Home Ain’t Always So Sweet, but It’s Still Home
Written by John Erianne on August 12, 2008 – 10:25 am -I’ve been thinking a lot about my situation lately — my money situation. My cancer battle wiped me out almost entirely, but not quite literally, physically and more definitely absolutely, monetarily. Right now, I’m more or less completely broke — which wouldn’t be so bad if I hadn’t accumulated a sizable debt. So, I’ve been scouting around for an actual job. In Southern New Jersey, where I live that means the jobs I want don’t really exist around here and the jobs available pretty much suck.
People keep telling me I’d be better off living somewhere else. “Move to a big city,” they tell me. My feeling about cities is this: they’re lovely places to visit once in awhile when you want to take in a museum or show or some other cultural or sporting event — but I could never live in one. Too much noise. Too much traffic. And too many people wedged together like so many matchsticks. And besides are Boston jobs or New York jobs really that much better than South Jersey jobs? When you consider the cost of living in Boston or New York compared to here, probably not so much. And while I’ll concede that parts of New Jersey may be a cesspool, it’s still my cesspool.
But really, I’m straying off the topic I wanted to discuss today — which isn’t about how broke I am and whether or not I should move away. Rather, I want to talk about the role geography plays in our writing. Whether you are a writer who changes addresses more often than your underwear or like me, bound to a particular place, our longitudes and latitudes are as important to our writing as anything else. Imagine reading Faulkner or Twain without the Mississippi. Or Raymond Chandler without Los Angeles. David Goodis without Philadelphia. Could Hawthorne have written The Scarlett Letter without his New England? Could Jane Austen have written Pride and Prejudice if she had lived in New York? I doubt it. Our personal geography and even our memories of place leave an indelible mark.
For myself, I shall remain a Jersey Boy and a Jersey writer.
