Author: Penelope
I've never been very good at walking past people without wondering about them. Not in a nosy way, I hope. More in the sense that I'll notice someone reading the same page of a book for ten minutes, or carrying a grocery bag that's clearly about to tear, and I'll find myself wondering what their day has been like.
I think that's why I started writing.
The moments people remember are usually the obvious ones—the awards, the discoveries, the headlines, the photographs that end up in history books. I'm usually more interested in what came before all of that. The years when no one was paying attention. The conversations that weren't recorded. The routines that probably felt ordinary at the time but quietly changed everything.
I've learned that people rarely fit into the versions of themselves we like to tell. They're usually more complicated than that, and thankfully so. Someone can be generous and impatient. Confident and uncertain. Brave one day and hesitant the next. I don't think those contradictions need to be solved. They just need to be noticed.
When I'm writing about someone, I try not to stand in the way. I want to be close enough that they feel real, but not so close that my opinions become the story instead of the person. Readers are smart. I'd rather give them something to notice than something to agree with.
I don't spend much time looking for perfect endings anymore. Real lives don't usually have them. Most of us are still becoming whoever we're going to be, and I think that's a much more interesting place to meet someone than after everything has already been decided.
Maybe that's why I'm optimistic. Not because I think people are easy to understand, but because I think they're worth trying to understand anyway. Paying attention feels like a small way of showing respect. If one of my articles leaves you looking at someone a little differently than you did before, I'll be happy with that.
Sigmund Freud’s name pops up whenever I think about the human psyche, and it’s not just because of his famous mustache. I’ve always been fascinated by how he dared to ask the questions that everyone else wanted to avoid. Like,…
I’ve always been drawn to Wassily Kandinsky’s work, but it wasn’t until I stumbled upon his book “Concerning the Spiritual in Art” that I began to grasp why he resonates with me on a deeper level. As an art major,…
Annie Dillard. I’ve been reading her work for years, but only recently did I start to feel a deep connection to her writing. As I delve into her essays and stories, I find myself drawn to the way she navigates…
Ludwig Wittgenstein’s name has been etched on my bookshelves for years, a constant presence that I’ve grown accustomed to. His Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus collected dust alongside other philosophical texts, its yellowed pages whispering secrets to me as I flipped through them…
I’ll be honest, I only stumbled upon Barbara Pym’s work a year ago, browsing through my college library’s fiction section. Her name stood out to me because it seemed… old-fashioned? Not in a bad way, but like she was from…
W.H. Auden’s poetry has been a constant presence in my life, even though I only discovered him during my senior year of college. It’s funny how sometimes it takes stumbling upon something to truly appreciate its value. For me, Auden’s…
Iris Murdoch – the name itself seems to conjure a world of complexity, of intellectual rigor, of moral depth. As I sit down to write about her, I’m struck by the sense that I’m venturing into uncharted territory, that I’m…
I’ve always been drawn to the idea of a “big thinker,” someone who can see beyond the present moment and shape the future with their ideas. John Maynard Keynes is one such figure, and I find myself frequently returning to…
Hannah More’s life has been etched into my mind like the lines on a well-loved book. As I delve into her story, I find myself drawn to the complexities of her character – her contradictions, her convictions, and the societal…
I’ll be honest, I’m not sure why Vladimir Nabokov fascinates me so much. His life seems to defy any straightforward narrative – a Russian aristocrat turned English professor, an immigrant who never quite fit in, and a writer known for…
I’ve been fascinated with Kathe Kollwitz’s work for a while now, ever since I stumbled upon her etchings in an art history book in college. Her bold lines and unflinching depictions of human struggle resonated deeply with me, but it…
Max Weber. I’ve been reading about him for weeks now, and yet I still can’t quite put my finger on what it is about him that fascinates me so much. Maybe it’s the way he seemed to embody two conflicting…
Thomas Hardy’s name has been floating around my consciousness for years, long before I finally picked up one of his novels in college. There was something about the way people spoke of him – as if he were a mythical…
Sylvia Plath’s words have been a constant companion for me since I stumbled upon her poetry in college. Her language is like a wild animal that snatches my breath away, leaving me gasping for air. There’s something about the way…
Tillie Olsen’s name keeps popping up in my literature classes, always alongside the likes of Hemingway, Joyce, and Woolf. At first, I thought she was just another old-school writer who happened to be a woman, but the more I read…
Georg Lukacs. I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately, trying to untangle why his ideas keep slipping into my mind like a loose thread on an old sweater. As I sit here with my laptop open, staring at the…
Lou Andreas-Salomé has been on my mind a lot lately, ever since I stumbled upon her name while researching women writers of the early 20th century. At first, it was just a fleeting curiosity – who is this woman and…
Paul Klee’s work has been a constant presence in my life, even though I’ve never met him. His paintings are like fragments of my own thoughts – abstract, yet somehow familiar. I find myself drawn to his use of color…
I’ve always been drawn to Nadine Gordimer’s writing, but it wasn’t until I was in college that I truly began to grasp the depth of her work. As a writer myself, I find myself returning to her novels again and…
Pierre Curie’s smile keeps popping into my head. I’ve only seen pictures of him, but there’s something about the way his eyes crinkle at the corners that makes me feel like he might be smiling directly at me. It’s a…