Category Archives: fiction

November 30, 2011   Miriam   controversy, fiction, memoir, Miriam, nonfiction  
9

Fact or fiction?

On long road trips with my six-year-old, as parents have from time immemorial (or, okay, since cars and freeways were invented), we often while away the minutes between bathroom stops with games like “Fiction or Non-fiction?” and its first cousin “True or False?” What’s interesting to me about this exercise is how hard it sometimes is to explain to a child how certain things can be true/non-fiction, even if we haven’t experienced them ourselves. Case in point? Dinosaurs. Literal minded kids (or kids under a certain age) think that because they don’t exist now they must be fiction or part of a great left-wing conspiracy.

Anyway, my point, rambling though it might be, is that gray areas exist when trying to categorize fiction and non-fiction. Certainly, this is something that is daily evident in my line of work. You have only to read an artfully crafted memoir to wonder how much is true/non-fiction and how much is the author’s imagination/ambition/skill/lousy memory at work and, therefore, false/fiction. As far as I’m concerned, as long as things are clearly labeled—i.e., “I remember it this way but I confess the years may have dimmed my powers of recollection”—I’m okay with narratives that are more well wrought than truthful.

For me, in fact, the thornier issue is fiction, where anything goes. Right? Or does it? This piece in Jezebel about Alexander Maksik’s much lauded novel skeeves me out precisely because it raises uncomfortable issues about what and how much is allowed when an author puts on his/her novelist hat. Using fiction to tackle difficult subjects is de rigueur in literature, accomplishing creative expression while avoiding legal liability. But what about the collateral damage? Is it okay for Mr. Maksik to exploit his alleged experience with a student for literary fame and success? Must we defend his right to do so as elemental to the whole concept of creative freedom? Or do we just call a sleaze a sleaze?

Help me out on this one folks. I don’t want to condemn Mr. Maksik out of hand but given all the recent headline grabbing scandals about authority figures abusing their power over kids, I wonder if instead of praise for his artistry, we should be censuring his alleged behavior. What do you all think?

November 16, 2011   Miriam   fiction, inspiration, Miriam, news  
7

Ripping (off) headlines

Every once in a while I find myself so enraged, befuddled, or even charmed (rarely) by the news cycle that I can think of little else.  This week, like most of you, I’m sure, I find myself filled with ongoing, white-hot, animal rage about Jerry Sandusky and the whole Penn State scandal.   Simultaneously, I’m incredulous (and not in a good way) that  someone who doesn’t seem to know what’s been happening with Libya lately is seriously running for president.  And then, just when I think I need anti-depressants to get through the newspaper, there’s Gabby Giffords and her husband Mark Kelly, making the media rounds to promote their new book and seeming so courageous and true to each other.  Their story is a palate cleanser to chase away the taste of bile the other headlines leave behind.

As immersed in different ways as I’ve been with these events and personalities, I find myself wondering which would work in a fictional retelling.  Novelists, from Zola to Grisham have been ripping off ideas from the headlines from time immemorial, of course, but with the relentless coverage of happenings big and small to feed the great gaping maw the Internet has created, I think it’s gotten harder to take a major news story and turn it into a compelling, important novel.  Still, I wonder what Tom Perrotta would do with the Penn State tragedy, what Allegra Goodman could make of the Giffords/Kelly saga, and what merriment would result from Carl Hiaasen’s take on the Cain, Perry, and Bachman campaigns.

Perhaps it’s only fiction that can truly make sense of the horror and absurdity.  Sometimes, too, fiction is the only way to capture the complexity of love, passion, bravery in a way that doesn’t reduce these qualities to a Hallmark card.

What headlines would you rip off and turn into classic fiction?  And what authors would you pair what stories with?

November 04, 2011   Rachel   commercial, fiction, literary, Rachel S.  
18

You can’t have it all.

Everyone knows who Dan Brown is. Even people who aren’t active readers are familiar with his name, as they are with Nicholas Sparks, James Patterson and Jodi Picoult. Thesea re prolific authors, there’s no doubt about it, and you can find a whole shelf of them in nearly any bookstore. Authors like David Mitchell, Jhumpa Lahiri and Jonathan Lethem, however, don’t have nearly as much name recognition, despite garnering amazing critical reviews in places like the New York Times Book Review.

