“Good writing excites me, and makes life worth living.” — Harold Pinter
Before I get to today’s business, I’d like to bid a fond farewell to renowned British playwright, Harold Pinter, who died the other day after a long fight with cancer.
Pinter was born in London to a working class Jewish family in 1930, and rose to become one of the most influential playwrights of his or any other generation (Hell, I suspect that even as I write this, there are a number of budding playwrights brooding by espresso machines in some artsy dive with a copy of one of his plays in one hand and gripping a laptop in the other). His most notable plays include The Birthday Party, The Dumb Waiter, The Dwarfs and The Homecoming. All told, he authored more than two dozen plays in a career that spanned five decades. In 2005, his Nobel Prize acceptance speech caused a controversy when Pinter used the occasion to blast the Bush Doctrine and the U.S. invasion of Iraq.
I first discovered Pinter in college. I remember reading The Dumb Waiter in a cubical in the second floor of the old library. Most of what I know about writing dialogue I learned from reading plays and next to David Mamet (a writer who was greatly influenced by Pinter), Pinter was the playwright I think I learned the most from.
If you are a writer and a book lover, it’s always a sad day when a great writer dies. It feels like losing a piece of yourself, of your own history. But no tears. Just a moment of uncomfortable silence and a fade to black.
