Reading and Writing in a Digital Age

After hours of deliberation, I decided to go with my instincts. (Although, I realize some one has already posted a quote from the Bible.)

“4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always preserves. “

– Apostle Paul, 1 Corinthians 13: 4-7 NIV

What more can I say. The words of the bible, though most times is hard to figure out the meaning of those esoteric terms especially in certain versions, are the most powerful words of all. I chose the the New International Version due to its harmony of conciseness and profundity. Concerning the readers as well as trying to convey the full meaning of the message, the Bible scholars who dedicated their entire lives, I believe, did a pretty awesome job.

In 1 Corinthians chapter 13, apostle Paul stresses the importance of love and gives a great definition of love in his epistle to the early church in Corinth. Not only its definition strikes a chord to the now day readers,who are constantly exposed to the indecent and salacious descriptions in the mass media, but also its rhythmic structure makes it almost feel like reading a poem, or even a lyric to a song. This makes it easier for the readers to remember and ruminate on the words meaning.

* The hyperlink is to a song inspired by 1 Corinthians 13:1-7, co-written by the piano player himself. If you want to listen to the song with voice (choir ver.) go to this link.

Let’s get right to the point: Frank Wedekind’s Spring Awakening brings me to an emotional state of disparity at least three times a scene. The first time I read through the play, I was left with this unnerving sense of, well, I’m not sure exactly what it should be called. Every time I go back to a scene from this play, the same thing happens no matter how I read it, I just end up with this strange feeling that doesn’t exactly leave me downcast –  but not exactly optimistic either. I’m really starting to believe that it’s the way Wedekind uses dialogue that evokes this feeling, that the words are real, breathing, organisms having these feelings inflicted upon them, and that we, as the audience, are reacting to the way these words are harmed.

One of the many incredibly emotional heights of the play is Mortiz’s suicide, but it’s his words that seem to cause more of a reaction from the reader than the actual action. He’s become the victim of a school system that chooses to fail him because only a certain number of students can move on to the higher class, even though he went to great lengths to pass the final exam. Throughout the beginning of the play we see how important it is for Mortiz to pass this exam: to please his parents and have them finally see that he’s not worthless. When he finds out that he passed, he’s ecstatic, but when he’s told that he still won’t move on to the next grade, his mind immediately goes to escaping. Though suicide isn’t his first attempted solution, a failed request to the mother of his friend, Melchior Gabor, leaves him with no other viable option. He pulls out his gun, and burns the letter from Mrs. Gabor, leaving us with these last words:

“Before I started the fire you could still see the grass and a line of light on the horizon. — Now it’s gotten dark. Now I won’t be going home,” (52).

I’ll pause so you at home can sob for an extended period of time.

The line’s intent is clear: the letter was his last hope of saving himself, and now he’s hopeless and all that depressing jazz. But I’m not talking about intent, I’m talking about words  – and I’m talking about them like I have a clue what I’m trying to say, but I don’t because like I said before, I don’t know what this play does to me. He’s comparing a before and after of mere seconds, and yet in those few seconds his entire life has changed, or better worded: ended.

“Now,” he says, “I won’t be going home.” It’s such a simple, short line, and yet it’s one of the more powerful lines in the entire play – and this is a play that deals with everything from teenage abortion to domestic abuse to, well, go read it and find out. The line, no, the whole monologue is brimming with this pulsing knowledge of sadness and hopelessness. With every word the inevitable is coming closer, like the words are screaming out in fear. Or maybe I’m just crazy and getting way too attached to this play. One of those.

“It was mid-October, the harvest well stored. The sun was as hot as if it shone in the first week of September, but a tumbling sky threw great clouds before the wind, and when the sun was obscured then all the promise of winter was in the air. But it was magic weather, a gift to sweeten the sadness of the ending year. There were still blackberries, thick and dripping with juice, but these would remain on the bushes, for by now, as it was said, the Devil had spat on them and they should not be eaten. So birds gorged themselves, and the ground and the leaves of the brambles were strewn with purple droppings. The water, half shadow and half glitter, threw back the colours of beech and bracken tossing them over the boulders like gold and copper coins.”

