Style

A quick link-dump, by way of catch up.

1.  You should read Lord Jim , Conrad's extraordinary 1925 novel. It is in the library, but is also available for free download from a number of sites (see here).  One thing I recommend, if you don't feel like actually reading it: go to LibriVox, the site stuffed with free downloads of audio books -- they're free becuase they're all read by amateurs, but they are unabridged and did I mention free? and some of them are very good.  You could put Lord Jim onto your phone or iPod, and listen to it when you're doing the ironing, or out walking.  This also works for other classics of world literature you haven't yet quite got around to reading: Tolstoy, Dickens, Austen. Browse the site and see for yourself. Then you can amaze your friends with the range and breadth of your literary knowledge.

2.  The passages we looked at today were from: Jerry Pournelle's High Justice (1977) [not Larry Niven: my mistake]; John Updike's story 'Playing With Dynamite', which you'll find in Updike's The Afterlife and Other Stories (1994) [apparently you can pick this collection up for 1p on amazon, if you don't mind a used copy]; and Don DeLillo, White Noise (1985).  Of this latter, Frank Lentricchia said 'The novel's is characterized by a heterogeneity that utilizes montages of tones, styles, and voices that have the effect of yoking together terror and wild humor as the essential tone of contemporary America.'

3. We talked, briefly, about Proust.  Here's the opening of Swann's Way, the first of the In Search of Lost Time books:

For a long time I used to go to bed early. Sometimes, when I had put out my candle, my eyes would close so quickly that I had not even time to say “I’m going to sleep.” And half an hour later the thought that it was time to go to sleep would awaken me; I would try to put away the book which, I imagined, was still in my hands, and to blow out the light; I had been thinking all the time, while I was asleep, of what I had just been reading, but my thoughts had run into a channel of their own, until I myself seemed actually to have become the subject of my book: a church, a quartet, the rivalry between François I and Charles V. This impression would persist for some moments after I was awake; it did not disturb my mind, but it lay like scales upon my eyes and prevented them from registering the fact that the candle was no longer burning. Then it would begin to seem unintelligible, as the thoughts of a former existence must be to a reincarnate spirit; the subject of my book would separate itself from me, leaving me free to choose whether I would form part of it or no; and at the same time my sight would return and I would be astonished to find myself in a state of darkness, pleasant and restful enough for the eyes, and even more, perhaps, for my mind, to which it appeared incomprehensible, without a cause, a matter dark indeed.

I would ask myself what o’clock it could be; I could hear the whistling of trains, which, now nearer and now farther off, punctuating the distance like the note of a bird in a forest, shewed me in perspective the deserted countryside through which a traveller would be hurrying towards the nearest station: the path that he followed being fixed for ever in his memory by the general excitement due to being in a strange place, to doing unusual things, to the last words of conversation, to farewells exchanged beneath an unfamiliar lamp which echoed still in his ears amid the silence of the night; and to the delightful prospect of being once again at home.

You can read more here.

4. Here's a Guardian article on the writer Lydia Davis, who writes one-sentence stories, of which she says (amongst other things): 'my style is a reaction to Proust's long sentences.'

5. One more thing: you are all free to comment on this blog, in any way you like (so long as you're courteous), and to post anything you think useful or relevant to writing -- that's partly what it's for. Though it's also for you to put up your book reviews; which you also need to do.

Valley of the Dolls - Jacqueline Susann

Everyone dreams of living the high-life. Having the money, the house, the lover, the career. But have you ever questioned why we want this, after watching young stars such as Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears and Michael Jackson have their lives spiral out of control under the limelight? ‘Valley of the Dolls’ supplies us with the answers to the questions of the rise and fall of stardom that intrigue us so much. 

We follow Anne, Jennifer and Neely through their roller-coaster lives of fame and destruction. The personal touch to all three protagonists is drawn from Susann’s experiences and observations as a struggling actress in Hollywood in the early forties, which makes the novel decades ahead of it’s time, highlighting the struggles and downfalls of celebrity status through the constant gazing eyes of the public that we see especially today. Each chapter is titled by one of the character’s names, which suggests it would be a first person narrative, which is what I would have personally preferred. I feel first person narrative would have made more sense given the depth in which the omniscient narrator delves into their subconscious. But instead, it appears Susann is doing this to make a universal point about these women and their dependence on the ‘Dolls’ (the slang term for their sleeping pills), making them seem like 3 elements of one woman. 

