For those of you taking my Kenai Peninsula College class CWLA 33516 "Crafting the Personal Essay" -- this is your thread on this blog. This is where you should post parts of your academic journal comments about the essays we' re reading as well as the topics we're discussing in class. DO NOT use this thread to post your writing or to engage in critiques of each other's writing. Feel free to lead us to some interesting links on the web that are relevant to what we're reading, writing or discussing.
Other followers on this blog not taking this class are welcome to contribute to this thread as long as you stay on topic. That may mean reading some of the essays we're discussing in the text "The Best American Essays of 2008."
Ok, I'll try again - had trouble logging in and apologies but somehow I am idientified as AKDAN it wasn't my doing, anyway - riveted by "Cracking open" - she had me at the first line - I couldn't keep reading since I was sitting in front of the class. I was there every step, I felt it, smelled it, I ached. I found myself wishing it was a (long) book.
ReplyDeleteAs I said in class, this essay grabbed me from the first line also. When you read essays like this, ask yourself what specifically grabbed you and why you continued reading. Look at the words in the first sentence, the first paragraph. Remember what I talked about in class. All we're really dealing with here is words, ink scratches on a piece of paper. What is there about these specific words in this essay introduction, put in the sequence they are in, that is so compelling? Consider this and we'll talk about it next class.
ReplyDeleteIf you "enjoyed" Patricia Brieschke's essay "Cracking Open," you may want to read an abridged version of another of her essays, this one called "All of Me." I put "enjoyed" in quotes because that's really not the right word to describe why an essay like this is so compelling for some. If you look up our text on amazon.com, you'll find one reviewer described "Cracking Open" as depressing and without merit. Different people respond different ways. How did you respond to "Cracking Open"?
ReplyDeleteYou can find "All of Me," here:
http://www.thesunmagazine.org/issues/399/all_of_me
A long, long time ago, in a far, far place from her life today, she spoke so poorly of herself and her judgement; then to trap you by telling us she had a baby in a very raw setting. I had a feeling that she would experience more grief than one should bear and my heart embraced her anguish. I didn't want to go on, not knowing how painful her experience would really be or the outcome of her child.
ReplyDeleteBut she held me with her victim soaked voice, striving so diligently and desperately to find a way out of any mother's greatest nightmare, a suffering child.
The writing itself was powerful and captivating. However some of the things this author wrote annoyed me. I was confused by her choice of metaphores: My olive branch to the universe ? Also, later she compared her baby to a bug... Little caterpillar and a snail without a shell. In addition to this I felt like sometimes the information she included wasnt relevant to what was happening. While Im sure there was a purpose to all these things I felt like i had to stop and re-read too many times trying to understand.
ReplyDeleteGood observations, Robin. Can you think of one or two tiems that were not relevant and should could have left out -- those places that you had to reread?
ReplyDeleteCracking Open
ReplyDeletejfollett
Technique: All the basics of story structire are contained in this essay. We have the mother as PROTAGONIST, and her FLAW is a lack of self-confidence and self-knowledge. I'm not certain about the ANTAGONIST, but my vote goes to the medical professionals, with a father and both sets of grandparents as the ANTAGONISTS' AGENTS. All exhibit a lack of compassion, their FLAWS.
The first line, the one of giving birth to a damaged baby, was a terrific HOOK. Not for many paragraphs did we learn the "damage" and that alone kept me reading.
Instead, we learn the BACKSTORY, a difficult relationship with the parents of the couple, a fragile and ineffective father who lives in a world of alcohol and mind-altering drugs to escape reality and responsibility. The mother seems to be entirely inadequate to the task of raising a child. There appears to be no practicality or responsibility in either parent. By this time, I was horrified that these two were having a child.
Finally, the damage to the child is revealed, which TRIGGERS a CRISIS in the mother. She bonds with the infant and attempts to protect him, but a long battle ensures with the medical professionals as she STRUGGLES to overcome her FLAW of weakness. At length, after a series of medical procedures that seem medieval, she threatens (her EPIPHANY) to remove the child from the hospital, signifying her recognition of her flaw, and perhaps her triumph over it.
Her PLAN and its implementation is understood in this story, because next we learn the child has had surgery. Then, he is walking, and the protagonist is considering another child (CLIMAX). The father is employed , signifying that he is working to overcome his flaw.
