Response to Bernard Cooper (for real this time, I hope)

Dear Mr. Bernard Cooper,
As an avid Times reader, it is a Saturday ritual of mine to devour the New York Times Magazine. While I sometimes skip over articles that delve into complex economic theory, or the intricacies of professional sports, I never miss the “Lives” essays printed on the last page. These quirky and thoughtful pieces never fail to pique my curiosity and make me think. Your essay, “A Thousand Drops,” was no exception.
From the very beginning of the first paragraph, you had me roped in. I felt, that Saturday, as if I was seated at a chair in your bedroom, watching as you grappled with all the frustrations, watching as you and your partner of 25 years, Brian, carried out all the monotonous but live-saving routines. Your rich descriptions and the somber mood you conveyed evoked my compassion as well as my aggravation, (in a good way, of course.)
I confess, that when I came to hear you read from your memoir “Glitch,” I did not realize you were the Bernard Cooper of New York Times Magazine fame. Thus, you can imagine my delight when you read the piece aloud and I made the connection. I must say, I was surprised by the way you presented yourself in person. I would not have expected the author of “A Thousand Drops” to be so humorous, nor would I have expected him to re-tell such a story with so strong a presence and so unassailable a voice. I found your posture, volume, and cadence to be spot-on, and I was impressed.
More than that though, I was pleased to hear a more fleshed-out version of your story. I was quite amused by the anecdotes of the teenagers who drive down your street blasting their cell phone ring-tones, and your neighbors, Christina Aguilera’s spiky-haired wardrobe crew. I understand how all that contributed to your rising stress level! I also enjoyed your embellishment on the maddening noises, the constant din that invaded your life, and all the gadgets and commotion required to keep Brian functioning. The way you describe things, it seems no wonder you were driven to insomnia. I, and others probably, would assume that someone in your situation would crave peace and quiet. Instead, I was intrigued to hear about how you found solace in the strangest and noisiest of places.
I was very glad you brought in some “glitch” music to play for your audience. Neither I, nor anyone else present, as noted by the lack of raised hands, had ever knowingly listened to it before. You mentioned that your friends don’t share your interest in this music, and after hearing the selections you played, I can’t say I blame them. It wasn’t exactly something you snap your fingers to. Nonetheless, I concede there was something appealingly zany about glitch. I somehow appreciated the unexpectedness of the rhythm and the instrumental noises. For some reason, it struck me as perfect background music for an indie movie, and I guess that’s a good thing. And if nothing else, it is commendable that glitch artists push and explore musical boundaries.
What’s more, the oddity of this music, the seeming strangeness of your newfound taste, makes your story all the more fascinating. In your situation, all the predictably uplifting music wouldn’t cut it. Instead, the soundtrack to your care giving, and to your grief was something hopelessly chaotic, just like you felt your life was becoming. Glitch, you explained, is music based on mistakes; it is amalgamations of flawed and different noises. It seemed so appropriate, listening to you narrate your story, and hearing you play your music that this disordered sound was what made sense to you in the midst of your baffling situation. I can understand why you maintain a fondness for this music even now. It was a good lesson for me to learn, and a good lesson in general I think, that help and comfort can come in unlikely forms.
Finally, I very much enjoyed your discussion on your writing and the answers you gave to all of your questions. I was not previously aware of all the imagination that was involved in writing non-fiction, and I enjoyed hearing your thoughts on why the form of memoir is significant. Your insight into this genre was fascinating as a listener, and I’m sure it will prove useful as a reader.
In short, thank you for a wonderful event. I won’t be forgetting your reading any time soon.

Sincerely,
Carmen Blatt