Surely both sets of authors love what they do. All experience the glorious rush of inspiration and, conversely, the frustrations of writer’s block or dead ends. But what sets them apart from one another? Does either group feel better about themselves because they are invariably commercial writers or literary ones? Surely there’s no real distinction between them as writers­—they all write, they all call themselves authors and rightly so.

There are clear merits specific to each set, however. There’s obviously more money involved in being a commercial author, yet more prestige comes from fitting into the latter category. While I can’t imagine one can make the choice in writing style—a novel written by an author who forced him or herself to think and write differently to what came naturally would just not be that author’s best work, no matter how technically perfect it was or how imaginative the idea.

That brings me to my question—no, I’m not here to start an argument pitting the two sides against one another. This is simply something that intrigues me. If you had to choose a particular author’s career to mimic, whose would it be? Would you prefer to be widely successful, raking in money and selling millions of copies of your book, but maybe suffering derision from high-minded literary snobs and going overlooked time and time again by reviewers? Or would you rather stunning, eloquent reviews and intelligent, deep discussion of your work amongst a small few, seeing only moderate success sales-wise? While there are some authors who have managed to bridge the gap and have both critical and commercial renown, it’s a very exclusive club. What say you?

October 21, 2011   Michael   e-books, fiction, future of publishing, Michael, nonfiction  
16

Thinking large

I have to admit, I have no idea where I found this link. I saved this post to the “Reading List” in Safari earlier in the week, but didn’t save the place I linked from, so I apologize for the lack of credit!
No matter where I found it, it’s a piece worth reading. As I know I’ve mentioned on the blog before, I think we all need to expand our minds when it comes to the e-book revolution. With better and cheaper tablet technology flooding the market, there’s more opportunity to create products that take advantage of the power and connectivity of those devices. While many of the ideas in the post interest me, the one that strikes me as most achievable and productive in the short term is continuously updating content. It made me think of a book like Game Change, and how that could have been a regularly-updating book as it was being written. In fact, I’d be willing to pay quite a bit if Heilemann and Halperin were to cover the upcoming election in a similar way, but with new content being delivered as the race unfolds. I’d still want something more comprehensive and reflective after the fact, but why couldn’t the book be both? The technology is certainly there.
I think it could work for fiction, too. There are a few authors to whom I’d pay a handsome amount for a continuously updating story. How about a novel fed to readers in serialized chunks, but delivered as the author writes it, not just doled out slowly once the book is written. An author and editor could agree on an outline and number of chapters, but each chapter would be delivered, edited, and then automatically uploaded to readers as it was written. Not only would it be unique, but it would also encourage readers to read along at the pace the story is delivered, opening up great social networking possibilities as readers discuss the latest twists and turns.
I’m so excited about the possibilities for publishing and books, and I’m even more excited to be a part of it. Are you enjoying the ride?
October 19, 2011   DG&B   fiction, middle grade, opinion, setting, Stacey, writing, YA  
9

Let’s think about place

I saw this review in The Seattle Times for the new David Guterson novel. The book is set in Seattle, and it sounds from the description that it’s an important part of the book. It got me to thinking about settings and the inherent importance of where a novel takes place.

So much of the best fiction has a strong sense of place. Think The Help or Gone with the Wind. Could you imagine them set anywhere but the South? And what about Carl Hiassen’s books set in Florida, where he has lived all his life? Or Annie Proulx’s excellent The Shipping News, which is like taking a trip to Newfoundland.

Even on my own list, Amy Plum’s Die for Me takes place in Paris, as advertised on the cover with a gorgeous image of the Eiffel Tower in the distance. And the just-released middle grade fantasy Darwen Arkwright and the Peregrine Pact by A.J. Hartley is set in Atlanta. I recall when I sold the book that one of the conversations with his publisher was about how few books are set there, and how that fact was one of the things that set the book apart.

So, for those of you writing fiction, how do you decide where your novel will take place? And is it one of the first things you think about when you start writing? Or do you think of the setting before you even begin?

I think it’s as important as plot or character development to have the right atmosphere in which to tell your story. It’s the finer details of place that really bring a novel to life, and that makes for the best kind of fiction. What are your favorite books that feature a strong sense of place?

