Clifford Garstang's Blog, page 145
October 18, 2010
Literary Magazine Club
There are book clubs, so why not a Literary Magazine Club? Great question. And Roxane Gay has one for us. I'm in. See the details here.
Under The Volcano - Writer's workshops in Mexico
Looking for a writers' workshop? Want to get away to Mexico in January? Believe me, this is a perfect combination. January is fantastic time to be in the mountains of Central Mexico, and the village of Tepoztlan is a magical place.I've been to Under the Volcano three times, and I recommend the experience highly. This year workshop director Magda Bogin is running things a little differently, but it's definitely worth considering for writers in search of a little inspiration and motivation. January 16-24, 2011. Also note the Opera workshop in the week prior to that--maybe that's something you're interested in, too.
Under The Volcano - Writer's workshops in Mexico
October 17, 2010
The New Yorker: "To the Measures Fall" by Richard Powers
You trudge out to the mailbox and reach inside, hoping that the New Yorker has come. Surprise! You find that it has indeed come. You open to page 72 to read the new Richard Powers story and to your immeasurable disappointment you see that the story is written in the second person. You read the story anyway, conclude that the choice of second person is just a gimmick, as it usually is. You like some aspects of the story, although you sigh when you learn that the protagonist has cancer, because you're permanently tired of stories about people with cancer, even though there are other elements here that might redeem the story, if only it weren't for that damned second person.
Enough. Let me explain why I don't like the second person. This "you" voice is really the first person in which the narrator is either addressing the reader or some other auditor (in which case, sure, second person is intimate and fine), or, more often, is really talking to him or herself (the gimmick). The "I" is merely sublimated to the "you" and the only time I buy it as being exactly the right narrative choice is where there has been some trauma that, as it were, splits the narrator in two. Now, the fact that at the end of this story the protagonist—the "you" and, I would argue, also the "I"—appears to be on her deathbed might be justification for the second person. Her dying self is looking back on her life from some distance and addressing herself as a young woman and as she grows older. So maybe it is actually justified in this case.
I still don't like it.
The story—the narrator goes to England as a student, finds a used copy of a book that intrigues her. She tries to read it but fails. Later as she is working on her dissertation she tries again and loves the book. She becomes obsessed. She gets married, has an affair with her thesis advisor, quits her program, goes to law school, gets divorced. She concludes that her copy of the book is signed by Winston Churchill, but doesn't get the signature verified, but still follows the obscure author's writings and news about his work. She gets married again and has kids. She practices law. She gets sick.
Although I was drawn through this story by the fluid writing and the suspense created about the mysterious author, in the end it didn't satisfy me, probably because I resisted the voice. You?
October 18, 2010: "To the Measures Fall" by Richard Powers
Enough. Let me explain why I don't like the second person. This "you" voice is really the first person in which the narrator is either addressing the reader or some other auditor (in which case, sure, second person is intimate and fine), or, more often, is really talking to him or herself (the gimmick). The "I" is merely sublimated to the "you" and the only time I buy it as being exactly the right narrative choice is where there has been some trauma that, as it were, splits the narrator in two. Now, the fact that at the end of this story the protagonist—the "you" and, I would argue, also the "I"—appears to be on her deathbed might be justification for the second person. Her dying self is looking back on her life from some distance and addressing herself as a young woman and as she grows older. So maybe it is actually justified in this case.
I still don't like it.
The story—the narrator goes to England as a student, finds a used copy of a book that intrigues her. She tries to read it but fails. Later as she is working on her dissertation she tries again and loves the book. She becomes obsessed. She gets married, has an affair with her thesis advisor, quits her program, goes to law school, gets divorced. She concludes that her copy of the book is signed by Winston Churchill, but doesn't get the signature verified, but still follows the obscure author's writings and news about his work. She gets married again and has kids. She practices law. She gets sick.
Although I was drawn through this story by the fluid writing and the suspense created about the mysterious author, in the end it didn't satisfy me, probably because I resisted the voice. You?
