The Road
Cormac McCarthy's latest novel, The Road, takes a fairly basic premise, an apocalyptic event ravages the world and leaves few survivors, and tries, mightily, to make something of it. The plot, centered around a father and son who are among the survivors and are simply trying to stay alive, is rather scant in terms of traditional narratives with arcs and resolutions. Perhaps that's not the point of the book, and I doubt McCarthy would say that it is, but his previous novels have taken other barebones narratives and made something of them, so it's not foreign territory to him as a writer and shaper of worlds. One could argue that this book serves as a loosely termed bookend to his previous novel Outer Dark, but in that novel the quest the two characters set out on had a definite purpose. The father and son here simply have to survive with what's left of humanity, but this leaves the reader with little knowledge of what the ultimate purpose of the narrative is supposed to be.
A lot of the criticism can be attributed to McCarthy's style as a writer. His novels seem to be comprised of episodes more than definable chapters. In previous books, Outer Dark and Blood Meridian, this style worked to his advantage and the reader didn't necessarily feel as if they were reading a disjointed narrative. For one reason or another the time lapses worked in these two novels. However, in The Road and No Country for Old Men the narratives seem lacking in one thing or another, in the latter it seems as if the plot advances forward illogically at several key moments which had me wondering if some pages were missing from the text. In the former novel the problem isn't so much that there are jumps in the narrative, but that the narrative is almost too static in nature. The events do not build upon each other in a cohesive manner, which leads to the reader feeling as if they could pick any random point in the book to start reading and not feel as if anything has been missed. There's only so much plot that can be made out of two people walking from town to town looking for supplies and avoiding the "bad guys."
This is not to say that the book isn't without its highpoints. In fact, the ending of the novel is pretty powerful especially for McCarthy who seems to be an expert and conveying emotional detachment in his characters and lacing his novels with a sense of distance. The novel certainly would have benefited from more episodes that work on the level the ending does, which leads me to believe that the novel may have better served as a novella or short story. McCarthy is a master craftsman, but I'd like to see his novels in the future utilize traditional narrative structures instead of the fragmented nature he's been relying on lately.
Monday, October 23, 2006
I've been a comic book reader for many, many years. Sure, when I was younger I just looked at them and didn't bother to read the word balloons, and after a hiatus for a good portion of my school age years, I resumed buying them in middle school and all the way through college. At any given time, I was buying ten or more books a month, and, as one can imagine, I amassed quite a collection over those years. However, once the shop I bought my books went under, I stopped buying as well. Luckily, it just happened to coincide with the last issue of, what is possibly my favorite book of all time, Preacher, so I didn't just have to stop cold turkey. After that, I spent my time acquiring all of the older issues from the legendary runs that I coveted from before I restarted buying comics in middle school. Thanks to eBay, I was able to complete the collection. All of this to say that I've read my fair share of comic books. Most of them could be considered your typical superhero fare, but a good portion of them are not, as in Preacher, Sin City, and Sandman. All of these fall into what one would term the more mature end of the spectrum and aren't confined to the PG type action typical of most superhero books. What's happened over the years since I stopped buying comics on a regular basis is that writers of superhero comics have been given more leeway with regard to the type of action that can occur within the confines of their books. By this I mean that writers don't have to abide by the old standards of keeping comics family friendly fare and are able to use their freedom to explore more issues that are real life in nature and how those types of events might impact these characters.
The most controversial and somewhat disturbing trend in comics today is the repeated and widespread use of rape as a plot device. Some of the criticism I've come across appears to make the case that the use of rape is nothing more than a weak plot device grasped by a desperate writer. How this came about is anyone's guess, but, while not agreeing with its constant usage, I can see how comic writers feel the need to adapt to the changing world around them and the fact that the well for many characters has run dry many times over. (My first encounter with it appeared in the excellent DC mini-series Identity Crisis.) It seems to me that it's only logical that writers of comic books today might feel the need to inject some real life drama into the characters' lives in which they are shaping in order to maintain a continuous narrative that isn't replete with only those cosmic threats and tired, villainous schemes that are parodied so easily.
There are many things troubling about this trend. First off, it risks making light of a crime that occurs more and more frequently in our society. Why risk turning something so serious into a stock event all for the simple purpose of creating an edgy feel to your book? Second, why has rape of all things become the plot device of choice for today's writers? Perhaps, just as it seemed somewhat absurd to believe that heroes of the past had difficulty defeating the Nazi armies of World War Two, it might seem equally absurd to think about heroes of today fighting a terrorist threat. In other words, superheroes should, logically, feel threatened or at least challenged by an equal or greater threat to their own abilities. While this occurs most often in superhero books, it also doesn't leave too much room for maneuverability plot wise. By inserting a mental element that threatens the lives of the characters in a way that has been previously unexplored, it allows writers to create challenges for heroes on a more personal level rather than confining those challenges strictly to cosmic threats.
What I fear will happen is that writers may become complacent and rely on the simple shock value instilled by having such a horrendous act occur to a beloved character. It's not uncommon for books that are lagging in sales to resort to such publicity stunts, which is not to say that books that do sell don't also suffer from such trends. I guess point I'm trying to make is that I would hate to see a medium that I dearly love reduced to utilizing horrific events to propel a storyline or to simply create shock value within a book.
