Writing--Story as Work
Some of you have probably seen the kafuffle over the use of the word 'self indulgence' in reviews. (coalescent talks about it here and Mumpsimus follows up here.)
As a side-issue, greygirlbeast, who felt her writing had been called self-indulgent, has a long post here that really caught my eye.
greygirlbeast says here:
The attempt to define "likable" is appreciated, though, having read it, I'm pretty sure that I haven't "missed the boat." To begin with, as I have said many times before, I do not believe that a novel should be easy. I believe the reader has the same responsibility to work at the story and the characters and to work at them just as hard as the writer has. I do not write pabulum or pudding. I don't even write oatmeal. It isn't meant for easy ingestion or digestion. I wouldn't have chosen the word "chore," but it's not entirely inappropriate. I do expect my readers to exert themselves, and if that's not the sort of reading experience you're after, then my books aren't intended for you.
Wow. I am trying to get my head around the concept of working at a novel, unless this means the kind of unpacking-of-hypertext that I have to do when I try reading Joyce's Finnegans Wake. And having the responsibility to work at a novel. Exerting themselves. This cannot mean mere parsing difficult vocabulary, or even convoluted sentences, though that is 'work' if by work one means producing or achieving something, in this case comprehension of all the mythological, historical, and linguistic references Joyce draws on to show how his characters became what they are.
I am fascinating by this concept, because I come at reading from the exact opposite POV--I want to slip into the story without being aware of it from this world to that one.
What am I missing here? Maybe this connects somehow with the sense-of-wonder, anti-sense-of-wonder debate. That comes down to taste. Working...exerting...where I am going wrong? My writing might well be equated with pablum or pudding or oatmeal, but I don't think of Mansfield Park, say, as pablum. The action is small, the emotions subtle. There are no monsters there--but there is monstrous behavior, for example, in Mrs. Norris, howevermuch she makes us laugh. Or War and Peace. I slid into that novel like going through a tesseract. I could not put that novel down, the exertion came in having to break away.
I'd love to know how others parse this matter of working at a story. I feel I am missing something big and I hate that sense of blindness.
As a side-issue, greygirlbeast, who felt her writing had been called self-indulgent, has a long post here that really caught my eye.
greygirlbeast says here:
The attempt to define "likable" is appreciated, though, having read it, I'm pretty sure that I haven't "missed the boat." To begin with, as I have said many times before, I do not believe that a novel should be easy. I believe the reader has the same responsibility to work at the story and the characters and to work at them just as hard as the writer has. I do not write pabulum or pudding. I don't even write oatmeal. It isn't meant for easy ingestion or digestion. I wouldn't have chosen the word "chore," but it's not entirely inappropriate. I do expect my readers to exert themselves, and if that's not the sort of reading experience you're after, then my books aren't intended for you.
Wow. I am trying to get my head around the concept of working at a novel, unless this means the kind of unpacking-of-hypertext that I have to do when I try reading Joyce's Finnegans Wake. And having the responsibility to work at a novel. Exerting themselves. This cannot mean mere parsing difficult vocabulary, or even convoluted sentences, though that is 'work' if by work one means producing or achieving something, in this case comprehension of all the mythological, historical, and linguistic references Joyce draws on to show how his characters became what they are.
I am fascinating by this concept, because I come at reading from the exact opposite POV--I want to slip into the story without being aware of it from this world to that one.
What am I missing here? Maybe this connects somehow with the sense-of-wonder, anti-sense-of-wonder debate. That comes down to taste. Working...exerting...where I am going wrong? My writing might well be equated with pablum or pudding or oatmeal, but I don't think of Mansfield Park, say, as pablum. The action is small, the emotions subtle. There are no monsters there--but there is monstrous behavior, for example, in Mrs. Norris, howevermuch she makes us laugh. Or War and Peace. I slid into that novel like going through a tesseract. I could not put that novel down, the exertion came in having to break away.
I'd love to know how others parse this matter of working at a story. I feel I am missing something big and I hate that sense of blindness.