I found the title of this essay, Cracking Open, interesting on three points. It can he applicable to a woman's dilating during childbirth, to the mother's emotional health during the crises that follow birth, and to the ending, where both she and the child have learned to love, an opening of their hearts.
On an emotional basis, I found this story difficult to read. I also found a strange but compelling disconnect in the voice of this essay. It added to the horror of the story, seeming to enhance the protagonist's inability to advocate for both herself and the chil.
Tripp Lake
ReplyDeletejfollett
A well-known writer, whose name I cannot recall and whose quote I cannot find, said, in essence, that his writings were portraits that the reader colors with his own experiences. That is how i read Tripp Lake.
This essay, which tells a story, contains the fundamentals of story structure. We have:
PREMISE: what if a child's relationship with its mother damages the child to the point of extreme paranoia?
PASSION: Understanding can help heal emotional damage.
THEME: Challenging our fears can assist in overcoming them.
CHARACTER: Lauren's first experience away from home reveals her psychological reaction to a distant mother.
Lauren is the PROTAGONIST. Her FLAW is fear.
The mother is the ANTAGONIST. Her FLAW is an inability to show love.
Initially, I thought the HOOK was weak. Were it not for my own experiences in summer camps, and that this essay was an assignment, I might not have continued reading. Upon reconsideration, perhaps bringing one's own experiences to a story makes this hook better than I first thought.
The BACKSTORY is revealed in a preclude to boarding the bus to camp.
The writer used a summer camp stint as the vehicle for this story of a young girl's examination of her relationship with her mother, which TRIGGERS the CRISIS, and a STRUGGLE with the fears that exhibited themselves once she was away form the relatively safe confines of home. The struggle is epitomized by the girl's horseback riding lessons, and overcoming her flaw--her fear of jumping.
The girl's EPIPHANY comes when she realizes that it is her own fault the horse balks at the jump obstacle. Eventually, through trying again and again, she overcomes her flaw as it relates to horse jumping, and is able to relate that lesson to her entire life. Thus, the CLIMAX and ENDING, the girl's recognition that a mother's flaw need not overwhelm the daughter's life.
On an emotional basis, the STORY line (not the PLOT) seems a bit far-fetched, that a distant mother could so negatively affect a daughter that the daughter suffers full-blown paranoia. That said, and recognizing my own reactions to a distant mother (whom I eventually realized may have been jealous of me and my opportunities rather than resentful of me as a person), I will temper my opinion and accept the story as it is written.
On another front, I found this story difficult to read because of its complex sentences. I frequently had to back up and reread sentences to understand their intent. Perhaps those sentences alone could be an allegory re life and its complexities.
In sum, this was a satisfying story to read and I'm glad the girl learned to jump.
The Courage to Write
ReplyDeleteRalph Keyes
For three years or more, Ralph Keyes "The Courage to Write" has nestled among its brethren on a shelf adjacent to my work space, and there it has remained except for one brief period when it joined an assortment of like books in my suitcase.
The book made one journey, but never again. Instead, it keeps vaunted company with Bird by Bird, Writing Down the Bones, The Elements of Style, Writer's Market, the Chicago Manual of Style as well as its more slender cousins, The AP Manual of Style and The AP Guide to Punctuation (the latter written by a former editor of mine), and many more books about writing. Lying on its side in front of the others books, is my external memory bank--Rodale's 1361 page tome, The Synonym Finder, its scuffed corners testifying to its frequent use.
While the others have been read, or plumbed in the manner of reference books, The Courage to Write is always a bridesmaid, never a bride. Did I think the mere act of buying the book enough, that I would soak up its message by osmosis as I sat at my keyboard? No answer. Maybe the plot was boring; maybe the plot was too revealing.
Then came a condensation of that message, published in the Writer's Digest magazine. Now, proffered as an assignment, I was without excuses. I had to read the article and apply its diagnosis to myself.
Even to my perennial image of myself lying in a fetal position on the floor of my bedroom closet when words of mine as about to go public, Keyes has captured my writing persona. Except, that is, for one whopper of a difference, and that whopper, much like Frost's roads diverging in a yellow wood, has made all the difference.