October 18, 2010: "To the Measures Fall" by Richard Powers
Library of Virginia awards announced | Richmond Times-Dispatch
Barbara Kingsolver won the Library of Virginia award for fiction last night, for her novel Lacuna. Library of Virginia awards announced | Richmond Times-DispatchJosh Weil and Ramola D were finalists.[image error]
October 16, 2010
More Negative Scripts
More Negative Scripts: McKenna continues the interviews, including mine.[image error]
LitMag Reviews
There are some fresh reviews of literary magazines posted at New Pages--Review of Literary Magazines
October 15, 2010
Author Rants
I recently published a book review in a new online magazine. It was a mostly positive review but pointed to one significant flaw. The editor of the magazine asked me to consider a change that would soften my criticism, but I opted not to go that route. I didn't think it was possible to overlook the problem.
I learned last night that the author of the book I reviewed contacted the editor, with whom he is acquainted, and was angry about being "misunderstood." He seemed to be under the impression that SHE had written the review and she correctly pointed out that in fact an outside reviewer had done the work. I gather that he didn't get the point and continued his rant. (Other reviewers have pointed out the exact same problem with this book, so I'm hardly alone in my reading; others have also pointed out, which I chose not to mention, the clunky dialogue and other thematic problems with the novel.)
The writer should consider himself lucky to be reviewed. As I was writing that review, I very nearly contacted the editor to say that I couldn't do a review that wouldn't be overly negative, because I didn't think the book was very good. On reflection, though, I thought there was enough redeeming value that I could recommend the book to some readers--it's just not for everyone.
One more point on this review. The magazine has chosen to include a "disclaimer" with its book reviews which states that the reviewers have discretion and the magazine doesn't always agree with what they write. This sort of disclaimer is wholly unnecessary and I've not seen it before. I felt that the editors were, in fact, anticipating the reaction they got on my review and wanted to preserve their ties to the author, even thought my review was spot on. That apparently didn't work, and in the meantime they annoyed a reviewer.
I learned last night that the author of the book I reviewed contacted the editor, with whom he is acquainted, and was angry about being "misunderstood." He seemed to be under the impression that SHE had written the review and she correctly pointed out that in fact an outside reviewer had done the work. I gather that he didn't get the point and continued his rant. (Other reviewers have pointed out the exact same problem with this book, so I'm hardly alone in my reading; others have also pointed out, which I chose not to mention, the clunky dialogue and other thematic problems with the novel.)
The writer should consider himself lucky to be reviewed. As I was writing that review, I very nearly contacted the editor to say that I couldn't do a review that wouldn't be overly negative, because I didn't think the book was very good. On reflection, though, I thought there was enough redeeming value that I could recommend the book to some readers--it's just not for everyone.
One more point on this review. The magazine has chosen to include a "disclaimer" with its book reviews which states that the reviewers have discretion and the magazine doesn't always agree with what they write. This sort of disclaimer is wholly unnecessary and I've not seen it before. I felt that the editors were, in fact, anticipating the reaction they got on my review and wanted to preserve their ties to the author, even thought my review was spot on. That apparently didn't work, and in the meantime they annoyed a reviewer.
October 14, 2010
The New Yorker: "Corrie" by Alice Munro
Finally, a story worth reading. Unfortunately, it's not available to non-subscribers. I wonder if the magazine planned this? Let's let everyone read the light-weight junk, but when we publish an Alice Munro story, something with some real meat, we'll make them pay. Wouldn't surprise me.
The story is set in a small Canadian town and features Corrie, the polio-stricken daughter of a wealthy man. Her life is empty and there is nothing and no one in the town for her, despite her wealthy. But her father hires an architect to restore the steeple of the Anglican church—he's Methodist, himself, but the church is important to the town—and introduces this architect to his daughter. (A nice bit of foreshadowing: as Corrie is preparing for a trip to Egypt, Howard thinks, "Some creepy fortune hunter was bound to snap her up.") He's married with children, but that doesn't stop them from beginning an affair when she returns.
When Corrie's father has a stroke, she hires young Sadie Wolfe to help out around the house. Howard visits often. When the father dies, Sadie moves on. But then Howard, attending a dinner party with his wife, runs into her. In a letter, which Howard destroys immediately, Sadie threatens to expose them, and so begins the blackmail, which wealthy Corrie happily pays, in cash, in an envelope that Howard delivers to Sadie.The affair continues. Years go by. Accidentally, Corrie learns of Sadie's death on the day of her funeral in the small town. She wonders how she can get the news to Howard. And then the truth dawns on her.Aside from the plot, which has a nice twist to it, there's a lot in this story, including the discussion of churches in the town. It is the collapsing Anglican steeple that first brings Howard and Corrie together. The father is a Methodist. Sadie's funeral is in the new "Church of the Lord's Anointed" and leads Corrie to recall that her father had said that only "freak religions" flourished in the town. At the reception following the funeral, Corrie sees many women of the town and notes that the United church and the Presbyterian church were barely hanging on and the Anglican church—again, the church that Howard was hired to save—and closed long ago.
