tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60912356528311166882024-03-05T07:47:37.144-05:00Captivated AudienceUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-90925459773913838202015-03-10T13:18:00.003-04:002015-03-10T13:18:52.277-04:00Inciting incidents and the incidents that incite them<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ07lUyuWmTTyaH7gKBWgaXNgybyZmfMiBBNPlpcYQJIT0vW4ZS0d0rswHoCAjUgnOHo-so3fSVuL3bGUVExG6xaxKK1l2OVWrDouhyphenhyphend6g1L-yQvMKOdIZ7s_lcM-ulfr4YS08msooaNw/s1600/smith2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ07lUyuWmTTyaH7gKBWgaXNgybyZmfMiBBNPlpcYQJIT0vW4ZS0d0rswHoCAjUgnOHo-so3fSVuL3bGUVExG6xaxKK1l2OVWrDouhyphenhyphend6g1L-yQvMKOdIZ7s_lcM-ulfr4YS08msooaNw/s1600/smith2.jpg" /></a></div>
Most writing students learn about the inciting incident--the event that kicks off a story and sets the protagonist on his/her journey. For Cinderella, for example, it's the announcement of the ball that she and her evil step-sisters want to attend (and that will lead her to the prince). But there's usually also a deeper layer to that incident--something that happened in the past, or a larger journey, that lends the inciting incidence (and the story) greater significance and momentum. To go back to Cinderella, this is the moment when she is orphaned and left in the care of her evil step-mother, who refuses to acknowledge Cinderella's noble birth and condemns her to servitude. Her desire to go to the ball, then, stems from her desire to take her place in the world where she belongs. (By the way, this excellent example comes from <i>Writing Fiction: A Guide to Narrative Craft </i>by Janet Burroway and Elizabeth Stuckey-French.)<br />
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It can be surprisingly difficult to "plant" that initial seed, but it's so important to a lot of stories, because it is what will bloom into the larger meaning of the story (if you'll forgive the botanic metaphors). Anyway, I'm re-reading a YA novel that I fell in love with when I was a kid--<i>My Name is Sus5an Smith. The 5 Is Silent </i>by Louise Plummer--and I've been admiring how the book starts off with a moment from the past that's crucial to the front story.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6tfp4O0DxSnqmA1_nzXEDpG6ziOFsyz9178zLHG44S5Jcfqq-3FFPaDXltMY5ukDv8yKqL1oDIGGeDcuv39Osh4gXa-yD3a-wo7q5RxiCpy18w9DsmIucV4qliKIs1Z87nL55gVV0WzM/s1600/armadillo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6tfp4O0DxSnqmA1_nzXEDpG6ziOFsyz9178zLHG44S5Jcfqq-3FFPaDXltMY5ukDv8yKqL1oDIGGeDcuv39Osh4gXa-yD3a-wo7q5RxiCpy18w9DsmIucV4qliKIs1Z87nL55gVV0WzM/s1600/armadillo.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Armadillo snipped from <a href="http://animals.howstuffworks.com/mammals/armadillo-info.htm">here</a>.</td></tr>
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In the novel's front story, Sus5an (pronounced like regular "Susan" because the "5" is silent--a sort of artistic pseudonym) is a high school senior and budding painter in Springville, Utah, who scraps her way towards moving to a big city and becoming a professional fine artist. But her overarching "quest" really starts when she is 8 years old, and her aunt Marianne's husband, Uncle Willy, takes off in his car--never to return. 8-year-old Susan is devastated because Willy is the only person in her family who truly understands her artistic vision, and she feels they share a special bond. In fact, his very last contact with the family is a package sent to Susan for her 9th birthday--a special silver armadillo necklace, because she asked him for an armadillo before he left.<br />
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The novel's arc will follow Sus5an as she develops into an independent young adult and artist, but it will also cover her quest to find out who she is and a place where she will finally belong--and it will also include a search for her ex-uncle, Willy. So, instead of opening with Sus5an's departure from Springville high school to Boston, the novel begins with a 4-page scene of the last time she saw Willy. It's such a smart beginning, because it's a simple, specific moment; it's a discrete milestone (the very day that Willy left); and it sets 8-year-old Susan up for the eventual inciting incident (Susan's high school art show and graduation) and the book's larger journey.<br />
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It also leaves us with a great metaphor that helps guide the rest of the novel--the idea of flying. At first it's literal flying--Willy swings Susan around in circles by her hands and feet--and then it transitions into more figurative forms of flying. First, Willy--who was an airforce pilot--describes his overseas tours to a wistful Susan who longs to travel to exotic locations, and it's clear that both uncle and niece are dreamers who long for escape. Then, Susan tells Willy that she, too, wants to fly a plane, and presents him with a picture she's drawn of him flying over the mountains. His reaction cements not only their relationship, but Susan's future aspirations:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhktI0ZItkA8-04trTRzAym5cgggC1Ss7019swjV8DYhnaXIIfc441SsW8ZlA5WSc5oRwSB1ecLD9WTPP5s_vmNyqu5glkFV3fLk1iLm8VRwQNRMig-j1iSx-d0cjMRqUC8yka2T41vTFc/s1600/takingoff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhktI0ZItkA8-04trTRzAym5cgggC1Ss7019swjV8DYhnaXIIfc441SsW8ZlA5WSc5oRwSB1ecLD9WTPP5s_vmNyqu5glkFV3fLk1iLm8VRwQNRMig-j1iSx-d0cjMRqUC8yka2T41vTFc/s1600/takingoff.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snipped from <a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2800442/watch-moment-daring-dirt-bike-rider-backflips-plane-takes-remote-airport-runway.html">here</a>.</td></tr>
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"'...Listen girl,, he said, holding me around the waist. His arms were brown and smooth, his fingers long and nicely shaped: artistic fingers. 'When you do fly over the mountains, make sure you fly in your own plane so no one else can tell you where it is you have to go. Remember that. Fly in your own plane. It's real important.'"</blockquote>
Despite its economy and simplicity, its emotional intensity and the importance of this moment in future Sus5an's life are more than enough to invest the reader in the remaining 200 or so pages of the book--and Willy becomes a force powerful enough to vie for Prince Charming's role, or at least the Prince Charming Sus5an wishes him to be.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-66477710717212678512015-03-02T21:25:00.002-05:002015-03-02T21:25:38.967-05:00Dueling unreliable narrators: Gone Girl Part II<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1GuDXooqVz-1Bp2B0yz75ahLVMAA_5rq5t7xGc-uFTlS0MeKaPK6bexUyZhVeVuWzyadEcJU3b5wqPSXkLg4MBOFyQLklSqbbnbTXqhjIpnGyuEUNhUl_dNeCFtetGhsag06weSRlGmc/s1600/gonegirl_pike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1GuDXooqVz-1Bp2B0yz75ahLVMAA_5rq5t7xGc-uFTlS0MeKaPK6bexUyZhVeVuWzyadEcJU3b5wqPSXkLg4MBOFyQLklSqbbnbTXqhjIpnGyuEUNhUl_dNeCFtetGhsag06weSRlGmc/s1600/gonegirl_pike.jpg" height="164" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Gone Girl's </i>Amy Dunne, played by<br />
Rosamund Pike.</td></tr>
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Last week, I looked at the novel, <i>Gone Girl</i>, by Gillian Flynn, from the perspective of <a href="http://captivatedaudience.blogspot.com/2015/02/dueling-unreliable-narrators-gone-girl.html">reading an unreliable narrator</a>. I focused entirely on Nick Dunne though, and neglected the other main character, Amy Elliot Dunne, so I thought I owed her more page time. FYI: discussing any part of this book is in itself a <b>*spoiler alert* </b>so reader beware!<br />
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To recap: the structure of <i>Gone Girl</i> is a battle of dueling unreliable narrators. The chapters alternate between the point of view of a husband (Nick) and his wife (Amy), and both are unreliable because they omit, distort, and/or are incapable of accurately interpreting information. At the beginning of the book, we're led to believe that a wife has been murdered by her husband, and by the end, we find out that the wife has, in fact, only staged her murder in order to frame her husband.<br />
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Actually, I should probably correct myself and say that there are <i>three </i>unreliable narrators--Nick and two versions of Amy. In the first part of the book (Boy Loses Girl), there is Diary Amy--Amy as presented in the pages of a diary that she creates and, later, plants as evidence against Nick. The other is the Real Amy--the one who has gotten away with staging her murder and framing Nick. For the purposes of this post, I'll deal with Diary Amy.<br />
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The challenge with Nick's character was to make a murder suspect compelling and charming enough for the reader to want to follow his side of the story. The challenge with Diary Amy is the opposite--she has to read convincingly enough as a victim and a heroine to keep the reader from guessing her more malignant role in this drama. Here's a rundown of how I think this works:<br />
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<b>1. The brilliant device of the diary!</b><br />
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<b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfO7zAiJh1ayARchfqWsrzoSFNzEunNXmUFTfw-I-ru4fCKtw_FyhBR7Zd2AULCPCuW9W8GCp_ZJWyDIkrv1_4lZo2kYw06Zyd9zYSaWZ1msUVePEpos9X6gi_D3eJTJRS9CBkIl30P_c/s1600/deardiary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfO7zAiJh1ayARchfqWsrzoSFNzEunNXmUFTfw-I-ru4fCKtw_FyhBR7Zd2AULCPCuW9W8GCp_ZJWyDIkrv1_4lZo2kYw06Zyd9zYSaWZ1msUVePEpos9X6gi_D3eJTJRS9CBkIl30P_c/s1600/deardiary.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a></b></div>
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This one fact alone--that we think we are reading <i>diary pages--</i>is enough to lure us into a false sense of intimacy and truthfulness, even though the self Amy presents in these pages is largely made up. After all, we might think, who lies in their diary?<br />
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The sense of time created by these diary entries is also significant--the entries are spontaneous, genuine, and most importantly, created <i>prior </i>to Amy's disappearance--they presume no foreknowledge of future events, other than Amy's suspicions and worries. This is an important distinction, when compared to Nick's chapters, which are written <i>after </i>Amy's disappearance, and automatically put him in the position of trying to explain what happened to his wife. That means, from the reader's point of view, Nick is under pressure to convince us (and himself) of his innocence from the beginning, while Diary Amy is automatically presumed innocent.<br />
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<b>2. Amy's witty self-deflection</b><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPzoVCYMYzrUUj59_dm7Qn-t8ms7jgNxcpM8GeerUTU2hGB0pZyK0koz56yBWftDuqLulkO6eYrbXSQpFYqwV9Vtl1BzDZoZczB9r94K81VoFixInqeAQeOJljZE_vkgNJlDKdtGpyNKg/s1600/Lovesick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPzoVCYMYzrUUj59_dm7Qn-t8ms7jgNxcpM8GeerUTU2hGB0pZyK0koz56yBWftDuqLulkO6eYrbXSQpFYqwV9Vtl1BzDZoZczB9r94K81VoFixInqeAQeOJljZE_vkgNJlDKdtGpyNKg/s1600/Lovesick.jpg" height="224" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snipped from <a href="http://favim.com/image/438965/">Favim.com</a>.</td></tr>
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The very first paragraph of Amy's diary reads:<br />
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"Tra and la! I am smiling a big adopted-orphan smile as I write this. I am embarrassed at how happy I am, like some Technicolor comic of a teenage girl talking on the phone with my hair in a pony tail, the bubble above my head saying, <i>I met a boy</i>! (p10)"</blockquote>
The rest of the diary very much continues in this voice--the delicious mix of irony and earnestness of a reluctant yet head-over-heels woman in love. It's almost hard not to fall in love with her oneself--she's gushy and goo goo-eyed over Nick, but she's endlessly self-aware and self-deprecating about it: "I have become a wife, I have become a bore, I have been asked to forfeit my Independent Young Feminist card. (p38)" Against her best instincts, she has devoted her life to her man.<br />
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The result is an expert kind of self-deflection--the portrait of the kind of woman we should hate (and that, in fact, the Real Amy <i>does</i> hate, as we'll find out later), the kind whose life begins and ends with her husband's--and yet we like her! She's just like us--she's smart and funny and, yes, complicated.<br />
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<b>3. Nick destroys Amy's dewy-eyed dreams</b><br />
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Diary Amy's treatment of Nick is very cleverly done. He very rarely speaks in her pages--the good times of their relationship are described mostly in summary. However, when Nick does speak, he is hostile or withholding, and hoists himself with his own petard--all without Diary Amy having to pass judgment. This is crucial, since if she did, it would damage her credibility and likability to the reader. Instead, she focuses on scenes that emphasize Nick's tendency toward self-entitlement and passive-aggression. Here's one where he skips their anniversary dinner after his colleagues are laid off, in order to buy them drinks. He stays out all night and when he shows up the next day, Diary Amy greets him with a present to show no hard feelings:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"He sat down...and glanced at the present on the table and said nothing....He clearly wasn't going to even graze against an apology--<i>hey, sorry things got screwy today. </i>That's all I wanted, just a quick acknowledgment. </blockquote>
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'Happy day after anniversary,' I start. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
He sighs, a deep aggrieved moan. 'Amy, I've had the crappiest day every. Please don't lay a guilt trip on me on top of it....' </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
'I was just saying happy anniversary.'</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
'Happy anniversary, my asshole husband who neglected me on my big day.' </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
We sit silent for a minute, my stomach knotting. I don't want to be the bad guy here. I don't deserve that....(p67)"</blockquote>
Diary Amy comes across as making a good faith effort, while Nick reads like a self-involved jerk.<br />
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In short, Diary Amy is a brilliant construction of an unreliable narrator--one that reads just as compellingly <i>after </i>the reader knows the novel's outcome, as before.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-88818992589579354472015-02-23T15:04:00.003-05:002015-02-27T13:57:13.810-05:00Dueling unreliable narrators: Gone Girl<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuN3TIvPCAB0vsH2QE0ORvH9J_xRYW9huTlNatUCRDT81-nl4dj0aDKOBSQwd6Hu74CwwIoi3gSywCUxg9Pqg7fpyfk8QVouvSn-ZX6qTE6GYmqTjyBAugxl8JSWZptwLOclVNLi6p0Ew/s1600/gonegirl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuN3TIvPCAB0vsH2QE0ORvH9J_xRYW9huTlNatUCRDT81-nl4dj0aDKOBSQwd6Hu74CwwIoi3gSywCUxg9Pqg7fpyfk8QVouvSn-ZX6qTE6GYmqTjyBAugxl8JSWZptwLOclVNLi6p0Ew/s1600/gonegirl.jpg" /></a></div>
