Philip Roth vs. Ernest Hemingway: The Artistic Benefit to the Misadventure
When I was in college, my English department offered a class taught by Saul Bellow's wife. I had read some Bellow (Henderson the Rain King) in my high school Existential Literature class, which to this day remains the best English class I've ever taken. As a result of my high school experience, I tried to get into Bellow's wife's English class every semester while in college. I finally got in my senior year.
It turned out, that the class was mostly about Philip Roth (although we did read Henderson the Rain King, again). What I learned from that class were two very important things.
1.) I hate Philip Roth's writing
2.) I hate Philip Roth's approach to writing and art in general.
Now, you may think that the class was a great let down. In some ways, it was. I had been expecting an even better version of my high school Existential Literature class and what I'd gotten was a class about Philip Roth, who, in my opinion has a very narrow view point. In every book I read by him (The Plot Against America, The Breast, The Human Stain, Exit Ghost, The Ghost Writer and others which I can't remember) Roth seems to have the same character with the same issues. He writes about a middle aged Jewish man. The man is always from the East Coast. He is an academic who has a bachelors, Masters, and PhD in English. The man teaches, writes and cannot relate to women. The man struggles with his identity as a woman fearing, East Coast, Jewish academic and there you have it, the plot to every Roth book I've ever read.
Needless to say, initially, I was let down my my English 'dream class'. I failed to understand why we cared about Roth or his characters at all. My class, which was mostly full of East Coast Jewish women, seemed to love Roth. My professor loved Roth. I squeaked by with a B minus.
During the class though, we took a break from Roth to read a story by an author whose name I have since forgotten. In this story, the 19th century author states that in order to be a true artist, one must only focus on his art. Our professor then told us a story of how a friend of Roth's once thought he was working too much, and she gave him two kittens. Roth spent the day playing with the kittens, then gave them back because he stated 'they were distracting him from his work.'
Now, this is why the Philip Roth class was perhaps the most important English class I took while in college. I remember reading the 19th century story and then listening to my professor explain Roth's reasoning behind getting rid of his cats and thinking - These people are psychopaths. All of them. Why on Earth would locking yourself away and never coming into contact with the outside world make you a good artist? How could you produce anything relatable to anyone if you never interacted with anyone? If you never took the time to love anything, from a significant other to two kittens, how could you write novels that meant anything?
Now, obviously, not everyone shares my view point. After all, some consider Roth to be the greatest American author of our time. Others, like me, don't agree. Those of us who don't like Roth and his associates, tend to align ourselves more with Hemingway.
Several years after graduating college, I discovered one of my co-workers was also a writer. He offered to host a writer's group. We would meet occasionally and do exercises, talk about what we were doing, and most of all, listen to our mentor talk about Hemingway.
I learned a ton from this group, most importantly, how can you write about anything if you have never experienced anything? How can you have anything new or different or inspiring to say if you have never experienced hardship, adversary, love, or kindness?
Hemingway was an experiential guy. He got out into the world and got his hands dirty. He lived by tasting, smelling, hearing speaking, and feeling - not by sitting by himself and thinking. This is how I think a true artist is made. A true artist, whether a sculptor or writer, cannot offer anything meaningful if they have never had an adventure. Hemingway had adventure after misadventure, and he took those experiences and turned them into classic literature.
When people find out I write, most people assume I write about being a park ranger. People are often shocked that I write science fiction and not non-fiction. What people fail to understand is that there is no way I could write what I write if I wasn't a park ranger. While I may not write essays about my interactions with cougars, meth heads, bitter cold, blistering heat, sunrises, lost hikers, dead hikers, pine cones, and crazy mules, all of these things, and the rest of my experiences, allow me to write about real things through the lens of science fiction. Let me give you an example.
Recently, my partner and I were driving to a call in another part of the park. I was in the front passenger seat of our Tahoe, and I noticed something cross the road in front of us. It was dark, maybe 9 pm, and at first I thought it was a deer, no wait, a coyote. Then we both saw it for what it was - a very large adult cougar.
My partner stopped the car as it finished crossing the road. The predator moved into the brush then turned and looked at me over its shoulder. Remember, I was in a running Tahoe, with another adult, and the car was filled with a variety of weapons, ranging from mace to a rifle. The cougar stared straight at me, its dark eyes silently appraising me. This was the first time in my life I was aware of being studied as potential prey (I'm sure I unknowingly interacted with sharks while surfing, but as they say, ignorance is bliss). The cougar never broke its stare with me, and in that instance I knew, despite the machine in which I sat, the guns that I carried, and the person next to me, I was the weaker of the two of us.
I broke eye contact with the cat and told my partner to drive.
I experienced the fear of being prey, and you can bet that experience will work its way into my writing. The situation won't be the same, there may be aliens involved, but the feelings will be universal. Do you think Roth ever took the time to get stared down by a highly efficient killing machine? I doubt it. Did Hemingway? Well, he volunteered for World War One, so you probably know the answer.
In conclusion, I'm not saying that an artist needs to put themselves in dangerous situations in order to produce 'real' art. What I'm saying is, that through living a life imbued with some spontaneity, an artist will be more able to create real work with which people can identify. You don't need to become an ambulance driver in Iraq to 'get it'. Just take the time to play with some kittens, volunteer at a soup kitchen, or drive the long way home. You will never know what you'll experience if you don't give yourself the opportunity.
