It's been hit or miss with Telling True Stories for me, but the Ethics chapter was endlessly interesting to me. I kept bouncing from love of narrative journalism to a deep hatred and embarrassment.
I guess I'll start at the beginning. I read a book on cognitive dissonance, and it was all about how memories are mostly wrong a lot of the time. The beginning of the chapter really speaks to that inconsistency, and I think that's really important. I know the book I read talked about a woman who wrote a memoir and then at the end of each chapter had talked over her memories versus her siblings' and her parents' and had conflicting stories from each person. This is so sad but so very important to not only writing, but to life in general.
Second, I feel like my interactions with my profile subject are bordering on unethical because she may not completely understand what I'm doing, and I think I'll show her some of what I have written so far just so she can get an idea and I won't feel so much like I'm misleading her.
Now, on to the crazy stuff. I almost couldn't read about all the stories about following people who are suffering or poor or both and not being able to help. Especially the story about the child trying to get to America and getting beaten and robbed and wandering into the city half-naked and bloodied. I guess I just can't understand that. It's important to have these stories and to tell them so things can get changed, but it takes a special person to be able to witness it without helping. Also, Bill Clinton sent a letter to one of those people, but are policies getting changed? Is there anything long-term happening with these stories, or are a few wealthier people sending aid to these specific cases and then the fad is over? I don't know. And if it's the latter, I don't see the difference between helping the kid as it's happening and waiting until you have a horrible true story to tell and letting other people help them. This gets into the whole point of narrative journalism and its affect on its readers.
I guess I'm a little sceptical because I feel the readers of these stories are probably more upper class and have the resources to send money or clothes to one person and then have their consciences clear. "What?" you're asking "How do you figure?" I don't know, but I don't see a lot of people from my small town reading anything but the Hillsdale Daily News--and they definitely don't have stories showing the hard life of the immigrant trying to make it to America. Thus, their negative opinions aren't changed. And, if these are the majority, then what long term differences are the stories making?
But, I'm wrong. It's much better to have these stories written and even have 5 people read them and tell their friends (I realize the actual readership is much higher than 5) than to have these stories remain absent and people go on thinking their limited thoughts about immigration and poverty.
I just can't get over the idea of watching people struggle just to tell their story.
In the end, I realize how important narrative journalism is to cultural understanding and to change. I think everyone should know I'm always sceptical at first, that's how I work things through. Often, if I start out liking something absolutely, it inevitably falls off its pedestal and I'm crushed with disappointment. So, this is better.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Responses.
I didn't do Akiko justice in my piece, but I wrote it as fast as I could and posted it, so my apologies for that. Here are my comments for you!
Mary,
This is an awesome piece. You put so much detail into the descriptions of Munchie that it’s hard not to know exactly where in the store you’re referring to. The anecdotes about Munchie are so amusing, I could read pages of that stuff. There’s one image, though, that I’m not sure I understand: the part where Paul is just trying to get Will to smile, I don’t really understand what he’s doing. It sounds like he’s doing the universal “I want a hug” sign. There’s something missing from this and I’m not sure I can accurately pinpoint it. I don’t know if I wanted you to profile Paul or if I thought that you were trying to do too much with this piece and it turned out to be a survey of all of these anecdotes and jokes from Munchie without a strong focus. I guess I felt like, as I was reading the descriptions of Munchie in the beginning, that I was waiting for you to start telling the story. I don’t know if a brief history of Munchie would remedy this, or if that would be totally boring. Either way, your piece dances circles around mine and was so entertaining.
Colin,
Same as Mary, this piece is smooth like butter. You really took me through the train station and set up the scene beautifully. Plus, you have a few really great lines in here, after the horrific death of the college student, “It was the two men who went into the bathroom, saw Heisinger, saw the blood and walked back out and across the street for coffee that put the sticker on the mirror.” That is just golden. I guess I have the same question as I had for Mary, though, and I’m not sure of the focus of the piece. You have the train station and you have the murder, and to me they seem a little separate. I don’t know if you were focusing on the station post-video cameras, thus post security. So, if now it’s safer than it was in 2000, or if you were focusing on the train station and that’s one of the anecdotes you wanted to tell. You could have easily gotten into the history of the station as well, but that would have been boring and I like the story you’re telling.
