The window gave onto a view of dove-gray roofs and balconies, each one containing the same cracked flowerpot and sleeping feline. It was as if the entire city of Paris had agreed to abide by a single understated taste. Each neighbor was doing his or her own to keep up standards, which was difficult because the French ideal wasn't clearly delineated like the neatness and greenness of American lawns, but more of a picturesque disrepair. It took courage to let things fall apart so beautifully.
Jeffrey EugenidesI want an ending thatโs satisfying. Iโm more of a classical writer than a modernist one in that I want the ending to be coherent and feel like an ending. I donโt like when it just seems to putter out. I mean, life is chaotic enough.
Jeffrey EugenidesI'm hopefully making the reader feel a lot about the characters and then about their own life.
Jeffrey Eugenides