The saga of Corrie's father's shoe factory is another element. He sold the factory, but despite assurances that they'd keep it open the buyers moved production elsewhere. Corrie tries to turn the place into a museum of shoe-making, but that is short lived. And, ironically, Corrie herself has a built-up shoe because of her lameness.
And then politics. Howard is rather conservative, but Corrie's father and Howard's wife are both left-wing supporters of the Saskatchewan premier.
A good story, with plenty to enjoy.
October 11, 2010: "Corrie" by Alice Munro
The story is set in a small Canadian town and features Corrie, the polio-stricken daughter of a wealthy man. Her life is empty and there is nothing and no one in the town for her, despite her wealthy. But her father hires an architect to restore the steeple of the Anglican church—he's Methodist, himself, but the church is important to the town—and introduces this architect to his daughter. (A nice bit of foreshadowing: as Corrie is preparing for a trip to Egypt, Howard thinks, "Some creepy fortune hunter was bound to snap her up.") He's married with children, but that doesn't stop them from beginning an affair when she returns.
When Corrie's father has a stroke, she hires young Sadie Wolfe to help out around the house. Howard visits often. When the father dies, Sadie moves on. But then Howard, attending a dinner party with his wife, runs into her. In a letter, which Howard destroys immediately, Sadie threatens to expose them, and so begins the blackmail, which wealthy Corrie happily pays, in cash, in an envelope that Howard delivers to Sadie.The affair continues. Years go by. Accidentally, Corrie learns of Sadie's death on the day of her funeral in the small town. She wonders how she can get the news to Howard. And then the truth dawns on her.Aside from the plot, which has a nice twist to it, there's a lot in this story, including the discussion of churches in the town. It is the collapsing Anglican steeple that first brings Howard and Corrie together. The father is a Methodist. Sadie's funeral is in the new "Church of the Lord's Anointed" and leads Corrie to recall that her father had said that only "freak religions" flourished in the town. At the reception following the funeral, Corrie sees many women of the town and notes that the United church and the Presbyterian church were barely hanging on and the Anglican church—again, the church that Howard was hired to save—and closed long ago.
The saga of Corrie's father's shoe factory is another element. He sold the factory, but despite assurances that they'd keep it open the buyers moved production elsewhere. Corrie tries to turn the place into a museum of shoe-making, but that is short lived. And, ironically, Corrie herself has a built-up shoe because of her lameness.
And then politics. Howard is rather conservative, but Corrie's father and Howard's wife are both left-wing supporters of the Saskatchewan premier.
A good story, with plenty to enjoy.
October 11, 2010: "Corrie" by Alice Munro
October 13, 2010
Neatness Counts
Actually, it isn't neatness per se that counts; it's attention to detail. As a teacher and an editor, I am disturbed when correct form is not followed. I'm even more disturbed when I see grammar, spelling, or usage errors in submissions. I'm horrified when these mistakes creep into my own work. (How about that for transference? Those mistakes aren't my fault, apparently, if they somehow manage to worm their way into my story all by themselves.)Grammar, spelling, and usage errors will affect a grade in my class. They'll also make a rejection more likely if I see them in a submission to my magazine. And I don't think my attitude is unique.
This was emphasized for me at the "First Pages Critique" during the recent James River Writers Conference in Richmond. It's an interesting session: the first pages of several manuscripts are read aloud and critiqued by a panel of three literary agents in front of an audience. It's a little like American Idol, without the screaming fans. A couple of the agents noted grammar and punctuation errors (misplaced commas) in a number of the manuscripts. It wasn't clear that they would have rejected any of these manuscripts simply because of wild comma, but the fact that these mistakes were noticed was significant. Anything that bugs an agent or an editor is not going to help your manuscript make it through the screening process. There's too much competition, and we have to do our best to make sure that our work will survive.
But here's the problem: many writers don't know grammar, and they certainly don't know the rules for comma. Although I'm pretty well educated, I didn't either until I began TEACHING. I saw the same mistakes over and over again and realized I needed to be able to articulate the rules in order to teach them. I learned. You can, too.
