Quiet?
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
I have been puzzling over the word "quiet" of late, as in, "the book is quiet," or, more truthfully, "but the book is quiet." That but. That but is what I've been puzzling over. For when I consider some extraordinary YA books—ANNE OF GREEN GABLES, for example, THE SECRET GARDEN—I think of books so impeccably quiet that one can hear a river running, one can hear one's own breath in a shady knoll. A sort of magical, human, alive quiet that never feels but-ish to me, just distilled, searching, pulsed.
Can quiet matter, still, on a page?
Can quiet be heard?
4 comments:
OH. This needed to be said. Thank you, and I agree.
Oh, Erin. Thank you for commenting. Do you know I wavered for about an hour before posting the comment? But, truly, this concerns me. I, for example, absolutely loved Fae Myenne Ng's STEER TOWARD ROCK, as you likely know, since I posted my review here. But now I read other reviewers' comments and it is "quiet" or "confusing." As if every book should take no effort to read at all, or leap off the page like an action movie. I recently read an excerpt from a much-anticipated novel, one that will likely sell millions, and I was, well, appalled. Not a single metaphor actually worked. The opening scene was exceedingly dull. There were grammar issues. None of that seems to matter. I have been wondering why.
"Quiet" has felt like a bad word to me since childhood, when "shy" also seemed quite an insult.
In books, I think quiet is often the most beautiful. (People too!)
At times, quiet books can leave the most impact on a reader. Also, books give voice to characters who are quiet, shy, introspective, or other such things, who wouldn't speak up or speak out normally but who can communicate their thoughts through narrative.
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