This excerpt is from Barbara Willard’s The Sprig of Broom. It is a little bit longer side, but it is hard to break up. The section is a great exzmple of good descriptive writing. So far in our unit we haven’t read or written or even talked about descriptive writing, but it is one of my favorite genres of writing to read. I love how good descriptive writing allows the reader to be transported to a new scene. My mother always told me as I was growing up, that as a child she would read books to travel to countless places, from the Swiss Alps to the sandy beaches of Jamaica. Barbara Willard is certainly a very talented descriptive writer and her writing almost goes “over the top”. A good writer, though, breaks convention and in stretching the rules creates something unique. Some would say that her writing is simply too descriptive and rich in detail, but it is important to remember her purpose. Why has she written the passage as it is? She obviously wants her audience to feel the hot sun, smell the ripened blackberries, and see the long shadows. If she wrote with less description, the reader would not be able to re-experience the scene. By her description, we know that it is autumn. She doesn’t need to tell us it is October because she “shows us”. In class we have talked about “decluttering” our writing, but Willard boldly goes against the grain. Her writing is not cluttered, it is important to state. Almost all of her words have meaning and add something new to the overall scene. I know that this is good writing because I can taste the dripping blackberries and feel the promising chill of the impending winter. Her writing reminds me of how much I am going to miss the Fall season back home…. the apple picking, the bonfires, and the vast piles of leaves in shades of brown, orange, purple, and yellow.

“But that mimosa grove-the haze of stars, the tingle, the flame, the honeydew, and the ache remained with me, and that little girl with her seaside limbs and ardent tongue haunted me ever since–“

-Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita P.15

There were two particular pieces that I would love to share; after much thought, however, I decided against writing about Jonathan Swift’s serious yet humorous satire, A Modest Proposal, and instead write about a novel that I loved (don’t be disgusted) since I first read it in the summer of 2010 – Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov. Anyone who knew only the pretext of the book without reading it would most definitely look towards the one praising or even reading the work with eyes widened with appall. It is a romantic yet tragic tale of a middle-aged pedophile that had gone through much despair after the loss of his beloved Annabel Lee when he was twelve, and of the trials he faces while trying to escape the authorities and his newfound love’s (Dolores Haze, nicknamed Lolita) secret lover, Clare Quilty.

The reason that I am enchanted by this novel is not because of its ingenious plot, but rather of Nabokov’s exquisite use of language. Take the quote above, Nabokov or rather, the narrator Humbert Humbert takes the idea of pedophilia out of the readers’ minds with that one sentence of reminiscence and beauty in the beginning of the novel. Humbert presents himself to the readers as a boy who is traumatized and in agony. Not only that, he invites the readers into his fantasy, a world where his beloved nymph remains eternal within the “mimosa grove-the haze of stars, the tingle, the flame, [and] the honeydew.” How can anyone despise someone who is so fragile and delicate, dreaming only to meet the girl of his dreams once more? Not many. This is why I love Lolita, and it is also how Nabokov masterfully captivated even the sanest people into this gruesome tragedy of the two – Humbert and Lolita.

“In his right hand he held seven stars, from his mouth came a sharp two-edged sword, and his face was like the sun shining in full strength. When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. But he laid his right hand on me, saying, “Fear not, I am the first and the last, and the living one. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hades.“

-Apostle John, Book of Revelation  1:12-18

Outside of the context of evangelism, the average person would read that excerpt and find it to be simply overdramatic. How could a person hold seven stars in his hands? Or reach into his mouth and pull out a double edged blade?! When a person learns that this is an excerpt from the Bible, telling of when Jesus’s disciple John sees the future to come according to Christian belief, he can nod with understanding. The imagery is powerful regardless of whether the reader believes in God or not. The way John writes about Jesus (presumed to be the man pulling weapons out of his mouth and whose face shines like the sun) reveals how significant and powerful a character he is.