Well, I'm late to the party, but I finally read <i>Gone Girl </i>(Random House: New York, NY; 2012)<i> </i>by Gillian Flynn, which is a really interesting case of dueling unreliable narrators. (By the way, there's pretty much nothing you can say about this book that is not a <b>spoiler alert</b>--so reader beware!)<br />
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Just to refresh the memory, an unreliable narrator is a narrator who is not credible. Sometimes they're not credible because they're emotionally or mentally instable, sometimes because they omit or distort information, and sometimes because they are too naive or inexperienced to accurately interpret the world around them. In the case of <i>Gone Girl</i>, both narrators--the husband Nick and the wife Amy--are unreliable, since they alternately lie, omit information, or exhibit various aspects of narcissism. They "duel" back and forth in the sense that the chapters alternate between their points of view and slowly reveal information that has been hidden or manipulated--over time, we discover that the initial situation is not what it appears to be (the murder of a wife by a husband), but is something else entirely (a wife staging her own murder and framing her husband for the crime).</div>
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What makes studying an unreliable narrator interesting is that he/she is, by definition, a kind of liar. We tend to be repulsed by liars, though, so the challenge to keeping a reader invested is making him/her a compelling liar. Here is a quick look at what I think makes Nick compelling as a narrator--even though he makes for a convincing murder suspect at the start of the book.</div>
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<b>1. He comes across as a pathetic puppy dog.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKkaLDLCeVdRoyXGqiLHxv5AoRKE-vyY1BDwrwH1-_ZY6gtur6ygWDRhMaT_fdKysiAZG52XVDnpyeDK22GgMrQhlqKXyG_7-qBOrZ3bEnm8cuRgHGTlYXGw8BG_R1pCRKwD5VbgEqB1o/s1600/guiltypuppy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKkaLDLCeVdRoyXGqiLHxv5AoRKE-vyY1BDwrwH1-_ZY6gtur6ygWDRhMaT_fdKysiAZG52XVDnpyeDK22GgMrQhlqKXyG_7-qBOrZ3bEnm8cuRgHGTlYXGw8BG_R1pCRKwD5VbgEqB1o/s1600/guiltypuppy.jpg" height="320" width="295" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Guilty puppy snipped from <a href="http://edwinjones.me.uk/rants/minecrafted.aspx">here</a>.</td></tr>
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</b></div>
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The "screen" his narration uses, if you will, is that he's basically a well-meaning, sweet guy who can't help the fact that he's a loser with poor decision making skills--<i>not </i>someone who could mastermind a cold-blooded murder. This screen is just endearing enough to charm the reader, but uncomfortable enough for the audience to withhold trust. </div>
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For example, Nick openly admits to one of the bad decisions that has contributed to the deterioration of his marriage--promising his sister that he'll move to Missouri to take care of his parents without consulting Amy--but then he disappears into a sort of hang-dog act (pun!) to excuse himself. He says:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"I simply assumed I would bundle up my New York wife....and transplant her to a little town on the river in Missouri, and all would be fine. I did not yet understand how foolish, how optimistic, how <i>just like Nick </i>[a phrase Amy uses when placing blame on him]<i> </i>I was for thinking this. The misery it would lead to. (p6)" </blockquote>
His sentiments seem to reveal genuine regret, and yet they also manage to divert responsibility by invoking Amy's past criticisms and by implying that he was too young and naive to understand the situation--he's good at making external factors the straw man, while simultaneously slinking away with his tail between his legs. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYzr8KVQjOPexuG2GiQKjN3lIfV2C7AaJeqhq1GXQYzewVESnKWpiE6hHLUC-gcf3bvjLx3-JeouOjSj18jGdjIXfFNmclXtDXi_G9gs2P4KpzhNKeAnPZsAzl9rsuTIOek6L94xorPLg/s1600/amazing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYzr8KVQjOPexuG2GiQKjN3lIfV2C7AaJeqhq1GXQYzewVESnKWpiE6hHLUC-gcf3bvjLx3-JeouOjSj18jGdjIXfFNmclXtDXi_G9gs2P4KpzhNKeAnPZsAzl9rsuTIOek6L94xorPLg/s1600/amazing.jpg" height="200" width="149" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To further complicate, the character Amy<br />
is the star of her own kid's book series--<br />
written by <i>her parents </i>when she was a child.</td></tr>
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<b>2. It's tough to live in the shadow of unbeatable expectations. </b>One of my favorite pieces of the books' first section is the anniversary treasure hunt that Amy organizes for Nick every year--it's so wonderfully manipulative on Amy's part (she devises clues so obscure that hardly anyone but herself could guess them, yet she is disappointed when Nick cannot solve them). This, of course, feeds perfectly into Nick's sense of failure and self-styled "loser" image. Nick's summary of the treasure hunts reads as follows: "...[A] genuine tradition was born, one I'd never forget: Amy always going overboard, me never, ever worthy of the effort. Happy anniversary, asshole. (p20)"<br />
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Amy's expectations--in both the treasure hunt and in life--seem impossible and crushing, and it's tough not to feel sympathetic to Nick, even despite his self-sabotaging tendencies.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDsfIZz0U7IB4CNoxpC1KpbJNMnTCRx5kAn2MqfjW-cZEsI_wD4SGr7DKONzIL8mXRN54lKxEGjnUT35ZpqBbebFjXDXz43UGY9NgPB3MfBdXGqP_NmWKzkQnmerXda_NAnJNVXkxSRh8/s1600/girlyman.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDsfIZz0U7IB4CNoxpC1KpbJNMnTCRx5kAn2MqfjW-cZEsI_wD4SGr7DKONzIL8mXRN54lKxEGjnUT35ZpqBbebFjXDXz43UGY9NgPB3MfBdXGqP_NmWKzkQnmerXda_NAnJNVXkxSRh8/s1600/girlyman.jpeg" height="190" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snipped from <a href="http://blogs.longwood.edu/michaelcomm470/2015/01/29/the-art-of-manliness/">here</a>.</td></tr>
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<b>3. The boy's got self-esteem issues.</b></div>
<div>
It's also tough not to draw a dotted line from Amy's role in Nick's life to the role of Nick's father, Bill. At the time of the novel, Bill has Alzheimer's and lives in a nursing home, but he still looms large over Nick's life, and if readers recognize Nick's s inadequacies, I think they also find the evolution of his personality compelling. For example, Nick borrows money from Amy to start a business in Missouri. This makes him feel somewhat guilty and emasculated, and he imagines what his father would think: "I could feel my dad twisting his lips at the very idea. <i>Well, there are all kinds of men</i>, his most damning phrase, the second half left unsaid, <i>and you are the wrong kind</i>. (p7)"<br />
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It's safe to say that Nick's self-image and ideas about manhood have been deeply influenced by his father: never be made dependent, vulnerable, or otherwise compromised by a woman. The father also projects a strong judgmental, dismissive energy--a parallel to Amy, who may also see Nick as <i>the wrong kind. </i>Take Amy's constant refrain about her husband (referenced in point #1 above):"<i>Just like Nick</i>, she would say. It was a refrain of hers; <i>Just like Nick to</i>...and whatever followed, whatever was <i>just like me</i>, was bad. (p5)" If Nick is a bad apple, he's an apple fallen from a rotten tree--and that gives his narration a context that rings true.<br />
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In short, we like our liars to be compelling, relatable, and plausible, even if they're not justifiable or likable.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-29118969627856813192015-02-19T17:09:00.001-05:002015-02-23T10:40:17.256-05:00Do you hear it, too? Specificity and universality<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcKYxYxbjH6JmEqdcPznu5yhyevuBuYJEyqnUcK2uTqaDs1wZLbpAT41aEulAKqhqyfX-cLqcxo-ES6b5tRG1lpyEuVoVX85zMrspLeeqxyvV6B2wAYrwJVs8lcv5kScCh68NmlI0BRSs/s1600/curious.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcKYxYxbjH6JmEqdcPznu5yhyevuBuYJEyqnUcK2uTqaDs1wZLbpAT41aEulAKqhqyfX-cLqcxo-ES6b5tRG1lpyEuVoVX85zMrspLeeqxyvV6B2wAYrwJVs8lcv5kScCh68NmlI0BRSs/s1600/curious.jpg" height="320" width="209" /></a></div>
I came across a clever device recently when reading <i>The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time</i> by Mark Haddon. This was quite a popular book when it came out and is now a Broadway show, but for those of you don't know, it is a sort of mystery book written from the point of view of a highly functioning autistic boy named Christopher.<br />
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One of the enjoyable things about the story is that it gets filtered through the perceptions of the narrator, which are highly unusual and fascinating to the non-autistic reader. It shouldn't really work, because the narrator tends toward the literal, admits he doesn't understand metaphors, and can't interpret emotional cues from other people--all things that make it hard to succeed at good storytelling. But on the other hand, Christopher loves specificity, feels emotions intensely, and loves a good mystery--and these are the things that make the book come alive.<br />
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Another thing that makes it work is that Christopher tends to assume that you (the reader) experience thing just like he does--and when he does this it serves not only to highlight the way in which Christopher might experience things differently from his audience, but also to transmit that experience more vividly than would be possible by simply "explaining" it. Here's the example that caught my attention. Christopher has just discovered the corpse of a neighbor's dog and is highly distraught:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"I rolled back onto the lawn and pressed my forehead to the ground again and made the noise that Father calls groaning. I make this noise when there is too much information coming into my head from the outside world. It is like when you are upset and you hold the radio against your ear and you tune it halfway between two stations so that all you get is white noise and then you turn the volume right up so that this is all you can hear and then you know you are safe because you cannot hear anything else."<br />
--pp7-8. Mark Haddon. <i>The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time</i>. Vintage Contemporaries: New York, NY; 2003.</blockquote>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtCnhWTLOfv3mjgnRc41GQlv1Ozj4Nlb6VPKEsBWhQgajgxmMi5rrRCYommlVWmwgVBRAJ3nhI4gmu5MiZXN_hJAiF2o7Ewutm3zRWA2mkjJwG7PcZvpP8ab7wBYhZqIThyphenhyphen8-r9vQDk4I/s1600/plugit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtCnhWTLOfv3mjgnRc41GQlv1Ozj4Nlb6VPKEsBWhQgajgxmMi5rrRCYommlVWmwgVBRAJ3nhI4gmu5MiZXN_hJAiF2o7Ewutm3zRWA2mkjJwG7PcZvpP8ab7wBYhZqIThyphenhyphen8-r9vQDk4I/s1600/plugit.jpg" height="192" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snipped from the <i><a href="http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2009/sep/05/change-your-life-excessive-noise">Guardian</a></i>.</td></tr>
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Christopher's comparison is to an experience he assumes he has in common with the reader: "It is like when <i>you </i>are upset and <i>you </i>hold the radio against <i>your </i>ear..." etc. From this, we discover that Christopher finds multiple stimuli disarming and prefers focusing on one, constant noise or activity.We also learn that his groaning is not merely an expression of distress, but also a soothing mechanism. This discovery is all the more compelling for that fact that many of his audience probably feel just the opposite--the sound of radio static turned up full volume might actually cause some to go crazy, for example--and for Christopher's age (he is taking pre-college math courses), rolling on the ground and groaning is not generally how most would find comfort, at least not in public.<br />
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The fact that Christopher doesn't know that his reactions are unusual gives the universe of the narrative all the more power--it dramatizes his emotional limits and the limits of his perceptions, while paradoxically, admitting us more fully into his inner life. For example, even though we might not relate specifically to radio static as an emotional outlet, the way he speaks about it makes it feel familiar--he listens to it "so that this [noise] is all you can hear and then you know you are safe because you cannot hear anything else." We've all sought this kind of refuge in some context--absorbing ourselves in a task or distraction to avoid some larger discomfort. With this device, suddenly something very specific to one boy becomes universal.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-20035987952279120502015-02-11T12:20:00.004-05:002015-02-11T12:21:58.346-05:00Why should I keep reading? Part II<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeT3UrgGsRWvwXCBmoncFyu1-5mkL6lt2SONbn7t_9S5Rk8UmPQURmlsXwCZ7pZCszle02_5o28Jdi7Pui6ddY-gFtwu6r0gsPbYUo0a3v-mY426EsvzCPUViYaN2XbSFnIi4c2IK5wEA/s1600/off-the-hook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeT3UrgGsRWvwXCBmoncFyu1-5mkL6lt2SONbn7t_9S5Rk8UmPQURmlsXwCZ7pZCszle02_5o28Jdi7Pui6ddY-gFtwu6r0gsPbYUo0a3v-mY426EsvzCPUViYaN2XbSFnIi4c2IK5wEA/s1600/off-the-hook.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hooked yet? Snipped from <a href="https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0CAcQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.womenoffaith.com%2F2011%2F04%2Foff-the-hook%2F&ei=C4_bVJPWGYqdNq-bg_AJ&bvm=bv.85761416,d.eXY&psig=AFQjCNHPSa9Np1eEz_DExy3ZKmBfR4TgXA&ust=1423761482895117">here</a>.</td></tr>
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Life got busy so I've been delinquent on my last couple of posting days but it occurred to me that I should at least follow up on my <a href="http://captivatedaudience.blogspot.com/2015/01/beginnings-why-should-i-keep-reading.html">most recent post</a>, which was about searching for the hook that would captivate me as a reader in the beginning of <i>We Are Water </i>by Wally Lamb.<br />
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I have to admit that the book managed to pull me in around the half to two-thirds finished mark. That was when the characters in the front story finally began to move and face situations with potentially devastating consequences--it was definitely <i>too </i>long to wait, but I hung in there because of wanting to read it for my book club.<br />
