significant influence. Plimpton helped the likes of Jack Kerouac and Philip Roth find their voices and their audiences.
Plimpton also began interviewing the greatest writers of the 20th Century, work published in The Paris Review, and re-published in several books under the title “Writers at Work.” A spot check with Amazon.com revealed that at least eight of these books were available for purchase. They are treasure troves for writers.
Dr. Ink has the first four books in this series on his shelf, and Plimpton edited # 2, 3 and 4. In #1 Plimpton interviewed William Styron:
Q. Do you enjoy writing?
A. I certainly don’t. I get a fine warm feeling when I’m doing well, but that pleasure is pretty much negated by the pain of getting started each day. Let’s face it, writing is hell….
Q. What time of the day do you find best for working?
A. The afternoon. I like to stay up late at night and get drunk and sleep late. I wish I could break the habit but I can’t. The afternoon is the only time I have left and I try to use it to the best advantage, with a hangover….
Q. Do you find you need seclusion?
A. I find it difficult to write in complete isolation. I think it would be hard for me on a South Sea island or in the Maine woods. I like company and entertainment, people around. The actual process of writing, though, demands complete, noiseless privacy, without even music; a baby howling two blocks away will drive me nuts.
These interviews alone would be legacy enough. Added to Plimpton’s own prodigious body of work, his experiments with form and content, his easy movement between high and low culture, and his embodiment of the writer’s life, they form one of the great literary careers of the last century.
How can this be said when it is clear that as a writer Plimpton was a lesser light than many interviewed in The Paris Review? The American Man-of-Letters has responsibilities beyond the perfection of his own work. There are many writers in the world. Only a few assume the responsibility of serving as the writer’s friend.
