I enjoy novels that take a step outside the box--especially with formatting. We all know that nearly everyone in the USA is ADD, somehow, and whether they were part of the over-diagnosed crowd a few years ago or not. So when books like Star of the Sea by Joseph O'Connor takes a bit of a borrow from 19th-century title headers (Roman numerals, chapter summaries), point of view shifts, and ship logs, the book is entertaining, at least for face value.
Stops there, though.
If there's one thing that frustrates me, it's when professors beat a book to death, trying to draw a lot more from them than what is actually there. In fact, the whole idea of literary criticism is kind of like that, but for the most part, literary criticisms focuses on books that want to be critically read. I don't doubt that Joseph O'Connor was like that in his book, but it really wasn't especially well-done, and the jump-happy plot didn't really settle to make any message especially poignant.
Star of the Sea by Joseph O'Connor
Another account of the Irish turmoil of the late 1800's, O'Connor blends together several main protagonists to weave a story of personal trouble during political upheaval and the Irish potato famine. Set about the passenger ship Star of the Sea, the story is broken into chapters that switch point of views between characters such as Pius Mulvey, a killer; Lord Merridith, a pathetic nobleman; Mary Duane, some chick who is inexplicably irresistible, "a footnote in everyone else's story;" and Dixon, the American narrator. None of these characters holds enough sway for the reader and I could care less about them throughout the entire time, even as O'Connor tries to establish a "literary care" for them--the pathetic man, the weak man, "the dark soul of the night." Whatever you call it. He jumps around happily between present day and past, between narrators and settings, and is never able to really define these characters so that the reader cares for them.
The Plot B, about the murder aboard the ship, is clearly an afterthought of O'Connor's, and does not resonate within the reader. The unfolding of the characters is uninteresting because the characters are.
I give O'Connor props for his inventive formatting, harking back to Mark Twain & co., and the careful detail of the ship logs and historical backdrop that he clearly cared for. The writing is intelligent and fluid. However, the plot flaws are too great to really sustain his writing. Had his characters been more stirring it would have been a good book; but given that his novel is completely character-driven anyway, it fails to really stir in individuals. To echo a reviewer on Amazon, "The only thing rolling is the sea." Not once did I care about what happened next.
5/10
It's Depressing, So I'd Like to Win
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
There's kind of a running joke in the Emory creative writing cycle that everyone thinks good writing=depressing writing. Pretty sure that isn't just an Emory thing; Blake Snyder reports in his explanation of The Beat Sheet that out of 50 screenplays in one of his classes, 46 of them ended in death, destruction, or loss.
I think that's because everyone plays to the pathos of death--they sort of prey on our ability to be moved by death. The problem is twofold: one, if you don't care about it anyway, then death doesn't mean much (Kenny?); two, that is just plain lazy writing. A happy ending written well could move anyone to tears, if delivered right and established throughout the context of the story. And what's wrong with a happy ending? I love happy endings.
So anyway, I caved and wrote a really depressing piece for Emory's Creative Writing Contest. I have entered this contest once before, I believe, with zero expectation in winning. This is because not only are there people who are better writers than me, but also because I am a terrible short story writer, and Emory is obsessed with the short story. I do not get it. Sure, mastering it is no easy feat and I bow down, I really do. But I also don't get it. It's damn near impossible to get a collection of short stories published nowadays, because short stories kind of suck to read. All the good ones are sucked up in middle school English classes ("The Most Dangerous Game," anyone. "The Lottery?"). Which is why I typically have never entered many contests in general--because I am not a very good short story writer. And that's all they are.
In any event, tomorrow I drop off my story about a suicidal ex-Vaudeville star. We'll see how that goes. The loss of life AND the loss of art--what a whammy.
I think that's because everyone plays to the pathos of death--they sort of prey on our ability to be moved by death. The problem is twofold: one, if you don't care about it anyway, then death doesn't mean much (Kenny?); two, that is just plain lazy writing. A happy ending written well could move anyone to tears, if delivered right and established throughout the context of the story. And what's wrong with a happy ending? I love happy endings.
