The Big Picture

Dear MC, 

Once upon a time, there was an English professor who told a handful of freshmen to start an essay focusing on one sole word in a book--to really question the meaning of that word, to read so closely, that word symbolized the universe and beyond in said book. Once there was a particular freshman who thought that was really stupid, why couldn't we just write about the big picture like normal people?

Two years later (gulp, where has the time gone?), this stubborn freshman realized that focusing on one word was the big picture. It just wasn't the blatantly obvious big picture.

Before you send me to the looney bin, allow me to explain.

For this professor, I wrote an essay about Lolita. My primary intention was to write "this guy is a pedophile who takes the freedom away from little girls, what of it?" But, unless I wrote in REALLY big font, there was no way that would take up five pages (remember when we thought five pages was horrifyingly long?). So, I begrudgingly followed the assignment, and looked for the words "lock" and "key" (paging Doctor Freud) in the novel. At first glance, all I saw were instances where Humbert locked Lolita into his grasp, yet after farther exploration of the novel, there were more subtle references to Lolita locking Humbert out.

Because of this "investigation" of the novel, I reached the main conclusion, that this a story not of a stepdaughter's loss of freedom, but a stepfather's own personal prison.

While I still am a strong believer in reading a story just to enjoy the plot, I realize that close reading is not completely pointless, if you want to find a new perspective in a novel.

With that being said, I realize that there are only so many genuine perspectives a novel can have. And with thousands of people in academia analyzing the same books, racing to get their analyses published, when is the struggle to find a new perspective harming us, rather than helping us? When do these new ideas seem forced? When are we reading too much into a word, rather than just being observant?

-Kira

The Importance of Close Reading

Dear Kira,

I'm an English major who doesn't really like being an English major.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy reading Shakespeare and stuff like that, but a lot of stuff that goes on in upper level English classes seems kind of stupid to me. I mean, I don't need an old guy in a crazy tie asking me: "what is rhetoric? what is it really?". I used to feel that way about close reading. Because, let's face it, when you have a half an hour of lecture on the use of the word grape on page 451 and the word doesn't even come up in the rest of the book, you're wasting your tuition dollars.

(P.S. Dear every English professor ever, this is especially annoying when you assign an entire novel and then decide to spend the entire class to talk about the importance of the grape as a symbol in the first five pages.)

(What is a grape? What is it really?)

But I've recently had a change of heart regarding that higher education hoodoo known as close reading. Let me tell you a little story:

I consider myself to be a sort of amateur A Song of Ice and Fire theorist. (I say amateur because you should see some of the ASOIAF discussion forums out there). Recently, I was doing some reading about an ASOIAF theory called The Great Northern Conspiracy. I know you don't like ASOIAF, so I'll spare you the details, but the gist is that people think that all of the great Northern houses are conspiring to make Jon Snow the Lord of the North. The primary evidence for this claim is a letter that Lyanna Mormont sends to Stannis Baratheon in A Dance with Dragons:

          "Bear Island knows no king but the King of the North, whose name is STARK."

You have no idea how this tiny phrase has been picked to pieces. I personally, have mulled it over many a time. The use of "whose" suggests that she's thinking of a specific person. She could have said something like "Bear Island only recognizes the Starks"or something like that, but instead she writes as if she has a specific person in mind. This is controversial because, at this time, most people think that all the Starks (minus Sansa and possibly Arya) are dead. So who is she referring to? This leads back to another theory that Jon Snow (the illegitimate child of Ned Stark) was legitimized by his half brother, Robb before Robb's untimely death.

And all of this is based off a handful of words.

What's weird about this to me is that I understand why people are analyzing this to death. It makes sense to me. Actually, I'm currently re-reading the ASOIAF with the sole intention of scouting evidence for some of my theories. That's not how I normally read books; if I'm reading something casually, my primary goal is to appreciate the work as a whole, not pick at little details while overlooking the overall plot and side stepping the pleasure of a well resolved work of fiction.

Were my English professors right? Is this really the best way to read a book? Should I start doing my casual reading with a pad of post-it notes on hand (which is what I'm doing with ASOIAF)? Could it be that I have finally found a way that close reading benefits me in real life? I mean, you can argue that being able to predict what's going to happen in a fantasy series is important but I know of 15 million billion nerds that would say differently. My concern then becomes that this sucks the fun out of reading. What I like about ASOIAF is that it's another world. I don't want to have to worry about the implications of a grape when I'm trying to get sucked into a fictional universe.

So, I offer you this question: what is reading? What is it really?

M.C.

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