"Since then, I have just read and read - but, that said, I suppose there is a raft of writers to whom I return again and again, not so much because I want to write like them, even if I were capable of it, but simply for a sort of stylistic shot in the arm"
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Reading here isn’t framed as self-improvement or virtuous “lifelong learning.” It’s closer to maintenance: an appetite turned into a practice, then into a necessary dose. Penelope Lively’s phrase “just read and read” compresses decades into a compulsive rhythm, suggesting that for a working novelist the act is less pastime than oxygen. The dash and the hedging “I suppose” are classic Lively: modest on the surface, quietly authoritative underneath. She doesn’t perform reverence; she sidesteps it.
The smartest move is the refusal of imitation. Lively acknowledges the obvious anxiety of influence only to disarm it: she returns to certain writers “not so much because I want to write like them” and then lands the kicker, “even if I were capable of it.” That self-deprecation reads as social grace, but it’s also a declaration of artistic sovereignty. Great prose isn’t a costume you borrow; it’s a metabolism you build. Her rereading is about recalibration, not mimicry.
“Stylistic shot in the arm” is deliberately un-mystical. Style, in her telling, isn’t a sacred gift; it’s energy, circulation, a bodily jolt. The subtext is almost workmanlike: when the sentences go slack, you seek out writers who tighten your sense of possibility. It’s also a quiet map of Lively’s literary generation: shaped by tradition, skeptical of posturing, and keenly aware that craft is sustained by returning to what still startles you into clarity.
The smartest move is the refusal of imitation. Lively acknowledges the obvious anxiety of influence only to disarm it: she returns to certain writers “not so much because I want to write like them” and then lands the kicker, “even if I were capable of it.” That self-deprecation reads as social grace, but it’s also a declaration of artistic sovereignty. Great prose isn’t a costume you borrow; it’s a metabolism you build. Her rereading is about recalibration, not mimicry.
“Stylistic shot in the arm” is deliberately un-mystical. Style, in her telling, isn’t a sacred gift; it’s energy, circulation, a bodily jolt. The subtext is almost workmanlike: when the sentences go slack, you seek out writers who tighten your sense of possibility. It’s also a quiet map of Lively’s literary generation: shaped by tradition, skeptical of posturing, and keenly aware that craft is sustained by returning to what still startles you into clarity.
Quote Details
| Topic | Writing |
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