So anyway, I caved and wrote a really depressing piece for Emory's Creative Writing Contest. I have entered this contest once before, I believe, with zero expectation in winning. This is because not only are there people who are better writers than me, but also because I am a terrible short story writer, and Emory is obsessed with the short story. I do not get it. Sure, mastering it is no easy feat and I bow down, I really do. But I also don't get it. It's damn near impossible to get a collection of short stories published nowadays, because short stories kind of suck to read. All the good ones are sucked up in middle school English classes ("The Most Dangerous Game," anyone. "The Lottery?"). Which is why I typically have never entered many contests in general--because I am not a very good short story writer. And that's all they are.
In any event, tomorrow I drop off my story about a suicidal ex-Vaudeville star. We'll see how that goes. The loss of life AND the loss of art--what a whammy.
Book Journal: Mists of Avalon
Thursday, March 10, 2011
I keep a book journal that sometimes gets a lot of love and sometimes doesn't (read: got a lot of love before before college, and doesn't really now, except during winter and summer breaks). I've got a pretty big collection of books I've read--many name-brand titles, many random reads I picked up--and usually just a brief blurb about how the book made me feel, and what I both liked and disliked about it.
It's not really anything but just a supplemental statement that I enjoy reading, because I'm pretty good at remembering not only what I've read, but also what struck me (both positively and negatively). But I've got a number of books now that I need to read and have been pouring through, because now these books are not only entertainment for me, they are examples of what works and what doesn't--everything from character to plot to the very words on the page.
So the first book I'm going to review in this blog (and that I will inevitably transfer over to my Book Journal) is a pretty sweeping epic--some 876 pages of omniscient narration that spans decades, and all in very beautiful, very crisp prose.
The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley
The Mists of Avalon is, in one word, sweeping. It spans generations of feminine perspective during the Middle Ages (Late Antiquity?), and particularly during the golden reign of King Arthur of Britain. I'm a huge closet sucker for medieval-themed literature and that certainly includes King Arthur's romances, which are individual epics unto themselves, their scope an incredible repertoire of romance, action, humor and despair.
Bradley's retelling hangs on to all of that. A feminist's perspective on the women of the Arthurian legends, The Mists of Avalon gives the women character and depth that much of the ancient works do not.
Mists is certainly a weighty book; at almost 900 pages, it's both a pleasure and a task to read. After taking a several-week break from the novel, I picked it up again over spring break and have finally finished it. Zimmer does not explain most of Old Britain, and the reader is like to pop on over to Google or Wikipedia to understand, for example, what "Less Britain" is (Brittany); likewise, the rich plethora of characters will usually warrant a bit of a background search as well.
For me, the most interesting and intense aspect of Mists is the battle between Christianity and "the Old Religion" of the Druids and Avalon and the like--the Goddess. It is certainly at the forefront of the drama, propelled by the unsympathetic (sorry, Zimmer) Gwynhwyfar and Zimmer's clear favorite, Morgaine. The conflict between the warring religions is incredibly heartfelt; I cringed when Arthur blindly appeased his increasingly fanatical wife and forsook the Avalon flag. Most of the tension is wrung between the religious battles, and suddenly we see how history too has been a constant war for--and on--religion. That conflict is more effective than Bradley's romantic subplots, which are effective, but not as fueled (they seem more minor even to Bradley). The very first romantic encounter, between Uther and Igraine, is the most convincing, and from that moment the other impassioned relationships (Lancelet and Gwynhwyfar, Morgaine and Lancelet) are less convincing.
The grand scope of The Mists of Avalon is incredibly impressive and a true testament to Zimmer's ability to create a complete story. The tension between religious ideals is strong throughout and makes for the most emotional undercurrent, and the end will either satisfy you or surprise you. Overall, a great, intelligent read, full of incredible writing, vivid dialogue, and enchanting drama.
Rating: 8.0/10
It's not really anything but just a supplemental statement that I enjoy reading, because I'm pretty good at remembering not only what I've read, but also what struck me (both positively and negatively). But I've got a number of books now that I need to read and have been pouring through, because now these books are not only entertainment for me, they are examples of what works and what doesn't--everything from character to plot to the very words on the page.