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The other issue this book made me think about is introducing characters who don't pay off. You might recall that I mentioned how the book starts with the hint of a racially motivated murder that happens about 50 or 60 years prior to the front story. The hint of mystery was what I thought I was supposed to keep reading <i>for</i>, but in the end, this historic murder and its implications didn't really have much impact on the front story. I believe it could have been cut out entirely without losing anything truly significant.<br />
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Writing is hard, truly hard, because it's difficult to see it from you reader's point of view--especially when you've slaved over a story for weeks, months, years--that's why it really helps to read from a writing point of view as well. It's always good (and humbling) to have a sense of sympathy for your reader and the "work" he or she undertakes to access your story's journey.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-39152771015502927522015-01-26T16:56:00.000-05:002015-01-26T16:56:02.168-05:00Beginnings: why should I keep reading?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6w8HBPvn58gLtxlVGEewajmTLJpU94l7A8yS77CdkU-ky7WGnkMnRCZhdUZi2EAu7riJLUIekpFMpARc40pUQjTX5JQ5cJX0ilnKOTk1pECAoh51JNXestSDcpy4L6-KjY-5uB9az9Xk/s1600/water.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6w8HBPvn58gLtxlVGEewajmTLJpU94l7A8yS77CdkU-ky7WGnkMnRCZhdUZi2EAu7riJLUIekpFMpARc40pUQjTX5JQ5cJX0ilnKOTk1pECAoh51JNXestSDcpy4L6-KjY-5uB9az9Xk/s1600/water.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a></div>
I don't really like to use this space for critiquing work--it's more for learning from reading, but sometimes reading will teach you things to avoid, too. For example, I'm reading <i>We Are Water </i>by Wally Lamb. I've read Lamb's books before and I fully expect the narrative to get more interesting, but for now, I'm not finding the book opening too captivating.<br />
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Sometimes, just as an experiment, I start reading a book without looking at its summary or blurb first--it just so happens I'm reading this for a book club, so I didn't really do a lot of footwork to find it on my own, which means I didn't read up on it too much. It's an interesting experience to dive in without knowing what to expect--does the opening pull you in right away, despite not knowing what the story will be about exactly? Does it give you a strong hook, or at least an idea of the question you'll be reading to find out?<br />
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With<i> We Are Water</i>, my answer to all of the above was, not really. I made it to the third chapter before I decided to look up the plot. I got that a wedding will be the central event of the novel, and the first chapter opens with the hint of a racially motivated murder that may have taken place in the past, but other than that, I have no idea what I'm reading to find out--there's no immediate goal, no unrequited love, and just the hint of a (murder) mystery. There's not much front story going on and each of the chapters is taken over by a different character who reminisces about the past, so it feels more like I'm reading a series of tiny memoirs rather than a novel. It feels like this is going to be a novel animated by springboard flashbacks (<a href="http://captivatedaudience.blogspot.com/2014/05/the-springboard-flashback.html">see my post</a> where I theorize on this as a concept), but it looks like I'm going to have to read more patiently to figure out what they will lead back to.<br />
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I'm willing to give Wally Lamb the benefit of the doubt, but it just goes to show--readers have a hard enough job figuring out what's going on--it pays to throw them a bone at the start and make it clear there's going to be a payoff for hanging in there.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-49799510042325622102015-01-21T15:40:00.001-05:002015-01-21T15:40:57.775-05:00Keep it simple, foolToday, I went looking for inspiration and found a couple of interesting writing essays from <a href="http://flavorwire.com/429532/10-of-the-greatest-essays-on-writing-ever-written/8">this article</a>. One was <i><a href="http://www.katebernheimer.com/images/Fairy%20Tale%20is%20Form.pdf">Fairy Tale is Form, Form is Fairy Tale</a></i> by Kate Bernheimer, and the other was<a href="http://kmh-lanl.hansonhub.com/pc-24-66-vonnegut.pdf"> <i>How to Write with Style</i></a> by Kurt Vonnegut. One of the common themes I got from both is, simply, simplicity.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kate Bernheimer. <br />Snipped from <a href="http://api.viglink.com/api/click?format=go&jsonp=vglnk_14218727462626&key=5df63f359fa6d430809be301eb024d2a&libId=4c5fa87d-5780-4343-bd25-790e6b2295ff&loc=http%3A%2F%2Fflavorwire.com%2F429532%2F10-of-the-greatest-essays-on-writing-ever-written%2Fview-all&v=1&out=http%3A%2F%2Fflavorwire.files.wordpress.com%2F2013%2F12%2Fkate_bernheimer_credit_brent_hendricks.jpg&ref=http%3A%2F%2Fflavorwire.com%2F429532%2F10-of-the-greatest-essays-on-writing-ever-written%2F8&title=10%20of%20the%20Greatest%20Essays%20on%20Writing%20Ever%20Written%20%E2%80%93%20Flavorwire&txt=">Flavorwire</a></td></tr>
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Bernheimer talks all about fairy tales, which I found perfectly synchronistic, because I just wrote a couple of posts recently about <a href="http://captivatedaudience.blogspot.com/2014/12/great-expectations-happily-or.html">a novel that openly references its fairy tale inspiration</a>. She says that "...one of the most classical forms in the world is that of fairy tales..." and that their techniques (flatness, abstraction, intuitive logic, and normalized magic) are often unfairly maligned for their simplicity and that we can learn a lot from studying them. Bernheimer suggests that dismissing these techniques belies their inherent power, which can be found in the bones of many literary forms:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"...fairy tales hold a key to the door fiercely locked between so-called realism and nonrealism, convention and experimentalism, psychology and abstraction. A key for those who see these as binaries, that is. Seen through the lens of fairy tales, many works of literature can be understood as literary forms sharing techniques."</blockquote>
Vonnegut talks about style and how less is not necessarily more. He reminds the reader that:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"...[T]wo great masters of language, William Shakespeare and James Joyce, wrote <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://api.viglink.com/api/click?format=go&jsonp=vglnk_142187266834513&key=5df63f359fa6d430809be301eb024d2a&libId=972ee276-251f-47de-b169-a3143ac7a1f8&loc=http%3A%2F%2Fflavorwire.com%2F429532%2F10-of-the-greatest-essays-on-writing-ever-written%2F8&v=1&out=http%3A%2F%2Fflavorwire.files.wordpress.com%2F2013%2F12%2Fkurt_vonnegut.jpg&ref=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.google.com%2F&title=10%20of%20the%20Greatest%20Essays%20on%20Writing%20Ever%20Written%20%E2%80%93%20Flavorwire&txt=" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://api.viglink.com/api/click?format=go&jsonp=vglnk_142187266834513&key=5df63f359fa6d430809be301eb024d2a&libId=972ee276-251f-47de-b169-a3143ac7a1f8&loc=http%3A%2F%2Fflavorwire.com%2F429532%2F10-of-the-greatest-essays-on-writing-ever-written%2F8&v=1&out=http%3A%2F%2Fflavorwire.files.wordpress.com%2F2013%2F12%2Fkurt_vonnegut.jpg&ref=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.google.com%2F&title=10%20of%20the%20Greatest%20Essays%20on%20Writing%20Ever%20Written%20%E2%80%93%20Flavorwire&txt=" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kurt Vonnegut. Snapped from <a href="http://api.viglink.com/api/click?format=go&jsonp=vglnk_142187266834513&key=5df63f359fa6d430809be301eb024d2a&libId=972ee276-251f-47de-b169-a3143ac7a1f8&loc=http%3A%2F%2Fflavorwire.com%2F429532%2F10-of-the-greatest-essays-on-writing-ever-written%2F8&v=1&out=http%3A%2F%2Fflavorwire.files.wordpress.com%2F2013%2F12%2Fkurt_vonnegut.jpg&ref=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.google.com%2F&title=10%20of%20the%20Greatest%20Essays%20on%20Writing%20Ever%20Written%20%E2%80%93%20Flavorwire&txt=">Flavorwire</a>.</td></tr>
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sentences which were almost childlike when their subjects were most profound. 'To be or not to be?' asks Shakespeare's Hamlet. The longest word is three letters long. Joyce, when he was frisky, could put together a sentence as intricate and as glittering as a necklace for Cleopatra, but my favorite sentence in his short story 'Eveline' is this one: 'She was tired.' At that point in the story, no other words could break the heart of a reader as those three words do."</blockquote>
Both articles were good reminders of the basics and what pulls readers into a story--it's not so much the word count as the emotions, the ideas, and the power of the form.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-42487402683395580932015-01-12T12:46:00.003-05:002015-01-12T12:46:21.818-05:00Fumbling toward the truth: irre(l/r)evant questions<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I just started the novel, <i>May We Be Forgiven</i>, by A.M. Homes, and am enjoying it immensely. I've read some short stories by Homes before and she has a funny, smart, spot-on voice that I love. She's especially good at rendering the humor and irony in otherwise dark and depressing situations.<br />
<br />
I was trying to dissect what works so well about that humor, and I think at least one piece of it is that <br />
her characters fumble their way through the world much the way someone would fumble through their own home in the middle of the night--they stub their toes a lot. They particularly stub their toes on truths that, like furniture, are obvious in the daylight but strange during midnight prowls about the house.<br />
<br />
One way this gets conveyed is through dialogue and <i>a lot </i>of questions. Questions are great, both because they suggest disorientation and they demand answers. Oblique questions are even better--in this novel, the questions are often either slightly irrelevant or irreverant, so they often contain a lot of delicious subtext.<br />
<br />
Here's one scene I enjoyed a lot. The setup is that Harry Silver (the novel's narrator/protagonist) has been sleeping with his brother George's wife while George was in the hospital (for psychiatric evaluation, it should be noted). After George escaped from the hospital and found Harry sleeping next to his wife, he proceeded to smash his wife's head in with a lamp. In this scene, George confronts the detective and cops who arrive on the scene:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
[The detective] turns his attention back to us.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"It's Monday morning. I got out of bed to come here. My wife gives it to me every Monday morning, no questions asked, she likes me to start the week happy, so I'm not exactly feeling fondly towards you."</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"What the fucking fuck are you fucking thinking, you fuck," George blurts. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Cuff him," the detective says. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"I wasn't talking to you," George says, "I was talking to my brother." George looks at me. "And those are my pajamas," he says. "Now you've gone and done it." </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"I'm not going to be able to help you this time," I say. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Have I committed a crime?" George asks. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Hard to know, isn't it," one of the cops says, cuffing him. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Where are you taking him?" I ask. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Is there a particular place you'd like him to go?" </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"He was in the hospital. He must have walked out last night--notice the gown under his clothes?" </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"So he eloped?" </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I nod. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"And how did he get home?" </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"I don't know." </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"I fucking walked, in the fucking dark. Pussy Licker."</blockquote>
--Pages 16-17 (Kindle edition). A.M. Homes. <i>May We Be Forgiven. </i>Viking: New York, NY; 2012.<br />
<br />
The funniest of these is George's irreverant, obscenity-laden question, which, at first, seems meant for the detective (who, incidentally, has no issue with bemoaning his own carnal deprivations on a domestic violence call), but is actually directed toward Harry. The subtext is pretty clear throughout, even before George calls Harry a "Pussy Licker." George then calls out Harry for wearing his pajamas: "Now you've gone and done it" (a statement that is both supreme understatement and irony, given wearing someone else's PJs is hardly the worst crime of the night).These questions also keep the pendulum of guilt swinging back and forth between George and Harry--neither one of them is innocent, despite George being the only one cuffed. The fact that the questions go unaswered increases the tension and emotional disconnect, and adds a punchy, asymmetrical cadence to the dialogue.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR9ZGlR3Z9gUct3O5bGGyS3J92_ou7L_cia8Dss8tOPX8pIuSykTNjJol89v0Sc20SdX3fz14QF3x7EOd6vOBamqg-SYdJ6Ma4ijfdE7ZTiw016PwZ_nTl1l3PLj5fwrRfNsxggRjTiDY/s1600/stubbedtoe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR9ZGlR3Z9gUct3O5bGGyS3J92_ou7L_cia8Dss8tOPX8pIuSykTNjJol89v0Sc20SdX3fz14QF3x7EOd6vOBamqg-SYdJ6Ma4ijfdE7ZTiw016PwZ_nTl1l3PLj5fwrRfNsxggRjTiDY/s1600/stubbedtoe.jpg" height="200" width="168" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snapped from <a href="https://irenelyon.com/2011/06/23/lessons-from-a-stubbed-toe-accident-trauma-first-aid/">irenelyon.com</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The conversation grows even more surreal, with questions that are irrelevant in the sense that they show George is literally not at all relating to the violence that has just perpetrated ("Have I committed a crime?", "Hard to know, isn't it?"), and questions that seem to reverse the order of authority ("Is there a particular place you'd like him to go?" from the detective to Harry). There's also a word misusage ("eloped" vs "escaped") that disorients, but also nicely brings us back around to themes of marriage, guilt, and secrecy. It all makes for a raucous chorus of people who are stubbing their toes up against the truth.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-83755038927516121072015-01-05T16:54:00.000-05:002015-01-05T16:54:41.884-05:00Original expressions: tone-of-voice edition<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrddt5Vd7AT_XzErt5c6rTTpnRduuydkdvyPpGCkg5gv3_NUNBjCPl4ZzBhrWaTkraBpnaZJ_CQ0bmSPFycuz_l3m_HtvoTtkOIPSsrll9zuQhwTB0PzG8qwbll3P9JjE6uDJaqyrHs64/s1600/ribon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrddt5Vd7AT_XzErt5c6rTTpnRduuydkdvyPpGCkg5gv3_NUNBjCPl4ZzBhrWaTkraBpnaZJ_CQ0bmSPFycuz_l3m_HtvoTtkOIPSsrll9zuQhwTB0PzG8qwbll3P9JjE6uDJaqyrHs64/s1600/ribon.jpg" height="320" width="205" /></a></div>
