Hi, I get to claim both lurkership and newbie-ship here, and have enjoyed this thread.
This is an interesting idea, Pamela, that literature has endured, more than non-fiction. It feels intuitively true as we look back on various canon(s). It does all sorts of I come from the opposite direction; for years I read nothing but fiction (plenty of science fiction, and I still have a special jonesing for urban fantasy), though I spent time in the 80's as an editor of general trade books on science and computing. But recently, just the past few years, I have read more and more non-fiction, most recently and belatedly, Collapse, by Jared Diamond, which is a masterpiece in its own right. Great literature clearly endures from both its universality and beauty, but I also wonder how long the novel will endure as a form. Which leads me to note that few people have brought poetry to the fore here. When you talk about the pleasures that come from being sensitive to a form's techniques, there's nothing like poetry, maybe because of the intensity that must be brought to bear on each word. As an undergrad, I wrote a lengthy paper on an early and somewhat traditional Yeats poem, The Song of Wandering Aengus. It was entirely a formal and linguistic analysis, and I believed then, as now, that not one aspect of language -- syntax, semantics, form, phonology, you name it -- escaped Yeats' attention as he composed, all serving his specific purpose. He was the master. Alas, I lost the paper in one move or another. But here's the poem, and as a bonus, for everyone who loves Ray Bradbury, you'll probably see the connection -- I WENT out to the hazel wood, Because a fire was in my head, And cut and peeled a hazel wand, And hooked a berry to a thread; And when white moths were on the wing, 5 And moth-like stars were flickering out, I dropped the berry in a stream And caught a little silver trout. When I had laid it on the floor I went to blow the fire a-flame, 10 But something rustled on the floor, And someone called me by my name: It had become a glimmering girl With apple blossom in her hair Who called me by my name and ran 15 And faded through the brightening air. Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; 20 And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun. Robert Gehorsam CEO Image-Metrics On Oct 9, 2010, at 4:27 PM, Pamela McCorduck wrote: > When I hear someone say "I never read fiction," I'm a little saddened. It > comes to my ears like "I never look at art." When one starts getting all > hairy-chested about the greater value of non-fiction over make-believe, > please be reminded of the books you pull off your shelf to make room for new > ones. They're often of the genre of "The Coming Crisis of 1981." Valuable in > its way in 1979, but not so much later. Literature lasts, which is why so > many of our choices here have been oldies. > > Why do we read fiction? Any number of reasons, but one major reason is to > help us see--often, see anew. So one of the things that separates literature > from a pleasant afternoon's escape (of *course* I read thrillers too; I like > pleasant afternoons of escape) is that literature does make you see anew. It > does all sorts of other things too, if you're sensitive to its techniques. > > One of the best ways of teaching yourself about those techniques is James > Wood's "How Fiction Works." Wood is a staff writer on the New Yorker, and a > passionate reader. He's not going to teach you how to write a novel, but > he'll certainly teach you how to read one better. He's deliciously > opinionated, but makes his arguments lucidly and persuasively. It's a small > book, and I often toss it in my backpack for the subway, open it at random, > and start to think as I read it. > > Pamela > > > "How quickly weeks glide away in such a city as New York, especially when you > reckon among your friends some of the most agreeable people in either > hemisphere." > Fanny Trollope, "Domestic Manners of the Americans" > > > > ============================================================ > FRIAM Applied Complexity Group listserv > Meets Fridays 9a-11:30 at cafe at St. John's College > lectures, archives, unsubscribe, maps at http://www.friam.org
============================================================ FRIAM Applied Complexity Group listserv Meets Fridays 9a-11:30 at cafe at St. John's College lectures, archives, unsubscribe, maps at http://www.friam.org
