Conflict between writing and other duties - a newsletter to prepare, 10 days to do it in, not much - inviting friends for dinner - some are beginning to take offence at our unsociability - karate, cooking and cleaning. It is now 11:30 am and have been up since 7:30 and done only cooking and cleaning. Nothing written except this.
Writing Walter: I shall write 1000 words every day.
I'll give myself an hour to write write and write - no holds barred - about the synagogue destruction, before moving on to other things.
Memo: I was telling a friend something and she said, It's a story - meaning - Write it! Last time, I did what she suggested - very satisfying. When I came to write this one, I'd forgotten what it was about. I shall sit quietly and hope it'll come back, I know I've told this one before, so shall probably want to tell it again.
The importance of having the right friends.
I've remembered the story now. About Greece.
Monday, 20 June 2011
Friday, 17 June 2011
Slowness
A blobby day, too much physical exercise has tired me out. Rest does not seem to help - even lying down feels like an effort.
And so re-read Milan Kundera's Slowness (Faber and Faber, 1996) in a good translation (from the French) by Linda Asher. The original La Lenteur was published in '96. I'd bought it because of its title as well as because of Kundera, because I'd just finished a brilliant book translated from German, The Discovery of Slowness (2004) by S. Nadolny, translated from German by R. Freedman from Die Entdeckung der Langsamheit (1999), which is the biography of John Franklin, an exceptional man, who suffered from a slowness in his ability to process incoming stimuli, and developed a profound understanding of many things nevertheless. He became Governor of Tasmania (19th century).
I once asked a clever psychologist whether speed (of response to the questions of a test) and intelligence were always linked, and he was surprised and said of course; indeed, the Wechsler Intelligence test - commonly known as the IQ test - rates people partly on the speed of their responses. This book shows how that might lead to an erroneous assessment.
To return to Kundera's book. It is three-quarters good: the ending is disappointing, almost trite. Most of it is witty and very well written, often describing a superficial intellectual discussion between men, with a commentary on what is happening underneath, who wins and who loses and by what process - which may not always be of interest to a less competitive person. But some of the ideas are fun to play with: the connection between memory and speed - the faster we go, the less we remember of our experience. A central story shows and discusses how a slow movement of the characters from one place to another enhances the memory of the events; Kundera contrasts slow and fast - one person dives into a pool, aware only of himself, another is shown - approvingly - as entering the water cautiously, slowly, gracefully - more aware.
Notes:
The letter to the publisher regarding the translation was posted today.
My writing is bogged down, though little sparks appear every now and then, which may illuminate the way forward. Started chapter 2 of what I call Writing Walter. A temporary title.
And so re-read Milan Kundera's Slowness (Faber and Faber, 1996) in a good translation (from the French) by Linda Asher. The original La Lenteur was published in '96. I'd bought it because of its title as well as because of Kundera, because I'd just finished a brilliant book translated from German, The Discovery of Slowness (2004) by S. Nadolny, translated from German by R. Freedman from Die Entdeckung der Langsamheit (1999), which is the biography of John Franklin, an exceptional man, who suffered from a slowness in his ability to process incoming stimuli, and developed a profound understanding of many things nevertheless. He became Governor of Tasmania (19th century).
I once asked a clever psychologist whether speed (of response to the questions of a test) and intelligence were always linked, and he was surprised and said of course; indeed, the Wechsler Intelligence test - commonly known as the IQ test - rates people partly on the speed of their responses. This book shows how that might lead to an erroneous assessment.
To return to Kundera's book. It is three-quarters good: the ending is disappointing, almost trite. Most of it is witty and very well written, often describing a superficial intellectual discussion between men, with a commentary on what is happening underneath, who wins and who loses and by what process - which may not always be of interest to a less competitive person. But some of the ideas are fun to play with: the connection between memory and speed - the faster we go, the less we remember of our experience. A central story shows and discusses how a slow movement of the characters from one place to another enhances the memory of the events; Kundera contrasts slow and fast - one person dives into a pool, aware only of himself, another is shown - approvingly - as entering the water cautiously, slowly, gracefully - more aware.
Notes:
The letter to the publisher regarding the translation was posted today.
My writing is bogged down, though little sparks appear every now and then, which may illuminate the way forward. Started chapter 2 of what I call Writing Walter. A temporary title.
Monday, 6 June 2011
Kill your darlings...
Talking with a knowledgeable friend about the short story: she would like me to remove the beginning; I am attached to it.