Camilo,
First of all, I love Linda. She’s one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met at K, I’m so glad you profiled her. Second, you have some fantastic images and details in this, I particularly like her morning routine that’s kind of set to what cup of coffee she’s on. There’s a few parts that are confusing, I think you could introduce Jim as Linda’s high school sweetheart, because as it is, it doesn’t become clear until the second paragraph. I really like how there’s this underlying theme of death in her profile, and you did a great job of following that all the way through. I think you introduce Jim’s death too soon, because after that you back up to when he was still alive and where they lived for his job. I don’t understand the quote, “After Jim’s death my goal was to raise a happy healthy young man who wants to leave his mom, and I think I’ve done it for good.” I also don’t really think the quote that she “wasn’t having success just getting pregnant” says what you want it to say. As it is, it sounds like she was trying to get pregnant and couldn’t, but you want to say she didn’t feel fulfilled by being a mom. Overall, you picked an amazingly interesting woman, this is a cool profile.
Emily,
This piece just seems like it’s already published. You have such beautiful language, especially when describing the scene and the characters. Your writing makes me believe you from the beginning. I feel like there are two themes with this story, though, and you could pick one and make it deeper. There’s the theme of this group of artists that is dispersing and this woman who started it in this awkward position of having no one really taking the group mentality seriously anymore, and then you have the theme of recycled art and the techniques of the artists. Did you ask Filtzpatrick what her plans are for next year? What the turnover rate is for artists, how this keeps Exquisite Corpse from reaching its full potential? These are kind of awkward questions, so I would understand if you didn’t ask them or don’t feel comfortable asking them. As it is, I feel like you’ve started telling me a story and I don’t really know the ending. What is she going to do next year and how does one become a member of the exquisite corpse? Also, when Howes is peeling cardstock off of the art piece and says he can’t believe she matted it as if she had to qualify what it is—I have no idea what he’s talking about: I have no idea what matting is and I have no idea who ‘she’ is. Overall, fantastic writing, Emily.
Maureen,
You have quite the character to work with here! Jane’s ideas of friendship are so foreign to me I want to hear more about it. I feel like what may have happened is you went to hang out with these girls and they didn’t really do anything. That’s fine, I think you can work with what you have, but you have to cut some of these scenes. I don’t see the significance of detailing Susan making sausage in the microwave, or the details of stir fry. You could say Susan went downstairs to make food and invited the others down and let that lead to your Crystal Ball scenes, but as I reader, I really don’t need to hear how things were cooked. Also, is there any way you can get Jane to talk more about herself and her views on social relations? I’d love more direct quotes from her. How close is she with her parents? Does she not have siblings? What was high school like for her? What else about American culture doesn’t she like? You have action with Jane watching the Crystal Ball attendees parade around the common area, but you need more content for this to be an amazing piece. Great job selecting Jane, though, she’s quite the individual.
Lindsey,
Your opening paragraph is fantastic, you really introduced The Strutt with grace. Overall, though, I’m not sure right now whether this piece is a narrative or a review of the food and atmosphere of The Strutt. You don’t really have much background or history, but you do a great job of describing what’s there now. What information did you get in the interview? You can talk more about the people who frequent the Strutt, or the bands they have every weekend, or the craft shows they host on the weekends, too. In fact, I think it would make this piece multidimensional if you discussed how the Strutt transforms itself to meet each of these obligations: music venue, craft show, chill coffee shop. That would completely follow your thesis in this, since you say the Strutt is more than just a simple coffee shop. Great descriptions of the food and atmosphere, but I want more! Tell me what Bain looks like, tell me what he’s doing when he’s talking to you, tell me what the college students next to you look like. Who’s winning at Monopoly?
