Once a friend had told me that it was only when I was drunk that I seemed to know exactly what I wanted. And so, two months later, in the midst of the farewell party in my growing wildness—dancing, balancing a wine glass on my forehead and falling to the floor twisting round and getting up without…
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Michael Ondaatje
Philip Michael Ondaatje, CC FRSL (/ɒnˈdɑːtʃiː/; born 12 September 1943), is a Sri Lankan-born Canadian poet, novelist, editor and filmmaker. He is the recipient of multiple literary awards such as the Governor General's Award, the Giller Prize, the Booker Prize, and the Prix Médicis étranger. Ondaatje is also an Officer of the Order of Canada, recognizing him as one of Canada's most renowned living authors, along with others like Margaret Atwood. Ondaatje's literary career began with his poetry in 1967, publishing the books The Dainty Monsters, and then in 1970 the critically acclaimed The Collected Works of Billy the Kid. However, he is more recently recognized for his nationally and internationally successful novel The English Patient (1992), which was adapted into a film in 1996. In addition to his literary writing, Ondaatje has been an important force in "fostering new Canadian writing" with two decades commitment to Coach House Press (around 1970-90), and his editorial credits on Canadian literary projects like the journal Brick, and the Long Poem Anthology (1979), among others. 2Early life and education Ondaatje was born in Colombo, Sri Lanka, then called Ceylon, in 1943; and is of Dutch, Sinhalese, and Tamil ancestry. His parents separated when he was just an infant, subsequently living with relatives until 1954 when he joined his mother in England. While in England, Ondaatje pursued secondary education at Dulwich College, but shortly after immigrated to Montreal, Quebec in 1962. After relocating to Canada, Ondaatje studied at Bishop's University in Lennoxville, Quebec for three year
What began it all was the bright bone of a dream.
How does this happen? To fall in love and be disassembled.
...the heart is an organ of fire.
How does this happen? To fall in love and be disassembled.
She had always wanted words, she loved them; grew up on them. Words gave her clarity, brought reason, shape.
Every night I cut out my heart. But in the morning it was full again.
You have to protect yourself from sadness. Sadness is very close to hate. Let me tell you this. This is the thing I learned. If you take in someone else’s poison – thinking you can cure them by sharing it – you will instead store it within you.
Her life with others no longer interests him. He wants only her stalking beauty, her theatre of expressions. He wants the minute secret reflection between them, the depth of field minimal, their foreignness intimate like two pages of a closed book.
There was a time when mapmakers named the places they travelled through with the names of lovers rather than their own.