How has being an American affected my writing?

Richard Ford was born in Jackson, Mississippi, in 1944. He lived in Jackson and Little Rock, Arkansas since childhood. He attended public schools and went to Michigan State University, the University of California, and the University of Washington Law School. study. Authored 5 novels including “Sports Reporter”, “Life” and “Independence Day”, and published 3 collections of short stories including “Stone Spring” and “Multiple Sins”, and published a large number of essays, often for “The New Yorker” Magazine and The New York Times. He is a Fellow of the American Academy of Arts and Letters, and his works have won the Academy’s Novel Prize, the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction, the PEN/Faulkner Prize for Fiction, and the PEN/Malamud Short Story Prize. Various long and short stories have been translated into 23 languages ​​and won the French Literature and Art Award.
  It goes without saying that this is actually a question that can be debated over and over again. By extension, ask some famous people, and you’ll see what I mean: What was the impact of being Russian on Chekhov? How did being a woman affect Virginia Woolf? As a sailor, why is Popeye so famous? He finally knew the answer to the question, and he was so insightful: “I am who I am. What I am is what I am.”
  In order to solve this logical problem, I don’t want to be limited by Cheng’s theory, and need to find another way to find the answer. This is usually the homework of novelists: to go beyond appearances to discover new ideas, to create refreshing perceptions, to enrich the known totality of reality, to break open the frozen sea inside us, whatever your vision of reaching new heights.
  First, there are two propositional approaches that need to be immediately ruled out, since neither approach is specific to the United States. The title of this article asks the question, “How does being an American affect my writing?” One might say, “Being an American means that I can write whatever I want, and I do write whatever I want. . So it makes sense.” But if I were in Denmark, Canada, or England, could I do the same, and thus be a native of those countries? This inference applies to the United States, but not specifically. Second, being an American may have shaped and indelibly imprinted my career as a writer, but America doesn’t necessarily make me a more popular writer than some other countries. The history of world literature has shown this. In my opinion, I might have been more successful if I were French.
  I can’t remember when I first realized I was American. At the age of 6, he swore allegiance to the flag. Registered for military service at the age of 18. Joined the Marine Corps at the age of 20. But I’m sure, long before all this happened, I knew very well that I was first and foremost a southerner from Mississippi, more precisely a Jacksonian, the son of parents from Arkansas, who were not native of Mississippi, and were slightly different from me. There are different. Of course, all of this unique locality presupposes that I am an American, because the principles of the United States, being a nation and what it represents, encompass it all. So for myself and my work, what I may consider to be typical of the Southerners is, broadly speaking, a reflection of my Americanness.
  When I grew up in Mississippi in the 1940s and 1950s, there was an apparent ambiguity about the South’s allegiance to the entire United States of America. The Great Depression and World War II are over, but not too long ago. Roosevelt and Truman were presidents of the United States. I have sworn allegiance. America belongs to us, and we belong to America—at least to protect it, to defend it.
  However, there are other important sociopolitical issues, notably race, suffrage, equal opportunity, guaranteeing all that America has to offer, and America’s “federalism.” “Federalism” is the cornerstone of the U.S. Constitution and is called “the power of the state” everywhere. One might think that many southerners would rather find another country and belong to some other country altogether: many whites would go to South Africa or Paraguay, blacks would go to France or Sweden. No matter which side you stand on on these issues concerning the national economy and people’s livelihood, as an American who adheres to the ideals of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness advocated by the United States, you will inevitably encounter ups and downs, a discordant atmosphere and various disputes. May also endanger health.
  Consciously acknowledging one’s national affiliation and identifying with one’s own attributes is obviously only a manifestation of belonging. In fact, Americans have historically taken many aspects of our belonging for granted, allowing us to focus more fully on the fruits of that belonging. An inherent goal of the American republic is to encourage people to care about how they behave as citizens, even if they are inadvertent, without paying too much attention to the mechanics and principles of citizenship. Therefore, national belonging is not an end in itself, but a means to achieve the goal of individual liberty.
  But for me, growing up in the South in Mississippi from 1950 to 1962, being an American and acknowledging one’s national affiliation meant being totally (not inadvertently) involved in a The whirlpool of public debate on American citizenship is full of emotions and opinions. The question at the heart of this debate is this: How should I view the question of belonging to my country of birth when it appears to suppress the most basic and inalienable personal rights I believe I have? Whites who advocated segregation believed that the right meant that they had the right to segregate different types of people from each other; blacks and whites who advocated desegregation fought tit-for-tat, arguing that the right allowed people to move freely without restraint , interact with others as you please, all without worrying about being hurt. In the midst of this hurricane, there has been a long debate around this issue known as the “American Civil Rights Movement,” where many people gave their lives fighting for justice and rights that were ultimately achieved, albeit perhaps imperfectly.