Joseph,
This is a great piece. I love the images, specifically the sleeping, possibly dead, homeless man in the gutter. You do a great job of giving such strong details of Johnny’s appearance and his gestures and even his pauses, I can see so many of these scenes clearly. The only part I guess I don’t completely follow the opinion of the narrator is when you say Johnny isn’t an egotistical, cocky rocker, but a few paragraphs earlier I think he is. He’s not a professional rock star, but he’s already been through all of the typical rocker heathen lifestyle of excess? And he’s over it and thinks it’s dull? I don’t know what rubs me the wrong way about that paragraph, but he sounds like a bit of a jerk from that section. I guess because to be able to have gone through all of the excesses of a rock star and then gotten over it implies he’s done well enough and had enough money and resources to do that, and it just bugs me. Again, I can’t explain it, I should be happy he’s not an addict anymore, I guess. I love the scene with the kids and the balloons, though. I thought you said you talked to him on the phone and he wasn’t doing as well anymore? I want to hear more about that, and then you can switch the story arc into the highs and lows of the rock star lifestyle, I guess. Nice piece.
Mary,
This is an awesome piece. You put so much detail into the descriptions of Munchie that it’s hard not to know exactly where in the store you’re referring to. The anecdotes about Munchie are so amusing, I could read pages of that stuff. There’s one image, though, that I’m not sure I understand: the part where Paul is just trying to get Will to smile, I don’t really understand what he’s doing. It sounds like he’s doing the universal “I want a hug” sign. There’s something missing from this and I’m not sure I can accurately pinpoint it. I don’t know if I wanted you to profile Paul or if I thought that you were trying to do too much with this piece and it turned out to be a survey of all of these anecdotes and jokes from Munchie without a strong focus. I guess I felt like, as I was reading the descriptions of Munchie in the beginning, that I was waiting for you to start telling the story. I don’t know if a brief history of Munchie would remedy this, or if that would be totally boring. Either way, your piece dances circles around mine and was so entertaining.
Colin,
Same as Mary, this piece is smooth like butter. You really took me through the train station and set up the scene beautifully. Plus, you have a few really great lines in here, after the horrific death of the college student, “It was the two men who went into the bathroom, saw Heisinger, saw the blood and walked back out and across the street for coffee that put the sticker on the mirror.” That is just golden. I guess I have the same question as I had for Mary, though, and I’m not sure of the focus of the piece. You have the train station and you have the murder, and to me they seem a little separate. I don’t know if you were focusing on the station post-video cameras, thus post security. So, if now it’s safer than it was in 2000, or if you were focusing on the train station and that’s one of the anecdotes you wanted to tell. You could have easily gotten into the history of the station as well, but that would have been boring and I like the story you’re telling.
Camilo,
First of all, I love Linda. She’s one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met at K, I’m so glad you profiled her. Second, you have some fantastic images and details in this, I particularly like her morning routine that’s kind of set to what cup of coffee she’s on. There’s a few parts that are confusing, I think you could introduce Jim as Linda’s high school sweetheart, because as it is, it doesn’t become clear until the second paragraph. I really like how there’s this underlying theme of death in her profile, and you did a great job of following that all the way through. I think you introduce Jim’s death too soon, because after that you back up to when he was still alive and where they lived for his job. I don’t understand the quote, “After Jim’s death my goal was to raise a happy healthy young man who wants to leave his mom, and I think I’ve done it for good.” I also don’t really think the quote that she “wasn’t having success just getting pregnant” says what you want it to say. As it is, it sounds like she was trying to get pregnant and couldn’t, but you want to say she didn’t feel fulfilled by being a mom. Overall, you picked an amazingly interesting woman, this is a cool profile.