Four years ago this moth, during a middle-of-the-night-meltdown-epiphany, I returned to my writing roots after a forty-year hiatus. Now, reading this essay, I am forced to examine the reasons for the prison. The layers and layers of bricks I circled about myself were composed of self-doubt, fear of being exposed as wanting, inadequacy in the technique of writing, and such. All were mortared together by a lack of higher education.
Ironically, what made me return to writing were my own writings: some five dozens letters, almost a daily journal, that I sent to a friend away at college in 1865-66. Those are what saved me in that meltdown. My friend had saved all those letters and returned them to me almost forty years later. I could never read them, not wanting to revisit that period of my life.
During the 2 a.m. bonfire that was cremating what was left of my sanity after caregiving a spouse with Alzheimer's Disease for five years, I decided to read that shoebox of letters, adding fuel to the fire. I sat in my king-sized bed where I now slept alone after placing my husband in an assisted living home, and plucked a letter at random from the over-stuffed box. Its content was precisely the thing I needed at that moment, and all my fears of losing my sanity disappeared. I sat up the remainder of the night and read every one of those miraculous letters.
(continued)
(continued) Courage to Write
ReplyDeletejfollet the verbose
I began copying parts that related to long-ago friends, and e-mailing them. I sectioned the stories into relevant chapters, and mailed printed copies to friends old and new. Suddenly, my muse made an appearance and the two of us greased the writing gears with doggerel, fun and whimsical doggerel. When she deemed me sufficiently lubricated, she gave me my voice.
Since then it's been a wild ride. The first essay I wrote in my new life won first place for adult non-fiction in the UAA/ADN creative writing contest in 2006. I've had several pieces published in Alaska Woman Speak, and online at the Elder Storytelling Place.
I've been making small steps of courage, volunteering to read my pieces aloud at various workshops and writers' conventions. In the meantime, reams and reams of paper bearing my words have zipped through my printer. The words piled up around me, wanting a home, so I began a blog in April of 2008. It is not a place for me to expound or lecture or advocate, but a place for my words to go. The anonymity of the Internet appeals to me, which brings me full circle to the assigned reading of Keyes' essay.
My self-assignment for this winter is to gather as many of those essays that I am willing to put my name to in public, and have them printed in book form. "...as I am willing to have my name put to in public," and therein lies the rub. I am considering POD publishing rather than face the agent/publishing house hurdle.
But, as they say, I am a work in progress. Perhaps it's the right time for the bridesmaid to catch the bridal bouquet.
Excellent analysis, Jeanne. That's reading like a writer -- watching what's going on between the sentences and paragraphs as you read. On your last point -- sometimes a disconnect like the one you describe, between the authorial voice and the events (casual voice vs. serious events or vice a versa) creates a tension the the reader's mind, a tension that not only drives the reader into the story, but also keeps the reader reading.
ReplyDeleteNotable Quotes:
ReplyDeleteI am quite sure that this may have been the most pointless piece of writing I have ever read. I dont know who Leo Durocher, Henry Sanders, Karl Max, Cherilyn Sarkisian LaPierre, or anyone else mentioned in this story is. Im sure this is because I'm slightly ignorant and too young to have ever heard of half the people included in the story. Right away im thrown off by all the quotes and names he is throwing out there. My attention is completely lost and I dont understand what Im reading. By the end of the book I still have no idea what he was trying to say or even what the general idea was. Im borderline aggravated that it didnt all come together and make sense in the end. this author should not write.
Robin: Note that the essay is a book review -- published in The New Yorker. It's the kind of essay you'd find there and in places like the New York Times Book Review. It may not be the kind of essay you typically read. Your comments do go to show how important knowledge of the audience can be. The quotes he selected may not have been known by a younger readership, and his style may not be either accessible or attractive to younger readers. One of his themes, I think, addresses what makes a quote quotable? How does something get to the level of being considered a "quote," and by the time it gets to this point, how close is it, really, to the original quote.
ReplyDeleteIn Response to The Constant Gardener:
ReplyDeleteThe writing was so powerful and moving yet hard to get through because of the honesty and detail. I think that this piece was focused more towards people who are familiar or directly influenced by the disease. I had trouble understanding the majority of the medical language. Nonetheless I still got a really good sense as to what this man is going through. It felt at times as though I was there experiencing the events with them.