It turned out, that the class was mostly about Philip Roth (although we did read Henderson the Rain King, again). What I learned from that class were two very important things.
1.) I hate Philip Roth's writing
2.) I hate Philip Roth's approach to writing and art in general.
Now, you may think that the class was a great let down. In some ways, it was. I had been expecting an even better version of my high school Existential Literature class and what I'd gotten was a class about Philip Roth, who, in my opinion has a very narrow view point. In every book I read by him (The Plot Against America, The Breast, The Human Stain, Exit Ghost, The Ghost Writer and others which I can't remember) Roth seems to have the same character with the same issues. He writes about a middle aged Jewish man. The man is always from the East Coast. He is an academic who has a bachelors, Masters, and PhD in English. The man teaches, writes and cannot relate to women. The man struggles with his identity as a woman fearing, East Coast, Jewish academic and there you have it, the plot to every Roth book I've ever read.
Needless to say, initially, I was let down my my English 'dream class'. I failed to understand why we cared about Roth or his characters at all. My class, which was mostly full of East Coast Jewish women, seemed to love Roth. My professor loved Roth. I squeaked by with a B minus.
During the class though, we took a break from Roth to read a story by an author whose name I have since forgotten. In this story, the 19th century author states that in order to be a true artist, one must only focus on his art. Our professor then told us a story of how a friend of Roth's once thought he was working too much, and she gave him two kittens. Roth spent the day playing with the kittens, then gave them back because he stated 'they were distracting him from his work.'
Now, this is why the Philip Roth class was perhaps the most important English class I took while in college. I remember reading the 19th century story and then listening to my professor explain Roth's reasoning behind getting rid of his cats and thinking - These people are psychopaths. All of them. Why on Earth would locking yourself away and never coming into contact with the outside world make you a good artist? How could you produce anything relatable to anyone if you never interacted with anyone? If you never took the time to love anything, from a significant other to two kittens, how could you write novels that meant anything?
Now, obviously, not everyone shares my view point. After all, some consider Roth to be the greatest American author of our time. Others, like me, don't agree. Those of us who don't like Roth and his associates, tend to align ourselves more with Hemingway.
Several years after graduating college, I discovered one of my co-workers was also a writer. He offered to host a writer's group. We would meet occasionally and do exercises, talk about what we were doing, and most of all, listen to our mentor talk about Hemingway.
I learned a ton from this group, most importantly, how can you write about anything if you have never experienced anything? How can you have anything new or different or inspiring to say if you have never experienced hardship, adversary, love, or kindness?
Hemingway was an experiential guy. He got out into the world and got his hands dirty. He lived by tasting, smelling, hearing speaking, and feeling - not by sitting by himself and thinking. This is how I think a true artist is made. A true artist, whether a sculptor or writer, cannot offer anything meaningful if they have never had an adventure. Hemingway had adventure after misadventure, and he took those experiences and turned them into classic literature.
When people find out I write, most people assume I write about being a park ranger. People are often shocked that I write science fiction and not non-fiction. What people fail to understand is that there is no way I could write what I write if I wasn't a park ranger. While I may not write essays about my interactions with cougars, meth heads, bitter cold, blistering heat, sunrises, lost hikers, dead hikers, pine cones, and crazy mules, all of these things, and the rest of my experiences, allow me to write about real things through the lens of science fiction. Let me give you an example.
Recently, my partner and I were driving to a call in another part of the park. I was in the front passenger seat of our Tahoe, and I noticed something cross the road in front of us. It was dark, maybe 9 pm, and at first I thought it was a deer, no wait, a coyote. Then we both saw it for what it was - a very large adult cougar.
My partner stopped the car as it finished crossing the road. The predator moved into the brush then turned and looked at me over its shoulder. Remember, I was in a running Tahoe, with another adult, and the car was filled with a variety of weapons, ranging from mace to a rifle. The cougar stared straight at me, its dark eyes silently appraising me. This was the first time in my life I was aware of being studied as potential prey (I'm sure I unknowingly interacted with sharks while surfing, but as they say, ignorance is bliss). The cougar never broke its stare with me, and in that instance I knew, despite the machine in which I sat, the guns that I carried, and the person next to me, I was the weaker of the two of us.
I broke eye contact with the cat and told my partner to drive.
I experienced the fear of being prey, and you can bet that experience will work its way into my writing. The situation won't be the same, there may be aliens involved, but the feelings will be universal. Do you think Roth ever took the time to get stared down by a highly efficient killing machine? I doubt it. Did Hemingway? Well, he volunteered for World War One, so you probably know the answer.
In conclusion, I'm not saying that an artist needs to put themselves in dangerous situations in order to produce 'real' art. What I'm saying is, that through living a life imbued with some spontaneity, an artist will be more able to create real work with which people can identify. You don't need to become an ambulance driver in Iraq to 'get it'. Just take the time to play with some kittens, volunteer at a soup kitchen, or drive the long way home. You will never know what you'll experience if you don't give yourself the opportunity.
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