RSSOriginally posted on HappyScrappy.com
At some point during my adolescence, my internal monolog quieted down. I don’t know when, exactly. It went from anxiously evaluating everything — a bit like a play-by-play announcer, but more concerned — to being discreet, or not there at all. I suppose that’s just part of growing up — getting more confident, taking action by instinct — but I remember recognizing this change and worrying, quite intently, if I had lost some part of myself. If that internal monolog was me, and it’s gone, then where’d I go? And who’s this other guy now performing my actions?
Imagine doing it in reverse. First you’re fluid, in the moment, then suddenly your actions require additional care and precision. You’d long, I suppose, for the days when your actions felt as though they were yours. That’s the set-up for Remainder, a novel by Tom McCarthy that I recently finished, and which I highly advise checking out. (Disclaimer: A Random House guy sent me a review copy, along with a letter that says, “I’m not even going to ask you to spread the word about it because I don’t think I need to. Frankly, I would defy you to read it and not talk about it.” And it’s true. I’d have written about this regardless of where I got the book from.)