Hollywood, Hollywouldn't

Dear MC and Keri,

While I'm a little fuzzy on historical fiction, I have encountered many books that take events that have happened to real people and destroyed real lives (I tend to enjoy depressing books). Many of these events, while well researched, are often exaggerated/warped for the pleasure of the publishing company sake of art. In Jodi Picoult's 19 Minutes, we follow the mindset of a school shooter. He takes the perspective that he is in a video game, shooting at his enemies. He is portrayed as mentally ill (which is the case for basically every mass shooter), but his circumstance doesn't follow that of every shooter.

Grey's Anatomy, a medical drama, portrays what may seem like a typical surgeon's life--seeing as there are scalpels and scrubs and paddles, oh my--but if we applied the TV doctors to real life doctors, everyone would be running around in on-call rooms having sex, waking up at 3A.M. to do hair and makeup, and having a bunch of beautiful people removing hearts that are actually lamb brains.

Yeah. They use lamb brains on sets. No wonder actors are so thin. 

So we certainly should take portrayals of professions and mental issues with a grain of salt. Sure, television shows have consultants, and (good) authors research until their brains feel mushy, but novels and TV shows have creative freedom.

Which brings us to the tricky definitions. How far does creative freedom really go? While there's no textbook definition for the term, dictionary.com defines "freedom" as "exemption from external control, interference, regulation, etc."

So, basically think Maryann from True Blood, and you got yourself a nice dose of freedom.

However, once you start portraying actual people, the situation gets fuzzier. And not the teddy bear kind of fuzzy.

There is probably somebody out there who now thinks that Abraham Lincoln hunted vampires. Or worse, that there is someone who invented an internet sensation and still had a lot of sex. We can say with fair certainty that Lincoln did not kill blood-suckers. This film, to me, oversteps creative freedom. However, The Social Network stayed mostly true to Zuckerberg's life. Zuckerberg did, in fact, go to Harvard; he did begin Facebook as a poorly executed strategy to score hot women (in more ways than one). The events of Zuckerberg's career did make it into the film; however, Zuckerberg's personality may be such that he sings to small children and is using Facebook to stop world hunger. Aaron Sorkin, the screenwriter of The Social Network, wrote, "what is the big deal about accuracy purely for accuracy's sake, and can we not have the true be the enemy of the good?"

Even if people did try to stay 100% true to someone's character, we all have different perspectives. What someone may see as sarcastic and cold, another may see as a strong trait. So, as long as the majority of a person's actions are accurately portrayed, creative freedom can successfully lay in the portrayal of one's personality.

Sometimes the changes to a real person's personality are made because the writer believes that to the best creative decision. Maybe they want to experiment with an internet monger who starts as a hero, but ends up as a villain. I have no problem with genuine creative experimentation, as long as it doesn't hurt anyone too terribly. However, many times, things are dramatized for the sake of the fancy Hollywood executives sitting around on leather couches with their martinis, wiping their Indie-film induced sweat off with hundred dollar bills.

Okay. So perhaps I'm exaggerating. But sometimes changes to film/television (even books) are made without the purest intention. Which makes me wonder: Are we being subjected to a majority of entertainment because of the way large corporations wish it to be? Or is artistic integrity still going strong?

Peace and Ponies,
Kira

The Dramatization of the Actual

Dear Keri & Kira (together, you're Kiri),

I totally agree with you, Keri. I came from a reading family and was encouraged to read from an early age and I think that this has had a huge, positive impact on my life. I read constantly, and I read everything, from non-fiction biographies of civil war heroes to the Game of Thrones series, but there are some books which just don't live up to my standards. I have no problem not finishing a book.

Sometimes, I feel bad about abandoning a book (like, when I tried to read The Hunchback of Notre Dame, which was so very boring), but usually, I'm able to justify my decision. Sometimes, it's hard to admit to yourself that you've failed with a book (which is why I've been reading The Age of Innocence for almost two years and I probably should just start at the beginning again). In my mind, there are two good reasons to stop reading a book.

Firstly, if the book is poorly written, cliched or just plain bad, it's not worth reading. There are some books that are so bad that it causes you mental anguish to try to read them. I think you both know the sort of book I'm talking about; a disproportionate amount of these books happen to be about vampires. Although I'm in favor of light, fun reads, I still think that you should make an effort to find non-serious books that are well written. The way I see it, a poorly written book is doing you more harm than good. Everyone knows that writers improve with reading, if you go from reading Shakespeare to reading Twilight, your writing will certainly suffer.

The second reason to abandon a book is if it's just not making any sense to you. It's okay to admit that you're not in a place where you can understand or appreciate a book. There are some books that are just never going to make sense to you because you have no interest in the subject matter or you just can't identify with the characters. That's all right; that's why there are so many different books. Somewhere out there, there's a book for you. However, I think that, in most cases, if you don't succeed with a book the first time you try to read it, you should put it down for a year or two and then try again. Sometimes, you just need to gain a little perspective and maturity before you can understand what the writer was trying to do. For example, after taking an Ancient Civilizations class last fall, I now have a much greater appreciation for Greek Drama.

When this happens, I wouldn't say that I've 'quit' on a book, I'm just taking a break. Don't get me wrong, sometimes its worthwhile to struggle through a book, but you have to know yourself as a reader first. If you find yourself giving up on a lot of books, however, you may need to pull up your literary socks, buckle down, and do some power reading.

This sort of ties back to Keri's last post. I think that kids these days give up to easily on books. Increasingly, children expect instant gratification from their sources of entertainment. It breaks my heart when I see kids playing on their iPads and phones instead of reading books. While I'm as guilty of enjoying Angry Birds as the next person, I know that there is nothing like the satisfaction of reaching the end of a nice, thick book (unless, there's a sequel and the author has left everything on a cliff hanger, then, you just get angry). For example, for me, Tale of Two Cities did not come together until the last two or three chapters. The last few lines of the book break my heart, but, in order to appreciate them, you must first wade through several hundred pages of hefty, Victorian prose. However, in the end it's a lot more satisfying than any app or mindless TV show.

