Adam Gopnik Menulis Tentang Philip Roth
Philip Roth |
Bersara ialah keputusan yang bijaksana kerana ia tidak mudah untuk dilakukan. Saya melihat generasi sebelum-dan-sebelum-dan-sebelum saya masih menulis, walaupun mereka sebenarnya tidak boleh lagi menulis. Mereka masih mengejar nama dan pangkat; masih angkuh (atau lebih angkuh); masih ingin disambut dan diraikan sebagai dewa; masih rasa mereka "berjuang" untuk sastera dan masyarakat. Terserah; terserah.
Kita tahu Philip Roth telah bersara. Baru-baru ini dalam satu survey untuk memilih siapakah novelis terbaik di Amerika sekarang, pilihan itu jatuh - seperti saya duga - kepada Roth. Betulkah dia yang terbaik? Barangkali ya. Itupun kalau kita bersedia untuk menolak nama novelis-novelis lain seperti Cormac McCarthy, Joyce Carol Oates, Paul Auster, dan William H. Gass. Jadi barangkali tidak ada apa yang dikatakan terbaik; hanya yang paling dibaca dan berpengaruh di sesuatu zaman.
Dalam artikel Adam Gopnik untuk majalah New Yorker (boleh dibaca di sini), dia membuat spekulasi nakal yang mungkin Roth masih belum bersara secara total, tapi sedang diam-diam mengatur perancangan buat Nathan Zuckerman (salah satu alter-ego terkenal Roth) supaya menulis cerita tentang persaraannya sebagai novelis:
Roth’s announced retirement has added a touch of the elegiac to what
would be a big birthday in any case, although every Roth lover has to
ask if he really has retired. There is a small, sneaky, admiring
notion that the retirement, though hardly a put-on, is likely to become
an irresistible occasion for one last Möbius strip of
fictional-confessional construction, in which Zuckerman may be found
creating a novelist, call him Isaac Kaplan, who, at the age of eighty,
has decided to stop writing, only to find that this has increased,
rather than limited, his fame: “To stop writing had turned out to be the
one final way to make his writing matter! Absence had provided a keener
presence than the past ten years of books, Isaac thought, as well as a
rush of affection and regard that seemed, in its way, as disquieting as
the old hostility had ever been.” The Roth sound is there, in our heads.
He was “serious in the fifties,” to use his own coinage, satiric in the
sixties, sober in the seventies, sane in the eighties, and became—with
the amazing sequence of big late novels that commenced with “Sabbath’s
Theater”—a kind of sage in the nineties and right into our confused new
century.
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