When I think about music, I often do mental calculations about how old I will be when someone dies. It’s a way of preparing myself. Clapton is in his 60s. 10-20 years, and who knows if he’ll be playing at the end. Richard Thompson and Bruce Springsteen get a few more years. There are always the tragedies–music is famous for tragedies. Still, I also have a stable of artists who are reasonably close to my age and whom, barring self-destruction on their parts, I should be able to follow until I’m very old.
It’s not so easy with writers. Part of that is my age. I’m 32. For a musician, this is practically decrepit. For a writer, however, it’s not even middle-aged.
Most writers, for whatever reason, are slow to put something out. To choose among some of my favorites: at my age, Colum McCann and Ann Patchett had two books apiece published. Michael Chabon had three. Barbara Kingsolver was still a year away from her first publication.
So, you might say writers in the neighborhood of 30 are just graduating. They’re the plucky college graduates eager to make a mark in the world. And they’re hard to spot.
Among people I’ve read who are within five years of my age, I can think of only three. Téa Obreht, Joshua Ferris, and Chad Harbach are the only ones who I can guarantee I’ll be lining up for when the next novel comes out. Obreht is, of course, extremely young and had her Orange Prize-winning book The Tiger’s Wife
So there you have it. It’s a pretty short list. I’m excited to see what all of these people have coming. I’m also excited to see who I’m missing. Who is there right now, more or less my age, and writing something really wonderful? It might take a few more years, but I’ll find out.
What about you?
I’m 38 and I do this with athletes. I played football in college with the unreachable dream of playing in the NFL. Running backs are typically considered past their prime when they hit thirty. One of the greatest backs of our generation, Ladainian Tomlinson, retired at 32. Now when I watch games on TV the NFL players look young to me. Because, well, compared to me they are. The frame of reference has shifted to the ages of the coaches and general managers (some of whom are younger than I am) from the ages of the players.
As for artists, I was actually thinking about this as I was working out this morning. I had my headphones on and three old school hip-hop songs shuffled through in a row and I started to wonder where Slick Rick, Big Daddy Kane, and Rakim were now. I figured they had all probably either gone into production or were still out touring , trying to make a decent living off of old folks like me, not unlike how rock bands still do with those of us in our 30′s and 40′s.
Writers? Hemingway wrote what might be his most forgettable novel, To Have and Have Not, at 38. He also went to Spain to report on the Spanish Civil War. There was still a lot of boozin’, skirt chasin’, and writin’ left for him past 38. I am not a boozer, skirt chaser, or writer (aside from the occasional poem), but I think my best years are ahead of me.
That is kind of the nice thing about writers. In general, the writer’y prime seems to be from 40-60 or thereabouts. Gives me some hope, at least.
Of course, Hemingway did write The Sun Also Rises at 27 and A Farewell to Arms at 30. What a jerk.