Ernest Hemingway and Ted Hughes were Leos. Sun signs. Heroic individuals for bringing the intensely private world of the individual and personal life out into the light of day. They were introverts who saw a value in introversion. And in turns out, shyness and introversion, if not exactly in style, has recently been in health news. It turns out, introversion is not so bad, and in fact, it seems to be the engine behind empathy. The quality of introversion is something that, if perhaps not quite accounting for survival of the species, turns out to be quite important. (Republicans take heed. Oh, I forgot, Republicans aren't very capable at being shy and introspective, self-confident dynamos of job-creators and fiscal responsibility that they tend to be, too busy enjoying life and organizing to thwart different-minded folk, for the good of the country. To be a good Republican leader, you have to be perfectly incapable of admitting any sort of mistake or crime or spiritual wrong-doing or any number of wrong-headed ways; you're always, always in the right, and in fact, never make any mistakes or misjudgments, but of course!)

Anyway, within the rubric of the writer's shy habits, writing in a notebook almost as if talking to himself about matters deeply personal while the rest of the crowd laughs and shouts on a Friday night, is the ability to observe, and also the ability to admit things about personal life. There is a pay-off. A broader deeper understanding of reality, even as it comes out of one's own life the good stuff, the messes, the in between.

The line of Hemingway sticks with me. One story, sent out in the mail, survived of a collection his wife had put into a valise, along with the carbon copies, that was stolen in a Paris train station. Regarding that one story was, as he puts it, like showing off the still-booted foot that had been severed in an accident. His first book is built around the unhappy and uncomfortable, to say the least, misfortune of a man whose penis has been blown off in the war. Painful admissions, dragged out into the light, as always, a necessary part of the human ability to process. And sometimes, one wonders, how the reader is able even to read such without running away in anxious discomfort as one who is afraid of heights avoids tall open observations decks as are found on the Gettysburg Battlefield.