Roughen it Up

Thursday, April 16, 2009

I was not a good writer in my younger years. I was stymied, arrested, by the wrong idea of what beauty is. I thought the language had to course, unstopping as a song. I decided that if a thought, a moment, a scene could not be expressed with some degree of my idea of beauty that it should not be expressed at all. It was always all about words for me, their sound and flow. I could not see beyond that fence.

But there is room, in writing, for the forcible, physical, coarsened, unfinished. For the gap, the pause, the uncertainty. It is a good thing, I think, to see the author's mind at work, and even now as I write I work against the subjugating reign of a certain kind of refinement. I try to write more, write bigger, toward a different kind of beauty. And I'm still learning.

Early this morning, while reading "Enameled Lady," Hilton Als' portrait of Katherine Anne Porter in the New Yorker, I came upon these words. They were instructive all over again.

It’s true that it’s almost impossible to get a toehold on much of Porter’s later work, owing to its high varnish: her characters can barely breathe beneath the sheen. Porter perfected her stories until you begin to feel like a clumsy intruder for even reading them. Rarely do you get beneath the decorous surface and feel a character’s lifeblood. And it is this artificiality that kept Porter on the wrong side of the line that separates a minor writer from a great one. Ultimately, she controlled too much: she relied on tricks of style, on a language that was too cultivated for the rough potential of stories like “He” and “Noon Wine” to develop. Too often one senses Porter repressing the trashy twang of her childhood in favor of something more, as Capote put it, “enameled.”

13 comments:

Jinksy said...

I have a real dislike of analysing writing. If it's written, it's there to be read, as is, not dissected and weighed in a balance of good/bad, right/wrong. That doesn't stop the reader from forming their own conclusions at to the merit of the piece, but that is after all, only their opinion, which may differ widely from the next reader...I wonder whether you can understand my aversion?

Lenore Appelhans said...

Interesting. I agree that sometimes writing can come off as too polished. I like finding gems on each page, but each sentence doesn't have to be a gem.

Beth Kephart said...

Ah, Jinsky. I suppose that in my life as a writer, teacher, critic, and book judge I've had to develop rubrics to stand by. A language with which to speak about how books work, and for whom. I'm glad that there are those, though, who read for pure pleasure. That's a gift.

scarlethue said...

Thanks for posting that. I too get caught up in the flow and beauty of words sometimes, forgetting their ultimate goal. Good to be reminded.

Anonymous said...

What an interesting quote. BTW I love the shadows in that photo.

Sherry said...

Oh, I like this post. I know what you're saying, because in the little writing I do, I'm tempted towards this kind of control and polish. It can make for sentimental mush.

Thank you, again, Beth, for sharing.

Sherry said...

Oh, I like this post. In the little bit of writing I do, I'm often tempted by this kind of control and polish. It can make for sentimental mush.

Thank you, again, Beth, for sharing and discussing the craft of writing.

(I lost my previous attempt to comment, so if it shows up, please excuse.)

Juliet Colors said...

That's a fascinating perspective. Thank you for sharing. My interpretation is that it's more important to say a messy something than to say nothing prettily. I think many writers get hung up over that point; I know I do.

Sherrie Petersen said...

That is so like me! I stopped writing and thought I wasn't a good writer for so long, just because I didn't write the way I thought I should write. When I stopped trying to be someone else I found my groove. I was actually going to post about this later!

Beth Kephart said...

As always, you commenting kind folks inspire me. I wondered what the reaction to such a declaration might be. I'm so glad to find myself in such good company.

Anna Lefler said...

Oh, there's a big, fat lesson in this for me.

Signed,

The literary equivalent of the girl who wouldn't be caught dead at the grocery store without make-up. ;^)

Em said...

Wow, I am totally blown away by your words and by the photo. The symbolism is wonderful and inspiring. For me, having lived on a farm growing up, fences are made to be climbed over. You are the master of fence climbing. ;-)

Sarah Stevenson said...

Love the photo--and truly thought-provoking words about writing.

Sometimes I find that writing with too polished a surface doesn't always live up to that gleaming appearance, either--but then, there's a time and place for polish, too, maybe...

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