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Lydia Davis Biography

Lydia Davis (born July 15, 1947) is an American writer noted for literary works of extreme brevity (commonly called "flash fiction"). Davis is also a short story writer, novelist, essayist, and translator from French and other languages, and has produced several new translations of French literary classics, including Swann’s Way by Marcel Proust and Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert.

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Lydia Davis Quotes

We feel an affinity with a certain thinker because we agree with him; or because he shows us what we were already thinking; or because he shows us in a more articulate form what we were already thinking; or because he shows us what we were on the point of thinking; or what we would sooner or later have thought; or what we would have thought much later if we hadn’t read it now; or what we would have been likely to think but never would have thought if we hadn’t read it now; or what we would have liked to think but never would have thought if we hadn’t read it now.

Affinity, Form, Hadnt, Read, Shows, Thinking

I think a lot of what goes into writing can be taught - not mixing metaphors, etc.

Etc, Metaphors, Mixing, Thinking, Writing

I don't feel I have to struggle against allegory. I let the readers do the interpreting.

Against, Allegory, Interpreting, Reader, Struggle

I do see an interest in writing for Twitter. While publishers still do love the novel and people do still like to sink into one, the very quick form is appealing because of the pace of life.

Interest, Like, Pace, People, Quick, Writing

I often pose questions to myself and want the answers. The questions may be psychological or emotional. Or they may involve botany or [. . . ] physiology. [. . . ] I am very curious about strangers I observe - as in a bus line. I am very attached to finding out answers.

Answers, Botany, Curious, Emotional, Lines, Observe

I started writing the one-sentence stories when I was translating 'Swann's Way. ' There were two reasons. I had almost no time to do my own writing, but didn't want to stop. And it was a reaction to Proust's very long sentences.

Long, Reasons, Stop, Two, Writing

Part of my mind is working on how to end the thing while I'm going on. You need at least two brains to write.

Brain, Brains, Mind, Thing, Two, Writing

I worked more intensively hour after hour when I was starting out [writing]. More laboriously. I'd say quantity is important as well as quality, and if you're not producing enough, make a schedule and stick to it.

After Hours, Important, Make, Quality, Writing

I attempt all day, at work, not to think about what lies ahead, but this costs me so much effort that there is nothing left for my work. I handle telephone calls so badly that after a while the switchboard operator refuses to connect me. So I had better say to myself, Go ahead and polish the silverware beautifully, then lay it out ready on the sideboard and be done with it. Because I polish it in my mind all day long—this is what torments me (and doesn't clean the silver).

Effort, Long, Lying, Nothing, Sideboard, Thinking

Nearly every morning, a certain woman in our community comes running out of her house with her face white and her overcoat flapping wildly. She cries out, "Emergency, emergency," and one of us runs to her and holds her until her fears are calmed. We know she is making it up; nothing is has really happened to her. But we understand, because there is hardly one of us who has no been moved at some time to do just what she has done, and every time, it has taken all our strength, and even the strength of our friends and families, too, to keep us quiet.

Happened, Know, Morning, Overcoat, Running, Taken

The moment when a limit is reached, when there is nothing ahead but darkness: something comes in to help that is not real. Another way all this is like madness: a mad person not helped out of his trouble by anything real begins to trust what is not real because it helps him and he needs it because real things continue not to help him.

Darkness, Limit, Mad, Real, Way

the translator, a lonely sort of acrobat, becomes confused in a labyrinth of paradox, or climbs a pyramid of dependent clauses and has to invent a way down from it in his own language.

Confused, Dependent, Labyrinth, Language, Lonely, Pyramids

There is something very pleasing about the principles of science and the rules of math, because they are so inevitable and so harmonious - in the abstract, anyway.

Abstract, Harmonious, Inevitable, Math, Pleasing, Principles

Art is not in some far-off place.

Art, Art Is, Place, Writer'S Block

In some sense the text and the translator are locked in struggle - 'I attacked that sentence, it resisted me, I attacked another, it eluded me' - a struggle in which, curiously, when the translator wins, the text wins too.

Attacked, Sense, Sentences, Struggle, Winning, Wins

I find teaching - I like it, but I find just walking into the classroom and facing the students very difficult.

Classroom, Like, Students, Teaching

Why don't you like the foods I like?" he asks sometimes. "Why don't you like the foods I make?" I answer.

Answer, Answers, Asks, Foods, Make, Sometimes

I think the close work I do as a translator pays off in my writing - I'm always searching for multiple ways to say things.

Close, Pay, Thinking, Translator, Ways, Writing

I started with small-press publishers, who were willing to publish all sorts of forms. I didn't move to the larger presses until they knew what they were getting in for.

Form, Forms, Moving, Publishers, Sorts, Willing

No one is calling me. I can’t check the answering machine because I have been here all this time. If I go out, someone may call while I’m out. Then I can check the answering machine when I come back in.

Back, Calling, Machine, Machines, May, Time

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