Speaking of TV, I'd like to move on to my next question for the two of you. As you both know, I've been watching a lot of 'historical' television drama series lately. I put 'historical' in quotation marks because shows like The Borgias and The White Queen are more 'based on real events' than hard and solid textbook facts. Of course, I also read a lot of historical fiction as well. I am currently reading a novel about The Borgia family that differs significantly from the TV show in the way it portrays some of the main characters. Of course, this makes you wonder, what were these people really like? Is it even possible to know? In the case of people who have been dead for hundreds of years, like the Borgia family, I think that the answer is no, but what about more modern historical figures.

For example, I recently read a novel called Z about Zelda Fitzgerald. The book portrays her as a woman who struggled to find her own voice in a household that she shared with one of the greatest writers of her generation. This is a more sympathetic view of her than other books about the same people/time period that I have encountered. In The Paris Wife, for instance, Hadley Hemingway is juxtaposed with Zelda. The message seems to be that while Hadley is tough and dependable, Zelda is flighty and vapid. Which book is correct? Obviously, neither author could truly know what it was like to be Zelda Fitzgerald, but it makes me upset when authors present a view of a historical character that is so obviously skewed.

I recently wrote a post about Shakespeare's malignant of Richard III on one of my other blogs. While I understand that authors, especially greats artists like Shakespeare, are entitled to a little artistic license, is it fair to completely destroy the image and reputation of a real, flesh and blood person in the way Shakespeare destroyed King Richard? Where do we draw the line when it comes to dramatizing real life?

Maria

Over-Booked

Dear MC,
First off, welcome, Keri! We are happy to have a fabulous new contributor to the writing blog. 

While it's not the most pleasant thing in the world to be assigned books, I've discovered some material I never would have thought to read through school. As creepy as Lord of the Flies was, it was a fascinating look at social structure and pig heads. Kids may moan and groan about having to read a book (or they may cheat and read the sparks notes instead), but there's a chance that if they give it some time, they may become engrossed in the book and actually--gasp--enjoy it! The smart route is to simply inform these kids that books are out there and that they can get a better grasp on the world they live in through literature. When 1 in 4 Americans haven't read a single book in a year, it's vital that we just spread the word that books are waiting to be read. I know that coming from academic families, we were always surrounded by books. But there are quite a few families that are not fortunate enough to have piles upon piles of bookshelves and consider television as the go-to form of entertainment. I mean, I love a fair share of television shows (New Girl, anyone?), but reading shouldn't be a backup plan. There's a vast majority of students who weren't raised to read, so they wouldn't think to pick up a book just for the fun of it.

The same goes with writing. Now, when I'm in a blah mood and am bored out of my wits, I tend to go to YouTube (I may have a slight addiction). It's only when I'm inspired that I dive into reading and writing. A friend once told his mother that I "write books when I'm bored," but I mean, he listened to Slipknot, so he loses some authority there. In a society where we view active hobbies--such as running, swimming or dancing--as productive. The hobbies that get us out in the world and moving around tend to be viewed as worthwhile, whereas the more introspective hobbies are perceived as the hermit's calling, or a polite way of saying writers have nothing to do on a Friday night. I've gotten some strange looks when people ask "oh, what do you like to do for fun?" and I answer "read and write." I might as well say I like to dance around with cakes on top of my head, and I'd probably get the same reaction.

In an instant gratification society, it's difficult to work on something that doesn't provide instant results. The writing process is rather private; I don't hop out of my room after an afternoon and pull out a shiny new book I made myself. There aren't any writing marathons (well, except NanoWriMo), nor are there "writing recitals." A novel is quite an accomplishment, but it takes months, even years, to produce the end result. Sometimes we're just too impatient to recognize the worthwhile nature of hobbies that don't mass-produce or start running around with jazz hands.

So how do we shift our views on hobbies? I have no problem with encouraging active hobbies, but not in place of the quieter, more long-term activities. While children are running around from one lesson to the next, when are they going to have time to dive into reading and writing?

Peace and Ponies,
Kira

Kids These Days and New Blogger!

Dear Kira,

I understand your concern about reading. It is concerning that there seems to be a down trend in classics reading. It seems that all anyone wants to read is Twilight and Fifty Shades of Stupid. Kids these days.

But I do think the issue is a little more complicated than that. I mean, there is a some middle ground between The Iliad and The Vampire Diaries. Not everyone is cut out to read Shakespeare. So, it's sort of hard to decide what counts as a high quality book. Also, I think it's not quite realistic to expect kids to read Byron (and as we know from English 201, it's not realistic to expect me to read Byron either).

I think the most important thing is that kids think reading is fun. Perhaps this is naive, but I think that once kids discover that reading is fun, they'll eventually move on to reading the classics. What's needed to promote the reading of classics is to make them fun and interesting. Most kids first encounter classics at school; there's no better way to get a teenager to dislike a book then to force them to read it, then write a five paragraph essay about it. That leads me to my next question. Do you think that forcing kids to read in school encourages or discourages them?

And now for something completely different.

I would like to welcome a new contributor to In Your Write Mind! Her name is Keri and she's so very fly, oh my, it's a little bit scary. Keri is a voracious reader, an excellent writer, and will be adding a new voice to our literary discussions. She's also a fan of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, so she's obviously well qualified. Keri's writing specialty is alien fiction; if you want to check out some of her other writing, you can read her blog The 2013 Machine.

Welcome, Keri!