  Determining whether any one attitude, character, behavior, character, experience, or belief is “typically American” always makes me hesitate. When I was abroad, some people who had read my work asked me if a certain story was quintessentially American, and I was at a loss for words. Then I said: If you fly over a suburb in the United States in a helicopter, you see a man in a pie hat mowing the lawn. This of course should be a typical American. But who is he? (We thought we knew the answer.) We took a closer look and gently took off his hat, only to find out that he was Pakistani, an immigrant, and possibly a third-generation Ghanaian or Chinese-American. Following the trajectory of his life, his presence on this lawn in this town on this day not only shatters most notions of typicality, but also reveals the tendency for unconventional qualities to be downplayed and excluded. Thus, individuality proves the unreliability of commonality. This is exactly what a lot of literary masterpieces try to illustrate: the closer you stick, the clearer you can see. We should be.
  Whether my experience growing up in Mississippi in the 1950s is more typically American than the life of this Pakistani immigrant is certainly up for debate. But I, like him, are American. Our experiences are all, or a part of, living in America: the ups and downs (in my case), the complexities and contradictions of citizenship, national affiliation and dividing regionalism. None of this fits fully into a grand political ideal. This ideal avoids people being suppressed and restrained as much as possible while being largely inclusive. (Perhaps I should admit that I have more in common with this immigrant than I imagined.)
  So how did my life experience lead me to write these manuscripts?
  Perhaps it should be more precisely the way in which my life experience might lead me to create, as tracing the trajectory of the evolution of literary expression from one interface of the human imagination to another, spanning from the haphazard and mere sensibility to the The shaping side of (the story), the process is all guesswork and often specious. Needless to say, I myself have no ability to distinguish between my intentions and the actual results I have achieved, and at the same time I hope to “prove” the existence of an influence through my work, and my full understanding of the work from the author’s point of view and the reader’s interpretation also have Differences—all of which keep me from evaluating myself in the most objective, or most convincing, way possible.
  Therefore, for the sake of prudence, I will only touch upon the following points.
  The Czech novelist Milan Kundera wrote in a letter to the American writer Philip Roth: “The novelist tells the reader to understand the world in a questionable way . . . ) society, the novel loses its vitality.” So, in the same vein as my American experience (by no means totalitarian, but litigious, intricate, confusing, wide-ranging, and discordant, often to the point of causing uproar), I Always strive to create stories and novels that testify to human nature in times of distress, disharmony, and suffering in the face of censure—love-seekers expect love, love, and mutual giving. Thoughtful and consoling, but in the blink of an eye, the result is empty; the father and son are very affectionate, and the mother and son are affectionate, but there is a gap of misunderstanding between them, and it is impossible to achieve what people want. It is difficult to find an exact way to express family affection. What he said was rather hesitant. This scene is full of uproar, and it has become a trend of incompatibility, grudges and grievances, and it also contains unknown secrets. I learned from it what happened to Americans: the Civil Rights Movement and the Vietnam War, which were accompanied by family disintegration; the McCarthy Purge, which created divisions in the country; the years after the Great Depression, then the outbreak of the World War and the boom of the 1950s The situation is born.
  Second, echoing my experience growing up in the United States, I follow the principles of need and freedom to create, describe various characters that are different from me (such as women, people of other races and nationalities, children), try to answer me as an American The specific fundamental question facing citizens: Why are we so different and so similar to each other? I’ve written a few novels in the hope that this obscurity will make people feel bearable, entertaining, and even pleasing to the eye.
  I also experienced nuanced politics displayed through personal everyday life. It was in such daily life, within the confines of a small family of its own, in a small American town, far from the centers of power and public opinion, that I first saw right and wrong so clear-cut. In fact, at some point when it was impossible to pre-plan, driven solely by curiosity, I left the South, which was the subject of my writing, with the idea of ​​introducing my local thinking to a wider audience in the United States, while trying to use the whole The country is the background for my writing, and I even hope to use this as the subject of my writing.
  Finally – and at this point I need not speculate who influenced whom – as a writer, I have always believed in the motives and moral consequences of describing events and actions of universal significance to humanity in the context of the United States, Its importance can be understood from any angle on earth. The humanistic history of the United States, if not a model for the rest of the world to follow, at least can be used for reference and is intriguing.
  Summarizing the various influences one has suffered is often frenetic and arrogant to the point of borderline arrogance. But I think the results I’m getting right now make me emotional. If I hadn’t been influenced by these over the years, I or my work could be very different. Of course, there is absolutely no way I could be who I am now. Remove the key term from one side of the equation, and the original equation no longer exists. Popeye wouldn’t be our favorite Popeye if he were a pilot or a bond trader.
  Today, there is a writer in Chechnya who may also be writing… about the influence of Chechnya on his work. He is writing about the same subject that I have written about, or something more worthy of writing. I feel very happy. If being an American over the years has allowed me to discover that I have some resemblance to someone I’ve never met, that I have some connections to each other, and that it has allowed me to appreciate literature’s most precious treasure, then being an American As a person, and as a writer, that alone has benefited me immensely.

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