"I remember being awed by it - the uniqueness and nicety of style - and I suspect I was a bit jealous because we were more or less of the same generation"
About this Quote
Envy rarely shows up in public wearing such good manners. Plimpton’s line is a small masterclass in genteel rivalry: he leads with admiration (“awed,” “uniqueness,” “nicety of style”) and then lets the more interesting truth slip in on a soft landing: “I suspect I was a bit jealous.” The hedge matters. “Suspect” keeps the confession from sounding needy; “a bit” keeps it from sounding petty. That’s Plimpton the journalist-editor at work, calibrating tone the way he’d calibrate a profile - generous, but not naive.
The real subject isn’t just another writer’s style. It’s the anxiety of proximity. “Same generation” is the quiet dagger: it implies a shared track, a comparable set of opportunities, the kind of peer relationship where someone else’s brilliance doesn’t feel abstract or inspirational - it feels like a verdict. If the person were older, reverence would be easier; younger, it could be dismissed as a prodigy. A contemporary forces comparison.
Contextually, this fits Plimpton’s whole public persona: the ring-side spectator who steps into the ring, the insider-outsider who built cultural authority by testing himself against it. That makes the jealousy less about ego than about vocation. He’s admitting that style isn’t merely aesthetic; it’s social capital in literary New York, a currency that can’t be faked and can’t be shared. The line works because it makes competition sound like taste - and then admits taste has teeth.
The real subject isn’t just another writer’s style. It’s the anxiety of proximity. “Same generation” is the quiet dagger: it implies a shared track, a comparable set of opportunities, the kind of peer relationship where someone else’s brilliance doesn’t feel abstract or inspirational - it feels like a verdict. If the person were older, reverence would be easier; younger, it could be dismissed as a prodigy. A contemporary forces comparison.
Contextually, this fits Plimpton’s whole public persona: the ring-side spectator who steps into the ring, the insider-outsider who built cultural authority by testing himself against it. That makes the jealousy less about ego than about vocation. He’s admitting that style isn’t merely aesthetic; it’s social capital in literary New York, a currency that can’t be faked and can’t be shared. The line works because it makes competition sound like taste - and then admits taste has teeth.
Quote Details
| Topic | Writing |
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