Perspective; or, Sontag As Metaphor
I decided to visit the Montparnasse Cemetery, to make a pilgrimage to the gravesites of Simone de Beauvoir and Agnès Varda. As I fumbled with the online map covering 43 acres, I was surprised to find Susan Sontag’s name. I did not know that this New York-based writer, famous for groundbreaking works of criticism and philosophy such as Illness As Metaphor and On Photography, had chosen Montparnasse as her final address.
It was a very weird feeling. Someone I actually knew in life was buried here. Sontag loomed large in my life when I worked at her publisher Farrar, Straus & Giroux in the 1990s. I used to joke that my hair started going white at the temple, like Sontag’s, due to the stress of managing her translation rights. This woman was beyond exacting about how her work should be translated and published.
I had a particularly harrowing week when my boss, Roger Straus, told me to proceed with a Spanish language deal, only to tell me a few days later that we had to wait for Sontag’s explicit approval. I had already told the publisher’s New York rep that we had a deal; what would I do if Sontag rejected it?
In those days, my goal was to avoid making anyone mad. I used to think that was a viable life strategy. I could envision a scenario in which everyone on both sides of the Atlantic would be mad at me over this translation deal.
Roger told me to join them for coffee at the end of their lunch at the fancy Gotham Bar & Grill. “You’ll talk to Susan, and you’ll pitch this new publisher to her. We’ll see what she says.”
Walking the few blocks from our office on Union Square to the restaurant on East 12th Street was like walking the plank for me. I sat down at their table. Sontag launched into the reasons she was dissatisfied with her previous Spanish publisher, and by the end, she had convinced herself to give the new publisher a chance. I didn’t really have to say anything.
No one was mad. But the stress had been so painful. Not long after that meeting, I noticed a small patch of white hair coming in above my forehead.
Today Sontag is dead. She cannot cause me any heart palpitations in Montparnasse Cemetery.
And one day, I will also be dead. All the worry about which publishers got the rights to Sontag’s books won’t matter to anyone. I’d say it doesn’t matter to me anymore either, but obviously I still think about it.
(from my Substack, October 27, 2026)
FYI: There was a possible 8.0 earthquake in Panama at 10:56 PDT. The US Tsunami Warning Center is still evaluating whether it will impact the US Pacific Coast. Warnings have been issued for coastal Central America.
You can keep an eye on the warnings here. www.tsunami.gov
Happy Star Trek Day to all who celebrate. 🖖
According to my father, we got our first color TV so we could watch it, 60 years ago today.
We chatted about it on my old Star Trek Voyager podcast.
Bob MacDonald, Sr., 1935-2025.
Yesterday was the first anniversary of my dad’s death. He was a great father and a wonderful teacher, among many other things. We held off on publishing his obituary while getting his estate sorted. I decided to publish it on his anniversary.
Wednesday waves 🌊👋 (🤦♀️I forgot to post yesterday)
Sunlight strikes the wave crests. I love watching them go from gray to bright white gradually. Manzanita, 6:30 am.
Wednesday waves 🌊👋 video + photo
I’m on a road trip this weekend, so this week’s waves are from the Seattle - Bainbridge Island ferry. ⛴️
Wednesday waves. 🌊👋 Video + photo.
Shot from up above on a sand dune. The audio is meh because of 15 mph winds. You can hear the dune grass crackling.
Wednesday waves. 🌊 👋 Video + photo.
I went out later than usual, an overcast day with most of the color washed out, but the sun glinting on silvery gray waves looked interesting.
Wednesday waves. Photo + video. From the viewpoint on Highway 101, so more traffic sounds than ocean sounds. It’s neat to see the fog receding after being blanketed the last 24 hours.
🌊 Pacific Wave Appreciation Society 👋
I added two new greeting cards to the Well-Tempered Cards shop on Etsy. It’s fun to look at the whole collection, each photo a little capsule of a moment of awe.
Seal pup, dropped off on the beach by its mother while she hunts. Video + photo.
Everyone stayed well away, including me. (I was using a telephoto lens.) This little one was determined to get back in the water. / May 30, 2026, 7 am. Low tide.
It’s been a while since I posted something for the Pacific Wave Appreciation Society. I’m going to try doing a Wednesday Wave series.
For the video, I dusted off my DJI Osmo 3 gimbal to provide a steadier viewing experience. 😇
Shot today at 1:35, swells 6.8 ft. 🌊
The Photos app surfaced this 2024 photo today. ❤️ Bob (my dad) with the Bob Moore statue at Bob’s Red Mill. I hope they are making pancakes together in heaven. 🥞
The color on the beach at the moment of sunset yesterday. I’m still glowing, just thinking about it. Cropped but no other editing, iPhone 17 Pro.
When I was a little girl, I knew there was a prince in England born the same year as me, and I expected that I would somehow meet him so I could marry him and become a princess. 👸🏼
File that under “careful what you wish for.” 😬