A FEW NOTES FOR EVERYONE
ReplyDelete1. Don't hesitate to email or call me if you're having problems coming up with a topic or with anything else.
2. Work on this Lists. Try to do several each week, or one a day. I promise you, those lists will help you come up with all kinds of memories that you could write about.
3. Don't worry about the "Beginning" or the "Introduction." If that's stopping you, just start somewhere, anywhere. Just write. We'll talk about writing beginnings and endings in the next class.
4. Read! Read! Read! Not only the essays in our text -- but also essays in newspapers, magazines, webpages, blogs. Explore what's out there.
5. Read like a writer. Study structure, metaphors, use of strong verbs and nouns, introductions, conclusions.
6 Write! Write! Write! I cannot emphasize enough the importance of a journal. A journal not only helps you exercise putting word on paper, but it also giveS you a safe place to test ideas and "play." Remember what we talked about regarding "playing" -- how important creative play is for any artist? Use your journal as a sandbox.
7. Be aware of your Inner Critic and your Inner Censor. Don't let them halt your progress. Do battle with them.
8. To get a realistic idea of the role space plays in publication -- find a short essay in a newspaper or magazine -- and type (word process) it out, double spaced. Make sure it's an essay you like, the kind you would like to write. This will give you a practical idea of how a manuscript translates into print.
9. If you're still blocked, try this exercise:
A. Consider the different roles you play in life -- wife, mother, daughter, artist, teacher, grandmother, etc.
B. Pick one of those roles, and start a journal with these words: "This is a time of my life as a (insert role) when I feel..."
C. Do this with a few different roles. Look at your life from different perspectives.
10. Finally -- HAVE THE COURAGE TO WRITE!
In the January 25, 2010 issue of The New Yorker -- Here's an excellent essay called: "But Enough About Me: What does the popularity of memoirs tell us about ourselves?" by Daniel Mendelsohn. It will give you some insight into the contemporary popularity of this kind of writing with a good historical summary of the genre.
ReplyDeletehttp://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/books/2010/01/25/100125crbo_books_mendelsohn
As Robin wrote above, "The Constant Gardener" by Bernard Cooper is a compelling essay. You can find its original publication in L.A. Magazine at http://www.lamag.com/article.aspx?id=6922
ReplyDeleteCooper took the essence of that long piece and wrote a very brief essay for The New York Times (March 3, 2009) called "A Thousand Drops." I want you to see how you can take a long essay like "The Constant Gardener" and get some of its essence into a very short essay. Many writers do this in order to get some millage out of a piece of writing, that is, publish it in several markets.
By the way, at the end of this essay we learn that his partner, Brian, died in 2006. Here's the link to "A Thousand Drops":
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/08/magazine/08lives-t.html
You'll find an interesting interview with Bernard Cooper here:
http://www.nerve.com/screeningroom/books/interview_bernardcooper/
After re-reading, The Renegade there is really only one thing that I questioned: Why did Simic choose to start his essay like he did. What is the significanes to him sitting on a potty I question this often on a variety of different pieces that I've read.
ReplyDeleteWhat makes for a good begenning?
What should I try to capture in the start of a story besides the readers interest?
I know the author had a reason for writing what he did. I can tell from the rest of the writing that Simic is an experienced author. His work is clean, clear, and I always felt like I had a good idea of what was happening.
Notable Quotables
ReplyDeleteJ Follett
Ouch! Nothing like having balloons punctured. Rodney King babbled on, high on whatever, and didn’t really say, “Can’t we all get along?”
Louis Menard, you and your research have broken my heart, spotlighted my illusions (delusions?), and in general taught me a lesson. All this in an essay that was a delight to read from beginning to end.
However, I must take issue with this statement: “Quotations are prostheses. ‘As Emerson/Churchill/Donald Trump once observed’ borrows another person’s brain waves and puts them to your own use.” Well, shoot. As a writing device, using an appropriate quotation can bring a reader into the essay immediately, as you did when you began your piece with, “Sherlock Holmes never said, ‘Elementary, my dear Watson.’”
You had me at “never said” and kept me engaged until the end. You taught me that writers best be doing some research into quotations before employing them as a device, and, should we want our prose to be immortal, edit, edit, edit.
But you better not tell me Rhett Butler never said, “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” That one’s off limits.