October 12, 2011   Miriam   characters, fiction, fun, gender, guilty pleasures, Miriam  
6

Hot messes

I’ve been reading a fair amount of category fiction lately, in part because that’s what seems to be working in the e-publishing universe at the moment.  As a result, I’m encountering tons of literary clichés, chief among them the dark, brooding, tortured hero with flowing mane, abs of steel and damaged-but-still-beating heart of gold—your typical romance hero, in other words.  And we all know who was responsible for these prototypes…that crazy old storyteller Homer.  Nah.  Despite how hunky and troubled Hector, Achilles, and Odysseus are, it was the “lady writers” who really turned this type into a cottage industry.  If you think about it, there’s a direct line from Austen and Bronte to Stephenie Meyer and Eloisa James (sorry, the latter don’t rate single names yet; maybe in a century or two) and the swooning readership that fell in love with Mr. Darcy and Heathcliff when they were hot off the presses (no pun intended) was probably not all that different from the one that has made Twilight into an international phenomenon.  I’m not the only one who says so, either.

But, what about the less than dreamy heroes?  The Raskolnikovs and Yossarians? The neurotic and often substance abusing characters in Hemingway and Fitzgerald novels?  The angst-ridden suburbanites of Updike and Cheever?   I mean, sure, they’re hot messes, for the most part, and most do not have washboard abs.  But, aren’t they just a little sexy too?  Or is it just me?

Who are your swoon-worthy literary heroes?   And, do you prefer tall, dark and handsome or short, insecure and funny?

September 21, 2011   Miriam   fiction, fun, great books, guilty pleasures, Miriam, reading, reviews  
21

Virtuous reading

My neighborhood book club is tomorrow night and I’m about 100 pages into this month’s fiction pick, The Tiger’s Wife.  I guess that if I stay up late and cram I can finish it in time to dazzle the ladies with my literary insights.  Problem is, I got to page 100 about two months ago and I have had zero desire to pick the book up again.  Despite the apocalyptically excellent reviews (sorry, couldn’t come up with an adjective BIG enough for the unctuous praise the book received), those first 100 pages left me pretty cold.  Sure, Ms. Obreht is a precociously fine writer, but if you’re familiar with magical realism and Eastern European novels of the last half century, you might find, like I did, that a lot of her schtick is derivative and not particularly emotionally impactful.

Or, you might think it’s a brilliant book and that I’m a boor for being bored by it.  No matter.  The point of my rambling today is that with any other book, I might have reached that 100-page stopping point and, deciding that life’s too short, buried the novel somewhere in the lower shelves of an overstuffed bookcase never to be seen again.  But, I can’t seem to do that.  This is one of those books that I feel obligated to slog through no matter how disappointed in it I already am or how certain that the next 200 pages are not going to change my mind.  What I want to be reading for pleasure is a toothy thriller, or a frothy paranormal, or literary fare that speaks to themes I’m concerned with right now, or historical nonfiction with lots of plot twists and stranger-than-fiction characters, or a totally irredeemable celebrity memoir.  What I feel obligated to do is finish Ms. Obreht’s opus just so that I can say I did.

I’ve always struggled with the notion of virtuous reading.  On the one hand, if it weren’t for virtuous reading, my literary education would be sorely lacking in some key areas (I’m thinking of you, James Fenimore Cooper).  On the other hand, with so many great books beckoning and the certainty that I’ll never get to enjoy but a fraction of the ones on my multi-page list of things to read before I die, it really rankles to devote valuable time to something just because it’s supposed to be good for me.

Where do you fall on this issue?  Do I keep reading and pat myself on the back for my moral fortitude or chuck it and move on to some other page turner?  What would you do?

September 16, 2011   Rachel   description, fiction, food, Rachel S.  
11

Turkish delight isn’t very good in real life.

I didn’t eat breakfast this morning (not unusual) and am spending my morning glumly munching on broken pieces of vaguely stale sourdough pretzels left at the bottom of a giant tub in the office kitchen (also not unusual). Fantasizing about all the food I would like to be eating, I remembered this post I read on The Hairpin the other month detailing a variety of fictional foods that everyone always muses upon wanting in real life. While it’s easy for a food to appear appetizing in a movie (strangely, even cartoon meals get the mouth watering on occasion), literary descriptions of what a character eats can be just as powerful, despite the lack of visual aid.

