Where You Go When You Want to Think

This site has excerpts of my novel-in-progress, Hot Love on the Wing, as well as thoughts on post postmodernism, avant garde art, literature, music, and the community of artists in Bushwick and New York.
Showing posts with label ernest hemingway. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ernest hemingway. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Why Hemingway is Classic Literature

I've argued elsewhere that Ernest Hemingway is among one of the best writers of classic literature. Let's take a look at why.

It was obvious that he wrote a lot. His experiences in WWI as an ambulance driver provided him with much material. His style had been crafted into a specific form, light on punctuation and heavy on conjunctions. This tendency is called polysyndeton. It is found in the King James Bible.

An example of Hemingway's usage:

"The dog kept close behind him and when David stopped the dog pressed his muzzle into the back of his knee."-An African Story

The use of the many conjunctions changes the rhythm and in this case heightens tension. Instead of pauses commanded by commas we are forced to keep reading. Hemingway reserves his punctuation for emphasis, such as in this sentence:

"But I never knew anyone else that could shoot better at ten than this boy could; not just show-off shooting, but shooting in competition with grown men and professionals."
–I Guess Everything Reminds You of Something

His semicolon is usually reserved to discuss matters of serious importance, such as violence or life and death. Commas emphasize a clause.These are good tools to remember when you are writing.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

The Best American Writer-Ever

In the realm of classic literature, there are a few American names that spring to mind. Let us proceed chronologically.

19th Century: Poe, Twain or Melville are the only ones who stand a chance of being called the greatest American writer. Huck Finn is one of the most influential books in our history. Moby Dick alone means the latter has a pretty good shot.

20th Century: Modernists: Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Faulkner. I am partial to Hemingway. And although Fitzgerald wrote the best American novel of the 20th century (The Great Gatsby), Tender is the Night is his only other work that can be called truly excellent. Both Faulkner and Hemingway won the Nobel Prize in Literature, but I would argue that Hemingway did more to change the face of the American novel. His lapidary style in The Old Man and the Sea is Biblical. We could also mention Salinger and Bellow in this discussion.

Postmodernists: I have ranked the following authors in tiers since not enough time has passed to truly measure their greatness:

In the top tier: Pynchon, Updike, Roth. Gravity's Rainbow is arguably as devastating to fiction as was Moby Dick. Updike wrote a lot, but he will always be remembered for the wonderful Rabbit Tetralogy. And Roth is similarly masterful, and has a number of novels that could be called masterpieces. Toni Morrison is also a contender, she won the Nobel Prize in 1993.

Second Tier: McCarthy, DeLillo, Mailer. These guys have all written great novels, but The Naked and the Dead is a war novel and too limited in scope. White Noise is a contender. And I'm reading Blood Meridian right now. It's hard to assess authors who are still producing, but if I missed anyone, let me know. And feel free to make your case for your favorite.

Friday, February 18, 2011

A Post Postmodern Moment

 Mr. Quinn had grown up in small-town Pennsylvania. His father was a coal-miner and worked hard all day. After their shift he and the boys went to the local watering hole before heading home. Three times out of four, Davy's father came home to hear his weak wife complain about something Davy had done, while she nursed two other young children, Davy the oldest by five years. After a few shots of whiskey, Mr. Quinn Sr. hated to hear from his wife that Davy had been evil during the day. And as tired as the soot-faced man was, he took his belt to the boy and made him sleep in the toolshed. 
    Davy had done his Ph.D at Penn State in English after spending most of his youth reading classics and avoiding his father's wrath. He had never married, was a philanderer. He presently dated the school nurse, Ms. Pillary, a tall, thin woman clear blue eyes and thin red lips. He lived alone with a Staffordshire Terrier, and spent most weekends upstate, sometimes with Ms. Pillary. He fished on Sundays.
    You don't even know that happened with certainty, do you? That stuff about his father beating him and keeping him in a shed, that was all bullshit wasn't it?
    No, of course not.
    Well how do you know it happened?
    I remember the way he looked, older Gabriel. That glimmer in his eye when I turned in that villanelle and no one else did, and he said keep it, and I asked if we're going to get graded on it and he said no, but you didn't do it for nothing, and he nodded slowly, with his big Staffordshire head convincing you that your efforts weren’t for naught. His gimlet eyes were enough to tell me some of his own pain. So whether or not his father was a coal miner or a printer doesn't matter, but what does is  how he influenced us. Without him you would probably wouldn't be writing this right now.
    Yeah, you're probably right about that.
    I know I am. Why do you always argue with me? You think that your youth was simply idealistic prattle, but it was the purest you've ever been, the most passionate about writing. All of the stuff you're writing now is pablum compared to what you did when you were eighteen, nineteen.
    But I was so young, inexperienced.
    No one said you were Hemingway. But if you try to channel me a little more often, older self, you might actually find some readers. They will listen to you, through me. Why? Because I am your inner child. I am raw. I am not cultivated by society's expectations. Listen to me! Don't ignore me because you've grown wiser. I was wise, but inexperienced. Together we can be great. You need to recognize me.
    Maybe you're right. I have been taking a lot of criticism about the lack of passion in this book. We were so ubermenschian when we were younger.
    I know. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Once you hit twenty-five you became jaded and realistic.
    You're right.
    Okay, you're boring them. Get back to our story.  

