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On Being Blue , by William Gass
Under no set of circumstances would I agree to write an introduction for this essay-panegyric to the color blue and, let's admit it, to the thought/act sex ; under no set of circumstances would I want my prose to be set directly next to that of William Gass. Michael Gorra was a fool.
From the initial page-long sentence, followed by two short, percussive sentences, and then, the rhythmic cramp easing, by a more expansive sentence, and then another yet more expansive, On Being Blue announces itself to be not "A Philosophical Inquiry", but a revelling in the English language by a prose wizard. Associative, digressive, from obscure periodicals to the phrase "fuck a duck", Gass' text follows its whims and whimsies wherever they lead. And then takes us out in a two-page-long sentence of encouragement to all writers.
Encouragement to be heeded by said writers - just don't let your prose stand directly next to his. You'll be sorrrrryyyyyyyy...
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