Over at Book View Cafe, Nancy Jane Moore has an interesting post on Annie Murphy Paul’s article and other related research by Keith Oatley and Raymond Mar.
As a book designer, I would be curious to see a study that looks at good writing with a good page design vs. good writing with a poor design, and bad writing with a good design vs. bad writing with a poor design. Yes, good writing is subjective. I would have to be in charge of making that distinction.
It turns out that reading fiction is actually good for you. Not that I didn’t already believe that, but I’ve met plenty of people who don’t read fiction, because they say they only want to read real things. This piece by Annie Murphy Paul in the New York Times discusses some recent research into the imagery of fiction and its effect on the brain.
Paul quotes Dr. Keith Oatley, professor of cognitive psychology at the University of Toronto and a novelist (including The Case of Emily V, a mystery that involves Sigmund Freud and Sherlock Holmes). According to Oatley, fiction “is a particularly useful simulation because negotiating the social world effectively is extremely tricky, requiring us to weigh up myriad interacting instances of cause and effect. Just as computer simulations can help us get to grips with complex problems such as flying a plane or forecasting the weather, so novels, stories and dramas can help us understand the complexities of social life.”
Paul mentions Oatley and other authors of various studies. When I looked up Oatley I discovered that he has a book from August 2011 on the same subject: Such Stuff as Dreams: The Psychology of Fiction, which is described as exploring “how fiction works in the brains and imagination of both readers and writers.”
I find it odd that Paul’s piece failed to mention Oatley’s book. I don’t know what that omission means (most likely nothing), but it bugs me. It distracted me from the making of a simple blog post on an interesting subject, sending me off into myriad speculations, none of which are worth noting in this post.
Here’s a group blog that Oatley participates in: OnFiction: An Online Magazine on the Psychology of Fiction, which I will look at more thoroughly when I get a chance, and I’m curious to read his book.
I hope the findings of Oatley and other researchers will encourage more people to attempt the reading of fiction. It will help your brain.
Today I wrote some of the beginning of part two of the novel I’ve been working on (called New Springdale Novel or maybe Recollections of a Malleable Future). Part one is first person, part two is third person. Same character, but things are different. I needed to set up that difference, or begin to set it up. Without being too obvious, heavy-handed, etc. What I did today is probably mostly place-holder, but it’s a start.
I recently watched a documentary called American Hardcore: The History of American Punk Rock 1980-1986, directed by Paul Rachman and written by Steven Blush. It’s based on Blush’s book American Hardcore: A Tribal History.
The film details some of the bands and history of the music, tying the appearance and disintegration of the scene to Ronald Reagan’s first term. One of the musicians interviewed talked about the crazy-fake back-to-the-1950s look that came out after Reagan was elected, and how the bands were reacting to that, saying that’s not us. An idea that maybe works better in retrospect.
There are interviews with various musicians: Henry Rollins (of course), some good talks with Ian MacKaye, and lots of others. One oddity was the interview with Mike Watt of the Minutemen. The Minutemen’s music didn’t fit the hardcore image, and the filmmakers didn’t try to make it fit, but also didn’t explain why they interviewed him. The band was on the same label as Black Flag, played the same clubs and such, so inclusion makes sense as a way of discussing the origins of the scene. A little more of a connection would have been useful. The Watt interview scenes in fact felt like outtakes from the excellent Minuteman documentary (We Jam Econo: The Story of the Minutemen).
Lately, my four-year-old daughter has been wanting to listen to the title song of the Mekons Ancient and Modern album. Yes, I know that in some states it’s a crime to let a child listen to real music.
The song (in case anyone out there doesn’t know) is an epic tale in four sections, with four different singers (technically, many more than four singers because the fourth section is sung by a choral group. “Ancient and Modern” is a song that does what a good work of art is supposed to do, slide past the thinking-brain and into the subconscious.
It would be nice to know who the voices are (as a parent, I’m supposed to know everything, and having to tell a four-year-old “I think that’s X…” is most embarrassing. But the band’s liner notes aren’t very revealing. The first vocal is, I think, accordion player Rico Bell. I’m less sure of his voice because he doesn’t sing as much as the other members. Next is a spoken part by either violin player Susie Honeyman or bass player Sarah Corina—it’s definitely not Sally Timms. I’ve never heard either of them speak and can’t place the accent. Honeyman is from Glasgow, but the accent doesn’t sound like Glaswegians I know, mainly writer-friend Neil Williamson. The third part is easy, founding-member Tom Greenhalgh. The song ends with vocals by the Burlington Welsh Male Chorus—also obvious, because they’re credited [updated below].
