Archives for posts with tag: Aldous Huxley

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the feel of it
by Charles Bukowski

A. Huxley died at 69,
much too early for such a
fierce talent,
and I read all his
works
but actually
Point Counter Point
did help a bit
in carrying me through
the factories and the
drunk tanks and the
unsavory
ladies.
that
book
along with Hamsun’s
Hunger
they helped a
bit.
great books are
the ones we
need.

I was astonished at
myself for liking the
Huxley book
but it did come from
such a rabid
beautiful
pessimistic
intellectualism,
and when I first
read P.C.P
I was living in a
hotel room
with a wild and
crazy
alcoholic woman
who once threw
Pound’s Cantos
at me
and missed,
as they did
with me.

I was working
as a packer
in a light fixture
plant
and once
during a drinking
bout
I told the lady,
“here, read this!”
(referring to
Point Counter
Point
.)

“ah, jam it up
your ass!” she
screamed at
me.

anyway, 69 seemed
too early for Aldous
Huxley to
die.
but I guess it’s
just as fair
as the death of a
scrubwoman
at the same
age.

it’s just that
with those who
help us
get on through,
then
all that light
dying, it works the
gut a bit —
scrubwomen, cab drivers,
cops, nurses, bank
robbers, priests,
fishermen, fry cooks,
jockeys and the
like
be
damned.

Photo: Aldous Huxley (1894-1963) with his cat muse.

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In the Spring 1960 edition of The Paris Review, novelist/essayist/memoirist Aldous Huxley, author of Brave New World, discussed his writing process. Excerpts from the interview, conducted by Raymond Fraser and George Wickes, are included below. Read the entire interview at theparisreview.org.

INTERVIEWER: Would you tell us something first about the way you work?

ALDOUS HUXLEY: I work regularly. I always work in the mornings, and then again a little bit before dinner. I’m not one of those who work at night. I prefer to read at night. I usually work four or five hours a day. I keep at it as long as I can, until I feel myself going stale. Sometimes, when I bog down, I start reading—fiction or psychology or history, it doesn’t much matter what—not to borrow ideas or materials, but simply to get started again. Almost anything will do the trick.

INTERVIEWER: Do you do much rewriting?

HUXLEY: Generally, I write everything many times over. All my thoughts are second thoughts. And I correct each page a great deal, or rewrite it several times as I go along.

INTERVIEWER: Do you block out chapters or plan the overall structure when you start out on a novel?

HUXLEY: No, I work away a chapter at a time, finding my way as I go. I know very dimly when I start what’s going to happen. I just have a very general idea, and then the thing develops as I write. Sometimes—it’s happened to me more than once—I will write a great deal, then find it just doesn’t work, and have to throw the whole thing away. I like to have a chapter finished before I begin on the next one. But I’m never entirely certain what’s going to happen in the next chapter until I’ve worked it out. Things come to me in driblets, and when the driblets come I have to work hard to make them into something coherent.

INTERVIEWER: Is the process pleasant or painful? 

HUXLEY: Oh, it’s not painful, though it is hard work. Writing is a very absorbing occupation and sometimes exhausting. But I’ve always considered myself very lucky to be able to make a living at something I enjoy doing. So few people can.

INTERVIEWER: Do you ever use maps or charts or diagrams to guide you in your writing?

HUXLEY: No, I don’t use anything of that sort, though I do read up a good deal on my subject. Geography books can be a great help in keeping things straight. I had no trouble finding my way around the English part of Brave New World, but I had to do an enormous amount of reading up on New Mexico, because I’d never been there. I read all sorts of Smithsonian reports on the place and then did the best I could to imagine it…

INTERVIEWER: When you start out on a novel, what sort of a general idea do you have? How did you begin Brave New World, for example?

HUXLEY: Well, that started out as a parody of H. G. Wells’s Men Like Gods, but gradually it got out of hand and turned into something quite different from what I’d originally intended. As I became more and more interested in the subject, I wandered farther and farther from my original purpose.

Painting: Aldous Huxley by Brian Ashmore, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Image

the feel of it

by Charles Bukowski

A. Huxley died at 69,
much too early for such a
fierce talent,
and I read all his
works
but actually
Point Counter Point
did help a bit
in carrying me through
the factories and the
drunk tanks and the
unsavory
ladies.
that
book
along with Hamsun’s
Hunger
they helped a
bit.
great books are
the ones we
need.

I was astonished at
myself for liking the
Huxley book
but it did come from
such a rabid
beautiful
pessimistic
intellectualism,
and when I first
read P.C.P
I was living in a
hotel room
with a wild and
crazy
alcoholic woman
who once threw
Pound’s Cantos
at me
and missed,
as they did
with me.

I was working
as a packer
in a light fixture
plant
and once
during a drinking
bout
I told the lady,
“here, read this!”
(referring to
Point Counter
Point
.)

“ah, jam it up
your ass!” she
screamed at
me.

anyway, 69 seemed
too early for Aldous
Huxley to
die.
but I guess it’s
just as fair
as the death of a
scrubwoman
at the same
age.

it’s just that
with those who
help us
get on through,
then
all that light
dying, it works the
gut a bit —
scrubwomen, cab drivers,
cops, nurses, bank
robbers, priests,
fishermen, fry cooks,
jockeys and the
like
be
damned.

Photo: Aldous Huxley and his cat muse (crawling up Huxley’s back!…a hallmark of creativity, as Bukowski referenced in “air and light and time and space,” included in a separate post on today’s blog).

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The first book I ever picked up because I wanted to (not counting books for kids and teens) was Brave New World by Aldous Huxley, which I read at age 14. Yes, Mr. Huxley ushered me into the world of literature and for that he will always be a hero and mentor.

English by birth, Huxley was in his early 40s when he moved to Los Angeles in 1937 — and lived in Southern California for the rest of his life. (He passed away on November 22, 1963, the same day as JFK.) Huxley worked briefly as a Hollywood screenwriter — with projects that included a treatment for Alice and Wonderland, which Walt Disney rejected because he “only understood every third word” (according to one Huxley biographer).

Huxley loved the lushness of California, the kitschiness of California, and the openness of California — he stopped by for a visit in 1937 and never left. Every time I drive past the Hollywood Hills, where Huxley lived  at 3276 Deronda Drive, I think of him.

Thank you, Mr. Huxley. Brave New World changed my life and made me want to become a writer.

Painting of Aldous Huxley by Scott Richard. Find more work here.