Based on Roxane Gay's mention in her essay collection, <i>Bad Feminist</i>, I decided to read Pamela Ribon's novel, <i>You Take It From Here </i>(I read the Oyster edition--Simon & Schuster, Inc.: New York, NY; 2012)<i>. </i>There's a lot of frank, funny language in the book, and quite honestly, I could have pulled a million examples of fresh, interesting ways to bring ordinary expressions to life. When I went through the examples I highlighted, I found a few that I really liked in particular, and realized they all related to describing a character's tone of voice. Not only are these lines sharp and funny, but they add a deeper dimension to the dialog and the character and create some vivid impressions.<br />
<br />
<b>1. A great comparison to the impersonal tone of voice mails; plus, a sense of duality--the message conveys normalcy, but the delivery suggests anything but:</b><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Danny," she said, her voice oddly calm and stilted, fake chipper, like she was recording an outgoing message for her voice mail. "I would like you to handle this."<br />--Chapter 9 (25.7% on Oyster edition)</blockquote>
<b>2. The jealousy is palpable in the word "sniffed"; plus, it's magical to read "mucus plug" and "fetal pig" in the same sentence:</b><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"I see y'all went ahead and had Tuesday-night dinner with some new people," Vikki sniffed, the words...coming out of her mouth the way some people say "mucus plug" or "fetal pig."<br />--Chapter 15 (55.1% on Oyster edition)</blockquote>
<b>3. A delicious character description that builds into an apt simile and a vivid impression that is both visual and aural:</b><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Dr. Fowler's eyes bulged behind round, thin glasses with a yellow tint, and she started each of her sentences in almost a whisper, a mumble that built up steam as she tumbled toward the final punctuation. She sounded like a fleet of police cars on the chase.<br />--Chapter 18 (61.5% on Oyster edition)</blockquote>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-6512832193586884042014-12-29T12:21:00.000-05:002015-01-05T15:17:47.435-05:00Not so happily ever after<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCNljtGYfk_uE3A1uec_PU87ZnF2GYrvvF0U4Rl9LzgvHMGH3rv3BvRw0QJY_bWI8SIXvQtBriDDwGy2h63tvmTx57G26Tc-jDAbR-oNltvBv5S3mF0Tp3pRrEqvZPje92VY1xKfPOqEg/s1600/ghost.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCNljtGYfk_uE3A1uec_PU87ZnF2GYrvvF0U4Rl9LzgvHMGH3rv3BvRw0QJY_bWI8SIXvQtBriDDwGy2h63tvmTx57G26Tc-jDAbR-oNltvBv5S3mF0Tp3pRrEqvZPje92VY1xKfPOqEg/s1600/ghost.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From <a href="https://ghostmoth27.wordpress.com/2014/09/07/tragedy-and-comedy/" target="_blank">ghostmothwords</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So I finished reading <i>An Untamed State </i>by Roxane Gay--and yep, you guessed it, <b>this post will contain spoilers!!!</b> In an<a href="http://captivatedaudience.blogspot.com/2014/12/great-expectations-happily-or.html" target="_blank"> earlier post</a>, I talked about how Gay talks about her writing process for this novel as a fairy tale that dissolves into a not-so-happily-ever-after place. That got me thinking about how novels teach you what kind of ending to expect as you read them: (a) happy, (b) tragic, or (c) somewhere in between. I opted for C on this one--partly because I cheated (I read some of the author's commentary beforehand), and partly because that's how it read. The "signs" I honed in on were:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>1. </b>If your protagonist (Mireille) is kidnapped from her family and betrayed by her father from the start, there are no happy endings, period.<br />
<b>2. </b>Mireille's narration refers to both the "before" and "after" the kidnapping. It's clear she will come out alive, if not completely whole. Death is (arguably) the ultimate tragedy, so there's still room for rebirth.<br />
<b>3. </b>Mireille's strength of character--her toughness and resilience read like someone can endure and perhaps even overcome.<br />
<b>4. </b>Support characters--Mireille's husband, Michael, is loyal, loving, and strong--he makes mistakes but, overall, he represents a future worth living for, as does Mireille's young son.</blockquote>
<div>
The trajectory of the novel and how it ends seems to bear all these out. </div>
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<div>
<b>Here's what happens next: <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib3hOTJD2uqpaTpzbNonY1JCQR4U399eSnRsC2TZI8BPZIsGfix-PCS2gUrORHzYWsYAnqI-9Asz9bMp3e4WA5lvUF_xEpDG5ehSIEO9H9tkgE_MTD2xKQMWaZBE2cgb9PCQ-vjvnsXOY/s1600/heaven_hell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib3hOTJD2uqpaTpzbNonY1JCQR4U399eSnRsC2TZI8BPZIsGfix-PCS2gUrORHzYWsYAnqI-9Asz9bMp3e4WA5lvUF_xEpDG5ehSIEO9H9tkgE_MTD2xKQMWaZBE2cgb9PCQ-vjvnsXOY/s1600/heaven_hell.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From <a href="http://www.scriptmag.com/features/adapting-for-the-screen-heaven-and-hell">Scriptmag.com</a></td></tr>
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</b></div>
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<div>
Mireille's kidnappers do, in fact, release her, once her father finally decides to pay the ransom (after 13 days!). The second half of the novel ("Part II: Once Upon a Time") deals with the emotional aftermath of Mireille's ordeal and her struggle to reorient herself to the former "fairy tale" of her life. During her captivity, she has learned to think of herself as a disembodied <i>no one</i> and now has difficulty reconciling this <i>no one</i> to her previous identity as daughter, wife, mother. In the aftermath, she is unable to talk about what happened to her and is both physically and emotionally unable to hold her son. This leads to numerous conflicts with her husband, as Mireille literally flees their home once they return to Miami, driving across the country in her car. Michael initially fails to provide the support she needs, but his mother, Lorraine, steps in and gives Mireille the space, time, and understanding required to begin the healing process. Eventually, Mireille is able to tell her story to Lorraine and to Michael, and is fully reunited with her husband and son. She resumes her life, has another child (via a surrogate), and, eventually, grants her father forgiveness. In a word, then, there is a sort of rebirth--albeit at the cost of the death of a former self.</div>
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<b>So what's it all about? </b></div>
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I've been thinking about how the whole idea of tragedy vs happy vs bittersweet ending not only give the reader something to hold on to and to anticipate, but also informs our understanding of what a story (and life) is all about. What's the point? Well, if Mireille's story had turned out to be a happy one, it would have been a great example of overcoming terrible circumstances, but it wouldn't be quite true to Mireille's point of view. Much of her story seems to be about how "surviving" violence can be a deathless death, and that captivity may continue long after the prisoner is released from his or her cage. </div>
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<div>
And if Mireille's story had turned out to be an utterly tragic one, it might also have mis-delivered on another provocative aspect of this story--the way in which Mireille resists her aggressors at every turn--both physically and verbally; likewise, she resists her family's attempts to minimize the impact of this violence. She demands to be heard, and ultimately she is, by her mother-in-law, her husband, and, to some extent, her father.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijIrKOACg3lR6N3yC9Lk3pmber-z1YpCQPyXOPi562TZRZor6SL66EKxSWW3Ew-92abPB0pPlzakZ0Yj1STRfRhAgQQFj9_QeiEkPgJtAOF5wUZxFVXrdCpc6B-L2zPK4KAyeAPqo-Gxs/s1600/pomegranate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijIrKOACg3lR6N3yC9Lk3pmber-z1YpCQPyXOPi562TZRZor6SL66EKxSWW3Ew-92abPB0pPlzakZ0Yj1STRfRhAgQQFj9_QeiEkPgJtAOF5wUZxFVXrdCpc6B-L2zPK4KAyeAPqo-Gxs/s1600/pomegranate.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Persephone, from <i><a href="http://becauseilovesand.com/tag/persephone/">becauseilovesand</a></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
The final mix of tragedy and rebirth seems to represent the experience of the book as a whole--that violence is cyclical, both in time (Mireille returns to Haiti in the violent, albeit natural, aftermath of the 2010 Haiti earthquake), and in the psyche (Mireille continues to feel like two people--her "before" and "after" selves). In fact, in the novel's final chapter, Mireille encapsulates her experience in a way that could apply to the "mixed" ending as well, through the tale of Hades and Persephone: Hades (god of the underworld) steals Persephone to be his wife, but Persephone's mother Demeter forbids the earth to bear fruit in retaliation. The compromise: Hades releases Persephone, but only after he forces her to eat the seeds of a pomegranate, which doom her to return to the underworld for six months each year. Persephone is ransomed to a complicated future--both free and not free--just like Mireille.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-58515626027177340602014-12-22T14:46:00.000-05:002014-12-26T19:05:44.780-05:00Great expectations: happily or tragically ever after?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_3EORl3NbY_IFcME2bDgnzUJYEvpKO2EjQ33UV4NUmKpVMcKf5k6IR0T-8XoB8KdgGzVfAzsilVjjRSFHm9o6vYsOVedmSwI5pVdSoFVVjFMGdyP-IlIysDPbFrfVRb71Kd2hhW5CEPc/s1600/untamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_3EORl3NbY_IFcME2bDgnzUJYEvpKO2EjQ33UV4NUmKpVMcKf5k6IR0T-8XoB8KdgGzVfAzsilVjjRSFHm9o6vYsOVedmSwI5pVdSoFVVjFMGdyP-IlIysDPbFrfVRb71Kd2hhW5CEPc/s1600/untamed.jpg" height="320" width="214" /></a></div>
I'm currently reading the novel, <i>An Untamed State</i>, by Roxane Gay. Before this, I read an essay collection, <i>Bad Feminist, </i>by the same author<i>. </i>In an essay entitled, "The Smooth Surfaces of Idyll," she talks about her interpretation of <i>Untamed</i> (which came out the same year as the essay collection) as a kind of fairy tale:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"My novel...is in its own way about fairy tales. The story follows a woman who was living a fairy tale and then she is kidnapped and her fairy tale ends.... In the novel, Mireille Duval's [the protagonist's] happy ending comes all the way apart and then I had to figure out how to put the pieces back together, how to get my characters back to something resembling happiness."</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
--p122 (Kindle edition). In: Roxane Gay. <i>Bad Feminist</i>. New York, NY: HarperCollins; 2014.</blockquote>
In fact, Part I of the novel is called "Happily Ever After." That got me thinking about happy endings and...well...not-so-happy endings, and how the reader sort of gets a sense from the beginning whether the book will end (a) with some kind of redemption or rebirth, (b) a major tragedy, or (c) a little of both.<br />
<br />
<b>My prediction so far (slightly less than halfway through the book): <span style="color: red;">option C</span></b><br />
Okay, this is sort of a cheat because the quote above alludes to "something resembling happiness," but I think it will be interesting to write down my experience-to-date as a reader in the middle of the book, and then check back in to talk about how the ending unfolds--tragically, happily, or somewhere in between. Here's where I am so far in gauging this in plot, setting, and character:<br />
<br />
<b>1. Plot/conflict</b><br />
The basic premise of the novel is this: Mireille (a Haitian-American woman from Miami) is taken from her husband Michael and son Christophe and held for ransom while vacationing at her parents' estate in Port-au-Prince. So from the start, we've got tragedy--the best outcome for Mireille is to be returned after suffering brutal abuses, and the worst is to be killed--either way, Mireille's fairy-tale life with her husband and son is shattered. It tells us upfront that there will be no neat endings.<br />
<br />
Further, Mireille's battle is not only with her kidnappers, but also with her father, Sebastien, a proud, hard-working businessman who refuses to pay the million-dollar ransom because (a) it means losing the wealth that represents his conquest over a lifetime of poverty and injustice, and (b) he genuinely believes that showing weakness makes him and his family more vulnerable. In phone negotiations with the kidnappers, he tells his daughter to "Stay strong" rather than promising to negotiate her release at any cost. Because family is the central theme of this novel--from the history of her own parents' romance to Mireille's courtship with Michael--this represents, in some ways, the ultimate betrayal. Again, these tragic events point to no good--the best outcome here is a troubled, if not destroyed, father-daughter relationship.<br />
<br />
<b>2. Time/setting/structure</b><br />
However, with that being said, it's made clear that Mireille will survive--physically, at least. First, the author establishes upfront that kidnappings are commonplace in Haiti and that Mireille knows many relatives and acquaintances who have survived the experience and been returned to their families. Generally, it seems that perpetrators are more concerned with getting their money than killing their victims. More directly, Mireille herself indicates an end to the ordeal as she narrates, mentioning her "thirteen days of captivity" and structures her story by referring to "the before" and "the after" of this trauma, as in: "In the before I took the sanctity of my body for granted. In the after my body was nothing."<br />
<br />
<b>3. Character/relationships</b><br />
The rest of the indicators come more from character. Make no mistake--Mireille is strong. Although she isn't able to escape or hurt her tormentors in any physical way, she resists them from the beginning. When she refuses to relieve herself in the presence of a guard, the man tells her she should be more thankful, and she responds, "I'm not going to thank you for a damn thing let alone taking a piss." When her kidnapper orders her to beg Sebastien, via the phone, to save her life, she says only, "I am fine and being treated as well as can be expected..." Her resistance continues, both directly and indirectly, despite being repeatedly assaulted, raped, and tortured, and despite the humiliation of her father's "indifference."<br />
<br />
