Jeffrey Ford

Jeffrey Ford at KGB bar, 2006

Jeffrey Ford (born November 8, 1955) is an American writer in the fantastic genre tradition.

Quotes

Short fiction

The Fantasy Writer's Assistant and Other Stories (2002)

Page numbers from the hardcover first edition, published by Golden Gryphon Press, ISBN 1-930846-10-X

See Jeffrey Ford's Internet Science Fiction Database page for original publication details

• What good is the illusion of fiction if it cannot show us a way to become the people we need to be?
  • The Fantasy Writer’s Assistant (p. 40)

• In their exquisite self-centeredness our ancestors believed that they were alone in the universe. At the same time, they had convinced themselves that Earth was the blue apple of God’s eye and the sole reason for all of creation. This two-headed fallacy caused humanity both delusions of grandeur and a paranoiac sense of loneliness.
  • The Far Oasis (p. 43)

• A slight grin that has nothing to do with merriment is the sure sign that she is about to set things straight. Her overall air is one of constant suspicion, and ever readiness to take offense.
  • The Woman Who Counts Her Breath (p. 59)

• He’s no physician, he’s Grandfather Mess. He couldn’t cure a pain in the ass unless he left the room.
  • At Reparata (p. 75)

• “My dear Philosopher,” said the countess. “You give sanity a bad name.”
  • At Reparata (p. 75)

• Real memories intrude now and then as do self-admonitions for a wasted life, but the smoke’s other feature is that it lets you not give a shit about anything but taking in more smoke.
  • Exo-Skeleton Town (p. 105)

• Life was never so clear-cut as to offer anything as certain as a war between Heaven and Hell. That was for stories.
  • Something by the Sea (pp. 144-145)

• He kneels and prays to heaven but nothing happens.
  • The Delicate (p. 160)

• If he’s not crazy, he’s probably playing with your mind. He seems to have a healthy measure of mischief about him. That string tie is a good indicator.
  • Malthusian’s Zombie (p. 173)

• “You gotta watch that anger. The customer’s always right,” said Merk.
  “The customer’s hardly ever right,” said Slackwell.
  • Floating in Lindrethool (p. 199)

• Between Heaven and Hell there is this place called reality. Reality might as well be Hell if you don’t have cash.
  • Floating in Lindrethool (p. 205)

• “I understand the human brain. It’s a double-edged sword. An evolutionarily development that gives you the wherewithal to know that life is basically a shit pastry one is obliged to eat slowly, and the ability to disguise that fact with beautiful delusions.”
  “Where do God and the cash come in?” asked Slackwell.
  “The cash is the pastry part. God, he just likes to watch us eat. The more we eat the more he loves us. You can’t live without love.”
  • Floating in Lindrethool (p. 205)

The Empire of Ice Cream (2006)

Page numbers from the hardcover first edition, published by Golden Gryphon Press, ISBN 1-930846-39-8

See Jeffrey Ford's Internet Science Fiction Database page for original publication details

• Parents—so essential yet sometimes like something you have stepped in and cannot get off your shoe. What else is there but to love them?
  • The Empire of Ice Cream (p. 56)

• My hero was J. S. Bach. It was from his works that I came to understand mathematics and, through a greater understanding of math, came to a greater understanding of Bach—the golden ratio, the rise of complexity through the reiteration of simple elements, the presence of the cosmic in the common.
  • The Empire of Ice Cream (pp. 58-59)

• Halloween was close, our favorite holiday because it carried none of the pain-in-the-ass holiness of Christmas and still there was free candy.
  • Botch Town (p. 160)

• “Can you think of anything, my dear Mr. Fell, more intricately complex, more perfectly compact and thoroughly functional than the human eye?”
  “No, sir,” said August.
  “I thought not,” said Larchcroft. “Consider this, though. Our eyes were created by light. Without the existence of light, we would not have eyes. Over the long course of man’s evolutionarily maturation to his modern condition, light sculpted these magical orbs, making subtle adjustments through the centuries, until now they are capable of the incredible process of sight. This most vital sense, not only a means of self-preservation but the single most important catalyst for culture, is a product of the inherent genius of light.”
  • A Man of Light (p. 190)

• Nothing is more comforting to people than to have their certainties trumpeted back to them in bold, clear typeface.
  • The Weight of Words (p. 291)

• Now I was stuck and could feel the tide of years suddenly beginning to rise around me.
  • The Trentino Kid (p. 307)

• The wind and sun, the salt water, the hard work aged a body rapidly, and when I would look at the old man who clammed, I was too young to sense the wisdom their years on the water had bestowed upon them and saw only what I did not want to become.
  • The Trentino Kid (p. 307)

The Drowned Life (2008)

Page numbers from the trade paperback first edition, published by Harper Perennial, ISBN 978-0-06-143506-5, first printing

See Jeffrey Ford's Internet Science Fiction Database page for original publication details

• “There is only one term for this war,” said the old man with the sunglasses. “‘Clusterfuck.’ Cluster as in ‘cluster’ and fuck as in ‘fuck.’ No more need be said.”
  • The Drowned Life (p. 9)

• An honor it was, too, as he told me, “You know that because you don’t get paid anything for it.”
  • The Night Whiskey (p. 37)

• After my mother finally quit drinking, she entered a brief epoch of peace in her life. Gone were the paranoia, the accusations, the belittlements, the bitter rage of judgment, the look of fear. For years, nearly every day a lost weekend, she had been possessed by the dark amber ghast of gag-sweet Taylor Cream Sherry. Living with her back then had been like living with a vampire whose bite drained but never conferred immortality.
  • Present from the Past (p. 91)

• The lion is fur, muscle, tendon, claw, and speed, five important ingredients of the unfathomable.
  • The Manticore Spell (p. 119)

• My choice of dog was the quarter pounder. That’s right, the Hindenburg of Wawa processed meat products. Two of those and you were doing a half pound of sodium nitrates (is that the stuff they use for explosives?) and animal by-products with a little food coloring added. This stuff can’t be good for you. Even while I was biting into these things, I was picturing a third eye growing in my asshole. It was Russian roulette and I was putting the barrel to my head at least twice a day. I’d become addicted to hot dogs while on the rebound from cigarettes.
  • The Fat One (p. 129)

• I had, at the time, an irrational, Luddite inclination that there was something morally bankrupt about making art with a computer.
  • The Scribble Mind (p. 187)

• The semester began, and I soon discovered that abstract painting was still the order of the day at the university. Most of the professors had come of age in their own work during the late fifties and sixties and were still channeling the depleted spirit of Jackson Pollock; second- and third-rate abstract expressionists tutoring young painters in the importance of ignoring the figure. The canvases were vast, the paint apply liberally, and the bigger the mess the more praise the piece garnered.
  • The Scribble Mind (p. 187)

• There is no certainty but that there is no certainty.
  • The Dreaming Wind (p. 272)

Out of Body (2020)

Page numbers from the trade paperback first edition, published by Tor, ISBN 978-1-250-25015-5

• She had her sights set on being an English major. Owen admired the quixotic nature of her plan, its blatant impracticality, its vow of poverty.
  • p. 11

• People did sometimes leave town, though. Because no one knew where they went didn’t necessarily mean they’d been abducted, killed, and drained by a vampire.
  • p. 110