Friday, April 11, 2008

The Best of Boyhood

Friday, April 11, 2008

“But how much time could a man spend remembering the best of boyhood? What about the best of old age? Or was the best of old age just that? The longing for the best of boyhood, for the two-biller sprout that was his body and that rode the waves from way out where they began to build, rode them with his arms pointed like an arrowhead and the skinny rest of him following behind like the arrow’s shaft, rode them all the way into where his ribcage scraped against the tiny sharp pebbles and the jagged clam shells and pulverized sea shells at the edge of the shore and he hustled to his feet and hurriedly turned and when lurching through the low surf until it was knee-high and deep enough for him to plunge in and begin swimming madly out to the rising breakers into the advancing green Atlantic rolling unstoppably toward him like the obstinate fact of the future, and if he was lucky make it there in time to catch the next big wave and the next and the next and the next until from the low slant of inland sunlight glittering across the water he knew it was time to go.”

Philip Roth,


Anonymous said...

Catching the wave and riding it to the shallow beach with hands together pointed like an arrowhead.

Roth couldn't have described my boyhood better. Only it is soft sands instead of pebbles and it is in Philippine sea instead of Atlantic ocean. :)

Angeli said...

the passage reminded me of how my macushla described his boyhood.

so are you now becoming a fan of Philip Roth? :)

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