Also woven into Mireille's narrative are her memories of her romance with her husband Michael. She remembers the many challenges to their coming together--some have to do with his being very different from her (raised on a farm, wears "Republican" clothing, oozes Mid-western charm and innocence), but most have to do with the obstacles Mireille overcomes to let Michael into her life--"I do not love easy," she says--obstacles that go to the very core of her identity and body. These include a disastrous trip to Michael's childhood farm (where Mireille plainly does not fit), an equally disastrous, earlier trip to Haiti (Mireille takes Michael's ambivalence to the country as a rejection of her culture), and an earlier miscarriage (which Mireille chooses never to tell Michael about). Through each episode, Michael eventually responds--to Mireille's surprise--with love and acceptance. The resulting portrait of the marriage is of a profound and hard-earned partnership. If this book is about the ways in which love is tested and the way love tests one's personal narratives, then Mireille's inner strength and the strength of her marriage seem capable of achieving some kind of rebirth.<br />
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<b>And finally...</b><br />
Another reason why I feel that the ending will include rebirth and/or redemption is that the novel's antagonists (primarily the kidnappers, and secondarily, Sebastien) are not without their humanity. Mireille gives a complex portrait of her father and, to some extent, of her captors. These are men desperately clawing for the last shreds of dignity, manhood, and salvation they can reach. Mireille's situation--and her body--are literally and figuratively dominated by these men, but in some ways, they are living in a far more illusory fairy-tale than she, especially her father. The redemption of the novel may be at the cost of destroying these harmful fantasies--and the relationships that hang on them--but perhaps sparing Mireille and the life she has built with her husband.<br />
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This is my thought process at this stage of the novel--this may turn out to have been a horrible idea, where I end up looking stupid--but I guess we shall see. Stay tuned for <b>spoiler alerts! </b>and whether I was on the right track or not.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-12894575567589169392014-12-15T14:13:00.000-05:002014-12-15T14:13:02.279-05:00Original expressions for ordinary expressionsOne of the things I most like to observe in my favorite writers is how they come up with fresh, original ways to describe everyday facial expressions, etc. Although dialogue should be able to hold its own, it can be difficult to add life to an interaction between characters without some equally vivid sketches of their movements, gestures, and mannerisms as they speak. Sometimes these cues are just as essential to the subtext as the words spoken. Here is the first installment of a few good ones I've noticed here and there!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYzo4Ouas-GdVV12RWWVDtuntuIpZ_2KXnK7CCnyT-1KOZOAQnf5sUX8rGtNIrSATpgZAXCkumDVf9TFkQJmc5qYgOJOncyPyMNGMEBgmivkRgxC0Gm8sbh0zhRX2LLjcPzUDkWjrNp4/s1600/2am.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYzo4Ouas-GdVV12RWWVDtuntuIpZ_2KXnK7CCnyT-1KOZOAQnf5sUX8rGtNIrSATpgZAXCkumDVf9TFkQJmc5qYgOJOncyPyMNGMEBgmivkRgxC0Gm8sbh0zhRX2LLjcPzUDkWjrNp4/s1600/2am.jpg" height="200" width="132" /></a></div>
<b>1. An unusual verb--most people would go for "drains" or "he went pale":</b><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Blood evacuates Lorca's ears and cheeks." </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
--p 36, Marie-Helene Bertino. <i>2 a.m. at the Cat's Pajamas. </i>New York, NY: Random House; 2014. </blockquote>
<b>2. A vivid simile:</b><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"...Ruelle's face seals over like the visor of a knight clanging down." </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
--p428 (Kindle edition), <i>All the Light We Cannot See</i> by Anthony Doerr</blockquote>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI0UBBx8jRfRZMGC7NL46OJwXje5S5Fji_7gHWET1TxRD18gAlGZ-k8ES0_0tOyHm-UrQWIrCil_-ju-iMb1IsBy2Z7m4NU-mtHXJusX4vvmjLEfvdyub_eFIM6nIJq5LpQd10kLSAYu4/s1600/wall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI0UBBx8jRfRZMGC7NL46OJwXje5S5Fji_7gHWET1TxRD18gAlGZ-k8ES0_0tOyHm-UrQWIrCil_-ju-iMb1IsBy2Z7m4NU-mtHXJusX4vvmjLEfvdyub_eFIM6nIJq5LpQd10kLSAYu4/s1600/wall.jpg" height="200" width="131" /></a></div>
<b>3. A portrait of a grandfather morning his daughter: both an unusual gesture (biting a knuckle </b><b>vs the overdone bitten lip) and an easily visualized simile:</b><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Grandpa looks at the pictures and blinks and puts a knuckle between his teeth. For maybe thirty seconds he doesn't answer. He looks like he's standing outside an elevator waiting for the doors to open." </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
--p165, <i>The River Nemunas</i>. In: Anthony Doerr. <i>Memory Wall. </i>New York, NY: Scribner; 2010. </blockquote>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-87431833775954057942014-12-08T15:21:00.000-05:002014-12-08T15:21:12.650-05:00Setting: what you think you knowI took a hiatus from my blog this fall--hello again! For my return post, I've got an unusual way of addressing "place" and "setting" in a novel I was blown away by this year--<i>A Man Came Out of a Door in the Mountain</i> by Adrianne Harun.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLAmZ4p6w2tkchTgaSSbOg4Zm0CHmpYRFf7lyc8fuFrpWRQo-jV_seloRMY3647Zh0bFxYIEcg2hbrybsUIZJhxkFZe6ej4m9GEJlcSdmSbUWkHZDsZnr0NAaN2WkDiAvFrvEErHftuIg/s1600/cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLAmZ4p6w2tkchTgaSSbOg4Zm0CHmpYRFf7lyc8fuFrpWRQo-jV_seloRMY3647Zh0bFxYIEcg2hbrybsUIZJhxkFZe6ej4m9GEJlcSdmSbUWkHZDsZnr0NAaN2WkDiAvFrvEErHftuIg/s1600/cover.jpg" height="200" width="130" /></a></div>
The novel could be labeled as an example of magical realism, but that would be simplifying it. More so, it takes a concept--Devil's Hopscotch, a sinister version of the familiar childhood game, in which innocents fall prey to Old Scratch himself--to analyze the much more difficult concept of life in a hardscrabble mountain town, where poverty, racism, and despair aren't quite enough to explain the mysterious disappearances of local Native American girls and the tragedies of five local youths: Leo, Bryan, Ursie, Jackie, and Tessa. Leo narrates their tale as the inevitable outcome of the Devil's insidious interventions, but the story is interspersed with small chapters that use local folklore and the wisdoms of Leo's deceased Uncle Lud to weave the book's meta-perspective and challenge the reader's perceptions of the characters and the labels we might apply to them based on their origins.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_56LHv4RAWtM5QIt2Y1b8CkKrr9xaWas3XxwtNLPL7oKlkrYSUWHqDPGUiNpDrib5vLaTHc5aLvuQ1sVNG_voXHr18OvzonImFLY11rLT7S6jQTrO6bhQYiaF6SIbil0RHwMk12u4cQE/s1600/hopscotch.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_56LHv4RAWtM5QIt2Y1b8CkKrr9xaWas3XxwtNLPL7oKlkrYSUWHqDPGUiNpDrib5vLaTHc5aLvuQ1sVNG_voXHr18OvzonImFLY11rLT7S6jQTrO6bhQYiaF6SIbil0RHwMk12u4cQE/s1600/hopscotch.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Random drawing found on <i><a href="https://drawception.com/viewgame/aKdYGTjXDB/elephant-playing-hop-scotch-with-the-devil/" target="_blank">Drawception</a>. </i>Love it!</td></tr>
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My favorite such chapter is entitled, <i>His Playground. </i>One of the unusual ways in which the novel addresses setting is that Leo never discloses the exact location or name of his Canadian mountain town, and in this chapter, he disabuses the reader of any notion that he or she can fully answer the question, "<i>Where are we?" </i>while also insisting that we're not completely without knowledge of the place.<i> </i>Here's a snippet:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
You know where we are. You do. Even Uncle Lud...declares there's no need to tell you where we are. You've heard of this place. The news was all over it for a while. And they'll be back, Uncle Lud guesses. That's the thing about places like this. People come here to get lost, but all that means is that they want to do whatever they'd like without anyone interfering.... </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
If we give the name, if we say, here we are in Canada, in Terrace or Kaslo or Avola, or we tell you that here we are hidden away like a bunch of bush bunnies in Alberta, you'll say, nah, I passed through there on my holidays or my aunt lived near Smithers or my entire band's been here for more generations than your family has years, and that's not the Terrace or Kaslo or the Peace I know. And you'd be right...."</blockquote>
<i> </i>This accomplishes about a million different things but here are the top 3, I think:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<ol>
<li>It's a clever way of making the tale feel even more universal and magical.</li>
<li>It points out that the minute we identify a place (especially if we already do happen to know that city, town, or country),we think we know it and will make all kinds of assumptions--even in fiction, and more surprisingly, even if we live there in real life!</li>
<li>It implies that, despite the anonymity Leo offers, we really <i>do </i>know the specific place he speaks of, but we will pretend we don't so we don't have to acknowledge any potential responsibility or complicity.</li>
</ol>
</blockquote>
For Harun's purposes, this is a great way of negotiating specificity and universality and somehow making it all ten times more interesting--it's also a great way of making the setting support a novel with a very complex voice and narrative. Or, as Leo says, "You see, here's a place where a singular story won't suffice, if one ever could."<br />
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<b>Quotes from my Kindle version:</b> Adrianne Harun. <i>A Man Came Out of a Door in the Mountain. </i>New York, NY: Penguin Books; 2014.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-23046819352797518832014-06-16T14:54:00.000-04:002014-06-16T14:54:48.226-04:00"Fiction is the craft of telling truth through lies..."<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbW1gPvBoz9rBHP0y08TNxzQN2nexojcwylc9bdb2qOnt0s6jfsKw3WzP9g4j7Xk5h8WiMs9andKPc2FjqdrErguCfIQwUXbklDDXRanOlXp2sXlYEhNQoMAhz3uvPmUjNW5AQXhheqFs/s1600/monsters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbW1gPvBoz9rBHP0y08TNxzQN2nexojcwylc9bdb2qOnt0s6jfsKw3WzP9g4j7Xk5h8WiMs9andKPc2FjqdrErguCfIQwUXbklDDXRanOlXp2sXlYEhNQoMAhz3uvPmUjNW5AQXhheqFs/s1600/monsters.jpg" /></a></div>
I just finished reading one of those books that you wish would never end--that book was Lauren Groff's <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0023RSZM8/ref=rdr_ext_tmb" target="_blank">The Monsters of Templeton</a></i>.<br />
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It was inspiring for another reason, too--the novel has a unique method of approach: it takes a real-life town--Cooperstown, New York--and turns it into a magical alter-ego: the fictitious Templeton, New York. Instead of a pedestrian, run-of-the-mill upstate town that most of us would take for granted, Groff creates a treasure trove of ghosts, lake monsters, and violent family histories for the main character, Wilhelmina (aka Willie), to discover.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLZSA7oKAgmKuJKbJDeMIJ6OElgGdyRDhzkK4_vLzrAy39srdQtqIe6FbBdu4YJG8Lc6B_-RzJ5AiSTPyfsIXoiAdkgL0ghn_fywd9MBJJh0y4r9WYA0-L73_5nuXkjxmGTcH76meBLfk/s1600/templeton+map.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLZSA7oKAgmKuJKbJDeMIJ6OElgGdyRDhzkK4_vLzrAy39srdQtqIe6FbBdu4YJG8Lc6B_-RzJ5AiSTPyfsIXoiAdkgL0ghn_fywd9MBJJh0y4r9WYA0-L73_5nuXkjxmGTcH76meBLfk/s1600/templeton+map.JPG" height="320" width="247" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fictional Templeton map, snapped<br />
from <i>Monsters</i> book preview at <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0023RSZM8/ref=rdr_ext_tmb" target="_blank">Amazon</a></td></tr>
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It's a refreshing and interesting approach--a happy medium between creating an entirely new universe (as in some fantasy or sci fi stories) and remaining rigidly faithful to the truth (like a historical biography or a naturalistic period novel). For example, Groff keeps some of the recognizable features of Cooperstown--the family seat of a great American writer, and the home of the Baseball Hall of Fame and Lake Otsego--but she gives them all a twist. She turns James Fenimore Cooper, author of <i>The Last of the Mohicans</i>, into Jacob Franklin Temple, whose family is the town's namesake; she includes the Hall of Fame as is, but incorporates its 1936 inauguration into the plot with a black twist; and Glimmerglass becomes the alternate name of the lake, complete with a Nessie-like monster named Glimmey. She also takes the characters from some of Fennimore Cooper's fiction and turns them into part of Willie's family history: Marmaduke Temple, Natty Bumppo, and Remarkable Pettibones (although Groff calls her Prettybones in this version).<br />
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It's also an interesting solution to a common writer's problem--you want to write about a place, time, or subject dear to your heart, but when you begin to faithfully set it down, it suddenly becomes dull and boring. Or, you begin to find other possibilities more interesting.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqww60lgH1R_YXEZ8Z0Bd-TfGWSePEcPmZYH3F-oJJg7hS8vNn0de_fx1cBBqaz8TefOJf8fQCzY-beAWSOcVMzMeUkbhBegs-B-tgI4SD96nBcLL3v6polIeOhx_IZgSUBeXnltctS1Y/s1600/Cooperstown.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqww60lgH1R_YXEZ8Z0Bd-TfGWSePEcPmZYH3F-oJJg7hS8vNn0de_fx1cBBqaz8TefOJf8fQCzY-beAWSOcVMzMeUkbhBegs-B-tgI4SD96nBcLL3v6polIeOhx_IZgSUBeXnltctS1Y/s1600/Cooperstown.JPG" height="300" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Real-life Cooperstown map,<br />
snapped from <a href="https://www.google.com/maps/preview?q=google+maps+cooperstown+ny&ie=UTF-8&hq=&hnear=0x89dc012b2f8e0237:0x80dfca837575a446,Cooperstown,+NY+13326&gl=us&ei=1MCYU8mlPOm0sQTKzIDgDA&ved=0CBwQ8gEwAA" target="_blank">Google Maps</a></td></tr>
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In my Kindle edition, the author's note explains that this is exactly what happened to Groff when she first set out to write the novel. She says she first started reading as much as she could about Fenimore Cooper, because he's so close to the history of the town, and she wanted to stick to that, but:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"...a curious thing happened: the more I knew, the more the facts drifted from their moorings. They began shaping themselves into stories in my head, taking over. Dates switched, babies were born who never actually existed, historical figures grew new personalities and began to do frightening things. I slowly began to notice that I wasn't writing about Cooperstown anymore, but rather a slantwise version of the original."</blockquote>