The article’s authors list Edmund Pevensie’s Turkish delight, Anne Shirley’s cordial and Harry Potter’s Butterbeer among their desired fictional treats, and I will attest to desperately wanting all of them at some point in my life as well. Often times, the food I read about is your normal, every day sort of meal, but the context of the story or the way the author words the description are often enough to make me look up from my book for a minute and wish really hard that I was eating the same. I recently read Cormac McCarthy’s All the Pretty Horses for the first time, and for some reason, every single time those characters sat down to eat, I wanted everything. It was never all that special—often a tortilla or steak and potatoes, and Mr. McCarthy is never one for the flowery language, but mixed with all the hard work, gruff talk and horse wrangling that was going on, the meals always seemed so deserved and satisfying that I never wanted a plate of eggs so badly.

Food is so universal that in describing it, a writer has the advantage of not really needing to go very far—the mere mention of a flavor or ingredient and the reader’s own sense memory will insert emotion and taste into the words without much help. How then, does a simple phrasing turn the response from, “oh, I suppose that sounds nice” to an intense desire for the described food, so much so that it lingers years after the book has been read and finished? I still think about the muffins Jack and Algernon argue over in The Importance of Being Earnest and the tomato sandwiches Harriet M. Welsch was so fond of in Harriet the Spy and no real-life version of these relatively simple foods will ever compare.

What are your literary gastronomic weaknesses? Are there any foods you’ve gone out of your way to try simply because of the way a books described the taste?

August 29, 2011   Jane   feedback, fiction, fun, Jane, reading  
14

Time to read finally, but what will it be?

So I have to be the very last person in the universe who is going on a summer vacation, and I am not actually leaving until the evening of September 6th.  This isn’t going to be a beach vacation, nor is it planned to be the least bit restful, but there will be at least three very long flights and some potentially long airport layovers—I sincerely hope they aren’t too long.

I have been so busy all summer reading proposals, signing up new projects and getting material ready for the fall, that I haven’t had a second to consider what I might read for pleasure on this trip.  So, I thought for my last blog entry of the summer, I would ask our readers what they would recommend.

First some parameters:  I spend a great deal of my work time reading nonfiction and so, though there is some which has been published in the last year that I would love to read, I don’t want to do that on this vacation. I am looking for fiction that will capture my attention and be totally absorbing; I am looking for good stories, memorable characters, and wonderful writing.  Is that too much to ask?

So, if you have time in the next several days to send me your suggestions and why you are choosing these titles for me to read, I would be very, very grateful.

I look forward to hearing.  Thank you in advance!

August 03, 2011   Miriam   culture, fiction, fun, great books, lists, Miriam, reading  
10

Shoulda, coulda, woulda

Ask anyone at DGLM (Jane in particular) and they will tell you that I’m an insufferable bookworm.  When a simple reference to Kim Kardashian would make a more relevant point, I will cite Anna Karenina.  If we’re debating the merits of the writing in a manuscript we’re considering for representation, I’m apt to dismiss it by suggesting that the author is no Ivan Klima (or fill in some other relatively obscure Slavic author).  See what I mean?  Annoying.

Of course, I have a lot invested in turning my nerdy childhood, spent eating chips while buried in the pages of doorstoppers, into a source of irritation for my friends and co-workers.  They may have been partying while I was reading The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire but they have no idea how hilarious Gibbon’s footnotes were.

And, of course, like any pretentious book person, I’m terribly insecure about the books I didn’t read.  The gaps in my reading list are, as you can imagine, a constant source of embarrassment—not so much that I’m rushing to download those titles on my Kindle, but, you know….  For instance, even though I struggled mightily and valiantly through Romola, I never did get around to George Eliot’s Middlemarch. I did lose steam after the first volume of Proust’s 675-volume Remembrance of Things Past and I’ve never gone near a work by Herman Hesse.  This Today list of books everyone really should have read, reminds me that, well, there will always be books that I should have read, should read, haven’t read, and…probably won’t.

How about you?  What are the ones that got away for you?

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