Emily,
This piece just seems like it’s already published. You have such beautiful language, especially when describing the scene and the characters. Your writing makes me believe you from the beginning. I feel like there are two themes with this story, though, and you could pick one and make it deeper. There’s the theme of this group of artists that is dispersing and this woman who started it in this awkward position of having no one really taking the group mentality seriously anymore, and then you have the theme of recycled art and the techniques of the artists. Did you ask Filtzpatrick what her plans are for next year? What the turnover rate is for artists, how this keeps Exquisite Corpse from reaching its full potential? These are kind of awkward questions, so I would understand if you didn’t ask them or don’t feel comfortable asking them. As it is, I feel like you’ve started telling me a story and I don’t really know the ending. What is she going to do next year and how does one become a member of the exquisite corpse? Also, when Howes is peeling cardstock off of the art piece and says he can’t believe she matted it as if she had to qualify what it is—I have no idea what he’s talking about: I have no idea what matting is and I have no idea who ‘she’ is. Overall, fantastic writing, Emily.
Maureen,
You have quite the character to work with here! Jane’s ideas of friendship are so foreign to me I want to hear more about it. I feel like what may have happened is you went to hang out with these girls and they didn’t really do anything. That’s fine, I think you can work with what you have, but you have to cut some of these scenes. I don’t see the significance of detailing Susan making sausage in the microwave, or the details of stir fry. You could say Susan went downstairs to make food and invited the others down and let that lead to your Crystal Ball scenes, but as I reader, I really don’t need to hear how things were cooked. Also, is there any way you can get Jane to talk more about herself and her views on social relations? I’d love more direct quotes from her. How close is she with her parents? Does she not have siblings? What was high school like for her? What else about American culture doesn’t she like? You have action with Jane watching the Crystal Ball attendees parade around the common area, but you need more content for this to be an amazing piece. Great job selecting Jane, though, she’s quite the individual.
Lindsey,
Your opening paragraph is fantastic, you really introduced The Strutt with grace. Overall, though, I’m not sure right now whether this piece is a narrative or a review of the food and atmosphere of The Strutt. You don’t really have much background or history, but you do a great job of describing what’s there now. What information did you get in the interview? You can talk more about the people who frequent the Strutt, or the bands they have every weekend, or the craft shows they host on the weekends, too. In fact, I think it would make this piece multidimensional if you discussed how the Strutt transforms itself to meet each of these obligations: music venue, craft show, chill coffee shop. That would completely follow your thesis in this, since you say the Strutt is more than just a simple coffee shop. Great descriptions of the food and atmosphere, but I want more! Tell me what Bain looks like, tell me what he’s doing when he’s talking to you, tell me what the college students next to you look like. Who’s winning at Monopoly?
Joseph,
This is a great piece. I love the images, specifically the sleeping, possibly dead, homeless man in the gutter. You do a great job of giving such strong details of Johnny’s appearance and his gestures and even his pauses, I can see so many of these scenes clearly. The only part I guess I don’t completely follow the opinion of the narrator is when you say Johnny isn’t an egotistical, cocky rocker, but a few paragraphs earlier I think he is. He’s not a professional rock star, but he’s already been through all of the typical rocker heathen lifestyle of excess? And he’s over it and thinks it’s dull? I don’t know what rubs me the wrong way about that paragraph, but he sounds like a bit of a jerk from that section. I guess because to be able to have gone through all of the excesses of a rock star and then gotten over it implies he’s done well enough and had enough money and resources to do that, and it just bugs me. Again, I can’t explain it, I should be happy he’s not an addict anymore, I guess. I love the scene with the kids and the balloons, though. I thought you said you talked to him on the phone and he wasn’t doing as well anymore? I want to hear more about that, and then you can switch the story arc into the highs and lows of the rock star lifestyle, I guess. Nice piece.
Monday, May 4, 2009
50 minutes late, but still...50 minutes late.
Profile: Akiko Kunii
By Marni Newell
On a Monday evening, during the a reading of a new book of short stories by Kalamazoo College English professor Andy Mozina, Akiko Kunii enters the dark lecture hall and fumbles to find a seat in the back. She succeeds, but not without a few backward glances at her entrance.
“I came at the end because I was busy,” she explains. Busy only begins to describe it: Kunii is both a teaching fellow and a full time student at Kalamazoo College. She’s currently teaching Japanese 203 and taking Anthropology, Teaching Foreign Language, and Mind Body. She doesn’t belong to many campus groups, but is learning to dance for World Night. “I’m terrible, but I like it.”
