The act of reading ... begins on a flat surface, counter or page, and then gets stirred and chopped and blended until what we make, in the end, is a dish, or story, all our own. -- Adam Gopnik



June 17, 2011

Henry in Paris


He was in Paris to work, and Paris was ‘an excellent place to work,’ he assured his editor at the Atlantic, William Dean Howells, who would be publishing the new novel in installments. ...
‘What shall I tell you?’ he began a letter to Howells one April morning. ‘My windows are open, the spring is becoming serious, and the soft hum of good old Paris comes into my sunny rooms…
 ‘The spring is now quite settled and very lovely,’ he told brother William a few weeks later. ‘It makes me feel extremely fond of Paris and confirms my feeling of being at home here. … I scribble along with a good deal of regularity….’ And that, as he knew William understood, was the point.
from The Greater Journey:  Americans in Paris, by David McCullough


{Henry's friend, John Singer Sargent, The Luxembourg Gardens at Twilight, 1879}

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