So the first book I'm going to review in this blog (and that I will inevitably transfer over to my Book Journal) is a pretty sweeping epic--some 876 pages of omniscient narration that spans decades, and all in very beautiful, very crisp prose.
The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley
The Mists of Avalon is, in one word, sweeping. It spans generations of feminine perspective during the Middle Ages (Late Antiquity?), and particularly during the golden reign of King Arthur of Britain. I'm a huge closet sucker for medieval-themed literature and that certainly includes King Arthur's romances, which are individual epics unto themselves, their scope an incredible repertoire of romance, action, humor and despair.
Bradley's retelling hangs on to all of that. A feminist's perspective on the women of the Arthurian legends, The Mists of Avalon gives the women character and depth that much of the ancient works do not.
Mists is certainly a weighty book; at almost 900 pages, it's both a pleasure and a task to read. After taking a several-week break from the novel, I picked it up again over spring break and have finally finished it. Zimmer does not explain most of Old Britain, and the reader is like to pop on over to Google or Wikipedia to understand, for example, what "Less Britain" is (Brittany); likewise, the rich plethora of characters will usually warrant a bit of a background search as well.
For me, the most interesting and intense aspect of Mists is the battle between Christianity and "the Old Religion" of the Druids and Avalon and the like--the Goddess. It is certainly at the forefront of the drama, propelled by the unsympathetic (sorry, Zimmer) Gwynhwyfar and Zimmer's clear favorite, Morgaine. The conflict between the warring religions is incredibly heartfelt; I cringed when Arthur blindly appeased his increasingly fanatical wife and forsook the Avalon flag. Most of the tension is wrung between the religious battles, and suddenly we see how history too has been a constant war for--and on--religion. That conflict is more effective than Bradley's romantic subplots, which are effective, but not as fueled (they seem more minor even to Bradley). The very first romantic encounter, between Uther and Igraine, is the most convincing, and from that moment the other impassioned relationships (Lancelet and Gwynhwyfar, Morgaine and Lancelet) are less convincing.
The grand scope of The Mists of Avalon is incredibly impressive and a true testament to Zimmer's ability to create a complete story. The tension between religious ideals is strong throughout and makes for the most emotional undercurrent, and the end will either satisfy you or surprise you. Overall, a great, intelligent read, full of incredible writing, vivid dialogue, and enchanting drama.
Rating: 8.0/10
Reset Button
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
I had a great conversation today with an author and entertainment critic-turned-teacher. It was one of those conversations that I imagine paves the way for a mentor-student type of relationship: the wizened one who imparts his accumulated knowledge unto the bright-eyed apprentice. We are nowhere near that, but the conversation had that spark to it, and I felt empowered. There was a great deal of what I inherently knew (that it would be difficult) and what always makes me feel better (you can do it!).
He gave me some great advice and also spoke some great truths, which brings me to my main point. There were two bits of advice that struck me most: the first being a youthful mantra of mine, that I believe in and that so many of my Emory peers do not--"Live your twenties like it's a video game. Just hit the reset button." The second was this: "Today it's easier to get noticed. But with thousands of blogs and the endlessness of the Internet, it's harder to mean something."
Which is the stress I've felt since blogging and the Internet really took off--how can you stand out amongst a sea of bloggers who have revolutionized everything from fashion to food? With more out there, it all means less. And with thousands of ways to spew out blurbs and articles and pieces, it can be daunting indeed.
And all that on top of someone who has very, very little experience in the professional world of writing.
But I do have something else: I believe that writing is my vocation. It's what I love, and it's what I'm good at. Probably what I am best at, too. While I've got a lot to learn, I do believe that some of it is inherent within me, and for that, I am grateful.