The most controversial and somewhat disturbing trend in comics today is the repeated and widespread use of rape as a plot device. Some of the criticism I've come across appears to make the case that the use of rape is nothing more than a weak plot device grasped by a desperate writer. How this came about is anyone's guess, but, while not agreeing with its constant usage, I can see how comic writers feel the need to adapt to the changing world around them and the fact that the well for many characters has run dry many times over. (My first encounter with it appeared in the excellent DC mini-series Identity Crisis.) It seems to me that it's only logical that writers of comic books today might feel the need to inject some real life drama into the characters' lives in which they are shaping in order to maintain a continuous narrative that isn't replete with only those cosmic threats and tired, villainous schemes that are parodied so easily.
There are many things troubling about this trend. First off, it risks making light of a crime that occurs more and more frequently in our society. Why risk turning something so serious into a stock event all for the simple purpose of creating an edgy feel to your book? Second, why has rape of all things become the plot device of choice for today's writers? Perhaps, just as it seemed somewhat absurd to believe that heroes of the past had difficulty defeating the Nazi armies of World War Two, it might seem equally absurd to think about heroes of today fighting a terrorist threat. In other words, superheroes should, logically, feel threatened or at least challenged by an equal or greater threat to their own abilities. While this occurs most often in superhero books, it also doesn't leave too much room for maneuverability plot wise. By inserting a mental element that threatens the lives of the characters in a way that has been previously unexplored, it allows writers to create challenges for heroes on a more personal level rather than confining those challenges strictly to cosmic threats.
What I fear will happen is that writers may become complacent and rely on the simple shock value instilled by having such a horrendous act occur to a beloved character. It's not uncommon for books that are lagging in sales to resort to such publicity stunts, which is not to say that books that do sell don't also suffer from such trends. I guess point I'm trying to make is that I would hate to see a medium that I dearly love reduced to utilizing horrific events to propel a storyline or to simply create shock value within a book.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Cormac McCarthy's novel Outer Dark is one of his earlier works that foreshadows his apocalyptic tone adopted in Blood Meridian Or the Evening Redness in the West. The book is puzzling in many regards, but it seems to fit into McCarthy's scheme to portray characters without resorting to what one could call a clear sense of judgment, even for those who act in what is clearly morally ambivalent or totally devoid ways. Of course, any work that involves the product of an incestuous relationship between a brother and sister as the main plot point isn't exactly what one would term conventional in any sense.
However, as with his other works, McCarthy isn't simply set on centering the narrative on such a repugnant action and going from there. Again, shock value seems to be the least of his concerns; he's much too talented of an author to resort to such triteness. He also doesn't seem to be concerned with exacting vengeance upon these derelicts. On the contrary, one could argue that he shows incredible sympathy or at least remarkable restraint by not allowing the two main characters, Rinthy and Culla Holme, to suffer from some horrendous fate or everlasting torment. That's not to say that they don't suffer, but it would have been easier for McCarthy to exact some form of swift justice upon these two loesome individuals. For some reason, though, it does not, and that's one of the peculiar aspects of the text.
The text also features three nameless individuals who, for lack of a better term, serve as the primary force of moral clarity on one hand and outright evil on the other. They are reminiscent of the Judge in Blood Meridian, but they float in and out of the narrative too infrequently to get a true sense of their motives. What exactly they are trying to accomplish by their pursuit of Culla is unclear. What is clear is that their actions at the end of the novel provide one of the more gruesome scenes I've encountered but one that is no less puzzling for its appearance in this text. Some accounts of this event seek to paint religious overtones to explain its occurrence. I can't say for sure whether or not I agree, but I can say that it is a disturbing action that surely serves more than just to bring the quest of the narrative to a screeching halt.
I can't think of any other writer in recent memory who has created such portraits of worlds both familiar and strange in an effort to relieve any sense of comfort in their inherent notions of stock stereotypes as McCarthy consistently does in his early novels. The outright sense of horror and outrage combined with an inability to harshly condemn and pass judgment upon those whose actions seem repugnant to most creates a dilemma for the reader to try to ascertain what the right way to feel about the text is. The only other option is outright passivity, but I don't think McCarthy or anyone else would feel comfortable with that type of reaction.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Cormac McCarthy's novel Blood Meridian Or the Evening Redness in the West is without a doubt one of the goriest, bleakest, most blood drenched books I've ever encountered. That being said, I have to point out that this isn't all purely for shock value. No, the book has a literate tone to it that seems to originate from a different time and place. McCarthy's ability to write about characters who range from the illiterate and borderline mentally defective to the most well-spoken and wordily has a lot to do with that tone and his unique voice regarding the nature of humanity.
What I find intriguing about the book is that McCarthy's tone isn't one of moral outrage and he doesn't try to compensate for the harshness by injecting some highly moralistic character as a counterbalance to those who engage in acts of depravity beyond most people's ability to comprehend. Rather, McCarthy adopts a highly neutral stance in order to strip bare the high-handed romance of the "Wild West" and portray the country for what it sometimes resembled, a literal hell on earth. To say the book is a "horror" story is not too far of a stretch, but not in the sense that Stephen King writes horror. It's a horror that's all too real and it's personified in the looming character of the Judge, who is without a doubt one of the most terrifying figures in recent literature.
The book isn't for everyone, and the gore factor will sway most people to give up early, but if you can stomach that, you can see one of the better writers today create a world both wholly strange to us and all too familiar.
Monday, August 07, 2006
I've had Aphex Twin's double album Selected Ambient Works volume 2 for years, and I've probably listened to it, and the second disc's first track more than I can possibly recall. As you can see, the album has a mythology all its own due to its unique packaging and lack thereof any song titles. I find all of that interesting, but it's not the reason why I like the album so much.
