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July 08, 2009

Comments

Niall

I'm not sure why Kushner thinks writing about outsider communities is no longer tolerated. It continues to be a staple of genre fiction (or doesn't that count?). And Man Gone Down, which won this year's Impac prize, is all about the economic fringe communities, the writing of which is supposedly no longer tolerated. By whom?

rachel kushner

Hi,
I'm glad you brought this up. I didn't say writing about outsider communities is no longer tolerated. I said living in them in order to write about them isn't, or possibly never was. There are exceptions (which only prove the rule in my opinion), though I would not consider Man Gone Down among them, since Thomas was a teacher of fiction as he wrote the book (not a bookie or prisoner),and the outside here is primarily racial, another (and much larger, more pressing) issue entirely (being a black American is not opting to "live in order to tell"). Algren shaped his life a certain way in order to write about that shape.

For better or worse, most writers of literary fiction come from the upper middle class, and most writing teachers do not encourage people to "live" in order to accrue material, and instead quote Flannery O'Connor, "Anybody who has survived his childhood..."

Lastly, re: genre fiction, I was talking about NBA winners and high institutional praise, and so no, it doesn't really count in this specific context.

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TEV DEFINED


  • The Elegant Variation is "Fowler’s (1926, 1965) term for the inept writer’s overstrained efforts at freshness or vividness of expression. Prose guilty of elegant variation calls attention to itself and doesn’t permit its ideas to seem naturally clear. It typically seeks fancy new words for familiar things, and it scrambles for synonyms in order to avoid at all costs repeating a word, even though repetition might be the natural, normal thing to do: The audience had a certain bovine placidity, instead of The audience was as placid as cows. Elegant variation is often the rock, and a stereotype, a cliché, or a tired metaphor the hard place between which inexperienced or foolish writers come to grief. The familiar middle ground in treating these homely topics is almost always the safest. In untrained or unrestrained hands, a thesaurus can be dangerous."

SECOND LOOK

  • The Bookshop by Penelope Fitzgerald

    Bs

    Penelope Fitzgerald's second novel is the tale of Florence Green, a widow who seeks, in the late 1950s, to bring a bookstore to an isolated British town, encountering all manner of obstacles, including incompetent builders, vindictive gentry, small minded bankers, an irritable poltergeist, but, above all, a town that might not, in fact, want a bookshop. Fitzgerald's prose is spare but evocative – there's no wasted effort and her work reminds one of Hemingway's dictum that every word should fight for its right to be on the page. Florence is an engaging creation, stubbornly committed to her plan even as uncertainty regarding the wisdom of the enterprise gnaws at her. But The Bookshop concerns itself, finally, with the astonishing vindictiveness of which provincials are capable, and, as so much English fiction must, it grapples with the inevitabilities of class. It's a dense marvel at 123 pages, a book you won't want to – or be able to – rush through.
  • The Rider by Tim Krabbe

    Rider_4

    Tim Krabbé's superb 1978 memoir-cum-novel is the single best book we've read about cycling, a book that will come closer to bringing you inside a grueling road race than anything else out there. A kilometer-by-kilometer look at just what is required to endure some of the most grueling terrain in the world, Krabbé explains the tactics, the choices and – above all – the grinding, endless, excruciating pain that every cyclist faces and makes it heart-pounding rather than expository or tedious. No writer has better captured both the agony and the determination to ride through the agony. He's an elegant stylist (ably served by Sam Garrett's fine translation) and The Rider manages to be that rarest hybrid – an authentic, accurate book about cycling that's a pleasure to read. "Non-racers," he writes. "The emptiness of those lives shocks me."