The Renegade
ReplyDeleteJ Follett
“As the curtain goes up, I’m sitting naked on my potty…” I’m hooked, and stayed so until the end of this essay. I could read this one again and again.
I appreciated the history, the longing, the banging-the-head-against-the-wall efforts to persuade his relatives to see that what was happening in their country was akin to the Nazi party’s propaganda in the 1930s, an ordeal that did not fare well for any involved.
I think what kept me engaged is his weaving of personal anecdotes with the larger historical picture.
Great essay. I’m going to go read it again.
The Constant Gardener
ReplyDeleteJ Follett
I'm still thinking about this one. As a former caregiver for a terminally ill spouse, there is much with which I can identify here.
Interesting observation, Robin. Note that he begins with the phrase -- "As the curtain goes up..." -- perhaps implying that his first real memory is sitting on the potty in his grandfather's backyard. That, and it's kind of an unusual image, one that may initially attract a reader's attention.
ReplyDeleteWe'll talk about beginnings and endings at the next class on Feb. 23rd.
Becoming Adolf was a very interesting read. It's quite amazing how one signature "look" can define an entire era, and the evil that enveloped it. I don't know if I would have been brave enough to walk around town with a Hitler stache, if I had facial hair to do said thing.
ReplyDeleteThe author stated that he, being Jewish, was in essence trying to "erase" the symbolism behind the Hitler mustache by wearing it, just as Richard Pryor tried to erase the meaning of the "N" word through his comedy... yet that word still carries strong feelings, meanings and emotions, just as the Hitler 'stache still does today.
I liked the essay partly because of the research the author had done on the historic facial hair style. It's fun to know what things were before they became "bad", like understanding the root of its "evilness"...
On Becoming Adolf by Cohen "My name is Rich Cohen and I wear a Hitler mustache" - fascinating this would have made as good an intro sentence as where it was actually placed. How could something so sweetly described as a "toothbrush" mustache morph into something synonymous with bottomless evil - by just being worn by one man?
ReplyDeleteOn Constant Gardener -Takes a very complex proces and explains the human side. ALtho at first you are lost in jargon, it doesn't take long before that fades and it is the person you see and visualize. That this esay only paints a glimpse (1-2 days) of the pain and worry, it is unsettling against the backdrop of a ten year battle. Cooper's language command is masterful, I felt at times overcrafted - I liked most the way he described the most mundane things.
ReplyDeleteOn the Necklace - My favorite sentence/image - " Crimp beads, clasps and spacers which prove to be the commas, semi colons and periods in the expressive sentence of a necklace.
ReplyDeleteIf you know a beader, the madness is explained in this essay. I have very good friends are are into beads - and I never got it.
I do now, madelyn
Notable Quotables: Just goes to show that editors are lurking everywhere. Even the most eloquent get edited for clarity and PUNCH
ReplyDeleteGood thoughts here. Keep reading like a writer, observing the technique. You can still move in and out, from reader caught up in the essay, to writer observing what the author is doing and how he/she's doing it. Ask yourself questions -- Why did the writer use this lead? Why this particular example? Why use dialog here and not there? Why use these metaphors? Make not of techniques you like and use them in your own writing. Find exceptional descriptive paragraphs, take them apart, then put them back together using descriptions specific to your writing. Modeling is important.
ReplyDeleteSmell Assignment
ReplyDeleteSample day in the refrigerated aisles of Costco are a commingling of smells. I try to take them apart, though with my olfactory glands deeply implanted with the aroma of spicy pepperoni pizza that greets me when I walk in the out door at the front store, this might be more difficult than I think. To reach the fresh produce, I have to walk past the laundry aisle with over-perfumed laundry detergents and fabric-softener sheets assaulting my sense of smell.
Once past that trap, I can distinguish the alluring fragrance of freshly-baked poppy seed muffins wafting from the bakery, and the sharp, tingling scent of fresh pineapples from Hawaii. The sweet siren call of red ripe strawberries from Mexico seduces me, and a four-pound fragile plastic container lands in my cart without conscious thought on my part.
Near the deli section with its long rows of open refrigerated displays of chicken and apple sausage, Black Angus burger patties covered in melted bleu cheese, and gourmet cheeses from around the world, a hair-netted, latex-gloved woman serves slices of reindeer sausage from Indian Valley Meats, their smoky gravitational pull sucking me in and planting me in front of her folding table. Across the aisle, comes a whiff of comfort food—potato soup with bacon from Bear Creek—served in wee pleated paper cups with tiny plastic spoons.
