(no subject)
Jan. 15th, 2007 11:04 pmThese last few days I have been thinking about eternal presents in the minds of critics and writers. Not the giving kind*, the existential kind. And not really an eternal present. And now I'm getting myself confused before I even begin.
Let me start again.
I used to read short stories about as much as I read novels. I have recently returned to short stories, largely because I started writing them again and I can't write something I don't read lots of. Even if I only write one short story a year, I have to learn what other people do and how they do it. So I not only read, but I read about what other people read. Lots of lists and descriptions and analyses. Reading the thoughts of others on their reading as a bit depressing. Of the short story readers and writers, only a very few people seem to read older stories and be developing a deeper context for their writing than the past ten years. And *that's* what I meant by 'eternal present'. We live in a small pond and think our ripples have vast impact because our contexts are so very limited.
In my dream world writers and critics don't develop just an understanding of how short stories are written now, or an understanding of one genre, but a deep understanding of short stories over time.
As usual, I have a code to remind me about this. My code for the need to read older short stories is "Ring Lardner" because a short story of his introduced me to point of view. Henry James made me realise the importance of the unreliable narrator. By 'introduced' and 'realised' I mean that they made me stop and think and reconsider what writing can achieve.
Shorter pieces can be magic learning grounds for technique. Not just any short story, though. Ones that once shocked. Ones that endure. They open writers' eyes to what is possible. I feel like quoting Robert Browning on the need for a man's reach to exceed his grasp - it's much easier to reach out when you've see what *can* be done.
Anyhow, this week I decided to fight a personal war against the eternal present. I've added to my short story collection. I bought speculative fiction antholologies and collections of stories from the 1940s to the 1980s. And I already have volumes by Maupassant and Joyce and a bunch of others. Anyone in Canberra who wants to borrow them is welcome. I can give you coffee when you return them if you want to share the joy of reading stories with different cultural contexts.
If you want to know what this sort of wide-ranging reading can give to your prose, just read Lucy Sussex's latest anthology. One reason her writing is full of shade and colour is her reading. I love seeing where she has taken something into herself - it comes out as something that is purely hers and is an important aspect of her particular writing voice. You don't have to know where her thinking has come from - the stories are better stories because she is well-read and thinks things through.
Time to climb off soapbox, perhaps. And my reading today included Sophie Masson and Terry Pratchett, which is not relevant to anything except me enjoying life.
* though if anyone feels the need to give writers and critics presents eternally, few of us would object.
Let me start again.
I used to read short stories about as much as I read novels. I have recently returned to short stories, largely because I started writing them again and I can't write something I don't read lots of. Even if I only write one short story a year, I have to learn what other people do and how they do it. So I not only read, but I read about what other people read. Lots of lists and descriptions and analyses. Reading the thoughts of others on their reading as a bit depressing. Of the short story readers and writers, only a very few people seem to read older stories and be developing a deeper context for their writing than the past ten years. And *that's* what I meant by 'eternal present'. We live in a small pond and think our ripples have vast impact because our contexts are so very limited.
In my dream world writers and critics don't develop just an understanding of how short stories are written now, or an understanding of one genre, but a deep understanding of short stories over time.
As usual, I have a code to remind me about this. My code for the need to read older short stories is "Ring Lardner" because a short story of his introduced me to point of view. Henry James made me realise the importance of the unreliable narrator. By 'introduced' and 'realised' I mean that they made me stop and think and reconsider what writing can achieve.
Shorter pieces can be magic learning grounds for technique. Not just any short story, though. Ones that once shocked. Ones that endure. They open writers' eyes to what is possible. I feel like quoting Robert Browning on the need for a man's reach to exceed his grasp - it's much easier to reach out when you've see what *can* be done.
Anyhow, this week I decided to fight a personal war against the eternal present. I've added to my short story collection. I bought speculative fiction antholologies and collections of stories from the 1940s to the 1980s. And I already have volumes by Maupassant and Joyce and a bunch of others. Anyone in Canberra who wants to borrow them is welcome. I can give you coffee when you return them if you want to share the joy of reading stories with different cultural contexts.
If you want to know what this sort of wide-ranging reading can give to your prose, just read Lucy Sussex's latest anthology. One reason her writing is full of shade and colour is her reading. I love seeing where she has taken something into herself - it comes out as something that is purely hers and is an important aspect of her particular writing voice. You don't have to know where her thinking has come from - the stories are better stories because she is well-read and thinks things through.
Time to climb off soapbox, perhaps. And my reading today included Sophie Masson and Terry Pratchett, which is not relevant to anything except me enjoying life.
* though if anyone feels the need to give writers and critics presents eternally, few of us would object.