For lack of a better analogy on how to describe the sound of the work, let me say that Richard D. James (aka Aphex Twin) has been said to have composed it after a series of lucid dreams in which he heard the music, which he tried to compose upon reawakening . Listening to the work, you can tell that it just might have been like that. The music, ambient in nature without any real percussion, sounds as if it's from another dimension. In fact, the sticker on the outside of the package quotes a reviewer who states that it sounds like the kind of music the obelisk in 2001: A Space Odyssey would make if it made sound. To me, that's one of the greatest analogies out there.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
News Story
Flipping through the channels last night, I found myself wading through the all-news networks which devote all of their nighttime programming to talk shows or, in most cases, shouting matches. The topic on all three networks (CNN, MSNBC, and FOX) was Ann Coulter's latest book in which she makes some pretty disparaging remarks about several widows of 9/11 victims. It's typical Coulter nonsense that's simply meant to provoke the very reaction that it receives, sheer outrage. The thing to expect from every one of these types of provocateurs is that they'll pop up every once in awhile to make some sort of statement that generates controversy, which means we can probably expect something from Michael Savage pretty soon as well; it's usually accompanied by the release of a new book or some other type of promotional necessity. What usually happens is that people get upset, the controversy rages for awhile, and the it fades as quickly as the book sales that land the remainders in the discount bin. The question remains, though, is she right to criticize these women, clearly victims of a tragedy, and if not, how can we assume when it is okay to criticize and who is out of bounds?
Personally, I think her comments are par for the course with her type of reactionary conservativism. She's a walking contradiction that profits off of rage and pandering to a base that is amused by her rhetoric. Blatant racism, sexism, and any other -ism you can think of in the negative sense are usually what you'll find within the pages of her books or the words that she spews on the television. The networks know what they're in for when they book her as a guest, and it's always a guaranteed verbal sparing match that will engulf the majority of the broadcast. They know it, and they book her anyway.
What I find mystifying about her is that she spouts forth the ideals of the uber-conservative, but actively portrays herself as anything but with regards to her style. Have you seen how short her skirts are? This isn't done by accident. She's a pretty calculating woman, and she exudes just enough raw sexuality that it appeals to the males in the audience, myself included, who find themselves mesmerized by her appearance all the while forgetting just how offensive her comments really are to a huge portion of the public.
As for whether it's right or wrong to criticize the victims of tragedies that decide to speak out on the issues concerned, I'm of the opinion that once you cross the line and enter the public debate, then you're fair game for criticism. Should it be in the form of the near slander the Coulter uses? No, I think you can say that you feel that these people are simply using their status as victims to project on to the public sphere their feelings and opinions and that you don't agree with that. Personally, I feel the same about Cindy Sheehan. I can't listen to her speak, and I turn the channel when I see her on the news. I think that her policies, while noble in regards to her demanding answers for her son's death, have reached a point where her influence seems detrimental to the cause she's trying to promote. Now, she's campaigning not only against Republicans but also Democrats that voted in favor of the war in Iraq. That's her position to take, but I think it's wrong in the long run. The point of the coming election, to me, is to wrest control of either or both houses of Congress from Republican control. Anything that seeks to undermine that cause in favor of ideological nitpicking seems to defeat the purpose. But I would never say that she's some "harpie" that may have been planning on abandoning her son, ala Coulter's remarks about the 9/11 widows.
All of that to say that it's a fine line to criticize a victim.
Flipping through the channels last night, I found myself wading through the all-news networks which devote all of their nighttime programming to talk shows or, in most cases, shouting matches. The topic on all three networks (CNN, MSNBC, and FOX) was Ann Coulter's latest book in which she makes some pretty disparaging remarks about several widows of 9/11 victims. It's typical Coulter nonsense that's simply meant to provoke the very reaction that it receives, sheer outrage. The thing to expect from every one of these types of provocateurs is that they'll pop up every once in awhile to make some sort of statement that generates controversy, which means we can probably expect something from Michael Savage pretty soon as well; it's usually accompanied by the release of a new book or some other type of promotional necessity. What usually happens is that people get upset, the controversy rages for awhile, and the it fades as quickly as the book sales that land the remainders in the discount bin. The question remains, though, is she right to criticize these women, clearly victims of a tragedy, and if not, how can we assume when it is okay to criticize and who is out of bounds?
Personally, I think her comments are par for the course with her type of reactionary conservativism. She's a walking contradiction that profits off of rage and pandering to a base that is amused by her rhetoric. Blatant racism, sexism, and any other -ism you can think of in the negative sense are usually what you'll find within the pages of her books or the words that she spews on the television. The networks know what they're in for when they book her as a guest, and it's always a guaranteed verbal sparing match that will engulf the majority of the broadcast. They know it, and they book her anyway.
What I find mystifying about her is that she spouts forth the ideals of the uber-conservative, but actively portrays herself as anything but with regards to her style. Have you seen how short her skirts are? This isn't done by accident. She's a pretty calculating woman, and she exudes just enough raw sexuality that it appeals to the males in the audience, myself included, who find themselves mesmerized by her appearance all the while forgetting just how offensive her comments really are to a huge portion of the public.