As for free time, Kunii draws a blank. “When do I have spare time? Sleeping?” To understand better, she asks for a definition of ‘spare time’ and then reconsiders. “You can see me in the library or office, any other place I’m just running,” she pauses shortly. “Yeah, running.”
Kunii likes to get a ten to fifteen minute run in everyday, something she hasn’t done since she broke her arm running in the winter. “I hit the ground and it was terrible.” Her Japanese students were sympathetic and caring, though, sending her a “Get Well Soon” card written in Japanese and animal crackers. She appreciated the card, but liked it more because it was in Japanese, “I’m so happy and lucky to have nice students.”
Kunii knows Andy Mozina through a workshop they took together. “I keep asking him questions,” she says motioning to her right where he had sat in relation to her at the workshop. “And he would write it down to me the definition and the word and he read it to me.” To Kunii, that’s the most effective way for understanding English.
“People think international students don’t understand because we don’t know English. But I understand concepts.” Kunii reaches for my pen and slides the pad of paper near her to draw a fraction on the corner of the page. “You call this a fourth, right?” she points to the four with the pen. “In Japanese, we say the bottom number first.”
Kunii came to Kalamazoo College through a program offered in Japan that sends students all over the United States. She attended Northeastern College in Chicago before coming to Kalamazoo. Northeastern is “Very different. Much, much bigger.” When she has questions, Kunii attends office hours of professors, something more widely available at Kalamazoo than Northeastern.
When office hours aren’t available, Kunii uses the students at Kalamazoo. “I met her once at a women’s awareness group,” Senior Amel Omari says. “I had to explain to her what ‘bitch’ meant.” Omari smiles saying, “Now she says ‘Hi’ to me when she sees me.”
Manners are important to Kunii, who thinks one of the negative aspects of Kalamazoo College is how busy everyone is. “I can only say ‘Hi, how are you?’ when I see people when I’m running. In Japan, when we see people we—” she bends down to pantomime a bow. When Kunii is running and can’t bow she thinks she’s being rude.
Between preparing to teach classes and homework for classes she’s taking, Kunii tries to see the bright side of being busy. “[It’s a] good busy…because I can see so many things and participate. But it’s difficult because I have to choose.”
By Marni Newell
On a Monday evening, during the a reading of a new book of short stories by Kalamazoo College English professor Andy Mozina, Akiko Kunii enters the dark lecture hall and fumbles to find a seat in the back. She succeeds, but not without a few backward glances at her entrance.
“I came at the end because I was busy,” she explains. Busy only begins to describe it: Kunii is both a teaching fellow and a full time student at Kalamazoo College. She’s currently teaching Japanese 203 and taking Anthropology, Teaching Foreign Language, and Mind Body. She doesn’t belong to many campus groups, but is learning to dance for World Night. “I’m terrible, but I like it.”
As for free time, Kunii draws a blank. “When do I have spare time? Sleeping?” To understand better, she asks for a definition of ‘spare time’ and then reconsiders. “You can see me in the library or office, any other place I’m just running,” she pauses shortly. “Yeah, running.”
Kunii likes to get a ten to fifteen minute run in everyday, something she hasn’t done since she broke her arm running in the winter. “I hit the ground and it was terrible.” Her Japanese students were sympathetic and caring, though, sending her a “Get Well Soon” card written in Japanese and animal crackers. She appreciated the card, but liked it more because it was in Japanese, “I’m so happy and lucky to have nice students.”
Kunii knows Andy Mozina through a workshop they took together. “I keep asking him questions,” she says motioning to her right where he had sat in relation to her at the workshop. “And he would write it down to me the definition and the word and he read it to me.” To Kunii, that’s the most effective way for understanding English.
“People think international students don’t understand because we don’t know English. But I understand concepts.” Kunii reaches for my pen and slides the pad of paper near her to draw a fraction on the corner of the page. “You call this a fourth, right?” she points to the four with the pen. “In Japanese, we say the bottom number first.”
