Good Reading Yields Good Writing

When I started my MFA program (back in 2009 at Vermont College of Fine Arts), I dutifully discussed and compiled and reading list for my first semester.  But secretly I thought: my main job is writing... what's the deal with all this reading!  I thought I would skim whatever my advisor suggested, cobble together my paper, and then get back to the (much more important) manuscript.

But, truth be told, the reading turned out not to be something extra (let alone extraneous) but essential.  Here's how I think of it.

Reading is medicine for the writer.

What ails you?  Weak characterization?  Slow plot?  Wimpy diction?  There's a remedy for that... if you know what to read.

I've been thinking about this lately because I had the change to read Nance Van Winckel's collection of linked short stories, Boneland. (Get it from Amazon HERE.)  Nance was an advisor of mine while I attended VCFA and I have long been impressed by her short stories and poetry (if you ever have the chance to hear her read... do it!  She's a great reader as well as a great writer.)

These stories are wonderful.  Whatever it is you are struggling with in your craft, whatever it is you need a reminder of... this collection is the right prescription.  There is nothing better for a writer than to pick up a wonderful book and think: oh, yes... this is how it should be done!  

There were many craft points that inspired me as I read (though I don't want to overemphasize this because Boneland impresses for other reasons: the stories are captivating!) but I kept being drawn to Nance's metaphors.  What beautiful comparisons.  It made me go back to the manuscript I have been working on and examine what I had done... did I even have metaphors?  Were any of them good?

And that's what, as a writer, I love about reading: it not only entertains me as I get involved in the story but also inspires me to do better in my own craft.

Feeding Your Writing Self: Reading

A few months ago (as I prepared to move and jettisoned books like a listing ship) I loaned a book to a friend.  It was an anthology of nonfiction, and I dogeared for him a particular essay ("The Beautiful City of Tirzah") that I thought he'd like.  Recently, he said that not only did he enjoy the reading, but he found that it had inspired him to write.

That's what good reading does.

Reading good material feeds the writer's soul.  It inspires.  Literally.  It breathes into you the breath of the writing spirit and tells you: you can, you should, you ought.  (Of course, if you are in a negative swirl, reading good material can make you say: I can never do this.  But silence those negative voices!)

I have long believed that, for the writer, reading should be therapeutic.  Too often, I hear writer-friends say that they don't have time to read if they are fully engaged in writing mode.  But the two should go hand-in-hand.  What you read should provide the foundation or the nutrient substrate for what you are writing.  It needn't be in the same genre or style.  It just needs to speak to where you mind is.

In fact, I'd even go so far as to say that reading can cure that writing block of which folks often complain.  So, if you find yourself stuck or feeling a bit slow, ask yourself: what good have I read today?  The right essay or story or novel can spark within you the belief and the desire to begin anew.

Review of If You Could Be Mine

Normally, I keep my reading commentary confined to the "What I'm Reading Now" section of my blog (see the tabs above).  But I just finished If You Could Be Mine by Sara Farizan, and as I got my hands on an advance reading copy (thanks to my wonderful agent!) and as the themes of this novel are close to my heart, I thought I would give it a longer post.

A short synopsis... due to hit shelves on August 20th, this Young Adult novel takes place in modern day Iran.  Narrated by Sahar, a young woman in her senior year of high school, it tells the story of her love for her best friend, Nasrin, and her struggles with this love both in the context of Iranian society generally and also in the context of Nasrin's upcoming marriage.

This is the debut novel of Sara Farizan, and she has done a fantastic job with pacing.  The story moves quickly yet clearly, with the tension heightening in every scene.  I wouldn't call her prose sparse, but she has kept the details to a minimum, jettisoning anything extra, and the result is a stream-lined and compelling story.

Most captivating for me was the setting in Iran.  Apart from headlines in the news and Persepolis, I don't know much about the country or culture.  Farizan uses little phrases of Farsi to create an ambiance, refers to clothing and food in a way that further develops the context, and drops in delightful little details such as the way that the narrator sees the two Khomeinis (angry grandpa and disappointed grandpa) whose images appear everywhere.  

Even more, the setting in modern-day Iran was compelling to me because of the LGBT angle of the book.  These two young women are in love -- they know this and acknowledge it to each other. (Thank goodness, by the way, that this wasn't another novel about a young LGBT person in love with a straight person... I feel like I have read too many of those!)  But their love has to be hidden because it is illegal.  Farizan makes the danger present but not exaggerated. She mentions that young men have been hanged for being in relationships, but she also shows the underground culture of cafes and scenes where LGBT people are relatively open and accepted.  