Maria

Let's Talk About Sex(ism)

Dear MC,

Book sexism absolutely runs rampant, and its something I take offense to, both as a female writer and reader. I mean, what do people think, that the Bronte sisters just sat around, twiddling their thumbs and knitting scarves? Honestly, if women wrote and read like how society told us to be, we'd be indulging in nothing but makeup tutorials and books about sitting there and looking pretty while we wait for our husbands to come home. Where is the plot twist in that situation, I ask you? Woman has actual independent mind? Women has dream and ambition? Why--gasp--we can't possibly have that nonsense in the world of publication!

Much of what I choose to read is perceived as "chick lit." Oftentimes women write these novels. Oftentimes men avoid them like the plague. And while I understand how something like Confessions of a Shopaholic wouldn't appeal to men, for all we know, there's some shoe-hoarding male out there, waiting for someone to finally understand him. I'm not drawn towards this genre because it's "for chicks," or because the latest book club is talking about them. I'm drawn to these books because their themes are pertinent to living, breathing humans. Perhaps they're coated in situations that only women must endure, but looking beyond the surface, the reader can notice some universal topics. In Charlotte Perkins Gilman's The Yellow Wallpaper, a young woman gets diagnosed with hysteria because she was forced to stay home and do nothing all day--an issue a vast majority of women faced in the 1800s. In fact, writing was discouraged for woman at this time. While most women were diagnosed with hysteria, we have all (and will) felt restless. We have all felt trapped. We should all acknowledge that yellow wallpaper is a horrendous idea.

Even Ann Brashares, who writes about sisterhood for goodness sakes, spins a girly plot into a universal theme through her examination of fading friendships. While the interpersonal is something women typically spend more time thinking about, it's not like men are always best bros for life. They too must deal with the loss of losing someone they'd grown up with, someone whose wavelength they have finally wavered from.

Feminist theory, as several writers have noted, is the hardest to pinpoint because the only thing that all feminist theorists can agree upon is that it is different from all other theories and that one synonym cannot do it justice. Feminism, in writing, neither encourages nor discourages wearing tons of makeup, or joining the workforce, or knitting cat-hats. It is simply a lens in which we take a piece of literature and examine the role of women in that work. Any piece of literature could be chick-lit, as every work has literature about chicks. And not the clucking kind.

Yes, I still sometimes feel that twinge of embarrassment when I tell my guy friends that I genuinely enjoy Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and that my favorite books are often about mothers and daughters, but hey, it's better than not reading at all, right? Which brings me to my next question: our friend Keri raised a very important issue when trying to find something new to read. She noted that she would only like to read fanfiction, and consoled herself that it was better than reading nothing at all. While I agree with that statement, I find it sad that a lot of young readers are picking books of lesser quality--especially those who want to become writers. It seems we're lowering our standards because of the decline in reading in general. If kids aren't playing video games or punching each other, we congratulate them. But what kind of message does that send when we say it doesn't matter what you read--pick a cereal box, Twilight, anything at all? Our standards will continue to be lowered for this generation, and come college, these people won't know a classic when it bites them in the butt.

This notion seems to be particular to reading. We wouldn't tell an anorexic to "eat anything at all," and then celebrate if she eats nothing but doughnuts and ice cream. We'd teach her about proper nutrition and balanced diets. What makes reading different?

How can we encourage students not just to read, but to read well?

Peace and Ponies,
Kira

Book Sexism

Dear Kira,

Your last post was quite thought provoking. Personally, I've been on the fence about this question for a while. I think that the sorts of books you read can definitely inform your thinking, but the idea that reading shapes your personality kind of makes me nervous. While I think the whole, tabula rasa theory makes a good point, I like to think that certain aspects of your personality are inborn. I mean, it would be sort of a scary world where who you are as a person could be totally shaped by outside forces; that's sort of like being brain washed.

So, to make a long story short, I'm going to answer your question by saying yes, I think that someone's personality shapes their reading. I realize that this is a kind of controversial topic in our society. We live in a society where books are often grouped into categories based on gender.

For example, I've been informed on multiple occasions that I don't like Hemingway's work because Hemingway is a man's man. I can't appreciate his writing because I'm a woman; I don't understand. I take issue with that on several levels. Firstly, I don't dislike Hemingway because I'm a woman, I dislike Hemingway because I don't have a lot of respect for him as a person and because I think fishing is boring. Secondly, I'm sure there are women out there who like Hemingway and I'm sure that there are men out there who don't. It's all a matter of personal taste.

But I think that there are a lot of women out there who let this sort of thing keep them from reading "serious" literature (however you want to define that). I call this book sexism, which, like normal sexism is bad. One particular instance of book sexism has been bothering me a lot lately. As you know, Game of Thrones (both books and television show) has sort of taken over my life lately. So, when I read this review of HBO's Game of Thrones television show, it made me really angry. The reviewer, Gina Bellafante, wrote of George R.R. Martin's books

"While I do not doubt that there are women in the world who read books like Mr. Martin’s, I can honestly say that I have never met a single woman who has stood up in indignation at her book club and refused to read the latest from Lorrie Moore unless everyone agreed to “The Hobbit” first. “Game of Thrones” is boy fiction patronizingly turned out to reach the population’s other half."

Okay, let's take a minute to be angry about this and another minute to wonder why someone so obviously flawed in their reasoning skills writes for the New York Times, which I used to think was a reputable publication. First of all, I have no idea who Lorrie Moore is, so I guess that means that I just lost my second X chromosome. Oops. Secondly, I take it as a matter of personal affront that Bellafante equates "woman" with "book club attendee".

While Bellafante may feel that she's defending a woman's right to read the degradingly named genre known as "chick-lit", she's really implying that a woman can read nothing else! As if the single woman in the universe (Bellafante's universe that is) who wants to read "The Hobbit" is some how a misfit who is the "quirky" mascot of the group who has to be pitied and spoon fed romance novels.