Kunii came to Kalamazoo College through a program offered in Japan that sends students all over the United States. She attended Northeastern College in Chicago before coming to Kalamazoo. Northeastern is “Very different. Much, much bigger.” When she has questions, Kunii attends office hours of professors, something more widely available at Kalamazoo than Northeastern.
When office hours aren’t available, Kunii uses the students at Kalamazoo. “I met her once at a women’s awareness group,” Senior Amel Omari says. “I had to explain to her what ‘bitch’ meant.” Omari smiles saying, “Now she says ‘Hi’ to me when she sees me.”
Manners are important to Kunii, who thinks one of the negative aspects of Kalamazoo College is how busy everyone is. “I can only say ‘Hi, how are you?’ when I see people when I’m running. In Japan, when we see people we—” she bends down to pantomime a bow. When Kunii is running and can’t bow she thinks she’s being rude.
Between preparing to teach classes and homework for classes she’s taking, Kunii tries to see the bright side of being busy. “[It’s a] good busy…because I can see so many things and participate. But it’s difficult because I have to choose.”
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
A dilly of a pickle...and that's healthy.
Ok, so I went to Club Grub today and I was being the "background lady" and trying to soak up as much as possible, and I realized at the end that I was totally misinterpreted by the club people, and now I'm a member, I guess.
So, I'm probably ruining my story. Ugh. I'll have to talk about it.
In funny news, Club Grub was going over healthy versus non-healthy foods and as they were shouting out things like "oranges!" and "kiwi" I heard the following:
Kid: "I'm going to go to McDonalds or Burger King after this."
Some habits you just can't break.
So, I'm probably ruining my story. Ugh. I'll have to talk about it.
In funny news, Club Grub was going over healthy versus non-healthy foods and as they were shouting out things like "oranges!" and "kiwi" I heard the following:
Kid: "I'm going to go to McDonalds or Burger King after this."
Some habits you just can't break.
My housemate keeps playing "Walking on broken glass"
I was just reading through some comments and I think Aaron does bring up a good point about what is more appealing in a story, "cute vs. tragic."
Like the old-timer I am, It reminds me of a story. One day I picked up my local newspaper to see a picture of kids playing in sprinklers on the front page.
"Really?" I asked, reading the equally flowery caption. "All that's going on and they put a picture some kids playing around in sprinklers above the fold?" I was being critical, edgy, like an angry Bruce Wayne peering down at the sinful Hillsdale County with all the rogue farmers and shifty Amish clomping around with their devil horses looking for trouble.
"Why not?" my dad asked, jolting me out of my self-involved fantasy. "What's wrong with focusing on something good and happy for a change? We're always seeing news about wars and death tolls."
I felt stupid, thought about getting defensive, but in the end let my silence speak for me. "Yeah, you're absolutely right," it echoed. The kids' bright swimsuits and expressive faces were making people smile and remember the simplicity of summer afternoons, why the hell was I complaining?
Not to get defensive now, but I guess because in my desire to write fiction, I learned that there has to be some conflict, some sort of deeper meaning that makes something worthy of reading. Or I thought I learned that. I wrote a story as a spacey teenager about the future me getting a job as a disc jockey in Florida and meeting amazing people and having this angsty sexual tension with my male housemate who I thought I hated for the first few months (there was a communication meltdown somewhere that led to us rooming together). But I never ended the story. I had tons of them. These happy what-if stories going on forever and ever. I guess when I write and read stories I like gritty real-life situations. They don't make me happy, but I like reading what I perceive as something closer to reality that sets it apart from the rainbow stories of my youth. Who knows.
I did love the Memory story, though, and I think that was mostly positive. It was turning this rest home life into something beautiful. They've lost so many people whom they loved, but have found avenues and new relationships that keep them going and give meaning to their lives. The story never overtly asks the question "Why am I still here?" but it was present throughout the piece. They live in a world mixed with past and present, the memories of their lost loved ones are as much present as characters as those still in the home. Rest homes are so fascinating. Also, on page 376, I laughed out loud several times at the line "The tiny Fleur, the woman who was always wanting to call her mother on the phone, asked the room in general, 'We havin' a party or somethin'?'" That's both cute and tragic, we've come full circle. I think Keely Houghton would think that was funny, too.
