Tatyana Tolstaya's story in the March 12th New Yorker, "See the Other Side," illuminated another corner of my waiting heart. The interview of the author by the NY fiction editor shone with the light of alien interpretations. The author and the editor had takes on the story, not like mine of finding the man in darkness tossing out light for others, such a hopeful thought, like maybe the waiting heart can lighten the lives of others, too. "He throws coins into the darkness, and from the darkness sounds a voice that tells him, as much as it is possible, about the great comfort of beauty." I love that sentence, but the phrase left out is what rings in my waiting heart: "He throws coins into the darkness, [making corners of it light up for others], and from the darkness sounds a voice that tells him, as much as it is possible, about the great comfort of beauty."
The part about his getting a reward for the giving away of light and the illumination of beauty for others bothers me. Author's intention and reader's need diverge in the space between words.
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I read it differently - his reward was the woman telling him what could be seen when he threw the coins. But the lighting up for others is a side-effect of his need for beauty...
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