“My mind is in a little box, dear God, down inside other boxes inside other boxes and on and on. There is very little air in my box.”
This is only my second O’Connor and I found it a lot more interesting than “A Good Man is Hard to Find.” O’ Connor’s prayers were beautiful and so honest, and her writing very charming. She calls Kafka “Mr Kafka” , which I found endearing. It was obvious that her Catholic faith was very dear to her. There was some internal religious struggles going on; in the diary she obviously yearns for a deeper fellowship with God and to be a great writer.
It was a very short book: of the 100 or so pages, half were photocopies of the original diary. I’ve read several literary diaries/journals before but this is the first time I’ve actually felt as though I was intruding into somebody’s private thoughts.
At times O’Connor was self-deprecating:
“Maybe I’m mediocre. I’d rather be less. I’d rather be nothing. An imbecile. Yet this is wrong. Mediocrity, if that is my scourge, is something I’ll have to submit to. If that is my scourge. If I ever find out will be time to submit. I will have to have a good many opinions.” (1/11/47)
At first I was surprised by her negativity, but then I realized it’s probably a normal emotion when one is unsure of their talent. It makes sense.
I can’t say I’m a fan of Ms. O’Connor yet but reading this has definitely made me more curious about her life and her work.