For an author to imply such majesty about one character without the writer adding any action into the sentences is in itself extraordinary. In those four sentences alone, the reader can imagine a radiant figure, with words that cut flesh, with limitless control in his hands, instigating fear in those who see him, and the power to be raised from the dead, not to mention live eternally thereafter. Even if I wasn’t a believer in who Christ is, I would still not be able to say that this is not great writing.

“When you understand that what you’re telling is just a story. It isn’t happening anymore. When you realize the story you’re telling is just words, when you can just crumble it up and throw your past in the trashcan, then we’ll figure out who you’re going to be.”

I recently read Invisible Monsters by Chuck Palahniuk. His novels are usually pretty disturbing and thought provoking (Fight Club, anyone?) and I could find so many quotes from this book that are chilling and awesome. What I love about this quote is that it can apply to almost anything. In the book, this is referring to the main character being shot in the face, leaving her completely mutilated (did I mention she was also a model?). When I read it, though, I thought, “words! It’s all just words. What even matters?” I started thinking about how many stories from my past still feel like they’re relevant. Are they? Probably not.

That’s a weird concept. This idea of physically crumbling up your past and tossing it in the trash is unsettling because it gets you thinking, “is it really that easy?” It usually isn’t; the past has a tendency to follow you around. But if you can think of it as the past and nothing more, then you can finally be done with it. Good writing has a way of changing the way you think. It stops your mind right in its tracks. For me, this quote does just that.

No matter how many books I read, none will surpass Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Yes, I know many will say that it is cliche and played out but it’s still my favorite. When I first picked it up sometime in middle school, my English teacher approached me and jokingly said, “Well there’s a Michelle book.” She’s also the person who told me you could tell a lot about a person by what’s on their bookshelf, so I guess I’m a Pride and Prejudice kind of gal. Jane Austen is one of few authors who can be absolutely hilarious while telling a seemingly absolutely serious story. Every moment she captures is just so genuine and so true to human nature. In chapter 58 of Pride and Prejudice she confirms the change her heroine, Elizabeth, feels in her emotions towards a man she once hated. She writes:

Elizabeth, feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of his situation, now forced herself to speak; and immediately, though not very fluently, gave him to understand that her sentiments had undergone so material a change since the period to which he alluded, as to make her receive with gratitude and pleasure his present assurances. The happiness which this reply produced was such as he had probably never felt before, and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do. Had Elizabeth been able to encounter his eyes, she might have seen how well the expression of heartfelt delight diffused over his face became him; but, though she could not look, she could listen, and he told her of feelings which, in proving of what importance she was to him, made his affection every moment more valuable.

There is no dialogue here. There is no extremely descriptive language, no abundance of adjectives or adverbs to describe how the characters look and feel or what they say and how they say it. But even so, Austen says just enough to give us the full picture. You can almost feel yourself blush as Elizabeth would. You can almost feel the shyness and awkwardness of the situation. Austen makes it so easy for you to project yourself into the situation, to become part of the story. I think one of the main reasons Austen is so successful is that her writing is so seemingly natural. She does not try to use fancy words or to create beautiful sentences–they just flow. It’s also her choice to use semi-colons and to finish entire thoughts in one sentence the create such an elegant flow in her writing. This is simply a testament to the fact that sometimes it’s better to break away from conventions.

I recently finished A Storm of Swords, the third book of the series A Song of Ice and Fire by George R.R. Martin, and there are many memorable quotes and moments. More people would recognize the series from the first book, A Game of Thrones, which became a television series.

“‘Battles,’ muttered Robb as he led her out beneath the trees. ‘I have won every battle, yet somehow I’m losing the war.’” (480)               -A Storm of Swords, George R.R. Martin

The story is told through many points of view, and Martin describes many things in detail while doing a good job with the plot twists. Many things happen at once, so there is no one main character. Robb, king of the North, is fighting a war down south, but other forces have allied together against him, his home in the north has been sacked and his brothers are presumably dead. Even though he has won all his battles so far, everything else has gone wrong. The quote is ironic but true. It describes the situation very well and shows how troubled he is. It also shows how battles aren’t everything in a war. In general, I think irony makes literature more interesting. Another character also notes Robb’s dilemma in his point of view, which is cool.

