One of my idols is Nigella Lawson, British cook. Not simply because she can cook as well as I will never be able to, but also because her love of life and her passion pervades everything around her. Also, her healthy approach to the difficult situations of life is exemplary for me. The answer often comes to my mind that she always gives to the frequently asked questions in connection with the numerous fatal illnesses in her family and her difficult childhood: ‘So what?! Bad things happen to everybody, I’m not the only one, I don’t let myself die of these tragedies and I go on, that’s all!’
When All Seems Lost — and Even When It Doesn’t… As a writer, I read more than average. Not necessarily books that fall within my immediate interests, but rather those I can learn from, marvel at, analyze word by word, and sometimes even those that demand more effort from me than usual. That is how it is with Alice Munro. I bought my first book by her when she received the Nobel Prize. Then life happened, and the volume sat on my bookshelf—either I had no time for it, or it lingered somewhere at the bottom of my list of priorities. When I finally picked it up, I could hardly believe my eyes—or my reaction. First, I was utterly outraged; my blood pressure shot through the roof in an instant, and I almost started swearing in disbelief. I had barely skimmed the first few lines, yet that was enough to know: it was perfect. A true masterpiece. Excellence among the excellent. Every word reached the deepest layers of my soul. I was touched by its purity, its delicacy, the noblest simpli...
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