I know plenty of girls who like sci-fi and fantasy novels and I don't think there's anything wrong with that. Nor do I think there's anything wrong with reading books by Lorrie Moore, whoever she is, if you want to. I just deplore the social convention that says you must read this book or that book. By the way, I think that this works both ways. If a boy wants to read Twilight, he should be allowed to without being made fun of. Though, I'm still at a loss to discover why anyone of any gender or species would want to read Twilight, though, if you want to, I maintain your right to do so.

What do you think? Have you ever been the victim of book sexism?

Maria

Reading Shaping People, or People Shaping Reading?

Dear MC,
I suppose many people ghost write because the writerly sort often does not want to be in the public eye. I mean, this isn't the case for every writer in the world, because I'm sure Lauren Conrad didn't publish her book under a modest hand. But the kind of observance a writer needs in order to be successful normally involves a certain level of distance from other people. Some people feed off ego; others feed off of anonymity. It's nice that it's a choice to not put your name out there, otherwise we'd have a lot less inspiration due to discomfort towards publicity.

Oftentimes I read people who had no problem being in the public eye. Many of my favorite writers participated in countless interviews and even had a YouTube page (cough cough John Green, cough). But as I expand to include classic literature, I realize many of the most inspiring writers were not only okay with, but wanted to be alone. As I identify more and more with these authors, it's put my whole introvert/extravert battle at (more) ease. Reading Emily Dickinson, I realize that staying completely secluded isn't always the best option (her poems sometimes got a bit too dark), but while I read books like Les Misérables and Jane Eyre, I tend to become more isolated and introspective.

Dickinson

While this leads me to believe that reading shapes the person, I've also always been naturally drawn towards realistic fiction. As much as I would love to fully engaged by fantasy novels, that hasn't been the case for 19 years. I love people watching, so my reading often reflects just sitting back at an airport and watching people's dynamics. Even in fifth grade, when we were taught to "expand our horizons," I curled up with Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and felt completely satisfied with that series.

So do you think someone's personality shapes their reading, or does someone's reading shape their personality? I suppose it's one of those nature/nurture debates. And you know how I feel about nature/nurture debates. It's like walking into a candy store with a thousand dollars.

Peace and Ponies,
Kira

The Song-Novel

Dear Kira,

I'm glad you brought up this topic, because I have stuff to say about it.

I'm a big fan of analyzing music in the same way some people analyze books. A lot of music has a good story behind it, like the series of songs Led Zeppelin wrote about Lord of the Rings ("Ramble On", "The Battle of Evermore", and "Misty Mountain Hop"). Also, as you know, there are entire bands who write songs specifically about specific stories, like Chameleon Circuit and Doctor Who and The Ministry of Magic and Harry Potter.

Like you said, purely instrumental music can also be analyzed. One of my favorite pieces of classical music is the Appalachian Spring suite by Aaron Copland. This piece tells the story of a pioneer wedding on the frontier. A lot of pieces of music are written with the intention of telling a story in this way.

I'm always trying to figure out the story behind the song and how it fits into the singer's life. Like, I was fascinated when I learned that the story behind Eric Clapton's song, Layla, was that Clapton feel in love with Patty Boyd, which was a problem for him because she was married to George Harrison. I think most songs, as long as they're good and written by someone who cares about music, have some sort of back story. I call this the Song-Novel. The problem is songs aren't as easy to analyze as novels. Usually you have to know something about the life of the person who wrote the song to be able to figure it out.

Which is why I have no respect for people who consistently sing/perform songs they didn't write. I'm not talking about covers here; I'm talking about who don't write their own songs. It used to be expected that if a band performed a song, they wrote it. These days, while a some people co-write songs, most people have nothing to do with the creation of their songs. While it can still be a good song, it lacks any real sincerity in performance. Books that are ghost written have the same problem. To me, it seems really insincere to have someone ghost write a book for you. While I have respect for ghost writers in general; I think if you want to write a book, you should write it yourself. Do you think it's possible to write a good book if you don't actually write it?

MC

The Intentional Fallacy and the Literary-ness of Dubstep

Dear Maria Cristina,
Part of what made English 200 such a tricky class, was that it often offered contradictory views. As the Formalists and New Critics demanded that only the text be looked at and the author/reader were totally irrelevant, other theories such as psychoanalysis and New Historicism claimed that yes, the author's intent matters and you Formalists can get off your high horses. Get some sober horses instead.

I must admit, coming out of the class I was all "New Critic happy" and to me, nothing but the text mattered. Forget readers; forget writers--the work was coming out of thin air! I was so against authorial intent, I almost tried giving myself half vision, where I could only see the top halves of books, while the author's name would be a blur.

Except I didn't. Because that would be weird.

Since then, I've reconsidered my views on literature. 

I've found that the writer-text-reader inclusive theories are both more poignant and less narrow. Rhetorical theory allows the author's voice to grow stronger through the text, but not be dominated by the text. You can still enjoy a book without knowing an author's biographical history, but it enriches the reading experience to gain some insight on the context in which the author is writing.

Sometimes, however, the author can become overshadowed by the tone of the text. Take Vladamir Knabokov's (sp?) Lolita. We might read the text, and automatically pinpoint the author as a filthy, perverted old man. While he might just be taking a completely different perspective, it's easy to associate the author's perspectives with the text's perspectives. This happens almost constantly with actors. I mean, if I were to meet Daniel Radcliffe, the first thing I'd say to him is "marry me!" but the second thing would be "dude, you're Harry Potter!"

A piece of music that I would argue poignantly mimics this phenomenon is "Shadows" by Lindsey Stirling:

Her shadow has all the complex dance moves that hold our attention, while the artist is seemingly left in the background. At times, she seems to be copying the creation, rather than the creation copying her. That's not to say this always happens in literature, but sometimes the author becomes the text.

Which leads me to a question: Do you think music can be studied in the same way literature can? I know at the tail end of English 201 we studied The Sex Pistols in relation to Shakespeare. Was that stretching it too far? Or could we use the same methods to deconstruct music as we use for deconstructing literature? It's especially interesting with music sans lyrics. There's still a certain tone, a certain effect it has on the audience, but could musical methods be akin to rhetorical devices?