A note on the arrogance of reviewers. Here someone says “The song begins with Jon Langford….” and here: “The three vocalists—Jon Langford, Tom Greenhalgh and Timms”. I also found a reviewer who said the song faltered toward the end, but at least he didn’t add to his lack of taste by attempting to identify the singers. Were these people really so certain? Or is it because they know that the main singers are two men and a woman, so any men and women have to be from among those three? They could spend a little more time listening before they begin the pontification process.
And in closing, having mentioned Glaswegian Neil Williamson, I’d like to tell people about the ebook version of his very fine but out of print debut short story collection, The Ephemera, now available in the various ebook formats from infinityplus.The ebook edition has four additional stories plus notes on all the stories. I recommend that those of you who posses the modern ink-substitute called an e-reader get yourselves a copy.
From a source involved with the proceedings: Lu Edmonds starts, then Jon Langford and Rico Bell join in, Susie Honeyman talks, Tom Greenhalgh sings, Sarah Corina talks, Tom Greenhalgh sings again, then everyone and the choir finish. Reviewers: see, it’s not hard to find things out!
And now, the long awaited interview with Robert Keiper, who voiced the majority of the iambik audiobooks production of The Painting and the City. (He handled the contemporary parts and Ulf Bjorklund read the Philip Schuyler journal sections. I’m hoping to interview Ulf later.)
To go with this interview, iambik will be offering a give-a-way. Please check their blog for details.
Keiper began his theater career in the fifth grade, singing in operetta and acting in child roles with the Cleveland Playhouse. He studied theater at Ohio State University, and has directed educational television, toured the country as a platform speaker, worked as an actor in New York, and directed and wrote shows for the stage, one of which has had 2500 performances.
He took a 30-year break from theater to work in business, and returned to acting because of his daughter, Alex Keiper. Since getting back into acting, he has worked in stage plays and film, training people in businesses to improve their presentation skills, and, of course, as a voice artist, including commercials, audio plays, and audio books.
Keiper is appearing in a new movie, The Sophmore, with Amanda Plummer and Patrick Warburten, out in January 2012.
Laconic Central: Hi Bob, thanks for doing this interview.
In your bio, you say you got back into theater because of your daughter’s love for acting. I’m assuming that her interest was sparked originally by your past–or did you stop before she was born?
Robert Keiper: My daughter got the theater bug all on her own. Then, taking her to an audition landed roles for both of us, and I got bitten again. So she’s more responsible for my theatrical aspirations than I am for hers.
But some of my fondest memories—and hers—are her childhood hours we spent in the living room working on monologues.
Good article by C.A. Belmond in the Huffington Post last Wednesday: “Writers Wednesday: 5 Lies They Tell You About Writing.”
I particularly liked number 2: “Many writing instructors routinely discourage new authors from describing their characters and the world they inhabit. Why? Two reasons are usually given. One is that it isn’t “modern” to do so (Hemingway is often cited here); and the other is because it’s so darned hard to describe stuff (like sure, what are you, a writer or something?)…Perhaps that explains why so many writers use brand names in place of original description. Let’s call this for what it is: mere product placement, for which the authors didn’t even get paid.”
Aside from the vague statement “many writing instructors,” (how many? how surveyed? residential/non-residential programs? undergraduate/graduate?), I agree with what she’s saying. Brand names bore me. Brand names in fiction bore me. Including the name of a particular beverage doesn’t improve a story.
A critique of an early draft of Circus of the Grand Design by a writer I respect included the suggestion of using brand names in part one (which is set in the real world), to anchor the story because after part one it dives into the land of What the Fuck? and stays there till the end. The suggestion made sense, but I chose to ignore it; the final version did (I hope) convey the real-world better than the version he read.
“…do we really need to hear from yet another desperate housewife about her mind-numbing collection of Manolos and Choos, or the brand of bottled water she drinks?”
I learned from the comments to Belmond’s piece that she is referring to shoes. Maybe writers who use brand names etc. should have to pay licensing fees to the corporate owners.
