A friend of mine, a Hemingway scholar and long-time bull-runner, once met Norman Mailer. He cannot remember much of the evening, but he remembers the most important part.
“Norman,” he asked at the height of their inebriation, “why do we drink?”
“Because we hurt,” Mailer replied.
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As evidence of his sensitivity, we have the best of his work. As evidence against it, we have the literary penis-measurement, ad hominem attacks and all-round machismo of his worst. Somewhere between these two poles we have the evidence of his life and, especially, his marriages. That he hurt seems obvious. Exactly why and how he hurt—long the great blue marlin of scholars and biographers—is a more complicated question.
Matthew Clayfield
Matthew Clayfield is a journalist, critic and screenwriter.
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