a sort of tribute

The title of this blog refers to what one might call the sensibility of its author. I am in the end a relatively quiet sort, one might say even misanthropic.

Although a self-analysis of my silence could certainly fodder for future blogs, it is not the subject of this one. My point, in bringing up my tendency toward non-interaction, is to point out that quiet is something quite different than indifference (although there are times i attempt to conflate the two). In fact, it is the silences that we allow ourselves to observe those who surround us, who are living out their lives in the spaces we all inhabit. It is a profound interest in people, in my interpretation of their stories, their dramas, that often animates (dis-animates) my silence.

This, of course, is my own, rather convoluted, way of paying tribute to the life and work of Studs Terkel. Terkel, ultimately, wasn't quiet; he was both a writer and a talker, a jovial sort who never seemed at a loss for words. But Terkel knew when to be quiet. He knew how to step back let other people tell their stories in a way that was not only revealing to the eventual reader, but also often to the storyteller him- or herself.

This was obviously Terkel's interview style, but more importantly, it was his writing style. Unlike the biographer or the ethnologists, Terkel didn't struggle to insert himself in the story; he never came off as particularly impressed by the insight of his own questions or the profundity of his prose (as is, say, someone with a personal blog). In fact, Terkel's best work isn't really his at all. He is merely the narrator, who sets the scene, who provides the imagery that allows us to "place" the protagonists in space and time, and then he lets his subjects talk, to tell their own stories in a way only possible because Studs was the one listening.