Which is why when I stumble across blogs and websites and companies promoting articles and workshops called "how to make a scene" and "characterization and point of view," or "prompts to get your creative juices flowing." Or whatever. Now I am all for people exploring their inner writer and their inner creativity, and am a champion of all things art and literature. However, these classes unsettle me--should I be looking at them too? The first step, I believe, in becoming a good writer is to admit you need a lot of work. And I readily admit that. But these classes--will they help? Should I be enrolling in them? Will they make a difference for me? Part of me thinks no (and besides, I've had four years of those workshops at Emory), but part of me wants to do anything I can, too. And the other part is nervous that those manuscripts--by people who want to write but cannot, not really, or by people who don't have a dream of it, but could produce a technically good one, by some means--are my competition. Piles and piles of manuscripts, and one is taken.
This dream of mine is a real uphill climb.
He gave me some great advice and also spoke some great truths, which brings me to my main point. There were two bits of advice that struck me most: the first being a youthful mantra of mine, that I believe in and that so many of my Emory peers do not--"Live your twenties like it's a video game. Just hit the reset button." The second was this: "Today it's easier to get noticed. But with thousands of blogs and the endlessness of the Internet, it's harder to mean something."
Which is the stress I've felt since blogging and the Internet really took off--how can you stand out amongst a sea of bloggers who have revolutionized everything from fashion to food? With more out there, it all means less. And with thousands of ways to spew out blurbs and articles and pieces, it can be daunting indeed.
And all that on top of someone who has very, very little experience in the professional world of writing.
But I do have something else: I believe that writing is my vocation. It's what I love, and it's what I'm good at. Probably what I am best at, too. While I've got a lot to learn, I do believe that some of it is inherent within me, and for that, I am grateful.
Which is why when I stumble across blogs and websites and companies promoting articles and workshops called "how to make a scene" and "characterization and point of view," or "prompts to get your creative juices flowing." Or whatever. Now I am all for people exploring their inner writer and their inner creativity, and am a champion of all things art and literature. However, these classes unsettle me--should I be looking at them too? The first step, I believe, in becoming a good writer is to admit you need a lot of work. And I readily admit that. But these classes--will they help? Should I be enrolling in them? Will they make a difference for me? Part of me thinks no (and besides, I've had four years of those workshops at Emory), but part of me wants to do anything I can, too. And the other part is nervous that those manuscripts--by people who want to write but cannot, not really, or by people who don't have a dream of it, but could produce a technically good one, by some means--are my competition. Piles and piles of manuscripts, and one is taken.
This dream of mine is a real uphill climb.
Write Away I Realize...
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
This little guy is fishing for ideas, see? I'm kind of like him, and kind of not. Most of what I consider my better ideas sprung from a particularly creative period in my teenage years, and I work now to help refine those ideas to give them substance and depth.
Writing is hard, in that breaching-the-threshold-during-circuit-routines sort of way: it wears you out, dogs you down, but you know it's good as you propel forward, and the end result is a breath of feel-good fresh air.
Today I finished the first draft of a manuscript I hope will jump-start my vocation.
I have never felt so amazed, mentally and emotionally. I might have teared up a bit in happiness.
There is still SO MUCH WORK to do with it--I'd be embarrassed to sully the good name Jillian and submit it now--and revising is tough, one of the toughest things you can do.
I'm super happy...but I'm shelving the draft for a few days. Gonna sort through everything that needs it: subtext, theme, symbolism, dialogue, action, conflict, dimension....oy. It's enough to make you feel like you're starting a brand new thing.
But the end result! The end result. I think I can, I think I can.
Writing is hard, in that breaching-the-threshold-during-circuit-routines sort of way: it wears you out, dogs you down, but you know it's good as you propel forward, and the end result is a breath of feel-good fresh air.
Today I finished the first draft of a manuscript I hope will jump-start my vocation.
I have never felt so amazed, mentally and emotionally. I might have teared up a bit in happiness.
There is still SO MUCH WORK to do with it--I'd be embarrassed to sully the good name Jillian and submit it now--and revising is tough, one of the toughest things you can do.
I'm super happy...but I'm shelving the draft for a few days. Gonna sort through everything that needs it: subtext, theme, symbolism, dialogue, action, conflict, dimension....oy. It's enough to make you feel like you're starting a brand new thing.
But the end result! The end result. I think I can, I think I can.
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