“I have never been to your country,” he confessed to her.
“You will if you want to,” she answered. “I have no doubt.”
He didn’t tell her whether or not he wanted to; he wasn’t sure himself. It seemed this place would suffice. Or maybe it wasn’t an issue of sufficiency. Maybe going somewhere else was an act of remembrance, of where you were from. A world of mirrors in which you witnessed a countless number of things that could have occurred at home or anywhere. And maybe, just maybe, that in itself was worth doing now and again. Perhaps he already was.
O Γιουν σε συνέντευξή του, το 2005:
What is the best bit of advice about writing you have ever gotten?
A sense of place is very important to me. Hemingway once said that you can’t write about a place until you’re away from it. I read that somewhere many years ago and it has always stayed with me. I have a hard time writing a story set in Boston if I’m there. When I write about a place it is necessary to have that distance in order to cull the worthy bits from my memory (or from my notebook) and shape it.
Of course, all I’m saying is that this works for me and I’m certainly not insinuating that Hemingway’s words are gospel. I tend to think if writers do whatever works for them then they’re doing it right.
Τα διηγήματα του Once the Shore προσφέρονται για παράλληλο διάβασμα με το What the World Will Look Like When All the Water Leaves Us, συλλογή διηγημάτων της συντρόφου του Γιουν, της Λόρα βαν ντεν Μπεργκ.