As for whether it's right or wrong to criticize the victims of tragedies that decide to speak out on the issues concerned, I'm of the opinion that once you cross the line and enter the public debate, then you're fair game for criticism. Should it be in the form of the near slander the Coulter uses? No, I think you can say that you feel that these people are simply using their status as victims to project on to the public sphere their feelings and opinions and that you don't agree with that. Personally, I feel the same about Cindy Sheehan. I can't listen to her speak, and I turn the channel when I see her on the news. I think that her policies, while noble in regards to her demanding answers for her son's death, have reached a point where her influence seems detrimental to the cause she's trying to promote. Now, she's campaigning not only against Republicans but also Democrats that voted in favor of the war in Iraq. That's her position to take, but I think it's wrong in the long run. The point of the coming election, to me, is to wrest control of either or both houses of Congress from Republican control. Anything that seeks to undermine that cause in favor of ideological nitpicking seems to defeat the purpose. But I would never say that she's some "harpie" that may have been planning on abandoning her son, ala Coulter's remarks about the 9/11 widows.
All of that to say that it's a fine line to criticize a victim.
Monday, June 12, 2006
News Story
So, today, Ben Roethlisberger, the quarterback of the Pittsburgh Steelers and the greatest thing to happen to this town since sliced bread, wrecked his motorcycle and was injured pretty substantially, if reports are to be believed, which, from the similarly inconsistent reports surrounding the details of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi's death, can be unreliable at best. Surprisingly enough, Roethlisberger was not wearing a helmet while riding his bike. It's apparently something that he feels is not necessary and, I would wager, not "cool".
I find it almost unfathomable that someone, anyone, would want to ride a motorcycle without a helmet. How this is explained, I guess, is that it's now up to the individual to decide whether they want to ride with or without a helmet. Fine, I can accept that notion, but doesn't it work both ways? My theory is that a person is probably more likely to suffer some sort of gruesome injury if they do not have a helmet on when they're in an accident with someone else, who in all likelihood will be in a car or truck. So, why not spare that person, regardless of whether or not they are at fault, the trauma of witnessing this spectacle just because the other person didn't want to wear a helmet? I realize that these accidents can be traumatic even if the rider does have a helmet, but from the descriptions of Roethlisberger's accident, which was serious but not fatal, it's apparent that a lot of blood and other injuries can occur.
As for this incident, it didn't take long for Pittsburgh to show its true colors. A maintenance man in the building asked a co-worker of mine why she wasn't glued to the television because of this tragedy. He appeared on the verge of tears. Meanwhile in Iraq, people are being incinerated by roadside bombs, and nobody gives it a second thought. Ben Roethlisberger has an accident, from which he'll live, and it's as if the world has fallen apart. Please.
So, today, Ben Roethlisberger, the quarterback of the Pittsburgh Steelers and the greatest thing to happen to this town since sliced bread, wrecked his motorcycle and was injured pretty substantially, if reports are to be believed, which, from the similarly inconsistent reports surrounding the details of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi's death, can be unreliable at best. Surprisingly enough, Roethlisberger was not wearing a helmet while riding his bike. It's apparently something that he feels is not necessary and, I would wager, not "cool".
I find it almost unfathomable that someone, anyone, would want to ride a motorcycle without a helmet. How this is explained, I guess, is that it's now up to the individual to decide whether they want to ride with or without a helmet. Fine, I can accept that notion, but doesn't it work both ways? My theory is that a person is probably more likely to suffer some sort of gruesome injury if they do not have a helmet on when they're in an accident with someone else, who in all likelihood will be in a car or truck. So, why not spare that person, regardless of whether or not they are at fault, the trauma of witnessing this spectacle just because the other person didn't want to wear a helmet? I realize that these accidents can be traumatic even if the rider does have a helmet, but from the descriptions of Roethlisberger's accident, which was serious but not fatal, it's apparent that a lot of blood and other injuries can occur.
As for this incident, it didn't take long for Pittsburgh to show its true colors. A maintenance man in the building asked a co-worker of mine why she wasn't glued to the television because of this tragedy. He appeared on the verge of tears. Meanwhile in Iraq, people are being incinerated by roadside bombs, and nobody gives it a second thought. Ben Roethlisberger has an accident, from which he'll live, and it's as if the world has fallen apart. Please.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
A New Start
It's well past time to do a proper entry on this site. The reason for the long break has nothing to do with the usual fact that I have nothing to write about. No, in fact, I have much to address. I moved from one side of Pittsburgh to the other. The New York Times named Beloved the best work of fiction from the past twenty-five years. My reactions to Philip Roth's new novel Everyman. I have all kinds of stuff to write about. Now, I just need to get it down on the page. So, in the interest of time, I'll devote this post to a shotgun like summary of the topics above.
First, the move. I moved during the middle of May from the rowdy South Side to the much quieter confines of Friendship. The difference is striking in many regards. First, I have a yard surrounding my building for the first time in three years. And this yard is composed of grass, unlike my other place which consisted of concrete. I never thought I'd be so enamored by trees and grass, but when you don't have them on your property for such an extended period, the change is dramatic beyond belief. Also, I have a porch! Yes, a real porch that I may sit on during the summer months ahead. Take that South Side and your measly stoops. All this to say that I really like where I am now. There are aspects of the South Side that I miss, but I think there are an equal amount of negatives that I don't give a damn about not experiencing on a daily basis that more than outweigh the positives.
So Beloved is the best work of fiction from the past twenty-five years. I can't argue since I haven't read the book yet. Oh, it's sitting on my book shelf at home along with the numerous other books that I haven't tackled yet. I'll read it someday, I hope. The list itself is pretty standard considering what's out there. There's a lot of Roth, some DeLillo, Updike, McCarthy, and a slathering of other writers. All in all it's a pretty solid list. The biggest omission, though, seems to be the lack of contemporary writers from the last twenty-five years. No David Foster Wallace. No Rick Moody. No Michael Chabon. It's amazing that these three alone, who have produced some pretty impressive efforts, were totally absent from the list. Maybe twenty-five years from now they'll make the list.