Peace and Ponies,
Kira
(I almost had to pause and try to remember what my spiritual name was. Then I remembered I didn't have a spiritual name. Has it only been 2 days?).

The Memoir Dilemma

Dear Kira,

Again, I must answer your question with both a yes and a no.

I have a lot less experience with memoir than you, but I disagree with you when you say that 'memoirs' are disregarded as classics; The Diary of Anne Frank and Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass are two very good examples of classic memoirs. One of the earliest memoirs ever written, The Confessions of St. Augustine, is now considered a foundational text in Western Philosophy and Christianity. I guess the key to a classic memoir is to move beyond writing humorous stories about your life and personal experiences and write something that can transcend its genere to make a broader statement about life in general.

This all, of course, depends on what you define as a memoir. I have a very inclusive definition of the word. To me, a memoir is anything that somebody writes about their life. One can find published collections of letters and journals by many famous authors and political figures. For example, the letters  of Abraham Lincoln (particularly the Bixby letter) are widely read by some people (but not by me). I don't know if you would consider this a 'memoir', but, if you do, then it is certainly a classic. (And, if you want to talk about biographies, there's a whole mountain of classic texts from Plutarch's Lives to the epic, biographical poem John Brown's Body.)

Besides that, there are a ton of classic novels that read suspiciously like autobiographies  My personal favorite is David Copperfield, by Charles Dickens. Many historians have pointed out similarities between the lives of Copperfield and Dickens; David even became a novelist!

I know that these aren't the sort of memoirs you're thinking of. But, I think its important to remember that, until recently  creative non-fiction for the sake of creative non-fiction was sort of looked down on. Memoirs are experiencing a surge in popularity right now, but a few hundred years ago, if you someone wanted to write about their life, they would probably do it in the form of fiction. So, I can sympathize with your memoir woe in that respect.

This brings up a question that I'm sure we both discussed in English 200 and that we perhaps even touched on in this blog before. How important are the author's autobiographical details in understanding a novel? If David Copperfield was a wholly fictional piece, would it still have the same emotional impact? Would it still be considered a classic?

I hope so.

Maria

Bad Romance

Good evening. It's Monday, and I'm sitting here, listening to Mumford and Sons, procrastinating any semblance of finals-preparation.

Good life choices start in college. Remember that.

So, to answer your question, must an artist be tortured to produce a quality piece of work?

My answer is yes and no. We writers do love being concrete, don't we?

It's kind of dreadful to think that we are doomed to a life of misery just to be able to create. There's gotta be some peppy writers out there, right? I'm sure Shakespeare loosened up a bit and had some fun, even if it was only on Sundays. But sometimes, the most exquisite, intimate writing comes through bad experiences. Does that mean you have to have a terrible life, or be a cynic for the rest of eternity?

Absolutely not!

Anne Lamott, a fabulous memoir-writer had a terrible childhood. She dealt with death. She dealt with drugs. She dealt with so many family issues, that horribly strict parents seem like birthday cake topped with loads of icing. Yet this woman is hilarious--and she now leads a normal, peaceful life. She has allowed herself to distance herself from the pain and see her unfortunate past from a humorous perspective.

Same goes with David Sedaris. He was teased mercilessly in his youth, and had to deal with coming out back when it wasn't as widely accepted. His mode of writing, however, is both observant and will make you hem, haw, and LOL.

So it seems to be a prerequisite to have a rough patch--such as a bad romance, or a paparazzi who just won't leave you alone (thank you, Lady Gaga), but in order to create, you must detach yourself from these negative experiences and view them in a new light. Just as the Wordsworthian method of poetry is to express your emotions recollected in tranquility, the expression of prose may be to take a difficult situation that the artist is no longer in the midst of.

If you'll notice, my examples are mainly memoir writers. While memoirs are studied closely in creative writing class, they seem to be forgotten in literature classes. Is this genre hopeless when it comes to "classics"? Or is perhaps perceived more writing than reading?--meaning, do we read memoirs in order to learn how to write, rather than to be entertained/troubled/engaged?

'Cause that would be a whole lot of engagement rings. Heh...heh....

So, do memoirs have "classic" potential?

Peace and Ponies,
Kira

The Tortured Artist

Dear Kira,

First of all, kudos on the new hair style.

Second of all, I have to say that I quite agree with you. The 'tortured' artist is a stereotype for a reason. My theory about this idea is this: if great artists (pick your person here) were just "normal" people, living "normal" lives, what would make them great artists? What would make them special? I think that the most gifted people are also the most "abnormal", because they see the world in a certain way and perceive things in a way others do not. That is to say, if Van Gogh was a family man with a spaniel, do you think he would have been able to paint Starry Night?

I don't.

And, if he could, then, what would stop the other 99.9% of the population from painting like Van Gogh  I guess what I'm trying to say is that, if Beethoven was a "normal" (I use this word liberally) person, he would do normal things. Writing the 9th symphony is not a normal thing. I think the reverse is also true. In order to create extraordinary things, you have to be something besides an ordinary person. You have to be sort of crazy to be gifted. Not crazy crazy, more like the Sheldon Cooper brand of psychosis. I would like to argue that the nature of being a talented person is being in possession of certain natural gifts that others do not have. Which, to me, means that talented people are intrinsically, genetically different. One can argue the definition of talented, but that's not really the point I'm trying to make. What I want to say is that, in order to be a truly great artist, you must have something that distinguishes you as a human being.