Telling True Stories
I'm really starting to appreciate the zoom in metaphor, because the more I think about it, the more the narrative story about the underground music scene I wrote last fall seems a little like a summary. I'm not sure, I'd have to read it over again.
I brought up the summary vs. dramatic narrative in one of my other English classes when talking about Mrs. Dalloway. I think that utilizes some dramatic narrative. I can dig it.
Like the old-timer I am, It reminds me of a story. One day I picked up my local newspaper to see a picture of kids playing in sprinklers on the front page.
"Really?" I asked, reading the equally flowery caption. "All that's going on and they put a picture some kids playing around in sprinklers above the fold?" I was being critical, edgy, like an angry Bruce Wayne peering down at the sinful Hillsdale County with all the rogue farmers and shifty Amish clomping around with their devil horses looking for trouble.
"Why not?" my dad asked, jolting me out of my self-involved fantasy. "What's wrong with focusing on something good and happy for a change? We're always seeing news about wars and death tolls."
I felt stupid, thought about getting defensive, but in the end let my silence speak for me. "Yeah, you're absolutely right," it echoed. The kids' bright swimsuits and expressive faces were making people smile and remember the simplicity of summer afternoons, why the hell was I complaining?
Not to get defensive now, but I guess because in my desire to write fiction, I learned that there has to be some conflict, some sort of deeper meaning that makes something worthy of reading. Or I thought I learned that. I wrote a story as a spacey teenager about the future me getting a job as a disc jockey in Florida and meeting amazing people and having this angsty sexual tension with my male housemate who I thought I hated for the first few months (there was a communication meltdown somewhere that led to us rooming together). But I never ended the story. I had tons of them. These happy what-if stories going on forever and ever. I guess when I write and read stories I like gritty real-life situations. They don't make me happy, but I like reading what I perceive as something closer to reality that sets it apart from the rainbow stories of my youth. Who knows.
I did love the Memory story, though, and I think that was mostly positive. It was turning this rest home life into something beautiful. They've lost so many people whom they loved, but have found avenues and new relationships that keep them going and give meaning to their lives. The story never overtly asks the question "Why am I still here?" but it was present throughout the piece. They live in a world mixed with past and present, the memories of their lost loved ones are as much present as characters as those still in the home. Rest homes are so fascinating. Also, on page 376, I laughed out loud several times at the line "The tiny Fleur, the woman who was always wanting to call her mother on the phone, asked the room in general, 'We havin' a party or somethin'?'" That's both cute and tragic, we've come full circle. I think Keely Houghton would think that was funny, too.
Telling True Stories
I'm really starting to appreciate the zoom in metaphor, because the more I think about it, the more the narrative story about the underground music scene I wrote last fall seems a little like a summary. I'm not sure, I'd have to read it over again.
I brought up the summary vs. dramatic narrative in one of my other English classes when talking about Mrs. Dalloway. I think that utilizes some dramatic narrative. I can dig it.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Outline attempt
Conflict: Marni bruises flower
Development: 1. Family loves Marni
2. Marni buys flower
3. Marni loses way
Resolution: Family loves flower
I guess.
Development: 1. Family loves Marni
2. Marni buys flower
3. Marni loses way
Resolution: Family loves flower
I guess.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
She did it on time (for once)
All of the readings we have for this Wednesday I think brought up some ethical questions. It started with the beginning of the Telling True Stories section, specifically page 31 "I laugh at their jokes, whether I think they're funny or not." This came after a string of do's and don't's Isabel Wikerson came up with, and I know what she's saying and I may even agree with her, but I can't get the image out of my mind of someone being fake to get more information so they can turn around and write a negative profile. Like, someone makes a sexist joke, the interviewer laughs and then in the piece the person is portrayed as a sexist, and the part where the interviewer laughed (thus egging them on) isn't included and I think that's absolutely dishonest. It seems Wikerson may be trying to say to go along with what people are saying without inserting your own personality or interests and make the interviewee as comfortable as possible, but this is where I think things get blurry. It could go either way.