As for Roth, who is my favorite writer along with Thomas Pynchon, his latest novella, Everyman is pretty slim in size but pretty powerful in content. For the most part, I find that his fiction is nearly flawless, but I feel that sometimes he sacrifices the sustained flow of a narrative for the sake of a few crass sex scenes between an older man and a much younger woman. Anyone who is familiar with Roth's work knows that this is nothing new. It's his obsession, to say the least, that the power of male sexual prowess is somehow entwined with the desire to live. The decline of this ability is almost inevitably preceded by the death of the subject. I guess my world experience is much more limited than some others, but I've always found it almost unbelievable that there are these numerous older men who posses this omnipotent sway over younger women. It's just a plot device that I find stale in his work, and it, to me, detracts from the larger narrative that is portraying a decline in both the narrator's body and his familial relations.
Well, that's a start.
It's well past time to do a proper entry on this site. The reason for the long break has nothing to do with the usual fact that I have nothing to write about. No, in fact, I have much to address. I moved from one side of Pittsburgh to the other. The New York Times named Beloved the best work of fiction from the past twenty-five years. My reactions to Philip Roth's new novel Everyman. I have all kinds of stuff to write about. Now, I just need to get it down on the page. So, in the interest of time, I'll devote this post to a shotgun like summary of the topics above.
First, the move. I moved during the middle of May from the rowdy South Side to the much quieter confines of Friendship. The difference is striking in many regards. First, I have a yard surrounding my building for the first time in three years. And this yard is composed of grass, unlike my other place which consisted of concrete. I never thought I'd be so enamored by trees and grass, but when you don't have them on your property for such an extended period, the change is dramatic beyond belief. Also, I have a porch! Yes, a real porch that I may sit on during the summer months ahead. Take that South Side and your measly stoops. All this to say that I really like where I am now. There are aspects of the South Side that I miss, but I think there are an equal amount of negatives that I don't give a damn about not experiencing on a daily basis that more than outweigh the positives.
So Beloved is the best work of fiction from the past twenty-five years. I can't argue since I haven't read the book yet. Oh, it's sitting on my book shelf at home along with the numerous other books that I haven't tackled yet. I'll read it someday, I hope. The list itself is pretty standard considering what's out there. There's a lot of Roth, some DeLillo, Updike, McCarthy, and a slathering of other writers. All in all it's a pretty solid list. The biggest omission, though, seems to be the lack of contemporary writers from the last twenty-five years. No David Foster Wallace. No Rick Moody. No Michael Chabon. It's amazing that these three alone, who have produced some pretty impressive efforts, were totally absent from the list. Maybe twenty-five years from now they'll make the list.
As for Roth, who is my favorite writer along with Thomas Pynchon, his latest novella, Everyman is pretty slim in size but pretty powerful in content. For the most part, I find that his fiction is nearly flawless, but I feel that sometimes he sacrifices the sustained flow of a narrative for the sake of a few crass sex scenes between an older man and a much younger woman. Anyone who is familiar with Roth's work knows that this is nothing new. It's his obsession, to say the least, that the power of male sexual prowess is somehow entwined with the desire to live. The decline of this ability is almost inevitably preceded by the death of the subject. I guess my world experience is much more limited than some others, but I've always found it almost unbelievable that there are these numerous older men who posses this omnipotent sway over younger women. It's just a plot device that I find stale in his work, and it, to me, detracts from the larger narrative that is portraying a decline in both the narrator's body and his familial relations.
Well, that's a start.
Friday, May 05, 2006
So, it appears that Harvard sophomore Kaavya Viswanathan plagiarized large portions of her book How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild, and Got a Life from a multitude of other books written in the same generic genre, teen-fiction. Passages with the similarities have been published in a multitude of outlets, and the case seems to be pretty concrete that she did not do this by accident, as she claimed by saying it was a totally "unconscious" effort on her part. To me, this seems to be suggesting that she reproduced these passages simply due to her ability to retain the bland, pedestrian text that fills nearly every novel. That's striking to me because what one generally remembers about a text is those passages that are truly memorable and stand alone not those that serve as traditional transition devices or engines that move the plot forward.
For the most part, she's been tried and convicted by the media, but Malcolm Gladwell wrote an interesting defense on his blog which he later revised to some extent. Basically, he wrote that teen-fiction is a genre that, like any other genre, adheres to basic conventions and that it was almost impossible to imagine a book in this genre without these passages. His point is illustrated in this passage:
When Doris Kearns Goodwin borrowed, without attribution, from a history of the Kennedys for her history of the Kennedys, that's serious. She's a scholar. And we have an expectation of scholarship that it is supposed to reflect original thought. We have no such expectation for genre novels, Harlequin romances, slasher films, pornos, or, say, the diaries of teenagers.
He also states, "Let's just say this isn't the first twenty lines of Paradise Lost." And, like I said, the examples chronicled are pretty generic in nature. There are definite similarities, and it does look really bad for her as an author to simply reword the writing of others to fill out her work, but they are simple passages, not entire plot devices or the entire narrative, other than the fact that it's about a young girl coming of age, which in and of itself is such a generic plot that it's hard to imagine anyone who is able to distinguish between any of these numerous works. They're all the same to some extent.