Once Nasrin is engaged, Sahar is desperate to find a way to stop the marriage and keep Nasrin for herself.  The middle stanza of the book is devoted to her pursuit of sexual reassignment surgery: she wants to become a man so that she can marry Nasrin.  And here's where the cultural context bowled me over.  In Iran (I'm assuming Farizan is portraying this accurately...) sexual reassignment is permitted, even paid for by the government, because it is considered an illness with a cure.  In fact, the implication seems to be that reassignment cures homosexuality.  The novel makes it clear that just because the government sanctions the surgery, it doesn't mean that post-op transsexuals have an easy life.  They face rejection by families and friends and have to keep their past hidden.  But they have a greater veneer of legitimacy than do gays and lesbians.

If I had to lodge one complaint about this novel, it would be that the narrator, Sahar, who otherwise is plausibly intelligent and thoughtful, rushes into the idea of sexual reassignment with a completely unbelievable amount of naivety, ignorance, and lack of forethought.  Even though she is desperate to keep Nasrin, I just couldn't buy that she would actually believe that she could transition in a short window (one month) and that Nasrin (and Nasrin's parents) would accept her after the transition.

But that is one small point.  Otherwise, I was delighted with this novel.  In particular, I want to praise it for the way in which it explains (implicitly) the difference between sexuality and gender.  Farizan illustrates this difficult nuance artfully and compellingly.  This is a great novel to share with a younger reader (6-9 grade?) and open up conversation about LGBT issues as well as human rights in other cultures.

Thinking of Strout's Burgess Boys and Endings...

It is the time of the school year when endings are on my mind -- not only because the academic year is drawing to a close but also because in each of the classes I teach, we are reaching (have reached) the end of the novels and stories we are reading.  All this means that I have been talking and thinking a lot about conclusions.

Wherever (and whoever and whatever) I've taught, the vast majority of readers want a happy ending.  A common complaint I hear is that too many novels have depressing endings.  I understand why people want a happy ending, but I also understand why writers don't want to give one.  My Vermont College of Fine Arts classmate and superb writer Heather Sharfeddin gave her graduating lecture on the need for "unhappy" endings (I'm sure she called it something better than that!) and I don't want to steal her ideas.  But I do agree with the main point she made: life doesn't always provide (or even often provide) a happy ending, so why should literature?

This spring, however, I've taught several tragedies (Medea, Othello, A Streetcar Named Desire) and have been reflecting on what makes an ending good and effective.  Happiness is not it.  Resolution is the key.  And this is where I've been thinking of my own writing and wondering how to articulate this craft point.

Resolution is tricky because, of course, the story goes on.  Like the weakness of a happy ending, too much conclusion is unrealistic: we don't always (or often) feel certainty that things will work out or happen a certain way.  Endings should wrestle with and reflect that uncertainty.  Yet, they should offer some sense of resolution.  They should suggest - this is done; you, reader, can move on.  Moving on might mean that you keep thinking about the characters and wondering what might happen... (but that's one of the things I love about reading).

Having recently finished Elizabeth Strout's new novel Burgess Boys, and having this topic on my mind as I did so, I paid close attention to the ending.  I have to say, it does an excellent job resolving the themes and plot of the novel without overdoing it.  Strout doesn't attempt to tie everything up in a pretty package, bow neatly placed on top.  But she does give the readers a sense of closure -- some of it is sad, some of it is uncertain (this might happen next, or that) -- but for each character, theme, or line of plot, the reader gets a moment to revisit, recalibrate, and to feel.

That feeling moment is what I like about (and try to learn from) tragedy.  The creation of sympathy, the rise of the catharsis... and then that pause (I think of it is as the instant between when a musician ends a song and the applause begins) where the reader feels.  A solitary moment that the author allows.  That's resolution.

Using Other Novels

I just posted a new section in the "Researching Revolutionary" area (tab above).  This week it is about the importance of reading broadly in your genre&time period and how that was part of my writing/research process.  Next week is on to some research road trips!

Perhaps you've checked out the tab above that concerns "what I'm reading now"?  Here's a picture of Magic reading Ethan Frome with me.  She's a huge Wharton fan, and she especially appreciates the presence of a cat in this novel (she's currently working on a critical piece examining feline normativity and American realism).

Also, I'm putting together a reading list on the topic of dystopian and utopian literature (just finished reading Herland) -- any suggestions?  High school age appropriate... need not feature cats (though that's always a plus).