by Monica Shapiro written for richardyates.org

My sister Sharon and I went to the movie set this summer. There in all their Yatesian glory, were Frank and April not understanding each other, understanding each other too well. DiCaprio and Winslet were perfect. Mendes seems to be succeeding in bringing the book to life in this further medium — non-readers will be able to see the Wheelers, and Howard Givings, and Mrs. Givings, and to contemplate life on Yatesian terms. Brilliant casting, a screenplay that seems to have left well enough alone, and a director who seems to get it, the humor as well as the tragedy.

It is impossible for me to imagine only knowing the film version of a book, and I can’t help hoping everybody wants the experience to be available both ways; but how miraculous is it, that an artist’s great lifelong desire should be granted; that people should listen to him, and continue to know the people he gave voice to, forever. That is what Hollywood can do for literature.

For all his dismal takes on things, Richard Yates lived on hope. On his best days, he was writing forward to the world. People would hear what he had to say, because he was saying it well and speaking from his open heart. He knew that unglamorous honesty would always interest some in every generation. The present didn’t matter.

And to that, Dad’s reaction would have been: “That’s crazy man’s talk. Mental wards are full of guys ‘writing forward to the world'”

Continue reading Here’s Hoping