So, it's here where I admit that I don't care for teen-fiction. Why would I? I'm not a teacher, and they provide no nostalgia for me as a reader looking to revisit my past. But that's beside the point. What I actually find interesting about this controversy is that what Gladwell is addressing in his entry is that there are genre conventions that are so stereotypical and that appear in nearly every example of that genre and people do not bat an eye. Gladwell errs by confining his critique to this aspect alone and not addressing the idea that the passages are simply reworded from other texts. Sure, most of these books will contain base descriptions of events and they are so common that it would be absurd to cry plagiarism each and every time this occurs. His point isn't lost, though, and it makes for interesting food for thought when you consider the idea of how plagiarism actually works.
Just like James Frey, Viswanathan has had her publishing deals voided but unlike him her work was pulled from the shelves, which makes you wonder why one deserved a note inserted in the front detailing that much of it might not be true and the other pulled completely off the shelf. There's probably no controversy there, but someone might make something of it. Regardless, it doesn't change the fact that the books isn't an original work, which is what people are expecting.
For the most part, she's been tried and convicted by the media, but Malcolm Gladwell wrote an interesting defense on his blog which he later revised to some extent. Basically, he wrote that teen-fiction is a genre that, like any other genre, adheres to basic conventions and that it was almost impossible to imagine a book in this genre without these passages. His point is illustrated in this passage:
When Doris Kearns Goodwin borrowed, without attribution, from a history of the Kennedys for her history of the Kennedys, that's serious. She's a scholar. And we have an expectation of scholarship that it is supposed to reflect original thought. We have no such expectation for genre novels, Harlequin romances, slasher films, pornos, or, say, the diaries of teenagers.
He also states, "Let's just say this isn't the first twenty lines of Paradise Lost." And, like I said, the examples chronicled are pretty generic in nature. There are definite similarities, and it does look really bad for her as an author to simply reword the writing of others to fill out her work, but they are simple passages, not entire plot devices or the entire narrative, other than the fact that it's about a young girl coming of age, which in and of itself is such a generic plot that it's hard to imagine anyone who is able to distinguish between any of these numerous works. They're all the same to some extent.
So, it's here where I admit that I don't care for teen-fiction. Why would I? I'm not a teacher, and they provide no nostalgia for me as a reader looking to revisit my past. But that's beside the point. What I actually find interesting about this controversy is that what Gladwell is addressing in his entry is that there are genre conventions that are so stereotypical and that appear in nearly every example of that genre and people do not bat an eye. Gladwell errs by confining his critique to this aspect alone and not addressing the idea that the passages are simply reworded from other texts. Sure, most of these books will contain base descriptions of events and they are so common that it would be absurd to cry plagiarism each and every time this occurs. His point isn't lost, though, and it makes for interesting food for thought when you consider the idea of how plagiarism actually works.
Just like James Frey, Viswanathan has had her publishing deals voided but unlike him her work was pulled from the shelves, which makes you wonder why one deserved a note inserted in the front detailing that much of it might not be true and the other pulled completely off the shelf. There's probably no controversy there, but someone might make something of it. Regardless, it doesn't change the fact that the books isn't an original work, which is what people are expecting.
Friday, April 28, 2006
Only those fortunate enough to live in a medialess vacuum would be lucky enough to have avoided the cries of scandal over the release of the movie United 93. I've tried to read several reviews and I cannot make it through to the end without shaking my head in disgust at how the media is playing its role, part and parcel, of the morally outraged advocate for those exploited by the corporate money machines in Hollywood.
I guess what I'm driving at is that when you read these reviews that claim either that the film is an exercise in unexploitive restraint or a tediously unemotional film that leaves one on the verge of boredom, you can see that the strings of manipulation are being pulled by those who are going to profit from all the fuss, the very people that made the film that the reviewers have so many questions for. To me, this is nothing more than the continuation of the blurring of the line between news and entertainment. Most media is an exercise in promotion as it is, especially in the realm of magazines, but shouldn't the news be a tad above that type of behavior? I realize that when artists put out a new product it will be covered, reviewed, and critiqued from all angles, including the major news media. What would the arts section be comprised of if it wasn't? What I don't understand is that these writers, many of them good at their profession, don't seem to realize that by taking some sort of stance that either raises questions as to the intent of the artist in a negative way or by overly praising the artist in such a gushing manner that they are simply doing part of the marketing campaign for the distributors themselves. Maybe it all goes hand in hand and one scratches the back of the other and vice versa, but there seems to be something askew about the process that riles me more and more.
One other aspect of the writing that bothers me to a tremendous extent is the way in which writers decree with some manner of satisfaction that their criticisms, while seeming harsh, aren't really meant to be taken that way and then deflect that attention by tossing out an equally inflammatory criticism. Here's an example:
To question this is not meant to take anything away from the heroism of the passengers on Flight 93. (Although to imply that they were the only ones who displayed courage in the face of the events of that day is to slight the cops and firefighters who rushed into the Twin Towers, many of whom never returned alive.)
I assume the reaction is supposed to be, "Oh, of course, no one would accuse you have saying anything remotely negative against the innocent victims of this tragedy. In fact, you reinforce your position by mentioning the fact that there were other victims as well, ones not portrayed in the film, who you happen to have been the ONE person to recall. Good job."
These types of disclaimers are often pointless nonsense that serves little purpose other than to present the writer as an overly passionate observer and empathetic towards the victims, but the fact remains that they are still reviewing a film, so they need to make some sort of comment, which may be harsh in tone but respectful in intent. Does that make sense?
