In my continuing quest to read the experiences of artists, I listened to Al Pacino’s autobiography, Sonny Boy. Another great New York story.
Unlike Streep, who grew up in New Jersey, Pacino is a Bronx boy, a child of the streets, and yet somehow not. He was always looked after by his family.
Over and over, what these stories tell is the ability of art to transform children, to give them a different lens through which to view the world.
The challenge is how to, once a student graduates, learn the language of rejection, to constantly be told no, until the day when yes arrives.
In Pacino’s story, what struck me was his later career quest to make Searching for Richard, about the significance of Shakespeare, and no, once more, stopping by. He couldn’t get the support, no less the financing, even though he was Al.
Somehow, I found this comforting. My own quest to get my debut novel off the ground has been a slow process, and In Searching for Richard, I was reminded that everyone struggles. Even Al.
And then, one day, yes came a knockin’.
One Way to Whitefish arrived on ten branch shelves at the New York Public Library. My father, the late Daniel Gutoff, was a librarian in the Queensboro system for thirty years.
Somewhere he’s smiling.