And, I can distinguish the smells of rotisserie-roasted chicken with their sweet spices and spare ribs slathered in mouth-watering tomato-based barbeque sauce, all kept hot and juicy under heat lamps in their display case, ready for an instant meal at home for the family if you can avoid temptation long enough to get them there.
Tangled in with these smells is the heady aroma of fresh-ground roasted Arabica coffee beans from Kenya, enticing even to a non-coffee drinker. Adjacent to the giant roaster, another sample lady passes out whole chicken drumettes with mesquite favoring, reminding me of the deserts of Arizona. Across the aisle, the fresh seafood market emits a different smell, the ocean and salt water, and conjures up an image of huge crabbing ships in the dangerous waters of the Bering Sea, bait boxes larded with stinky, ripe chum to attract the spidery red King Crab that prowl the ocean floors.
Suddenly I feel the need to exit the story as quickly as possible to avoid major destruction to my low-cal diet. This feat necessitates passing the candy and cracker aisles where lurk gourmet jelly beans and Cheez-It crackers. It’s a mine field, chocolate IEDs everywhere, and not for the weak of will power. It’s worse, much, much worse, than braving the incoming masses stampeding in the out door while you try to maneuver your cart out the out door, all the while attempting to prevent that flimsy plastic container of blueberries from erupting its contents across the tiled floor like thousands of blue ball bearings.
Excellent response to the smell assignment, Gullible. How about some more examples? Post your "smells" here.
ReplyDeleteOh, shoot. Make that: Sample day in the aisles of Costco brings a commingling of smells...
ReplyDeleteI have always enjoyed Sedaris' writing. In this peice I was amazed at what he "fit into" this format - his childhood, his independence, his "uniqueness", along with developing 6 other characters - I have read whole books that didn't develop the characters this well - I have to study on this one.
ReplyDeleteOn - WHere God Is Glad" - To me an example of a great opening and a let down close. The close did just not link up for me with all his clear analogies and analysis of the Club. Made me reflect on places I have have known that gave me similar feelings - that they had developed a profound "sense of place" for some - usually I was lurking on the perifery, trying to figure it out. makes me think they deserved some more attention and analysis - i.e. more frequenting. Perhaps that was the problem.......
ReplyDeleteOn smells....
ReplyDeleteThe scene at the Hubbell Trading Post Annual Navajo blanket Auction parlays a rich commingling of smells. I tried to take it apart. I could distinguish the fatty smell of mutton stews cooked over open juniper fires, crackling and popping and sending their spicy fragrance through the crowd. And I could pick up the musty smell of wet wool, from blankets that had not escaped the early moring shower and the acrid smell of sage brush activated by the same drops. Pawing my way through blanket after blanket, I could smell and feel the lanolin as it built up on my hands, a smell quickly overpowered by the fresh bread scent of fry bread sizzling in hot lard. And tangled in these smells were the smells of diesel trucks, bearing wrinkled old weavers bedecked in velvet skirts and festive blouses, turqoise at their necks, wrists and waists and a smell of old worn leather from boots and belts.
Wow, DanMad. That's a cool piece of writing. Excuse me, I have to go get a snack now. Wish it was Indian fry bread, but, alas, it's two low-cal olives.
ReplyDeleteWhere God Is Glad:
ReplyDeleteWhat an odd essay...But I actually liked it because it was out of the ordinary with off-beat humor. But really, I just dont get the very end, the poem:
You are slow
My heart
Afraid
Afraid to stand
where god is glad
I tried to read between the lines, to figure out what its trying to say but it still doesnt make sense to me. Help?
I have a hard time trying to figure that poem out as well... The first thing that comes to my mind is perhaps god is "glad" where things or people are not "perfect"... like the not-so-"perfect" looking strippers at tony's? God is seen as a salvation for those who are weak, poor, lowly, etc., and it is in our human nature that we are afraid or ignorant of those who are weak, poor, lowly, etc... I'm not sure if any of that makes sense! So maybe, in a far stretch, tony's could be a representation of Heaven!
ReplyDelete