I particularly enjoyed the use of the term ‘Dolls’, as I felt it opened up suggestions to a childlike nature about the women, which is only supported by the terrible relationships all characters have with their Mothers. It is clear that a key message from the novel is that the lack of attention they have experienced from a young age makes all the women so determined that they are unable to open up to anything or anyone. Their guarded nature in their relationships means that all their marriages are failures until they have a moment of realization, which unfortunately falls in the tragedy of Jennifers suicide. This is the peripeteia of the novel which changes both Anne and Neely’s behavior towards their lovers and the ‘Dolls’, ultimately turning their lives around. 

I have to admit, the character of Neely deeply frustrated me, which I think is a technique Susann intended to use, as the character seems to dig deeper and deeper into her own destruction. But, in Susann implying this, the reader is forced to question whether all three female protagonists are also the cause of their own downfall, making the novel (as a personal journey) backwards and exasperating. The Novel opens a variety of interpretations associated around feminism, stardom as well as the American Dream, but the resounding moral that overrides has to be ‘Be careful what you wish for’: having it ‘all’ doesn’t result in happiness. The reader watches all characters fall from lack of self-control - caused by the Dolls, their Mothers, or their male partners - into the Valley of the Dolls.

By Verity Phillips

Chekhov's Gun

Stumbled across this article on Wikipedia recently, got me thinking about different ways to create a plot twist. I'm sure there's plenty of other literary techniques to use when it comes to creating impact in a story, so I thought I'd start with this one.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chekhov's_gun

Richard Caldecourt

Strange Meeting by Susan Hill

There are so many novels about the Great War that the small tale ‘Strange Meeting’ is easily overlooked next to such stories as Faulk’s ‘Birdsong’ and Elton’s ‘The First Casualty’. However, Hill’s novel is far more subtle than the often loud scenarios illustrated in the afore-mentioned books. Following the protagonist, Officer John Hilliard, from sick leave in England, to the battlefields of France, ‘Strange Meeting’ is much more about the characters than the actual setting.
‘Strange Meeting’ is essentially a love story, but not an obvious, bawdy or physical one. Upon returning to France, Hilliard discovers that his company have been obliterated and that the Colonel leading them has turned to whiskey. It is in the midst of this despair that David Barton appears, a new officer shipped from England. Barton is a joyful, charming and wholly innocent young man, untouched by the realities of war that Hilliard has become so familiar with. They are the complete opposite of one another and the reader cannot help but fall in love with Barton – he is reminiscent of any young man with a large smile and high hopes of the future. Hilliard, like we are as readers, is instantly drawn to the young man billeted in the same room as they wait to be posted to the front.
Of course, we have read and seen so many stories of either World War One or Two that we cannot help but know that Barton is going to change, but Hill manages to reinvent this, almost cliché, development by making Hilliard recount the differences. But to begin with, their love blooms away from the frontline, in the quiet summer lull before the inevitable. Whereas other modern novelists punctuate their war stories with sex scenes (who can forget the opening part of ‘Birdsong’ and the explicit love affair between Isabelle and Stephen), there is no physical love between Barton and Hilliard, but rather a mutual understanding and affection, resulting with Hilliard being able to talk about his life instead of being closed and rather austere.
The occasional wartime incidents are brief, as the effects of these occurrences on Barton and the officer’s changing relationship is what Hill’s delicate and eloquent novel is expressing. The small glances between the pair, their brief conversations and Hilliard’s growing concern about his companion entice the reader further into the wartime trenches, so that by the apocalyptic ending, you love them both.

By Eleanor Roots

Group D: Two Weeks

'Good morning. Death Date Deadline, how can I help you?'

'I've got my Death Date letter -- it says two weeks!'

'Our Genetic Deathdate calculator is 99.6% correct.'

'But I haven't done everything yet. I was going to go to Mexico...'

'Sir ...'

'Drink Sangria on the beach ...'

'Sir!'

'With beautiful dancing girls.'

'Sir, could I ...'

'But, no. I'm just boring Mick O'Donnel from Aberystwyth; I've never even had a lap dance!'

'Mr O'Donnell your results haven't been released!'

'Oh wait -- I get my alerts in two weeks?'

'Enjoy Mexico sir! Thank you for your call.'

'I'm GOING TO LIVE! I'm going to Mexico right now. Oh, but it's Saturday .. and Strictly's on. Definitely tomorrow.'

Group C: Always Read the Small Print

Mr Jim only had one wish in life: to be young again. He loathed the wrinkles etched on his face and his creaking brittle bones.