Life Of Pi is a book that I first heard about through a friend in middle school. I didn’t know what to think of it, the way it was described to me was “a book about a zebra, a tiger, a hyena and an orangutan stuck on a boat.” But when I did at long last get to read it, I found it to be much more than just that. I’ve read this book probably 5 or 6 times now. It’s one of those books that I like to go back every year or so and re-read. I think it’s one of the best displays of storytelling I’ve read. Yann Martel, the author, does an excellent job of writing in first-person, making it seem as if Pi is speaking to us, the readers, directly. One of my favorite descriptions comes form when he is on a lifeboat, dying of thirst, and he just found the emergency water rations. It goes like this:

“My feelings can perhaps be imagined, but they can hardly be described. To the gurgling beat of my greedy throat, pure, delicious, beautiful, crystalline water flowed into my system. Liquid life, it was. I drained that golden cup to the very last drop, sucking at the hole to catch any remaining moisture. I went, “Ahhhhhh!”, tossed the can overboard and got another one.” (179).

What I love most about this particular passage is the way that Yann Martel uses adjectives. He wisely plays off the context of the book, using the desperation of the situation that Pi is in to enhance the reader’s experience. It’s easy to say something along the lines of “I was parched, and this cup of water felt better than any that I had ever drank before.” However, a sentence like that doesn’t fully convey the exhaustion, exuberance, and excitement that Pi feels upon drinking his first cup of water in several days. You can hear the gratitude in his language, through phrases like “liquid life”, “golden cup”, and “pure, declicious, beautiful, crystalline water.” In a normal passage about a drink of water, excessive use of adjectives would be considered unnecessary and deracting from the main message of the piece. But here, Martel’s language so perfectly fits the context of the situation. It’s almost too outrageous to read with a straight face, he’s so over-the-top in his description. When, however, you stop thinking about the hyperbole in the passage, you come to appreciate how intelligently Martel recognized the context of his own writing, and used it to perfectly exaggerate this particular scene.

“Brod’s life was a slow realization that the world was not for her, and that for whatever reason, she would never be happy and honest at the same time. She felt as if she were brimming, always producing and hoarding more love inside her. But there was no release…

So she had to satisfy herself with the idea of love–loving the loving of things whose existence she didn’t care at all about. Love itself became the object of her love. She loved herself in love, she loved loving love, as love loves loving, and was able, in that way, to reconcile herself with a world that fell so short of what she would have hoped for. It was not the world that was the great and saving lie, but her willingness to make it beautiful and fair, to live a once-removed life, in a world once-removed from the one in which everyone else seemed to exit.”

Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything is Illuminated

I read Everything is Illuminated over the summer and I fell a little bit in love, I think. I’d watched the movie months before, but only out of loyalty to Eugene Hutz (the frontman of the band Gogol Bordello and a surprisingly good actor). However, the book and the movie are vastly different — though the disparity is understandable, as the intricacies of Foer’s writing are hardly suited to be adapted to film.

And speaking of Foer’s writing, it’s totally beautiful. It’s simultaneously natural and carefully structured — which makes it even better when it’s read aloud, just so you know. It’s a little bit abstract, particularly the sample I chose, but I happen to love his brand of abstraction. It’s like being lead around in circles until I have to stop and think about what it is that I’m doing exactly.

The girl mentioned, Brod, has very different emotional capabilities than the world around her. She is intelligent, though her wit only serves to isolate her further. Her kind of sadness is profound and probably incurable, though she’s smart enough to know how to navigate through it all. The depth of her character is dizzying to the point that I still think about her sometimes. Brod is beautiful, in all her complexity, but I don’t know if I can ever fully understand her. I only ever see her clearly when I look at her through the lens of the chosen excerpt.