Writing a novel

I am about halfway through the 12th draft — or thereabouts — of writing a novel. Whoever knew that writing fiction was such a long-distance slog? I thought that creative writing had to be about the lightning strike of inspiration, with much clutching of the forehead, pacing and gnashing of teeth. Instead it has turned out to be exactly like mowing the lawn: you go up one side, pivot, and come back the way you came. Then you repeat the exercise. Actually the thing it's most like is one of those electrons (?) that shoot across your TV screen, first one row, then the next, putting in a blob of light here, a blob of light there, until a picture begins to emerge. Except slower. And with occasional breaks to stand back from the screen and squint at the snow, to see if there's anything there. In this metaphor, note, the electron inside the TV is also watching the TV, which suggests that I should steer clear of ever writing poetry, or fixing televisions.

Where are all the 'Indie' novels?

A Guardian blogger asks: why, if we value independent cinema, and indie music, do we not value independent writers?

Can you imagine any serious film reviewer refusing to watch anything other than the major Hollywood blockbusters? Can you imagine New Musical Express (in its heyday, at least), only focusing on artists and records from the big corporate music labels, and ignoring the independent record company explosion of the late 70s?.... Who are the big indie writers, those who refuse to compromise by not allowing The Man to dictate what and how they should write, and earn massive respect because of it?"

Independent from what, though? Publishers? Editors? I guess there is a fair point in there chastising people for being too busy chasing the next Harry Potter to bother with finding the next J G Ballard. But surely the publishing industry already echoes the pop/indie split. If by 'indie,' he mean 'read by few people, hostile to outsiders and snooty about the mass market', we already have an indie book scene. Its called the literary novel. I don't think those guys need any more encouragement to seek out smaller audiences.

Send your Grishams to Iraq

In the northern Iraqi city of Sulaymaniya, reports Christopher Hitchens, once "a howling wilderness of wrecked towns and gassed, cleansed villages", the American University of Iraq has just opened its doors, and is appealing for people to donate books. According to Thomas Cushman, a professor of sociology at Wellesley College:

What I did was ask colleagues to donate books, which they did in good numbers. We sent thirty cartons of first-rate books, especially on global affairs, history and literature and they are housed in the new library … The university is especially in need of technical books, social science books, software even … Nathan Musselman, the Prefect of the University who is teaching a class, wrote to me thrilled to tell me that the students were now writing their term papers in English and using many of these books as their main sources for research. He is greatly desirous of receiving more, now that the initial library is set up.… So the idea is to get people to donate in a more micro way; to send one or two new, current and important books (perhaps they have review copies, extra copies, etc) to the new library of the University. All of these small polyps could yield a substantial coral reef of knowledge for the new generation of students there.

Books should be sent to:—

Nathan Musselman
The American University of Iraq—Sulaimani
Building No. 7, Street 10
Quarter 410
Ablakh Area
Sulaimani, Iraq
(+964) (0)770-461-5099

It's important to include the number at the end.

Taking it slow

"In recent years a highly visible group of Great American Novels have emerged from 10, 12, and even over 20-year gestation periods. Edward P Jones, Junot Diaz and Jeffrey Eugenides all took 11 years to write their Pulitzer prize-winning novels -a blink, really, when compared to Shirley Hazzard and Marilynne Robinson's 23-year gaps preceding The Great Fire and Gilead respectively...."

As someone halfway through his third year on a novel, I find this a little embarrassing. I thought I was taking my time: now I realise I've been speeding.