Whether or not this implies suffering is up to debate, but you are correct in saying that a lot of famous artists (painters, musicians, writers, etc.) seem to have live really depressing lives. Take Eric Clapton for instance (you know my proclivity to Eric Clapton; I think he's one of the best guitarist to have ever lived - right up there with Jimi Hendrix (also a tortured artist) and Jimmy Page), the Layla album, arguably his best work, came out of heart break and heroin abuse. It's the same thing with Francisco de Goya, in my opinion one of the best painters who has ever lived (after Klimt). The Black Paintings, The Third of May 1808, and The Second of May 1808, all came out of the incredibly dark period at the end of his life, by which time he had gone deaf and experienced the Peninsular wars. Sure, his earlier paintings are happier, but these are some of the most interesting, most fascinating paintings I have ever seen.

Of course, all of this raises the question I would like to ask you: is it possible for a great artist to be ever, truly happy? Is misery a pre-requisite to great work? And, if yes, how does this affect our reading of 'happy' works of literature?

María

Lana Del Rey Sings one Strange Body Electric

Dear Maria,
So, as you know, I'm kind of a Pandora addict. I've discovered some of my favorite artists there, such as Foster the People, Florence and the Machine, and Lana Del Rey. Yet lately, I've had a love/hate relationship with the latter artist, especially after coming across this gem:

Now, I don't know about you, but a song that starts with "Elvis is my father, Marilyn's my mother, Jesus is my bestest friend," is bound to gain some attention. I'm not one to question song lyrics too often--I normally just hop around to a lively beat--but I couldn't help but pull an Alex Day here and analyze Lana Del Rey's song. So, I've come up with a little plot to help make sense of these words.

So Elvis and Marilyn Monroe decided to get nice and steamy one night, because as we are aware, Elvis loves 'dem hound dogs. Apparently he liked them older as well. But after their little bout of shinnanigans, a little Lana Del Rey was born. She grew up, ate Cheerios, and hung with her BFF Jesus, just like any little girl would. Jesus was quite the positive influence on little Lana, but his insight didn't quite get to Elvis and Marilyn, who decided it would be a fine time to go clubbing and thus, Lana explains, "We get down every Friday night, dancin’ and grindin’ in the pale moonlight." So there's Lana, Elvis and Marilyn, all gettin' wild in da club. Presumably, Jesus had to stay home that night, but that didn't stop word from getting out to Mary.

Well. That wreaked some havoc, now didn't it? But Mary, in typical non-violent fashion, did little to accuse Marilyn and Elvis of immoral behavior. She just simply prays the rosary for Lana's broken mind, because obviously, that's what a best friend's mother does. Lana's all "thanks but no thank," and continues to high tail it over to the club. She's all in the zone, claiming that her body is on fire and whatnot, and that she can be the next Walt Whitman, which is totally ridiculous since I didn't see Lana writing any Leaves of Grass.

The family clubbing goes well for a while, but Elvis' drug abuse really starts to take its toll on Marilyn. She uproots herself out of the family situation, and decides to go for Whitman instead, seeing as her daughter was already singing this dude's song. Lana was all "okay, guess I have a new Daddy now, woohooo." It probably didn't matter much, since Whitman could use all his book royalties on money on which Lana could sustain her partying lifestyle. Elvis, not too happy with this slap in the face, decided to marry Monaco. I have no idea who that is, so let's just say she's some faceless revenge wife, because really, who can top Walt Whitman?

Marilyn Monroe, that's who. Ooooh, burn.

So Mary, miraculously (and people say lightening doesn't strike twice!) is still in the loop, and she decides that Lana's rough lifestyle is just too terrible an influence for her son. So Mary forbids Jesus from chillin' with Lana, which hits Lana harder than we all expected, as she starts befriending inanimate objects such as diamonds. The girl really misses Jesus, but that doesn't make her want to prove to Mary that she can come clean. So, Lana keeps partying, and Mary keeps praying. I don't know what Jesus is doing, probably off doing something cool with fish, I don't know. But at this party, Lana meets this really hot guy named suicide, and they decide to go at it in some god-awful club bathroom. Lana, being all un-employed and whatnot, can't afford protection, so she gets preggers and suicide is all "not my fault, you should've known I destroy people." So Lana has this baby named Heaven, which, if you ask me, is kinda strange to name a baby, but this is post "Apple" and "Blanket" generation.

But just because Lana has this new life doesn't mean she's stopped missing Jesus. She still looks at those silly photos they took together, reminiscing about the times they had. It's the only reminder of youth she has. Here, Lana admits she is really in need of a washing machine because her clothes still smell like Jesus, who she hasn't run into in like, forever. Or maybe she's just soooo sentimental, which is just not practical for personal hygiene matters. Jesus' sudden abandonment does kinda hurt Lana, but she's not going to be the first to admit it, even if it was Mary being all overprotective and such.

But then Mary has this "aha" moment, where she realizes maybe she was being the party pooper after all, and that Jesus is this grown savior and all that. So why can't she have a little fun in da' club? Lana, jumping at the opportunity, get Suicide to watch her baby, and she and Mary get down and funky in the club, and everything is all fine and good.

Still don't know where Jesus is. Maybe he and Suicide are drinking some whiskey or something.

So this is what modern day music has come to.

Peace and Ponies,
Kira

U-G-L-Y, that Story You've Got there is Really Fly

Dear Maria Cristina,
I've heard this rumor floating around that humans desire closeness. While I myself must have failed to receive that gene, it is an everyday trait in many of us (silly humans!) have. So when we finally come across a concept we can relate to, we automatically cling to the perceive that introduced that concept. To have the revelation that "ohmigosh someone finally understands me!" is a relieving one, and it can be difficult to separate the notion from the person. I mean, not every author necessarily agrees with what he's saying. Did Thoreau really believe that eating children would be a modest proposal? Did Alex Day really fall in love with a ghost? Does John Green believe that pain demands to be felt? Last I checked, pain didn't walk up to me and go all "I demand you feel me!" because that would be wildly inappropriate.

In our tendencies to be attached to something, we ultimately become attached to the face we associate with that thing. It's natural, in our society, to say something innocent like "I really like dialogue," only to proceed to hear the 5 most horrible words a person could hear: "oh so you like Hemmingway?"