I think everyone can get my drift. This type of writing is so transparent that it's practically vaporous in nature.
I guess what I'm driving at is that when you read these reviews that claim either that the film is an exercise in unexploitive restraint or a tediously unemotional film that leaves one on the verge of boredom, you can see that the strings of manipulation are being pulled by those who are going to profit from all the fuss, the very people that made the film that the reviewers have so many questions for. To me, this is nothing more than the continuation of the blurring of the line between news and entertainment. Most media is an exercise in promotion as it is, especially in the realm of magazines, but shouldn't the news be a tad above that type of behavior? I realize that when artists put out a new product it will be covered, reviewed, and critiqued from all angles, including the major news media. What would the arts section be comprised of if it wasn't? What I don't understand is that these writers, many of them good at their profession, don't seem to realize that by taking some sort of stance that either raises questions as to the intent of the artist in a negative way or by overly praising the artist in such a gushing manner that they are simply doing part of the marketing campaign for the distributors themselves. Maybe it all goes hand in hand and one scratches the back of the other and vice versa, but there seems to be something askew about the process that riles me more and more.
One other aspect of the writing that bothers me to a tremendous extent is the way in which writers decree with some manner of satisfaction that their criticisms, while seeming harsh, aren't really meant to be taken that way and then deflect that attention by tossing out an equally inflammatory criticism. Here's an example:
To question this is not meant to take anything away from the heroism of the passengers on Flight 93. (Although to imply that they were the only ones who displayed courage in the face of the events of that day is to slight the cops and firefighters who rushed into the Twin Towers, many of whom never returned alive.)
I assume the reaction is supposed to be, "Oh, of course, no one would accuse you have saying anything remotely negative against the innocent victims of this tragedy. In fact, you reinforce your position by mentioning the fact that there were other victims as well, ones not portrayed in the film, who you happen to have been the ONE person to recall. Good job."
These types of disclaimers are often pointless nonsense that serves little purpose other than to present the writer as an overly passionate observer and empathetic towards the victims, but the fact remains that they are still reviewing a film, so they need to make some sort of comment, which may be harsh in tone but respectful in intent. Does that make sense?
I think everyone can get my drift. This type of writing is so transparent that it's practically vaporous in nature.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
The older I get the more I realize that it's the little things people do that are the most annoying. Sure, on occasion, you run into someone who has a monstrous personality flaw that grates on your nerves like no tomorrow. My theory, though, is that most people do very minor things that irritate you to the point where they seem huge but in reality really are not. I could give a few instances, but that's not the point. What I'm writing about today is the little thing here at the office that has taken on a life of its own as a minor, but what may be major, irritant.
The office kitchen sink has experienced more than its fair share of clogs over the last year or so. Every time it happens, though, nobody bothers to go to the drugstore and procure some drain cleaning solution. No, what inevitably happens is that the clog progressively gets worse and worse with little or no drainage until it finally clogs completely and no water escapes regardless of how long you wait, and the only recourse is to call a plumber. Being somewhat familiar with the inconvenience of a clogged drain (the bathroom sink in my current residence clogs on occasion), I feel that this is an easy problem to remedy. However, as I said, no one apparently thinks that some Draino might do the trick. On the face of it, this is annoying in and of itself, but now it's time to chronicle the really annoying part of this.
Every time this happens, and it happens frequently enough, certain members of the staff suddenly graduate to being private eyes. Through their deductive skills they arrive at the only conclusion possible as to why this keeps happening: oatmeal! Yes, it's because of leftover oatmeal on the sides of the bowl that somehow works its way down the drain to create some sort of super oat adhesive, a form of oat cholesterol blocking the veins of our pipes. That must be the reason that this continues to happen. It has to be oatmeal. Oatmeal absorbs water and expands. What other explanation could there be? The solution then is to demand that those who eat oatmeal must wipe their bowls before placing them in the sink. That will do the trick.
Now, I must mention that I am one of the "offenders." One of those oatmeal eaters who, when I don't have time to wash my bowl out immediately, leaves it in the sink for later. I do wash it. It's not as if I leave it there for days. The thing is that I scrape the bowl out pretty thoroughly. I don't leave many traces of oatmeal in the bowl that will carry itself down the drain and add to the blockage. So, I'm clearly off the hook, but not really. The only other offender is one of the librarians who eats oatmeal more than I do. I don't know what her bowl looks like when she's finished, but I'm pretty sure that it's not encrusted with massive amounts of oatmeal, but surely she must be the culprit. The absurdity of the theory goes so far as to suggest that because this person routinely does not wear her glasses then she must not be able to see the large quantities of oatmeal that she's washing down the drain. Right.
So it goes. The drain clogs and emails get sent or signs posted that tell you, especially you oatmeal eaters, to wipe off your dishes before putting them in the sink. The neverending cycle.
But the ultimate solution is at hand, a new sink. Yes, a new sink with a garbage disposal. That will do the trick. It's been months since it's been ordered and no one knows when it's going to be delivered let alone installed and usable.
Well, that day finally came on Thursday. There's a new sink installed in place of the old, unreliable one. One problem: it isn't working yet. There's a big sign reading "Temporarily Out of Service." (Which reminds me of the "Out of Order" sign placed on one of the doors that was broken. How is it out of order? It's broken. It's not functioning in some minor way. It's broken completely.) So the dishes are stacking up, and if you want to wash anything, you have to take it to the bathroom, which is not exactly an enticing option considering the amount of traffic we receive in the form of homeless people who frequent the bathroom, one in particular spends most of his time there.
