"The more books we read, the clearer it becomes that the true function of a writer is to produce a masterpiece and that no other task is of any consequence"
About this Quote
Connolly’s line is a dare disguised as a diagnosis: read widely enough and you stop believing in the comforting middle ground. The sentence pretends to be a general truth about “the function of a writer,” but its real target is the writer’s endless talent for self-justification. Most writing careers are built on respectable substitutes - reviews, columns, think-pieces, even “important” novels - that keep the machinery of productivity humming while the terrifying, career-defining work stays safely hypothetical. Connolly yanks the mask off that bargain.
The subtext is equal parts aesthetic purism and self-indictment. As a journalist steeped in literary culture, Connolly knew the seductions of being adjacent to greatness: commenting on it, curating it, explaining it. “The more books we read” isn’t a celebration of reading as self-improvement; it’s the grim education of comparison. Immersion in the canon clarifies a brutal hierarchy: a few works endure, the rest evaporate into period noise. If you really absorb that, you can’t keep pretending that output equals achievement.
Context sharpens the sting. Connolly wrote in a Britain where “letters” was a social world as much as an art form, and where journalism offered both a platform and an escape hatch. His own life is often read through the lens of thwarted ambition - the brilliant critic who feared he wouldn’t deliver the one thing he demanded. The absolutism (“no other task”) is the tell: it’s less a philosophy than a goad, an attempt to bully himself - and anyone listening - out of cleverness and into risk.
The subtext is equal parts aesthetic purism and self-indictment. As a journalist steeped in literary culture, Connolly knew the seductions of being adjacent to greatness: commenting on it, curating it, explaining it. “The more books we read” isn’t a celebration of reading as self-improvement; it’s the grim education of comparison. Immersion in the canon clarifies a brutal hierarchy: a few works endure, the rest evaporate into period noise. If you really absorb that, you can’t keep pretending that output equals achievement.
Context sharpens the sting. Connolly wrote in a Britain where “letters” was a social world as much as an art form, and where journalism offered both a platform and an escape hatch. His own life is often read through the lens of thwarted ambition - the brilliant critic who feared he wouldn’t deliver the one thing he demanded. The absolutism (“no other task”) is the tell: it’s less a philosophy than a goad, an attempt to bully himself - and anyone listening - out of cleverness and into risk.
Quote Details
| Topic | Writing |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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