She then returned to reading Fenimore Cooper and noticed that in his novel, <i>The Pioneers</i>, he reinvented his town as "Templeton, New York," thus granting her a kind of permission to do the same. Groff says: "I relaxed and followed his lead." And in the end, she discovered that "...fiction is the craft of telling truth through lies."<br />
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So, reread your favorite author, or take inspiration from a history book, a Golden Classic, or even something as exotic as a grimoire--and don't be afraid to steal, borrow, or completely rearrange material. You never know what could take shape.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-6498928277384296012014-06-11T14:40:00.000-04:002014-06-11T16:52:08.960-04:00Names: get a bigger bang for your buck The movie "Maleficent" is out now, and besides admiring Angelina Jolie's razor-charp cheekbones, it had me thinking about how Maleficent is probably one of the better character names I've come across.<br />
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Creating character names seems to be kind of like how pharmaceutical companies come up with prescription drug names--you don't want anything too on the money, but with enough suggestion that people get your "message" without you having to lift a finger. The FDA won't let you get away with calling an Rx "Sleepy-time", but they're okay with "Lunesta," which is sort of a combination of the romance language root for "moon" ("lune" or "luna") and "rest" (without the "r", of course.)<br />
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Same with characters--it's never good to name a villain "Mistress Black Hat" but a name like "Maleficent" tells you all you really need to know, even before you start reading. Consider all the nice little suggestions in the name--it's contains a bit of all of these:<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDH8jmBvcY1NpRQQaqTjltm64wbOMvahMremGzR8O5hsksHKhdStO1DF_vyQN3XB3S7AMAqXMhEdfeNLtbuV5awDNcEG4P4_GUD9a_nmVJgSRwvaMDupD0ZKzGolSodEr0BdfA59v0RUc/s1600/rs_1024x759-140312101236-1024.Angelina-Jolie-Maleficent-Sleeping-Beauty-6.jl.031214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDH8jmBvcY1NpRQQaqTjltm64wbOMvahMremGzR8O5hsksHKhdStO1DF_vyQN3XB3S7AMAqXMhEdfeNLtbuV5awDNcEG4P4_GUD9a_nmVJgSRwvaMDupD0ZKzGolSodEr0BdfA59v0RUc/s1600/rs_1024x759-140312101236-1024.Angelina-Jolie-Maleficent-Sleeping-Beauty-6.jl.031214.jpg" height="237" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jolie as Maleficent, from <a href="http://www.eonline.com/news/521703/angelina-jolie-was-a-bit-nutso-last-year-would-scream-at-the-bushes-and-scare-her-kids" target="_blank">Eonline</a>.</td></tr>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>1.</b> Mal or Malevolent -- "Mal" being french for "bad", and "malevolent" meaning evil or ill-willed in English.<br />
<b>2.</b> Magnificent -- Awesome, extravagant, larger-than-life<br />
<b>3.</b> Millicent -- A girl's name meaning "work" or "strength"<br />
<b>4.</b> Mellifluous -- Of sound, meaning sweet or musical<br />
<b>5.</b> Cent -- This might be a stretch, but "cent" reminds me of "century", which suggests something ancient</blockquote>
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The resulting combination hints at a character who is powerful and strong, ancient and dangerous, and possibly even beautiful or delicate. Not bad for four syllables.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-17011432292198252382014-05-19T17:03:00.002-04:002014-05-19T17:03:53.925-04:00The "springboard" flashback<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk2UDnZci-w8v1fJCwdmLJuimh4ABc6af1JfpI3DYY8_Y3bhBG262Y-EgROydF6J5m4FTSNyKbnU3U3GQiJ-EmonEuRWkb-3QWXseEeKUh6qCpLuWJb_pEhkRwGRQp3qutWF43EBX4bao/s1600/Someday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk2UDnZci-w8v1fJCwdmLJuimh4ABc6af1JfpI3DYY8_Y3bhBG262Y-EgROydF6J5m4FTSNyKbnU3U3GQiJ-EmonEuRWkb-3QWXseEeKUh6qCpLuWJb_pEhkRwGRQp3qutWF43EBX4bao/s1600/Someday.jpg" height="320" width="192" /></a></div>
For a long time, I've noticed that there's this very specific type of flashback that gets used in story structure a lot--for lack of a better term, I'll call it the "springboard" flashback, or the SBF.<br />
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Plain ol' ordinary flashbacks are used pretty sparingly, and for good reason--they're boring. If we're aware that something happened in the past, it automatically has a kind of <i>who cares?</i> feel to us. The SBF is a more interesting kind of flashback though, because the character becomes aware of the importance of the flashback at the same time as the reader--and that awareness, in turn, affects the character's actions in the front story. Sorry if that came across as complicated--I've got an example to help.<br />
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It's the novel, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Someday-This-Pain-Will-Useful/dp/0312428162" target="_blank">Someday This Pain Will Be Useful to You</a></i>, by Peter Cameron. An SBF is woven through the first half of this book, in the form of a painful memory recounted by 1st-person narrator, James Sveck.<br />
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James is a witty, articulate high school senior and savvy Manhattan-ite, but he turns into a massive tangle of social anxiety around people his own age. He feels <i>different </i>in some fundamental way, which he says became clear to him during the "The American Classroom" (AC)--a corny school government project that takes him to Washington, DC, along with teenagers from all over the US.<br />
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The front story (the real-time action) takes place in the summer following the AC and follows James' attempts to withdraw from the world--he announces to his parents that he will not be attending Brown in the fall like he'd planned; he looks into running away and buying a cheap house in the Midwest instead; and he schemes to get the attention of the only person he regards as his "friend"--a sophisticated gay man named John who manages James' mother's art gallery. Alarmed by James' increasingly erratic behavior, James' parents insist that he talk to a psychiatrist, Dr. Adler, and it's through those office visits that James relives his "horrible experience" at the AC, generally via flashback.<br />
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I won't ruin all the delicious details of the "horrible experience" for those who want to read it, but little by little, the flashbacks tell the full story of a mental breakdown. Through this telling, the reader becomes aware of why James aggressively withdraws from everyone in the front story--and the effect makes it feel like James is becoming more aware, too, even if it takes him a while to admit it. In fact, it's the final telling of the breakdown to Dr. Adler that crystallizes James' crisis, both for himself and for the reader. In it, he recalls how he ended up at the National Gallery, staring at a series of paintings portraying the four stages of life in the form of a male figure sailing on a boat: for example, the male figure transforms from a youth sailing smoothly along, to a man facing raging waves, to an old man about to sail off the painting into a quiet, dark sea, accompanied by an angel. James explains that he was upset by these images because:<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVoT9qiv9gm1nGzMGXdy58J8RSi_6bP4F8HbfkfAx0QE0eRMZztr8LsqMwm6xiNfMABm300AAEb6iz4_qcE7i3GoynphAQKafXNe4peI5umyUsXF25hDeMYZDS6_TMzBrNXCJaVSDJQLY/s1600/oldage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVoT9qiv9gm1nGzMGXdy58J8RSi_6bP4F8HbfkfAx0QE0eRMZztr8LsqMwm6xiNfMABm300AAEb6iz4_qcE7i3GoynphAQKafXNe4peI5umyUsXF25hDeMYZDS6_TMzBrNXCJaVSDJQLY/s1600/oldage.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's a real painting! <i>Old Age</i> by Thomas Cole, 1842</td></tr>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"... I realized I wanted to be in the last painting, <i>Old Age</i>. I wanted to be in the boat floating into the darkness. I wanted to skip the <i>Manhood </i>boat. The man in that boat looked terrified, and I couldn't understand what the point was: why crash through those treacherous rapids along a river that only flowed into darkness, death? I wanted to be in the boat with the old man, with all the danger behind, with the angel near me, guiding me toward death. I wanted to die."</blockquote>
This moment reveals James' greatest fear--of declaring his manhood and moving forward. The effect of this revelation is to catapult both the reader and James into the major confrontation of the front story--James' hidden feelings for John, his mother's gallery manager. Right after James delivers the final scene of his breakdown to Dr. Adler, he makes a romantically confused advance on John and is forced to put all his cards out on the table--including his sexuality. This leads to the final dramatic crisis in which James changes and grows into the next stage of life that he was so afraid of.<br />
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The SBF is a really interesting way to advance storytelling--it has a unique tension that comes from the feeling that you, the reader, are "catching up" with the past and its significance to the present at <i>exactly the same time</i> as the main character. Plus, the "catching up" in itself becomes a sort of "springboard"--one that touches off a turning point for the main character and offers a new direction. The overall experience feels a lot more like real life, and that in itself can make a reader stay tuned in.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-89852038015108984322014-05-12T16:52:00.002-04:002014-05-12T16:53:40.340-04:00Bazinga! More learning to write by watching TV<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Kl4iuemDImLFcIPs8BqIGB1Clr7TtbVPsptCgKyyJ8W2KaOXU4ImzxGFVjF6Vq9cP7yrOFr1nnMH6iXeKldeQ7iaaKqU2apYO4-DR95kB37Q3ipVBHieo0buGnE6MEM3IKPPLxgFd9I/s1600/Bazinga.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Kl4iuemDImLFcIPs8BqIGB1Clr7TtbVPsptCgKyyJ8W2KaOXU4ImzxGFVjF6Vq9cP7yrOFr1nnMH6iXeKldeQ7iaaKqU2apYO4-DR95kB37Q3ipVBHieo0buGnE6MEM3IKPPLxgFd9I/s1600/Bazinga.jpg" /></a></div>
Happened to be flipping through last week's edition of <i>New York </i>magazine and there was a great <a href="http://www.vulture.com/2014/05/big-bang-theory-ratings.html" target="_blank">article</a> on the TV sitcom, <i>The Big Bang Theory</i>, and why it's so popular. One of the reasons given was--Bazinga!--the central character, the emotionally stunted but brilliant physicist, Sheldon Cooper. Here was the explanation:<br />
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"There's a character in so many classic sitcoms that's just a big monster. He takes up a lot of room, and everybody has to deal with him," says [Phoef] Sutton, [producer and writer on <i>Cheers</i>]. "Roseanne, Jackie Gleason, Sgt. Bilko"--and <i>Big Bang's </i>Sheldon. "Many times, the best characters are the worst people on the planet. Sheldon is constantly insulting the people that he loves and we just accept it gleefully, because he doesn't understand. He's an innocent," says Evan Smith, professor of television, radio, and film at Syracuse University.</blockquote>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRMkDr1SMOJmyRP1AJd-znGs4ilAsQd11mCi9_xrvdypPSwUkNRkFk-XotbmWE4oE0RW1i_7Gt6BzdQrYgao7BxLnSmZG30i4fPD6RvlzJMYdP3Wk5dEqstIaKA2-zaKWp4ppUoO_Bj1Y/s1600/NYMAG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRMkDr1SMOJmyRP1AJd-znGs4ilAsQd11mCi9_xrvdypPSwUkNRkFk-XotbmWE4oE0RW1i_7Gt6BzdQrYgao7BxLnSmZG30i4fPD6RvlzJMYdP3Wk5dEqstIaKA2-zaKWp4ppUoO_Bj1Y/s1600/NYMAG.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jim Parsons, aka Sheldon,<br />
<i>in </i><a href="http://nymag.com/nymag/toc/20140505/" target="_blank">May 5 <i>New York Magazine</i></a></td></tr>
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We could probably add a million more examples from TV to this list: Archie Bunker, Al Bundy, Alf--and those are just the A's. In fact, when you think about it, most TV comedy centers around the know-it-all, the wise-ass big mouth, or the bungling overachiever. Actually, if you draw that out to drama, some of our favorite characters are the almost-monsters, too, or sometimes even the complete monsters, a la <i>Breaking Bad</i>. The key ingredient seems to be a character who will easily fall into trouble over and over again, whether it's because of a fatal flaw or an Asberger's syndrome-like ability to alienate. All of it is good drama--and even better entertainment.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-87849872183361325162014-05-05T20:20:00.001-04:002014-05-05T20:21:18.196-04:00By the light of the future<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA2QuZAplynykoPoor9JitH_DOUZ4IMyb7JJTaosw2PecNmp1bf3Ua70wj2n4DtWZ841Uh7_LSdPzXcXkTJ1i0KHyQXeparg2tuN9GPJxO-uW5nECmAAmaPMlCqv8a2ESrLLBol2ZO5Zo/s1600/Suns.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA2QuZAplynykoPoor9JitH_DOUZ4IMyb7JJTaosw2PecNmp1bf3Ua70wj2n4DtWZ841Uh7_LSdPzXcXkTJ1i0KHyQXeparg2tuN9GPJxO-uW5nECmAAmaPMlCqv8a2ESrLLBol2ZO5Zo/s1600/Suns.jpg" height="200" width="128" /></a></div>
A lot has been written about the flashback, but another cool device is the flash forward.<br />
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Just happened to read a couple good examples this weekend in the novel, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Thousand-Splendid-Suns-Khaled-Hosseini/dp/159448385X" target="_blank">A Thousand Splendid Suns</a></i>, and thought I'd put them together. <b>[Spoiler alert! Plot will be given away!]</b><br />
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While the flashback is most often about filling in backstory or providing crucial setup info, the flash forward seems to be about lending perspective and poignancy.<br />
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<i>Splendid Suns </i>is set in Kabul, Afghanistan, and centers around two main female characters, Mariam and Laila. In this scene, Laila's love interest, Tariq, has just revealed that he and his family are moving to Pakistan, to try to avoid the horrors of ongoing civil war. They make love for the first and last time, before Tariq leaves her forever. Afterwards, Laila tries to remember every detail of their last moments together, before we get a sudden flash forward into the very distant future, and a glimpse of how Laila will carry that memory with her:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDB0YZnZYAa8e3qpLeQIFt2hOCUTCaWFrQhIYMA-OkqIKEifl3NoOfYdMPWiRBxYQz0K7bULD4JD6_cYXhnVU3Sw-cTCoumhTMtGcpqVDV-B9QdGglwU68TO684sCQCxS3Db9NyntdNSQ/s1600/excerpt1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDB0YZnZYAa8e3qpLeQIFt2hOCUTCaWFrQhIYMA-OkqIKEifl3NoOfYdMPWiRBxYQz0K7bULD4JD6_cYXhnVU3Sw-cTCoumhTMtGcpqVDV-B9QdGglwU68TO684sCQCxS3Db9NyntdNSQ/s1600/excerpt1.jpg" height="640" width="360" /></a></div>
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This seems to have the effect, (1) of making this last encounter all the more poignant, by adding the perspective via the distant future, and (2) setting us up to believe that this parting is indeed forever, by making us feel that this future is quite distant, when (unknown to the reader) it is only a few years ahead, and not indicative of how Laila's entire future--in fact, as we'll see in a second, Tariq will return and undermine this assumption.<br />