Yeah. Because I like conversational books, it's totally logical to assume I enjoy watching two depressing lovers battle out an abortion battle.

So anyway. I think we should detach our book/author associations, but that could just be the formalist in me talking.

Ironically, however, I have been noticing a pattern amongst artists in general. It all started at an extra credit assignment, as things tend to start at. First off, I'd just like to point out that I was in a room filled with grad students.

Grad students. There I was, the little freshman, around people who threw around Nietzsche references like they were no problem and used "ostentatious" and "perfunctory" in casual sentences. I basically felt like this:

During this discussion with the scary smart people, we examined the idea of the influence Eastern philosophy had on Beethoven's music. Apparently the Bhagavad Gita taught Beethoven to accept things as they are. To prove this point, the professor brought along a string quartet to play Beethoven's works. They were all very talented and the sounds were quite beautiful. Yet I noticed something: The more beautiful and intense the music got, the more the musicians convulsed and twitched and made unpleasant expressions. By the time it got to the really dramatic sections, they were practically thrashing their violins around. I was afraid they'd start falling off their chairs and flying cellos would start invading campus.

But this "ugly creator" trend also occurs in writing. While there aren't exactly "writing performances," I know I furrow my brow in a not so attractive way while I'm lost in thought, and my hair goes all "woohoo" on me when I'm writing. But it's not so much physical disfiguration that makes for beautiful writing: it's mental disfiguration.
Now, I'm not saying that if we all became schizophrenics we'd all be fantastic writers, but the "tortured author" deal is actually legit. It helps to come from an unpleasant background in order to perceive things that a blissed out kid might totally miss. For one thing, people who talk about having a rough childhood talk about living in books and being isolated. Isolation is the only time we can truly be introspective and think about the world. Plus, alcoholic fathers or mothers who work too much makes for great writing material.

Even in comedy, it takes knowing the other side to truly reach people's triggers in stand-up routines. Robin Williams had a terrible history with drugs, yet his routines give us escape. Eddie Izzard got rejected from the army and beaten up because of his sexuality. Yet he took that opportunity to turn his tumultuous experiences into comedy:

This pattern has lasted centuries. The most widely noted "classical" authors are also some of the most tortured. Edith Wharton had some pretty screwed up marriage issues, but through that turmoil she created Ethan Frome, one of the most beautiful, heart wrenching novels. You have to be aware of pain to transcend it onto a page.

So is there a reason the most pained artists are the most world renowned? It certainly helps to have the whole "brooding, tortured artist" look going on, but is it absolutely necessary? I know plenty of good authors who didn't live in a box during their childhood. Would they have been "great" if they'd gotten less fluff during their teen years? What even is great?

I'm all for having a nice life, but what if it's at the expense of ever achieving literary greatness?

Peace and Ponies,
Kira

Byron was a Weird Guy

Dear Kira,

I am able to sympathize deeply with your struggles. Personally, knowing something unflattering about an author often ruins entire books for me. I'm with the formalists in that I try really hard not to let what I know about an author influence my opinion of their books.

Personally, I go out of my way to avoid learning anything about the authors of the books I read; I try not even to look at their pictures. Now, I realize that this is all a little ridiculous, but it's why I enjoy reading things written by dead people so much. Historical ambiguity is a beautiful thing. Anonymous or possibly non-existent authors are the best. For example, quite a few historians agree that Homer (Iliad and Odyssey dude) didn't actually exist. This is common of the great foundational texts of world literature such as the Ramayana, the Epic of Gilgamesh, Enuma Elish, and the Old Testament. Even though I know that, at some point, someone sat down and wrote them, the absence of a clearly defined author gives the text a sort of genuineness that we don't get a lot in modern writing.

I personally have a lot of respect for people who write anonymously, to me, when you write/read something from an anonymous source, it's not being produced by any one person, it is coming directly from the culture.

Anyway, I'm getting off my soap box now. I don't mean to say that taking ownership of your writing is a bad thing. Actually (as you suggested), sometimes writing is made more interesting by your knowledge of the author's back story. For example, I'm pretty sure I would never have read any of John Green's books if I didn't watch his youtube videos. But I do have some issues with that, my concern, and my question to you, is that I like books because I like the author (or vice-versa). You and I both know a certain person who is absolutely obsessed with Lord Byron. But, sometimes I wonder if he likes Byron because he likes Byron or because he's just kind of a weird dude with an interesting biography (BUT ACTUALLY, BYRON WAS SUCH A WEIRD GUY). Also, the Penn State Library has a lock of Byron's hair in its collection, so that can't help the odd, fan boy culture.


I guess this is where I come back to your original question. I guess it's sort of a dangerous thing to think that you know an author personally. I mean, you know you have a problem when you consider stealing hair from the University in a half-baked attempt to clone your own Lord Byron. I'm not saying that weird authors aren't fun, but (and this could apply to rock stars and actors and politicians as well) do you think we like/dislike their work because we like them or because it's deserving of being liked?

Maria

Chillin' With Your Favorite Author

Dear Maria,
I'm not even in your poetry class, and I'm just as angry that your prof doesn't consider him a poet. Dr. Suess is a prime example of someone who plays with language and defamiliarizes the familiar in order to give it a new angle. That's part of the brilliance of his work--instead of preaching to children to "try new things," he gives us "Green Eggs and Ham." How the Grinch Stole Christmas teaches about love and the impermanence of material goods. All grand themes, presented in a delightful way.

So why it's not considered worth studying, I don't know. Perhaps people look at children's literature and Pshaw it as something they could easily write in five minutes. Or, if at first glance, it doesn't make them question the universe, it's deemed completely useless. Things that are written in a joyous manner often seem less sophisticated because joy is more closely related to naivté. That in itself is a naive assumption, but one that many people take.

