Over at The Reading Experience, Dan Green isn’t happy with Tin House’s “The Writer’s Notebook”:
If we take The Writer’s Notebook: Craft Essays from Tin House (Tin House Books)
to be a representative gathering of critical wisdom from current
American writers, what does it ultimately tell us about these writers’
understanding of the purpose of fiction, their widely-shared
assumptions?Unfortunately, in my view it tells us that their understanding of
fiction’s purposes is very limited indeed, their assumptions about its
possibilities, its potential to surprise and to creatively challenge
established conventions, very narrow and constricted.
Green goes on to specify why the advice in “The Writer’s Notebook” fails to measure up to his expectations — it encourages conventional notions of time, scenes, and dialogue, rather than encouraging more risk-taking experimental fiction.
First, I doubt that such a book of advice could be written for experimental literature — how do you instruct someone in how to break all the rules? How do you teach them to do what hasn’t yet been done? I would argue that the best way to lead a student towards experimentation is by laying a solid foundation of the rules themselves — for example, only by learning the “clock” of fiction in all of its configurations can a writer learn to subvert a reader’s notions of time.
Also, if someone is sophisticated enough of a writer to conceive and successfully implement a revolutionary structure in fiction, then they don’t need to be reading any how-to-write books. They might want to consider writing them.
In my former review of “The Writer’s Notebook,” I highlighted a few passages that seemed to be quite sophisticated evaluations of the role in fiction. And looking again at the book in light of Green’s criticisms, I’ve categorized the book more accurately.
Considering the entire spectrum of books that teach writing, I would place “The Writer’s Notebook” in the top fifth percentile, when based on a sliding scale of degree of difficulty. Here’s why.
Nearly all of the books that teach writing focus on the basics. This is because beginning writers are more likely to read how-to-write books. I would say that 95% of these books repeat the exact same rules, with minor variances: show, don’t tell, create memorable characters, offer detail, story rises to a climax.
“The Writer’s Notebook” does none of that. Instead, when it does take on a cliched topic, it tends to invert it: instead of choosing the “right” word, choose the wrong one; instead of valuing content over form, find shapes to find content; instead of showing, please tell. I would never recommend this book to someone early in their writing career — it’s clearly meant for post-MFAs.
Now, admittedly, I will concede that these lectures don’t go into some level of educational experience that would impart to writers how to pen experimental literature, but I would still argue that these instructions offer a high-level architecture off which writers may, if they so choose, launch off into the stratosphere. Also, some chapters in this book could apply equally well to many forms of writing. Reading well — as the advice in “Material” by Lucy Corin teaches — is a precursor to being able to write an intricately structured piece of conventional or innovative fiction. (which Green admits — saying Corin’s and D.A. Powell’s essays are exceptions to his critique)
But the last defense I would give of this book is that it’s simply not meant to teach experimental literature. You can’t critique a book for what it’s not trying to be. And might I add that from a publisher’s perspective, a book of that nature might not sell so well?
4 comments
I don’t really say that the book fails to teach experimental literature. I don’t actually use the words “experimental literature.” What I do say is that the book fails–except in the two essays you mention–to acknowledge that the best fiction transcends craft. I don’t think one can say that the book is a way of teaching “rules” that can then be broken. Few of the authors seem to be proceeding under the assumption that these rules *should* be broken. The book encourages writers to settle for the rules.
You do use the phrase “experimental fiction,” as well as “unconventional” and “adventurous,” and I mainly use the first two.
It’d be nice to hear about your favorite writing books. What writing books would you suggest (that are at least semi-pragmatic) manage to convey the ideas that you said the Tin House book lacked?
I concede that The Writers Notebook doesn’t press the point that rules should be broken, but then again, I don’t think most writers (or readers) have the capacity or the desire to break the fundamental rules. Once again, I’d argue that the very small percentage that are supposed to break rules will be closer to doing so with flair and talent after reading a book like this which expands their vision of all the pieces and nuances of fiction.
But perhaps calling them “rules” is a bit unfair. I think this notion might give the impression that The Writers Notebook is too dogmatic. I don’t think it is. They offer fairly malleable guidelines to creating good stories — nothing near the dreadful cliches offered most often in writing courses.
“I don’t think most writers (or readers) have the capacity or the desire to break the fundamental rules.”
I just don’t agree. They certainly have the capacity, and if they don’t have the desire, then that makes for a very incurious and confining literary culture. Although on the other hand, I don’t believe there are such things as “fundamental rules” in the first place, except for the impression that there are created by books like The Writer’s Notebook.
John,
You have some great lists on your site. Have you ever tried compiling a list of the best books on writing? You gave this book a general ranking amongst its peers. For my own edification, I’d like to know which other books you compared it to.