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The second example comes later in the novel when--ta da!--Tariq shows up after years of separation. By this time, Laila has been forced to marry a brutal man named Rasheed, by whom she has a young son named Zalmai. Tariq shows up at Laila's home when Rasheed is at work, probably because he guesses--rightly--that Rasheed would violently force him out if he were home. Laila and Tariq's reunion comes at great risk, and the risk is shown to great effect by interspersing Laila and Tariq's real-time conversation with mini flashes forward into the future, in which Zalmai tattles on Laila to his father, Rasheed. Here's an example of one such cross cut between the present and the future. In the first few paragraphs, before the time break, Laila makes a bittersweet joke with Tariq about the "volumes" of letters she tried to send him in his absence. Cleverly, this reminds the audience of all the obstacles that have blocked the lovers' communications and connections, only to be interrupted by the next passage--Zalmai's revelation of his mother's secret meeting--which will prove to be yet another obstacle to their reunion.<br />
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The result of this intercutting (which happens several times) is extreme tension that ups the suspense level, and again, lends perspective to the present moment--while we've been rooting for Laila and Tariq, we have to acknowledge that there will be some grim consequences to their love, both for them and for Laila's son, Zalmai.<br />
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<b>Quotes from:</b> Hosseini, Khaled. <i>A Thousand Splendid Suns</i>. Riverhead Books: New York, NY; 2007.<br />
pp168, 301<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-53603660499138331582014-04-29T16:35:00.001-04:002014-04-29T17:03:26.325-04:00On coming to the end of War and Peace<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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With the holidays over the last couple of weeks, I took an "accidental hiatus" from the blog--sorry about that. I was also working really hard on finishing the goal I set myself this January--to read <i>War and Peace</i>. And guys--I totally did it! Just landed on page 1215 this past Sunday, in fact.<br />
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Reading Tolstoy--and especially <i>War and Peace--</i>is mind-boggling, both for the sweeping, epic nature of the tale, as well as for how Tolstoy's omniscient (all-seeing) narration isn't afraid to zoom in and out of historical scenes at a head-spinning pace. According to the introduction of my edition (see source below), Tolstoy had a couple of big aims in this novel--one was to cross-examine conventional ideas about history and historical analysis, but the other was to tell the truth of history "to scale"--at the level of the average human being living it--so to speak. </div>
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As a final tribute to the novel, I'm including one of my favorite parts of the book--where one of the main characters, Andrei Bolkonsky, a military adjutant, is in the middle of a losing battle, and despite this, bravely takes up the Russian standard and charges the enemy French. Within 4 paragraphs, Tolstoy brings Andrei from his role as a soldier in a batallion, moving through the "fog of war" in the blur of collective activity, to his role as an individual, a human, and finally, a moral being, who is forced to contemplate a larger reality beyond battle and beyond himself--God. It's quite beautiful and moving, and according the introduction of the edition I read (see the source below), part of Tolstoy's effort to capture the truth of the experience. Here you go--in pictures, because I wasn't up to typing the whole section up, sorry (you can blow it up and zoom in to read--the res should be high enough).</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKOOZ-IrPjkamCeQWGFI92-sSb1qryX4OnWMFfVxaZ7AIZECCFE8achpZH7oNa7FBhTMBBgnYmFN5bSzTH_UDz7_RJmDIvAI2OlYKsJ3UipwUdMn54ORnP9ZOUHQDm-C4bOgvFLlAtWl0/s1600/pp180_to_181_lores.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKOOZ-IrPjkamCeQWGFI92-sSb1qryX4OnWMFfVxaZ7AIZECCFE8achpZH7oNa7FBhTMBBgnYmFN5bSzTH_UDz7_RJmDIvAI2OlYKsJ3UipwUdMn54ORnP9ZOUHQDm-C4bOgvFLlAtWl0/s1600/pp180_to_181_lores.jpg" height="494" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>Pages from: </b>War and Peace. eds. Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky. New York, NY: Vintage Classics; 2008. Vol. 1, Part 2, VIII, pp180-181.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-5798948283883271052014-04-07T21:34:00.002-04:002014-04-07T21:34:43.073-04:00Games People PlayMy husband and I never saw the series <i>Lost </i>so we've been watching it via Netflix this past few weeks. There's an episode in season 1 (Ep. 16 <i>Outlaws</i>) that made me think about "games" as a device in plot. Sometimes a good opportunity for plot development is to throw two characters into a situation where they're "stuck" and forced to engage each other out of desperation, boredom, or both. In movies--especially teen flicks or rom coms--this tends to be the game Truth or Dare. But there are other interesting possibilities.<br />
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First, here's the example from <i>Lost </i>that inspired this post. Relax--if you're planning to binge watch the show, no spoilers here. All you need to know is that the two characters in this scene--Kate and Sawyer--are stranded on an island after a plane crash, among with 40-odd other people. Sawyer has separated off from the group to hunt a wild boar that recently destroyed his tent and possessions. Kate follows him and offers her tracking skills in return for "carte blanche"--ie, 24/7 access to Sawyer's fiercely guarded stash of supplies. Both are "outsider" characters who don't play well with the others on the island. The game they play is "I Never"--a drinking game in which each player tells something they've never done. If the other player has never done that thing, they do nothing, but if they have, they take a drink. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MHOkThJFkE0" target="_blank">Watch how it plays out</a>:<br />
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This scene works really well in a visual medium because as much as said in the pauses when the drinking takes place as in the dialogue. The scene progresses from adversarial sarcasm to playful banter to the final revelations in which the characters acknowledge a dark truth they share. The relationship between the two changes dramatically from the beginning to the end of the scene because the game compresses a lot of information and tension into a short space.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs_vL21QWuskAiWU3w9gPzGG5gohEYDic0n6JYSMHrVADOmDzHLKdT1LzE91iZrpO7mKd-YIxYhyphenhyphent9I4UMxXkWPNp0P-kwYs4impNJymzGgs-nL55NV4cNEDGXxFq5oxLv6evUCk0v-vk/s1600/lahiri.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs_vL21QWuskAiWU3w9gPzGG5gohEYDic0n6JYSMHrVADOmDzHLKdT1LzE91iZrpO7mKd-YIxYhyphenhyphent9I4UMxXkWPNp0P-kwYs4impNJymzGgs-nL55NV4cNEDGXxFq5oxLv6evUCk0v-vk/s1600/lahiri.jpg" height="320" width="206" /></a></div>
A more subtle example of this plot device is in a short story called "A Temporary Matter" (in the collection, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Interpreter-Maladies-Jhumpa-Lahiri/dp/039592720X" target="_blank">Interpreter of Maladies</a> </i>by Jhumpa Lahiri). In a nutshell, it's about a husband (Shukumar) who has slowly been growing apart from his wife (Shoba) following the stillbirth of their only child. It just so happens that, in order to repair a broken power line, the electric company shuts off service to the couple's neighborhood every evening for one hour. That first evening in the dark, Shoba recalls how, when she was a girl in India, her grandmother made each member of the family tell a story, joke, or fact during power outages, to help the time go more quickly. The couple decides to tell each other one thing each night that they never told before.<br />
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In this situation, the game device works really well because it is the <i>only</i> way this couple has to communicate. Like the downed power line that forms the backdrop, all other attempts to share their grief have failed, and the game prompts an interaction that is able to cover the full range of emotions the couple has been avoiding. At first, Shukumar is terrified that the interaction will reveal the worst--an affair or other disrespect--and then, even more terrifying, the dread that he is all too familiar to his wife and that <i>nothing </i>may be revealed. This soon passes, however, and the couple begins to realize that the small disappointments and hurts they've visited on each other have been the most impactful. The revelations lead them to new intimacy and then, finally, to a place where they are able to grieve for their child together. It's not a happy ending, by any means, but again, the relationship between husband and wife is dramatically altered over the course of a very short space. Sorry not to excerpt the story here, but because Lahiri writes heavily in summary (vs scene), it's difficult to pick apart out of context.<br />
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I'll try to keep looking for more examples of this type of device--I find it an interesting one, and one that never fails to be exciting to the reader/viewer. If you come across any in your readings, let me know--I'd love to add to the collection.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-35938244454567890332014-03-24T11:22:00.002-04:002014-03-24T11:22:33.909-04:00Story nips and tucks: part II<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnt6RfqhwpbL28sXxz382ThH3Q5gp8QxqPJn_hE8daTUj-OqRLDEEGFiIOL5oMe_w8d-HwRzSCGL44VnMTsLj9tCbhbU1e7n4jHRXeDrt_n81DY0c4nzvUIlFosRW2_qG75fGoLRKZUJg/s1600/construction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnt6RfqhwpbL28sXxz382ThH3Q5gp8QxqPJn_hE8daTUj-OqRLDEEGFiIOL5oMe_w8d-HwRzSCGL44VnMTsLj9tCbhbU1e7n4jHRXeDrt_n81DY0c4nzvUIlFosRW2_qG75fGoLRKZUJg/s1600/construction.jpg" height="186" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sketch snipped from <a href="http://mattwalkden.blogspot.com/2013/05/gesture-drawing-sort-of-and-figure.html" target="_blank">Matt Walkden's Art</a>.</td></tr>
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I had one quick thought to follow up on <a href="http://captivatedaudience.blogspot.com/2014/03/ive-always-wished-for-more-writers-to.html" target="_blank">part I</a> of this blog post, in which I showed <a href="http://erikaswyler.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Erika Swyler</a>'s edits of a short story of mine. For some reason, I started to think about the parallels of the writing and drawing process (which I like to do from time to time), and I realized that a big part of the editing process resembles the process of removing construction lines in drawing.<br />
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A lot of artists use construction lines to help them understand and map out the underlying forms of the figure they want to represent. The sketch above helps show this. These underlying construction lines are a little bit like creating an armature for a sculpture--it provides a foundation on which the drawing can be built. Later, when the drawing is more fully developed, the construction lines get erased.<br />
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Writers do this a lot, too--except our construction lines involve all kinds of writing around the subject. To get to know characters, we often have to write out their whole backstory. When we write a conversation, we write ALL of it, even the unimportant parts. It helps us to understand the depth and breadth of what we want to convey. In the revision and/or editing process, however, we go back and cut out the traces of this developmental writing.<br />
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The only tricky part is that, in drawing, it's easy to identify and erase the construction lines, but it's not always so easy in writing to identify what makes up the developmental content vs the essential parts of the story. That's where objectivity and having a good, third-party editor can be really helpful. It's also helpful to remember that, while the developmental writing was a really important and valuable part of the process, its purpose has been served and you can respectfully remove it, guilt-free. Be kind to your construction lines, but don't forget that--like a scaffolding--they need to be removed at the end of the day, so the Great Wall you've built can stand on its own!<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-39669749528780305452014-03-17T17:09:00.002-04:002014-03-17T17:09:51.244-04:00Do the Time Warp now: Raise the Red Lantern<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLM-o9f_IBRyN9lDCv_6o6qBtgmOmY9zVjXjjHwDXLVwiePcDt4d-W2fOL2O9yY1j8ku5spAFVahyRQSeLorfwj1VSyW8tS4LH3E54NPDxGwGXdP6Pn_L0lmtM_qAMk0bsk-VQlQFm3oo/s1600/SuTong.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLM-o9f_IBRyN9lDCv_6o6qBtgmOmY9zVjXjjHwDXLVwiePcDt4d-W2fOL2O9yY1j8ku5spAFVahyRQSeLorfwj1VSyW8tS4LH3E54NPDxGwGXdP6Pn_L0lmtM_qAMk0bsk-VQlQFm3oo/s1600/SuTong.jpg" /></a></div>
I'd always heard about <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Raise-Red-Lantern-Three-Novellas/dp/0060596333">Raise the Red Lantern</a> </i>(a novella by Chinese writer <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Su_Tong">Su Tong</a>), but then <a href="http://curiosity-abounds.blogspot.com/">my husband</a> brought it home and said, "You have to read this." And I'm glad I did. It's one of those stories that leaves a strong impression long after you read it--partly because of the story, partly because of the imagery, and partly because of its use of time (and space). I'm gonna focus on time for now.<br />
<br />
<h3>
<b>Maybe it was or maybe it wasn't...</b></h3>
It reading other stories of Su Tong's and researching his authorial style, I've learned that he's well known for his technique of introducing uncertainty to past events--primarily, he's used it to cast doubt on the Chinese government's narrative of the Cultural Revolution and the events preceding it. In other words, he resists the black-and-white nature of traditional storytelling. For example, take the opening lines of another of his stories, <i>Nineteen Thirty-Four Escapes</i>:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Perhaps my father was a mute fetus. His profound reticence left my family shrouded in a murky gray fog for fully half a century."</blockquote>
This makes for a shocker of a first sentence (a keeper for fantastic opening lines!), and sets up the murkiness of the narrative that follows--one that not only questions the past, but tells it in a non-linear fashion, moving fluidly in between earlier and later events, and even into the present.<br />
