Thomas Farber on Curves of Pursuit
My previous two books, volumes of short fiction, had allowed change of voice or characters as I wrote, permitting completion of something every month or two. Not so "Curves of Pursuit." And, as I sometimes reminded myself, I hadn't even intended a novel, saw nothing inherently higher or finer in the form, had simply found myself with an intriguing fragment which kept refusing narrow boundaries. Nonetheless, dog paddling into the darkness, turning 38, turning 39, I wondered-- between periods of crazy exultation-- if I'd like the novel when I finished, if I finished. There was the confusing loss of austerity and closure when, novel done, I blinked to reenter the larger world. Given all this, it perhaps makes sense that as I again commit myself to fiction I'm also exploring in non-fiction some of the ambiguities of the writer's vocation.