But the joke's on everyone else, because Dr. Suess knows his audience, and is able to call up his childhood self and find ways to convey large themes to children. That is absolutely brilliant. This idea came to me while I was struggling through some Derrida deconstruction theory, and as I lamented "bad writing" to my father, my dad negated my claim by saying "Derrida's is writing to people with a philosophical background, to people whose thinking is already elevated enough to understand his points. It would be like if you or I had to talk about love...we could express it in terms a five year old would understand, or we could write to our peers." Oftentimes, it is easier to write to your peers because you're already in their mindset. It takes great psychological understanding and patience to explain big concepts to small people.

And remember, "a person's a person, no matter how small."

So now that we've debunked the claim that Dr. Suess is not a poet, I'd like to discuss something that the formalists would cringe at, but that I've been struggling with nonetheless: the author himself (or herself!). While I see the genius in Dr. Suess' (or Theodore Geisel) work, I wouldn't necessarily want to grab a burger with him. He was un-motivated in school, and blunt to the point of brutality. He was a bit of a recluse, and brushed off having children, claiming "you have 'em, I'll amuse em" (Harper). He threw out most of his writing, and in his everyday life, he acted a bit unstable. Obviously this has no effect on the light hearted books we know and love, but it still sucks out some of the magic of innocence his stories brought me. To know that a curmudgeonly old man was scribbling out my childhood is bit of a disappointment.

Holden Caulfield, another literary favorite, claims "What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it." There's something about knowing an author that makes that story that much more special, like they're speaking directly to you. There are some authors that remain faceless after I finish book, and that's alright because I can just let my imagination tell me that so and so "likes long walks on the beach and all things chocolate." But once you get some concrete background that suggests the author is a bit of a dick, that's when you start to feel betrayed.

Take Daniel Handler, for instance. He wrote A Series of Unfortunate Events under the alias Lemony Snicket. Like Dr. Suess' works, Handler's series made up my childhood. I lived through the Baudelaire siblings, and felt their despair as if it were my own. Handler always presented Lemony Snicket as being very mysterious, so my second grade self could revel in filling in the personality traits I wanted him to have. But as I grew up and realized that Lemony Snicket was also a character, I investigated further on Daniel Handler. After I read Why We Broke Up, I concluded that the author was, in fact, me; there just wasn't any other way this book could be published if he wasn't actively spying on my life. I was so excited, I wanted to hug him, and talk about everything ranging from childhood woes to adolescent heartbreak. Then I saw this:

I mean, he goes from brash to simply rude to self-righteous and back again. And I don't know why, but it felt like a personal attack. I understand the rule of separating the author from the text, but sometimes it's like "why did you trick me like this, why???"

Then you go eat a pint of ice cream and pretend the interview never happened. 

Don't get me wrong, I still love Handler's books. And I still read them with the utmost enthusiasm. But there's still that nagging thought in the back of my mind that maybe the author really doesn't believe what he's writing; maybe he's messing with all of our heads.

Writers are the best tricksters of all. 

It's especially hard in the world of social media. As a nerdfighter, I see how closely this huge community watches John Green's life. We feel like we can identify with him, and like with any youtube video, we feel as though the vlogbrothers are speaking directly to us. When I read John Green's books, I could hear his voice saying "I go to seek a great perhaps," and it personalized what was already an emotional book. Green seems so outgoing and friendly on the internet, but he has said countless times that he is an introvert and that the touring events intimidate him. My summer roommate once told me that she met John Green in real life (completely jealous here), but that he was actually kind of rude. Now, I wasn't there to defend or deny this statement, but often introversion is mistaken as rudeness or lack of caring. Still, when you think an author has poured their entire heart out to you and you alone, the poignancy of a less-than-emotional encounter can hurt a bit.

So my question to you is, how might you suggest better separating the text from the author? Should we just go in with the assumption that they're complete assholes? Or should we do some background research on the author before reading? 

I've never met John Green. So I can still pretend that upon our encounter he'll tell me "DFTBA" and let me rant a little about Hazel and Augustus.

Peace and Ponies,

Kira

Dr. Seuss is Tottally a Poet!

Dear Kira,

In response to your question, while it certainly is fun to make fun of adolescences for obvious reasons, I think we need to be very careful about turning tragedy in comedy. I mean, tragedies, true tragedys any way, are tragedies for a reason. My personal, too-lazy-to-go-to-Dictionary.com, definition to tragedy is something that has a profound and negative impact on the life of any one person or any group of people. For example, while there are some parts of adolescences that no one can talk about with a straight face, the number of teenage suicides rises every year. My general rule of thumb is that, if it's a serious issue to someone, you probably shouldn't be joking about it.

Now, to a pressing issue that has been bothering me for some time. So, as you know, I'm taking a poetry class this semester (I'm on the strugglebus) and, on the first day of class, the professor asked us our favorite poets. One girl said that her favorite poet was Dr. Seuss and his response that was Dr. Seuss is not a poet.

Now, I'm with you that reading Dr. Seuss isn't quite the same thing as reading Shakespeare but, come on, he purveys some pretty profound messages if you bother to look for them. Like, for example

Yertle the Turtle is Mean!

, did you know that Yertle the Turtle is actually about Hitler? Did you know that the line from Horton Hears a Who, "a person's a person, no matter how small", is actually in reference to the dropping of the atom bomb on Japan? Did you know that there are only 50 different words used in Green Eggs and Ham? I could go on.

My point is, that Dr. Seuss is just as worthy of the title of poet as Frost or Whitman. So my question to you becomes, why are only "serious" poets considered worth reading? It seems to me that writing of all kinds is full of arbitrary designations of genre and what is and is not "sophisticated" or "worthwhile" writing. It doesn't seem fair to me that, just because Seuss wrote for children he is considered less of a write.What makes a poet and, does the literary genius of Dr. Seuss fit into that category?

Maria