Edward Hoagland
Edward Hoagland: A Life of Reflection and Literary Excellence
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Full Name and Common Aliases
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Edgar Lawrence "Edward" Hoagland Jr. is a celebrated American author, essayist, and journalist.
Birth and Death Dates
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Born on February 22, 1932, in New York City, USA. As of this writing, he is still alive.
Nationality and Profession(s)
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American writer, essayist, and journalist.
Early Life and Background
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Edward Hoagland grew up in a family that valued literature and the arts. His father was an American diplomat, which led to the family's frequent moves during Edward's childhood. This nomadic lifestyle instilled in him a sense of curiosity and adaptability that would later influence his writing. Hoagland developed a passion for reading at an early age and began writing short stories as a teenager.
Major Accomplishments
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Hoagland has had a distinguished career spanning over six decades, with numerous literary awards and nominations to his name. Some of his notable achievements include:
Earning the O. Henry Award in 1965 for his short story "The Winner"
Being nominated for the National Book Award in 1972 for his essay collection "Notes from the Century Before"
Receiving the Guggenheim Fellowship in 1993Notable Works or Actions
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Hoagland's writing often explores themes of identity, morality, and the human condition. Some of his most notable works include:
The Running Man (1968), a novel that examines the relationship between two brothers on a hunting trip
The Courage Economists Won't Face (1972), an essay collection that critiques the excesses of modern capitalism
Red Wolf (1991), a memoir about his experiences as a teenager in the wilds of Maine
Impact and Legacy
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Hoagland's writing has had a profound impact on American literature, influencing generations of writers with his unique voice and perspective. His essays and stories often grapple with complex moral issues, encouraging readers to think critically about their place in the world.
Why They Are Widely Quoted or Remembered
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Edward Hoagland is widely quoted for his insightful observations on human nature and society. His writing has been praised for its lyrical prose, intellectual curiosity, and unflinching honesty. As a leading figure in American literary circles, he continues to inspire readers with his thought-provoking work.
Hoagland's legacy extends beyond the literary world; his writings have also influenced fields such as philosophy and psychology. His ability to distill complex ideas into accessible language has made him a beloved and respected voice among readers of all backgrounds.
With a career spanning over six decades, Edward Hoagland remains an important figure in American literature, offering us insights into ourselves through his own experiences and perspectives.
Quotes by Edward Hoagland
There aren’t many irritations to match the condescension which a woman metes out to a man who she believes has loved her vainly for the past umpteen years.
Animals are stylized characters in a kind of old saga – stylized because even the most acute of them have little leeway as they play out their parts.
There were periods during my childhood when I stammered so badly I couldn’t talk at all.
If a person sings quietly to himself on the street people smile with approval; but if he talks it’s not alright; they think he’s crazy. The singer is presumed to be happy and the talker unhappy...
The question of whether it’s God’s green earth is not at center stage, except in the sense that if so, one is reminded with some regularity that He may be dying.
She – the unnamed lady – simply drew his hands to the Paleolithic places men always have grown tumid from feeling, like the outward cradle of the hips within which a fetus will reside and her breasts that will nourish it, once born.
It’s incongruous that the older we get, the more likely we are to turn in the direction of religion. Less vivid and intense ourselves, closer to the grave, we begin to conceive of ourselves as immortal.
Black bears, though, are not fearsome. I encountered one on the road to my house in Vermont, alone at night. I picked up two stones just in case, but I wasn’t afraid of him. I felt a hunter’s exhilaration and a brotherly feeling.
Silence is exhilarating at first – as noise is – but there is a sweetness to silence outlasting exhilaration, akin to the sweetness of listening and the velvet of sleep.
