The Uses of Fiction Redux

The older I get (and to quote Wallace Stegner, "I get pretty old") the more I appreciate the resilience and courage of the young. Did we ever have those qualities to the degree we see in youth today? Thinking back on some of our hard times, illnesses, loss, and at least some privation, I realize we probably did. Why then is it so difficult to accept difficulties when they come upon our children? There is a blog with the title of "Canswercolumn.blogspot.com" Thanks to Glenda, I looked at what is an inspiring, albeit melancholy, read.

I've just finished reading Bailey White's Quite a Year for Plums. (I seem to get around to books rather slowly--this was published in 1998.) The string of what amount to vignettes about some unusual people in a very small and specific place makes the reader view their everyday lives as if through the wrong end of binoculars. Everything that happens, and nothing dramatic in the usual sense does, despite the clarity of its detail, seems to be happening so far away that it's hard to associate it with reality. When you reach the end of the book, however, the effects begin to take hold on your memory. They provide an antidote to some of the grand and awful affairs that are threatening to drown us all.

I have to view this as another validation for creative writing.

Critic again

Another wonderful book has come my way. It was published in 2002. I can imagine it becoming an English teacher's standby, especially where a school combines the courses termed "humanities." When the Emporer Was Divine by Julie Otsuka. As you can guess from its title, it deals with the internment of Japanese during World War II.

The opening section has about as much emotional impact as I'm usually willing to endure without a struggle. Perhaps the most artful thing is that no one who figures in the story is given a name. They are "the woman, the girl, the boy." The implications of how effectively Otsuka's characters were dehumanized by their experiences is brought home to the reader on every page. Because the style is as simple as a third grade reader, as unembellished as a laundry list, a story that could become maudlin (especially at this distance in time from the events) with a single misstep has the impact of...I can't think of an appropriate metaphor. Perhaps a blow over the head with a slap stick. In fewer than 150 pages of lyrical understatement, the reader is taken to a place most of us would rather not go and made to keep turning the pages anyway. It's a $10 paperback. Look for it.

Critic

Lately it seems to me that I've read more than my share of good things. So many, in fact, that I wonder if trying to be a writer has clouded or in some other way changed my critical capacities. I'd hate to think I've become so woolly-minded that I can't detect those pet peeves of lifelong standing just because I'm a wannabe. No, that's not it. I still yelp aloud for every "laid" that should have been "lay," I still insist there's a difference between convince and persuade...you get the picture. I'm still annoyed by sentimentality and a sucker for sentiment without apologies.

Is there a reader out there who could help with this? What have you read lately that was so affecting (no, I don't mean "effecting") that you really want to tell the author how much you liked it? What has driven you up the wall? It would be fun to see who's reading what and how s/he feels about it.

Why does one blog?

I've been writing these for several months now, and can't help wondering whether anyone is reading them. The Sunday New York Times Magazine for May 25 had a cautionary tale for the feature article, by and about a blogger. This person claims to have revealed too much of herself for the world to see. I find my own motives are quite different from hers.

I want to reveal only enough to make a reader curious about my book(s). The "s" in parentheses is there because I hope to live long enough to see my next book in print. (It's been under contract for over 2 years.)

Settling (see cover illustration on the right) came out originally in 2004. It's a book for adults. That means there's a little bad language; no porn but some real sex; not much violence, but a rape; some tragedy, but with redeeming aftermaths. It's a love story, but it doesn't boast a conventional happy ending, which makes me think it doesn't really qualify as a romance. Besides, I want the reader to consider a few possible questions after finishing the story. For instance: how much should a person sacrifice for love? How much should we value good will? How about the pros and cons of fantasy and dreams? What are the consequences in adulthood of one's childhood influences? Maybe half a dozen other things. Yes, it's supposed to be entertainment, but just maybe it can offer a bit more than that.

Amazon offers it in paper or for your Kindle reader; you can order from the publisher at www.ebooksonthe.net.

If you think a story by this blogger might be of interest, it would be pretty easy to find out!

To reread or not to reread? That may be the question

I used to reread The Forsyte Saga about every eight or ten years, and enjoyed it as much every time as I had the first, and with greater appreciation. And then, some years ago, I picked it up again and discovered I had actually had enough of it. Something about the reader was changed, for surely nothing about the book had, and that made me think perhaps such an unwitting alteration is an unrecognized evidence of continuing possibilities. That's a comforting thought as the days ahead begin to look so sparse in comparison with the days behind. Maybe we can grow while growing old, after all. Unless, of course, we're simply regressing, like the poor character described in the riddle of the Sphynx, and by Shakespeare's seven ages of man in As You Like It (of course I had to look it up in Bartlett's to be sure I had the right play!).

Good reading

We're fortunate that the Internet provides so many nuggets. If we spend a few minutes a day, we find our panning will yield gold. I found today's on the Persimmon Tree site. Even if you're a reader who's under 40, try it out.