Real fakes

In an interesting piece for The Common Review, Daniel Born examines the recent rash of fake memoirs:

"Some of the blame might be ascribed to the French philosopher and man of letters Jean-Jacques Rousseau, who brilliantly read his audience’s thirst for authenticity. As he boldly claimed at the outset of his landmark work Confessions—published posthumously in the 1780s — “This is the only portrait of a man, painted exactly according to nature and in all its truth, that exists and will probably ever exist.” Much of the current crop of fake memoirs aggressively embraces Rousseau’s lesson. Wallowing in the moral abyss, and then opining about the adjunct guilt and shame, will always score you points on the authenticity meter. Hence our fascination with gang members, junkies, ex-cons, very bad girls—all predictably victims of child abuse, alcoholic parents, and general dysfunction. Although the blueprint by now is a little ragged from use, it’s easy to overlook this fact when presented with a happy ending. It seems American readers’ brains are hard-wired for a narrative structure of sin and suffering (the more raw, the better), followed by absolute redemption. It’s a cliché that has become an easily winning formula—and that makes it ripe for confabulation"

An interesting paradox: the reason for all the fakes is our insistence on authenticity, or at least a vision of the world that sees only "dark" "gritty" and "unrelenting" as in any way authentic. It's a species of literary blowback: James Frey did not decieve Oprah. She created him. She created the environment in which he could flourish. He is her monster, blinking innocently at her accusations.

Don't read this

Critical Mass have drawn deserved attention to a great critic I've never read before — someone called Jon Swift, whose reviews appear on Amazon, except when they don't. "Considering all the attention my reviews have brought to the money-losing Internet bookseller and all the inspiration they have given people by showing that you don't necessarily have to read books to review them, you would think that Amazon would be more appreciative of my work" he complains. Most of his reviews are taken down the moment they appear. A selection:—

Thomas Friedman's The World is Flat:

I have not actually read this book but I want to point out that there is one very big mistake right on the cover: The world is not flat; it is, in fact, round. Even though I am a conservative like Mr. Friedman and I appreciate his support of President Bush and the War in Iraq, I think conservatives like us have to be very careful about being perceived as unscientific because of our opposition to Evolution and I think a book like this which has a scientific error right on the cover is not very helpful.

(4 out of 31 people found this review helpful)

Maureen Dowd's Are Men Necessary?:

"I have not actually read this book but I want Ms. Dowd to know that men are very necessary. Without men, for example, I think we would be losing the War in Iraq. I used to like Ms. Dowd when she was attacking President Clinton for having sex but now she is attacking President Bush and there is no evidence whatsoever that he is having sex so I don't understand what the problem is.

(2 out of 8 people found this review helpful)

Mark F. Levin's Men in Black: How the Supreme Court is Destroying America:

"I have not actually read this book but I love the movie with Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones. I thought it was very funny and very imaginative with all of the alien creatures. I don't remember the movie saying anything about the Supreme Court but I know they often change books when they adapt them into movies. Even though I agree with everything Justice Scalia says he does sometimes seem like an alien from another planet, which I mean in a good way.

(4 out of 8 people found this review helpful)

E. Annie Proulx's Brokeback Mountain he writes:

"I have not actually read this book but I did see the movie and I liked it very much. However, I don't understand why people keep referring to it as the "gay cowboy movie." Can't two men be very good friends without everybody saying they're gay?

(7 out of 23 people found this review helpful)."

Golden oldies

Having already been rude about Toni Morrison once this week, in defiance of this blog's attempt to reduce snarkiness emissions, I feel compelled to make up for it with this, from the NYT archive of Book ads, The Golden Age 1962-73. "Why those dates? The books - and the ads for them - were terrific: fresh, pushy, serious and wry, often all at the same time. There was a new sense of electricity in the culture and in the book world... John Leonard's vivid prose puts a sublime buzz in your head; Morrison's no-nonsense gaze further suggested a writer to be reckoned with."

The candidate's bookshelf, contd

Doris Kearns Goodwin's biography of Abraham Lincoln, Team of Rivals, (also the source for the forthcoming Spielberg biopic). "He is particularly intrigued by the notion that Lincoln assembled all the Republicans who had run against him for President in his war Cabinet, some of whom disagreed with him vehemently and persistently," an aide tells Time. "He talks about it all the time."

Also, Fareed Zakaria's The Post-American World ("How can this giant follow Rome and Britain onto the dust heap of empire if it can prosecute two wars at once without much notice at home? The granddaughters of those millions of Rosie the Riveters who kept the World War II economy going are off to the mall today; if they don’t shop till they drop, it’s because of recession, not rationing" — NYT)

It beats The Hungry Caterpillar.