Besides brand names, I don’t like to use pop culture references, contemporary jargon, sayings, and clichés. I find it jarring and uninteresting to read a story with, say, Facebook or YouTube in it. I’m even hesitant to use computers and cell phones in my fiction. I don’t need the world that I see every day to be reflected in fiction.
Grandiose it may be, but I would like the things I write to have meant something before current brand names, jargon, and fads existed. Yes, that’s unrealistic. English is always changing. There are words in common use now that originated from brand names or jargon. The main point would be that I’m not writing for the current moment.
But like any creative exercise, everyone is free to do what they want. If brand names get you exited, then pile them in. Fortunately for you, not all readers will have tastes as rigid as mine.
I’ll close with an example from Michael Cisco’s novel The Narrator, where you’ll find description that makes the familiar alien. No brand names here!
“Oh look another one of my outdoor cafés what about that. A handsome girl and brave asks me what I want and goes inside to get me whatever it is I’ve ordered. Everywhere, the same thing. I see mouths in motion on all sides. Incessantly in motion, on all sides. There’s another; and now two more have joined us. They eat, and their jaws work the food around among the teeth, between the jaws, pressed this way and that so that the different kinds of food find the teeth specialized to destroy them. The tongue does this, and also churns saliva into the food, so that everything tastes like saliva. Although the tongue naturally tastes, while having no taste of its own to speak of, not that I’d notice. I watch this or that patron lifting a cup or glass to the mouths they come here to honor with this fine food and drink, and the mouths stretch themselves out toward the cups or glasses, reaching out to meet them before the hand has finished bringing it near, as the eye judges. These people, like me, are marked for death. But not entirely like me. They can run.”
I liked this piece on Bookslut by Greer Mansfield about the fiction of Sheridan Le Fanu, M.R. James, and Robert Aickman. I haven’t read much Le Fanu or James. In fact, I didn’t even realize that I own a copy of Le Fanu’s collection, Madam Crowl’s Ghost and other stories. Which I obviously need to read soon.
Here’s something Mansfield said about Aickman, which I would have said in my Aickman post if I had thought of it:
Aickman never spells out his meaning. His stories end abruptly and inconclusively, and in fact the “meaning” is less important than the utter mysteriousness of what happens. Like a true poem or a vivid dream, Aickman’s stories hover on the edge of being understood, but never quite are. They are meant to be listened to and wondered at, and their mystery grows stronger the more one puzzles over them
And an interesting interview at The Center for Fiction with a writer I’m unfamiliar with named Steve Almond. I like his attitude toward big publishing and the need for doing it yourself sometimes but not all the time. Some good bits like this:
That’s the fundamental design flaw in the publishing industry: It pairs an artist with a corporation. Occasionally, this produces a great piece of art that makes all parties involved dough. More often, a literary book loses money—all but one of mine have—and the writer winds up feeling like a loser because his piece of art didn’t move more units. That’s a pretty crazy way to measure success.
I just heard today that singer/songwriter Bill Morrissey died in July, of heart failure. Various obituaries and tributes here. I talked to him once at one of his shows and we shared a French publisher, but I didn’t know him.
As I type, I’m listening to his 1989 album, Standing Eight. Which, if Amazon is correct, is out of print.
The first album I heard, after catching him live in Austin in ’93 or ’94, was Night Train, which has “Birches,” probably his best-known song. It’s a song that struck me a perfect short-short story, set to music. So I wasn’t surprised when he wrote a novel, Edson, which came out in ’96. I had some problems with it (mostly repetition that should have been edited out), but it had some impressive story-telling and characterization. He wrote a second novel that never came out in the U.S. It was to have appeared in France this year, but the publisher went bankrupt (soon after their edition of The Painting and the City came out—sorry Bill, if it’s my fault).
A couple of years ago, I read on his website that he had been dealing with alcoholism and depression. Depression that he had self-medicated for years with the alcohol. Which happens. I wish it hadn’t. He might still be here.
Circus of the Grand Design is now available as an ebook, brought to an ebook store near you by the lovely and talented Keith Brooke, of Infinity Plus.
Circus came out in hardback from Prime Books in 2004. Locus Magazine called it “a fascinating, deeply bizarre adventure.” Jane Andrews gave us permission to re-use her way cool painting “Moving On” for the cover.
The Infinity Plus page has links to the various ebook sellers so you can purchase one for yourself.
Laconic Writer 