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

The Sylvia Plath Effect

Stuck inside my head with the thinking about the future blues again. Ohh, you’ve written this before - too many artists have succumbed that way. You need to back out of your own mind again. Think about Shakespeare, think about whatever it is you have to to take your mind off of what it is your thinking about. Then get back to me.

Write it down. Get it all out of your mind. Free the stuff bubbling within you. Talk to your best friend. An outside perspective will help you keep reality and illusion separate.

List of famous artists that couldn’t stop thinking and succumbed to the Sylvia Plath effect:
Ernest Hemingway
David Foster Wallace
Syvia Plath
Vincent Van Gogh
Ashile Gorky
Frida Kahlo
Mark Rothko

Not that I’m in any way close to killing myself. It’s just that if you don’t take a step back, outside of your own head every once in a while, either your personal life suffers, or your art suffers. Sometimes both, but usually the conflation between the two suggests you put more eggs into one basket. Deep breaths. Relief.

Friday, November 5, 2010

Hapax Legomenon, David Byrne, and Hemingway's Love

Hapax legomenon. I learned this phrase the other day. It is an instance of a word occurring once in a language, the work of an author, or a single text. It’s a very pretentious phrase but one that has great import for writers. This fact has been motivating me to keep writing: 44% of Melville’s words in Moby Dick are hapax legomena. That means that almost half of the seven hundred pages contain words  that sonofabitch never used again in the book. I guess that's what happens when you are a scribner for eight hours a day; you write one of the best books of all time. I'm scribing six hours a day, maybe mine will be half as good.

I’ve been going a little bit crazy lately, just a tad. I think I’m going to start wearing oversized suits more, for one, and living deeper in my brain, for another, with only David Byrne to help me stop making sense.

I finished For Whom the Bell Tolls the other night. It moved me to tears. Some books you know you’re going to love as soon as you start reading them and you don’t want them to end. Some books are good, and get better in your memory when you’ve finished them. Some books are a drag and you want to be done with them already. This book I knew I was going to love, found myself wishing it was over at times, and then at the end felt it to be justifiably his masterpiece. It made me better understand the importance of loving life.

Yours forever and always,
Daniel Adler

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Twain, Tolstoy and Austen, Oh My!

The literature world is abuzz with news. Mark Twain’s autobiography is finally going to be released after 100 years of waiting. I’ve been reading a lot of his pithy one-liners: “Adverbs are the enemy of the verb;” “Travel is fatal to prejudice” and admiring them for their brevity and truth. Hemingway greatly admired the man, and said that “All modern American literature comes from one book by Mark Twain called Huckleberry Finn. “ Twain's style was without verbosity and decoration, which is why I’m unsettled by the half million words in the soon to be three volumes of the manuscript published by the University of California. I was so excited to read it, but now, knowing that it’s longer than War and Peace, I’m neutral.

Speaking of War and Peace, I’ve reached the 1,000 page mark! And Tolstoy also died exactly 100 years ago today. Rest his soul.

And in other literary news, Jane Austen, who was supposed to have turned out finished masterpieces, was actually found to have had an editor. Gasp! It doesn’t diminish her status as a great writer, though; it seems most of the edits were spelling, and punctuation. The editor also said you can use some more speech tags (he said, she said, which Austen famously omitted, noting that she didn’t write for “dull elves”). How post postmodern of her.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Lamentation for the Comma

Oh, comma! Dear friend, connector of clauses, I am ridding my writing of you!

Ernest Hemingway and many other writers before him recognized that commas are burdensome. Sometimes they are necessary, but other times they are burdensome. When you are using conditional statements it helps to use the comma. But, as this sentence demonstrates, the commas could be omitted entirely for stronger writing.
 
Read out loud: "Once he had pulled the tail around with one hand until he could reach a horn with the other and when the bull had lifted his head to charge him he had run backwards, circling with the bull, holding the tail in one hand and the horn in the other until the crowd had swarmed onto the bull with their knives and stabbed him," For Whom the Bell Tolls, 365.

That one clause, surrounded by commas, is enough pause to give the reader in this long sentence. Extra commas can be burdensome and heavy to a reader, though at times clarifying.  I will still use the comma but not in the way I have done when I was younger. Get rid of the commas before the 'buts' and the 'ands.' This will make for stronger writing. Only include them if there is another clause after the clause beginning with 'and' or 'but,' I tell myself. Then you, Daniel Adler, will write like a Hemingway in post postmodernism.