Kill your darlings! they say. Following that decree, I should get rid of it, though I can't see why.
Changing the story to the first person was a fruitful exercise - it is now longer and more fleshed out. I think I can do more of this, catching events that seem to be almost at the periphery of my consciousness, which gain unexpected importance as I write about them. New vistas open up.
Does the short version leave too much unsaid, especially for those who have no other insight into the society and times that are described? It is interesting to think about.
Still no letter to the publisher re the translation: I must just do it.
Kill your darlings! they say. Following that decree, I should get rid of it, though I can't see why.
Changing the story to the first person was a fruitful exercise - it is now longer and more fleshed out. I think I can do more of this, catching events that seem to be almost at the periphery of my consciousness, which gain unexpected importance as I write about them. New vistas open up.
Does the short version leave too much unsaid, especially for those who have no other insight into the society and times that are described? It is interesting to think about.
Still no letter to the publisher re the translation: I must just do it.
Thursday, 2 June 2011
A happy ending
Olive Kittering by Elizabeth Strout (Randomo House, 2008): a good book, a very good writer, Pulitzer Prize-winner, I'm surprised I'd never heard of her before.
The format is not the usual novel: about twenty short stories take place chronologically in the same little town in Maine, with the characters reappearing in various chapters, sometimes in the foreground, sometimes briefly mentioned as if at a distance. The language is spare, the psychological truth of the characters a great strength. I particularly liked the way people conjecture about other people's motivations or states of mind and get it wrong, as in real life.
There is mostly an atmosphere of depression and disappointment, which is redeemed in the last chapter, where Olive finds happiness. I wondered whether the publisher said, Really, Liz, do something about this, too too gloomy...
Indeed some of the reviews complain about that, and a friend of mine never finished the book, because some of the painful events are too similar to what has happened in her own life, through no fault of her own. Reading Elizabeth's biography, found that she qualified in law and attained a Certificate in Gerontology at the same time, the latter being a social work degree. She is very bright and in her mid-fifties.
Plan to review the short story for an hour - no more - and get on to the book again. Ch is out and the house is quiet and warm. Great!
Still reading No Simple Passage, a little irritated that it is not over by now, am finishing it in order to finish.
One word too many on p. 208 - After the 1884 earthquake:.. "Even the Jews... humiliate themselves, fasting from even until even and uniting with their brother colonists in fervent supplication to Him..." What is this Even? Christianity is descended from Judaism, and Jews humiliate themselves ritually on the Day of Atonement every year...Frequent fasts are ordained in Orthodox Judaism. It is in accordance with their creed. I am also not sure that 'eating up large' is such a feature of the Feast of the Tabernacles, it has more to do with what you eat, not how much.
The format is not the usual novel: about twenty short stories take place chronologically in the same little town in Maine, with the characters reappearing in various chapters, sometimes in the foreground, sometimes briefly mentioned as if at a distance. The language is spare, the psychological truth of the characters a great strength. I particularly liked the way people conjecture about other people's motivations or states of mind and get it wrong, as in real life.
There is mostly an atmosphere of depression and disappointment, which is redeemed in the last chapter, where Olive finds happiness. I wondered whether the publisher said, Really, Liz, do something about this, too too gloomy...
Indeed some of the reviews complain about that, and a friend of mine never finished the book, because some of the painful events are too similar to what has happened in her own life, through no fault of her own. Reading Elizabeth's biography, found that she qualified in law and attained a Certificate in Gerontology at the same time, the latter being a social work degree. She is very bright and in her mid-fifties.
Plan to review the short story for an hour - no more - and get on to the book again. Ch is out and the house is quiet and warm. Great!
Still reading No Simple Passage, a little irritated that it is not over by now, am finishing it in order to finish.
One word too many on p. 208 - After the 1884 earthquake:.. "Even the Jews... humiliate themselves, fasting from even until even and uniting with their brother colonists in fervent supplication to Him..." What is this Even? Christianity is descended from Judaism, and Jews humiliate themselves ritually on the Day of Atonement every year...Frequent fasts are ordained in Orthodox Judaism. It is in accordance with their creed. I am also not sure that 'eating up large' is such a feature of the Feast of the Tabernacles, it has more to do with what you eat, not how much.
Sunday, 22 May 2011
Short story
My son says that people may not be used to my style and that is why everyone is so critical, he thinks it is good enough as it is, and not to change anytthing. Some things I've changed anyway, but it is very reassuring to hear him say that. He is a good judge.
