Notes on Philip
For someone who really had so much to say, who loved the sound of words and
loved to list them, load them on, luxuriate in their sounds, rhythms, nuances,
who loved the names of things and the regional and myriad permutations of a
good adjective- for someone so alive to words, Philip used them sparingly when
he spoke. (Pause) With large, thought-filled spaces. In-between.
Though i grew up in the midwest and was not unexposed to western slow-talkers
and the like, many years in New York had wound my speech pattern to a much
higher speed. While not always sustainable, I aimed for a rhythm and speed
that gave the illusion of conviction and that something essential was being
imparted, even, and perhaps most importantly, when it wasn’t.. While verbal
relentlessness was not altogether unhelpful to me in my job as a book editor at
a House full of highly distinguished bullshitters, it did make it difficult for
me to speak with Philip on the telephone. Or in person. I was always rushing
in to fill a non-existing gap, derail a thought or to helpfully add a word he
wasn’t actually searching for. This would lead to another pause, as Philip
considered the most polite way to either ignore me and continue on course or
derail my non-sequitor for later consideration.
“…..Philip?” I would sometimes say at this point. Though he was not remotely
the type to just give up in disgust and wander off, on the phone some part of me
was always fearing that had just happened.
“E-yeah.” he would answer patiently. As I type this it does not seem entirely
impossible that he was messing with me, maybe just a little. But he remained
unflappable, and I shut up and listened.
At times I had to prepare others from my world for inter-actions with him. “He
has a lot to say, ” I remember explaining to the publicity department at Dutton,
“if you wait.” ( You can hardly blame them for skepticism, as this was hardly
ever the case. ) ” Read the book, I finally said, you’ll understand. And they
did .
That’s the great thing, really. After they read the book, they totally
understood. I think of Philip as a one man Slow Talk movement: like the Slow
Food-ers inspiring others to enjoy, celebrate and savor- but in his case the joy
is words, subtexts, rhythms and those most meaningful spaces that fall in
between.
In his Boston years, moonlighting as a museum attendant, he liked to say he was
“one who Attends”. But I get it now, the patient, quiet efficiency. The space
in time for processing, reflecting. And always taking notes.
Jerret Engle
Philip’s editor on
HARVESTING BALLADS