I mean, this whole class is based on this idea of truth or pieces of truth from a single perception that I have always picked apart in other settings. You can only get a little subjective piece of a person with a profile and that's that.
On to the actual narrative pieces: The American Man at Age Ten.
Hmm. Other than making me extremely nostalgic and missing my brothers and episodes of G.I. Joe, I found myself asking, "Why was this written?" Reading it in 2009 is fun in some ways, but I think it's fun in the same way that watching Kindergarten Cop every few years is fun. You get a couple good laughs in at the video game technology, the fashion, the icons (Schwarzenegger) but you don't watch it to get a deeper meaning out of anything. Also, I think if I picked up an issue of Esquire in the early 90s and read this story, I would think it was either cute or pointless. I like that she wanted to interview an oridinary kid instead of a celebrity, but I think this piece proves why people would rather read about celebrities. There's an abundance of 10-year-old boys who think stealing things from girls they call Maggot is flirting.
Trina and Trina was different. It was gripping, tragic, and frustrating. It also had that element of culture from the mid-90s, but it also had a clear and crazy-dramatic conflict. This is going to be a really fun piece to talk about, because I think Leblanc overstepped her boundaries at points, and I wonder how writing this story affected her relationship with Trina. It was gritty and disgusting in some parts, but I think it was true. Although I just wanted Trina admitted somewhere the whole time, I realize between her rebellion and bureacracy it wasn't as easy as Lifetime makes it seem sometimes. This is a great example of a piece where the author is present throughout, and I'm not sure I really liked the author that much. She wasn't awful, but she wasn't a likable character I was drawn to. It made it even more real. Oh! I remember what this reminds me of (of what this reminds me?). I read a bunch of stories like this my first year in a Prisons and Public Policy class. This is exactly how it is, people try rehab, they try starting over, but they always end up back on the streets doing what they know best. It's frustrating and tragic, but it's how these societies work. It's hard to get back in the system when you've spent so long staying out of it.
I mean, this whole class is based on this idea of truth or pieces of truth from a single perception that I have always picked apart in other settings. You can only get a little subjective piece of a person with a profile and that's that.
On to the actual narrative pieces: The American Man at Age Ten.
Hmm. Other than making me extremely nostalgic and missing my brothers and episodes of G.I. Joe, I found myself asking, "Why was this written?" Reading it in 2009 is fun in some ways, but I think it's fun in the same way that watching Kindergarten Cop every few years is fun. You get a couple good laughs in at the video game technology, the fashion, the icons (Schwarzenegger) but you don't watch it to get a deeper meaning out of anything. Also, I think if I picked up an issue of Esquire in the early 90s and read this story, I would think it was either cute or pointless. I like that she wanted to interview an oridinary kid instead of a celebrity, but I think this piece proves why people would rather read about celebrities. There's an abundance of 10-year-old boys who think stealing things from girls they call Maggot is flirting.
Trina and Trina was different. It was gripping, tragic, and frustrating. It also had that element of culture from the mid-90s, but it also had a clear and crazy-dramatic conflict. This is going to be a really fun piece to talk about, because I think Leblanc overstepped her boundaries at points, and I wonder how writing this story affected her relationship with Trina. It was gritty and disgusting in some parts, but I think it was true. Although I just wanted Trina admitted somewhere the whole time, I realize between her rebellion and bureacracy it wasn't as easy as Lifetime makes it seem sometimes. This is a great example of a piece where the author is present throughout, and I'm not sure I really liked the author that much. She wasn't awful, but she wasn't a likable character I was drawn to. It made it even more real. Oh! I remember what this reminds me of (of what this reminds me?). I read a bunch of stories like this my first year in a Prisons and Public Policy class. This is exactly how it is, people try rehab, they try starting over, but they always end up back on the streets doing what they know best. It's frustrating and tragic, but it's how these societies work. It's hard to get back in the system when you've spent so long staying out of it.
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