I will however try to write it in the first person.
I will however try to write it in the first person.
Friday, 20 May 2011
The look of a book
Started reading Jenny Robin Jones' handsome book No Simple Passage, (Random House, 2011) - feel a bit overwhelmed by the wealth of detail about the new immigrants, I can't remember the names and so far the personalities of the various writers quoted such as the surgeon and CE, have not emerged. I suppose that every name is the name of someone's ancestor, that someone being a potential reader. There was at least one uncommon name belonging to someone I know, I shall have to tell them.
Am shocked that the single women (those from the working class, mind you!) are kept behind bars at night. There are many such devastating details - except of course that they were not 'details' for those affected by them: the surgeon has the right to withhold rations - their food - from those who swear at him, sometimes for several days in a row! It's a comfort to read that those who do swear appear to have food of their own.
I skip lists, too much detail for this reader. It may become more story-like - have only reached p. 45 out of 300 plus.
Was charmed by the delicate poem on the frontispiece:
Also bought - without hesitation - Jenny Bornholdt's latest book The Hill of Wool (Victoria University Press, 2011). I read it quickly for the first time this morning, - shall read it again in the coming days, a reader has to work on this one, and sometimes even that is no use: symbols of something are there and you either like this poem-y thing or you don't.
Undone and Memory want to be learnt by heart, for occasional recitation at appropriate times - vilanelles, I think.
The book itself is not as nice as the previous one, though the cover illustration is satisfying.
Am shocked that the single women (those from the working class, mind you!) are kept behind bars at night. There are many such devastating details - except of course that they were not 'details' for those affected by them: the surgeon has the right to withhold rations - their food - from those who swear at him, sometimes for several days in a row! It's a comfort to read that those who do swear appear to have food of their own.
I skip lists, too much detail for this reader. It may become more story-like - have only reached p. 45 out of 300 plus.
Was charmed by the delicate poem on the frontispiece:
Some days we are emigrants,
some days we are immigrants,
some days we are simply passengers
milling about on the deck.
When does a leaving behind become
a going towards?
When does it become a here now?
And when does a keep out become
we're all in this together?
Also bought - without hesitation - Jenny Bornholdt's latest book The Hill of Wool (Victoria University Press, 2011). I read it quickly for the first time this morning, - shall read it again in the coming days, a reader has to work on this one, and sometimes even that is no use: symbols of something are there and you either like this poem-y thing or you don't.
Undone and Memory want to be learnt by heart, for occasional recitation at appropriate times - vilanelles, I think.
Sometimes we forget that we remember
find it distressing that the past
could so evade us, remain as merely tremor
in our brains, so that we know the former
life is there, but can't quite grasp
the detail. Sometimes we forget that we remember.
[...]Also liked Christmas and After Hours... Time will tell.
The book itself is not as nice as the previous one, though the cover illustration is satisfying.
Tuesday, 17 May 2011
Messiness
Wrote a short story based on Einat's visit and Memorial Day (for Israel Defence Force soldiers), which needs more work. Several people have read it, all had suggestions to make, not one the same as the other, which means that it is not quite right in some way, since all the suggestions are quite far-reaching.
I am pleased with it anyway, writing it has satisfied a need in me. I shall save this version and play with version B to see where that may lead me.
I have managed in a mysterious and disastrous way to lose some of the writing which is the new beginning for the book. Only a few pages, but they packed a punch. A by-product of having spent a lot of time on it, is that when I re-write now, it may flow out pretty much as it was.
I also cannot find a letter I thought I'd written about the translation to be published.Maybe I only thought I wrote it?
Best was cleaning the kitchen this morning. You start with dirt and get rid of it and feel good. Nice and simple.
Unfortunately time-consuming and a diversion from what really matters.
I am pleased with it anyway, writing it has satisfied a need in me. I shall save this version and play with version B to see where that may lead me.
I have managed in a mysterious and disastrous way to lose some of the writing which is the new beginning for the book. Only a few pages, but they packed a punch. A by-product of having spent a lot of time on it, is that when I re-write now, it may flow out pretty much as it was.
I also cannot find a letter I thought I'd written about the translation to be published.Maybe I only thought I wrote it?
Best was cleaning the kitchen this morning. You start with dirt and get rid of it and feel good. Nice and simple.
Unfortunately time-consuming and a diversion from what really matters.
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