One day, to his delight, a chirpy man in a sharp suit and black briefcase offered him his only wish.
“I wish to feel like a Boy again!” Mr Jim cried.

Immediately, Mr Jim grabbed his toy gun and fired at the invading Indians, before slaying the fire-breathing dragon and diving to take cover from the incoming...

“Oh, Grandad! You’ve snapped your walking-stick,” exclaimed the girl as she heaved his frail body back into his wheelchair.

Group B: Steve

'I came here to find myself, but instead I found you,' Mark whispered, amidst the soft sounds of the waves caressing the golden sands and dulcet tones bungalowed Australian tourists.

As the warm sun set over her shoulder and she romantically offered him the last French Fry, her rich emerald eyes and thought of how lucky he was to be so far from Carlisle and the late night shelf-stacking at the last bastion of the Woolworths empire.

Later that night with only a thin layer of latex soon to separate them, Steve whispered to Mark: 'your turn next.' At first Mark was horrified but as the sound of the wind in the palms swept the air he threw caution to the wind and moved to kiss it.

Group A: The White Heart

'It needs to be a two-pronged attack, at least,' said Mr Blue.

'Yeah the White Heart will easily repel a single direct assault,' concurred Mr Pink, lowering both his voice and his head over the glass-stacked coneference table. It was vital they were not overheard. They were in hostile territory. 'This is the Forward Operating Point, who's our insurgent?' asked Black.

'Over by the Specials' Menu.'

Blonde saluted his comrades and marched towards the busty blonde breach. 'Contact.'

Blonde: 'Can we get you a drink, sweet'eart?'

Sex and the City by Candace Bushnell

It seems the world is divided by the Sex and the City phenomenon. I have many a friend who have the complete box set plus both feature length films on DVD. And similarly many a friend who won’t touch it with a barge pole. I must mention now that both categories include both male and female friends, highlighting that, much to many a manly-mans belief, it is not to be wholly disregarded for a female audience to devour.

However despite the craze surrounding the TV series and films, how many fans have actually read the original novel by Candace Bushnell? To many I’m sure she’s just the name at the end of the credits that apparently wrote some book Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha’s stories are based on. How could it be that different, surely it’s just the TV series, but in book form?

Well that’s where many would be wrong. Bushnell’s novel consists of a collection of columns she wrote for ‘The New York Observer’ during her early career in the city. Her column shared the name of novel, TV series and film adaptation, and it’s true that it includes many of the same characters such as Carrie, Stanford Blatch, Miranda and Mr. Big, but the similarities stop there. Bushnell’s novel is more like an anthology in that it’s literally a collection of her columns about her and her friend’s dating experiences in New York. As a result there is little ‘plot’ or storyline as such, but there is still something about it that makes you want to read on.

Another interesting thing about the novel is that the reader is never quite sure who is narrating. Is it Candace Bushnell? Is it her alter ego? Is it Carrie Bradshaw? As the novel continues Carrie’s romance with Mr Big does emerge as the central source of conflict, but that is never seen through Carrie’s eyes. She is always spoken about in the third person and although the reader briefly hears about her feelings, the tone in which they do is very external and business like. This again differs from the TV series as the audience sees and hears everything from Carrie’s point of view, and her ideals seem much more romantic than the Carrie presented in Bushnell’s novel.

The birth of ‘Sex and the City’ as a series of newspaper columns makes it a very easy read that one can delve in and out of and not worry about having to get their head round a complicated storyline every time they pick it up. It’s real and it’s harsh at times, but it’s also hilarious. One thing the TV series and films haven’t lost is Bushnell’s skill to make the audience feel like they’re having a laugh with their friends about sex and all it’s trimmings. It does exactly what it says on the tin, but does it well enough to worry about having to keep it’s reader hooked by creating an elaborate storyline. As a result I think the appeal of Bushnell’s book is its simpleness and realness. Those of you who are fans of the TV series or film, read it and enjoy the laughs. Those of you who aren’t fans, read the book. If it doesn’t convert you, you’ll at least have a whole new idea of what being a woman is all about.


Emily Hubert

Stories in 55-words-or-less

'Bedtime Story' by Jeff Whitmore (1987)

"Careful honey, it's loaded," he said, re-entering the bedroom.

Her back rested against the headboard. "This for your wife?"

"No. Too chancy. I'm hiring a professional."

"How about me?"

He smirked. "Cute. But who'd be dumb enough to hire a lady hit man?"

She wet her lips, sighting along the barrel.

"Your wife?"