<br />
<h3>
<b>Do the Time Warp</b></h3>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsChcM9A309AzSKm8ZEFKWpu_c4jbrozNFG-_OD01v90M1hwE1QGpARHPnp-gKHYeW2ZeaxMwOnqLhLXtO9m5jgU01s-j-pRttThdBAyVE8BLBwsdbMfrN1jiYFXe9EumydRXxTFU7wNc/s1600/RockyHorror.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsChcM9A309AzSKm8ZEFKWpu_c4jbrozNFG-_OD01v90M1hwE1QGpARHPnp-gKHYeW2ZeaxMwOnqLhLXtO9m5jgU01s-j-pRttThdBAyVE8BLBwsdbMfrN1jiYFXe9EumydRXxTFU7wNc/s1600/RockyHorror.jpg" height="232" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Rocky Horror Picture Show "Time Warp" scene; <br />snipped from <a href="http://www.rockymusic.org/showimage/3d357b6fc8683c8320caaa23f6914ecf.php" target="_blank">RockyMusic.org</a></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
However, in my humble opinion, Su Tong uses his techniques to even greater effect in <i>Raise the Red Lantern (RTRL)</i>. With stories like <i>Nineteen Thirty-Four Escapes</i>, his signature "time warps" feel more in-your-face, for lack of a better word. Additionally, they tend to blur the edges of events and narratives, whereas in <i>RTRL</i>, the time warps blend the characters themselves, which makes for an incredibly eerie telling that feels of a piece with the story.<br />
<br />
<i>RTRL </i>opens when the orphaned Lotus arrives at the house of Master Chen to become his Fourth Mistress. She soon becomes embroiled in domestic politics with Chen's first three concubines, and also discovers a deserted well near her rooms, known as the Well of Death. The well's history is closely guarded and she's warned not to go near it, but Lotus gradually discovers that it's tied to the death of past Chen family concubines.<br />
<br />
<h3>
<b>The ghosts of past, present, and future</b></h3>
One day, Lotus hears Third Mistress Coral singing near the well. It's a haunting Chinese opera aria, sung from the point of a young girl contemplating suicide. Lotus has already had several run-ins with the well, where she has experienced apparitions, so she decides to ask Coral about it:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Lotus walked to the side of the abandoned well, bent over, and looked down into it; then suddenly she laughed and said, 'Ghosts, there really are ghosts in here! Do you know who died in this well?'</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Coral remained seated at the stone table. She said, 'Who else could it be? One of them was you, and one of them was me.'" (p73, paras 3&4)</blockquote>
It's a subtle manipulation but it's really fine and so, so eerie. Simultaneously, it feels like Coral is speaking from the present (perhaps joking or experiencing a mental break), the past (impersonating a ghost or channeling a spirit), <i>and the future </i>(having a vision of their possible fates).<br />
<br />
There are many similar episodes in the story where echoes of the past, present, and future collide, but this is my favorite. I love a good ghostly shiver, but it's even more alarming in light of Su Tong's characteristic theme of recurrence and the idea that individuals are powerless before the past.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLlUvMDyaFTU5lT9uFiRVUb1b3KyCA11pAEEBTehx3OpRrSKZJ8JUCyZVOe3L2n-t1_kKzE9oru6vbkDEF6B9GVvQh147PILk_xAAMVMMP0locVIEZIS-Aruak-rP5G3UhDoMp3_s4gJg/s1600/Wisteria.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLlUvMDyaFTU5lT9uFiRVUb1b3KyCA11pAEEBTehx3OpRrSKZJ8JUCyZVOe3L2n-t1_kKzE9oru6vbkDEF6B9GVvQh147PILk_xAAMVMMP0locVIEZIS-Aruak-rP5G3UhDoMp3_s4gJg/s1600/Wisteria.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sun-surfer.com/wisteria-tunnel-kawachi-fuji-garden-kitakyushu-japan-982.html" target="_blank">Wisteria Tunnel</a> at Japan's Kawachi Fuji Garden;<br />snipped from <a href="http://sun-surfer.com/" target="_blank">sun-surfer.com </a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h3>
<b>Now you see it, now you don't</b></h3>
In <i>RTRL</i>, this becomes an existential crisis, too, in which not only time, but identity--and maybe even reality--is interchangeable. Take this scene in which Lotus again approaches the well:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Lotus picked a wisteria leaf off the ground, examined it carefully, and threw it into the well. She watched the leaf float like some sort of ornament on the dark blue surface of the stagnant water, obscuring part of her reflection; she actually could not see her eyes. Lotus walked all the way around the well, but could not find any angle from which to see her entire reflection; she thought it very strange." (p53, para 2)</blockquote>
Lotus has started to conflate herself with the image in the well, and now that image doesn't even have eyes--it's horrific.<br />
<br />
<h3>
<b>Ceci, n'est pas une pipe</b></h3>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc8yYqeh5OlWZwG8jOHUQSjybupphOusNrIfie11uTjyWh_DTBX0TZLoD1I4K4kjSYzxB5mg5NT5wNrDPwHPr_4RoshNR5aLPUniTqw9vi7Rq3afheto_8I4a7AePPQHEWil4JF3Ck8KQ/s1600/pipe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc8yYqeh5OlWZwG8jOHUQSjybupphOusNrIfie11uTjyWh_DTBX0TZLoD1I4K4kjSYzxB5mg5NT5wNrDPwHPr_4RoshNR5aLPUniTqw9vi7Rq3afheto_8I4a7AePPQHEWil4JF3Ck8KQ/s1600/pipe.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you don't get the joke, <a href="https://www.khanacademy.org/humanities/art-history/art-history-1907-1960-age-of-global-conflict/dada/v/magritte--the-treachery-of-images--ceci-n-est-pas-une-pipe---1929" target="_blank">click here</a>! Warning: you<br />probably won't laugh. It's a dumb joke.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
At times, Lotus' self-identification also moves beyond humanity or even logic, producing unsettling responses like the following, in which her comments on a flower arrangement point to a crisis of reality:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Lotus took a few steps forward and said, 'Flowers are not flowers and people are not people; flowers are people and people are flowers; don't you understand such a simple principle?'" (p28, last para)</blockquote>
This is not a technique you can just whip up, because it has to flow seamlessly with and belong to the sense of the story, but it's interesting to read, and opens up possibilities for how to write--what opportunities could you create if you didn't take the timeline of your story for granted? In <i>RTLR</i>, it's magical.<br />
<br />
<b>Quotes from: </b>Su, Tong. "Raise the Red Lantern." In: <i>Raise the Red Lantern</i>. Translated by: Duke, Michael S. HarperCollins Publishers Inc.: New York, NY; 2004.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-36481565519759211962014-03-11T11:58:00.001-04:002014-03-11T12:03:14.196-04:00To wit: epigrams<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCUYxAMoqUCMkr7O7UdQif1ux8jIPJLvOzell5gZHQ4KF3oZIMdn27QTQhNj2WaPeZogzghBidkrM9swxdm5wCz068s0I7SmoT9daO5yIBqTy7nHGdnQ6HY6frxBYczy3PHMtOWvbhZyw/s1600/Jaws.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCUYxAMoqUCMkr7O7UdQif1ux8jIPJLvOzell5gZHQ4KF3oZIMdn27QTQhNj2WaPeZogzghBidkrM9swxdm5wCz068s0I7SmoT9daO5yIBqTy7nHGdnQ6HY6frxBYczy3PHMtOWvbhZyw/s1600/Jaws.jpg" height="200" width="133" /></a></div>
I was away, briefly, so I'm kind of rushed this week and missed my regular posting day--sorry about that. In the meantime, here's a quick salute to the art of <a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/epigram">epigram</a> writing in stories, because I happen to be reading Jincy Willett's wonderful collection, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Jenny-Jaws-Life-Short-Stories/dp/0312428103/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1394552478&sr=1-2&keywords=jenny+and+the+jaws+of+life">Jenny and the Jaws of Life</a></i>.<br />
<br />
I attended a writing lecture with Canadian writer Douglas Glover at the Center for Fiction a couple years ago, and he talked about the importance of epigram to stories and how often you find them in good writing. I had never noticed this before, but now I find them everywhere. According to Glover, they function as a sort of shot in the arm to the theme of the story--they help raise questions, introduce paradoxes, and heighten irony, and besides that, they are delightful to read and bump up the quality of the writing.<br />
<br />
<i>Jenny and the Jaws of Life </i>is full of fantastic examples, but here are a few of my favorites....<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>From "Melinda Falling"</i>: "Mother was a good woman with execrable taste."</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Also from "Melinda Falling"</i>: "It had often struck me that while we view the pairing of lovers with benign speculation, even envy, there is nothing so baffling, so grotesque, as another man's choice of wife, or a woman's of a husband."</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>From "My Father, at the Wheel"</i>: "This is a very old story, the one about daughters and fathers. It ends in marriage, and the promise of renewal. So it must be a comedy."</blockquote>
<br />
When I look at these examples, it also strikes me that they serve to poke fun at the narrator, whose distance, biases, and judging function become all the more apparent in quips like these. Maybe that's part of the epigram's appeal--it's both witty and unwitting, in the sense that it reveals as much about a narrator's own flaws and disappointments as about how the narrator wants to present him or herself.<br />
<br />
<b>Quotes:</b> Sorry, no page numbers again, since this if from my Kindle version, but I've included the short story titles for your reference.<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-75824195392951369802014-03-03T20:45:00.002-05:002014-03-24T11:19:47.585-04:00Story nips and tucks<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF5HFm1hJtN_YuTHaq6MNxx_fvtsXNKg3sVV5TcnsTHT2fI9nwUHXG3_tCly0n7s3bpUYg4_x8_0dGDKEekR2XprbaWMXNekkAqM9kes_yXtjCDNdUNvI-dncdK14cI1dcI3KgJ9oBKg0/s1600/Honed_Scissor_1.13193842_std.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF5HFm1hJtN_YuTHaq6MNxx_fvtsXNKg3sVV5TcnsTHT2fI9nwUHXG3_tCly0n7s3bpUYg4_x8_0dGDKEekR2XprbaWMXNekkAqM9kes_yXtjCDNdUNvI-dncdK14cI1dcI3KgJ9oBKg0/s1600/Honed_Scissor_1.13193842_std.jpg" height="320" width="280" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Speaking of cutting, did you know <br />
scissors have <i>terminology</i>? Check out<br />
<i><a href="http://www.precisionsharpening.net/about_scissors">All About Scissors</a></i>.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I've always wished for more writers to publish their story drafts, so I'm putting my money where my mouth is, and posting a marked-up excerpt of <i>Still Life With Tampon</i>, a story of mine in <i><a href="http://www.storychord.com/2014/02/issue-79-mary-cool-rj-caputo-scott.html" target="_blank">Story Chord</a></i>. This draft was pared down and improved by <i>Story Chord</i> guest editor, <a href="http://erikaswyler.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Erika Swyler</a>--thanks, Erika, for letting me share your changes! I was delighted with how many smart trims she made, including cutting several filler words and phrases that didn't add much value, and removing some lines of dialog that dragged the pace and were a little over-explainy. And um, <b>spoiler alert</b>--this comes from one of the final scenes, so if you would like to read the entire thing and then compare, do that first!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
* * * * *</div>
<br />
<br />
"But I've been painting feathers."<br />
<br />
Your mother laughs, as if satisfied<strike><span style="color: red;"> by this information</span></strike>. "Well, there you are, Dawn. You can't go around painting other people's Muses. No wonder you've <strike><span style="color: red;">been so </span></strike>miserable<strike><span style="color: red;">--you've gotten your signals crossed</span></strike>.<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">"</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span>
This silences you. <strike><span style="color: red;">Perhaps all of this isn't so crazy. </span></strike>You've long sensed that you've been thrown off by your mother<strike><span style="color: red;">'s path</span></strike>, but it never occurred to you that you'd been dragging her behind you, like a trail of toilet paper, into your canvases.<br />
<br />
"But still," you say. "How can a tampon--a <i>used </i>tampon--"<br />
<br />
"Sweetheart." Your mother hasn't used this term in ages<strike><span style="color: red;">, and her voice is at once patient and firm. </span></strike>"We cannot judge what we're given to work with. It's only for us to follow the path we've been given."<br />
<br />
<strike><span style="color: red;">"If it's as simple as that, then how come you never told me about all of this?"</span></strike><br />
<strike><span style="color: red;"><br /></span></strike>
<strike><span style="color: red;">"Because it's <i>not </i>simple. A Muse only comes when you're in your darkest hour and you least want it and then you have no choice."</span></strike><br />
<strike><span style="color: red;"><br /></span></strike>
And with that, she stands up<strike><span style="color: red;"> again</span></strike>. The click of her heels, like her voice, is measured and resolved.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
* * * * * </div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091235652831116688.post-21485921586974985292014-02-24T09:17:00.001-05:002014-03-03T21:05:15.350-05:00Yours truly on storychord.com<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd7MMpXhPH7Mvrzw4mLPkKLaBL865TW8G7L4Vl_EU1O9oB4ASE_HWLhmvc6SHtHQYv9IHCtt9k67y8b9-HOI1PrIqGKkJByUdLyIURBzw6VkAi4LWAxWUZlbaNhyphenhyphenSWFSq3ogOJZ0gdqQo/s1600/storychordlogo.jpg" height="69" width="320" /></div>
<br />
<br />
Incredibly excited that my story, <em>Still Life With Tampon</em>, was selected for today's <a href="http://www.storychord.com/2014/02/issue-79-mary-cool-rj-caputo-scott.html">storychord.com</a> issue! I'm especially thrilled because this is such an innovative online magazine--every other Monday, it publishes a new multimedia experience consisting of one new story, one new song, and one new image from emerging artists.<br />
<br />
This week, my piece appears alongside work from two talented artists--a photograph by <a href="http://rjcaputo.com/" target="_blank">R.J. Caputo</a> that captures the strangely hypnotic hallways I have known in the outer boroughs (where the story is set); and <em>Flightless Bird</em>, a song<em> </em>by <a href="http://scottbarkanmusic.com/" target="_blank">Scott Barkan</a>, which could not be a more perfect match for the antagonist of this story (will let you discover why for yourself!).<br />
<br />
Thanks so much to guest editor, Erika Swyler, for putting us all together--it was an honor to work with her, and we are all happily awaiting the publication of her first novel, <em>The Book of Speculation</em> (St. Martin's Press, forthcoming winter 2015)! Check out her blog in the meantime, at <a href="http://erikaswyler.tumblr.com/">erikaswyler.tumblr.com</a>.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0