The moral of the story is that it's a minor problem that seems much more major than it really is. But, gosh, it'd be nice to be able to wash my dishes without having to use handsoap and paper towels to do it.
The office kitchen sink has experienced more than its fair share of clogs over the last year or so. Every time it happens, though, nobody bothers to go to the drugstore and procure some drain cleaning solution. No, what inevitably happens is that the clog progressively gets worse and worse with little or no drainage until it finally clogs completely and no water escapes regardless of how long you wait, and the only recourse is to call a plumber. Being somewhat familiar with the inconvenience of a clogged drain (the bathroom sink in my current residence clogs on occasion), I feel that this is an easy problem to remedy. However, as I said, no one apparently thinks that some Draino might do the trick. On the face of it, this is annoying in and of itself, but now it's time to chronicle the really annoying part of this.
Every time this happens, and it happens frequently enough, certain members of the staff suddenly graduate to being private eyes. Through their deductive skills they arrive at the only conclusion possible as to why this keeps happening: oatmeal! Yes, it's because of leftover oatmeal on the sides of the bowl that somehow works its way down the drain to create some sort of super oat adhesive, a form of oat cholesterol blocking the veins of our pipes. That must be the reason that this continues to happen. It has to be oatmeal. Oatmeal absorbs water and expands. What other explanation could there be? The solution then is to demand that those who eat oatmeal must wipe their bowls before placing them in the sink. That will do the trick.
Now, I must mention that I am one of the "offenders." One of those oatmeal eaters who, when I don't have time to wash my bowl out immediately, leaves it in the sink for later. I do wash it. It's not as if I leave it there for days. The thing is that I scrape the bowl out pretty thoroughly. I don't leave many traces of oatmeal in the bowl that will carry itself down the drain and add to the blockage. So, I'm clearly off the hook, but not really. The only other offender is one of the librarians who eats oatmeal more than I do. I don't know what her bowl looks like when she's finished, but I'm pretty sure that it's not encrusted with massive amounts of oatmeal, but surely she must be the culprit. The absurdity of the theory goes so far as to suggest that because this person routinely does not wear her glasses then she must not be able to see the large quantities of oatmeal that she's washing down the drain. Right.
So it goes. The drain clogs and emails get sent or signs posted that tell you, especially you oatmeal eaters, to wipe off your dishes before putting them in the sink. The neverending cycle.
But the ultimate solution is at hand, a new sink. Yes, a new sink with a garbage disposal. That will do the trick. It's been months since it's been ordered and no one knows when it's going to be delivered let alone installed and usable.
Well, that day finally came on Thursday. There's a new sink installed in place of the old, unreliable one. One problem: it isn't working yet. There's a big sign reading "Temporarily Out of Service." (Which reminds me of the "Out of Order" sign placed on one of the doors that was broken. How is it out of order? It's broken. It's not functioning in some minor way. It's broken completely.) So the dishes are stacking up, and if you want to wash anything, you have to take it to the bathroom, which is not exactly an enticing option considering the amount of traffic we receive in the form of homeless people who frequent the bathroom, one in particular spends most of his time there.
The moral of the story is that it's a minor problem that seems much more major than it really is. But, gosh, it'd be nice to be able to wash my dishes without having to use handsoap and paper towels to do it.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Runner's Tale
For as much as I run, it's to be expected that I would have seen my fair share of other runners partaking in the same activity. Included in these observations are numerous incidents of seeing fellow runners clad in, what I would consider, inappropriate attire. I've seen wide arrays of ill-clad folk running in all kinds of weather, but this morning had to take the cake.
As per usual, I scanned the three local channels to find out what the temperature was outside. I found that it ranged from 17 to 24 degrees. (Interesting aside here, the variation in temperatures isn't a seasonal thing. It occurs all year round. Now, the difference between 17 and 24 is negligible (Yeah, it's cold!), but there are times during the year when the difference is large enough to make one debate whether or not to wear a sweatshirt or jacket. Is it warm or not? Who knows.)
Having established that it was bitterly cold, I went about the task of putting on a long-sleeve running shirt, a sweatshirt, and a larger hooded sweatshirt over that. Three shirts, sweatpants, gloves, and a winter hat. Sometimes even three layers isn't enough to keep out the bitter wind.
Imagine my surprise, then, when, as I was running down Carson to encounter another runner (in and of itself not remarkable, as I said) clad in shorts and a t-shirt. That's it. No hat, gloves or anything else. Shorts and a t-shirt!!!
I have nothing else to say.
For as much as I run, it's to be expected that I would have seen my fair share of other runners partaking in the same activity. Included in these observations are numerous incidents of seeing fellow runners clad in, what I would consider, inappropriate attire. I've seen wide arrays of ill-clad folk running in all kinds of weather, but this morning had to take the cake.
As per usual, I scanned the three local channels to find out what the temperature was outside. I found that it ranged from 17 to 24 degrees. (Interesting aside here, the variation in temperatures isn't a seasonal thing. It occurs all year round. Now, the difference between 17 and 24 is negligible (Yeah, it's cold!), but there are times during the year when the difference is large enough to make one debate whether or not to wear a sweatshirt or jacket. Is it warm or not? Who knows.)
Having established that it was bitterly cold, I went about the task of putting on a long-sleeve running shirt, a sweatshirt, and a larger hooded sweatshirt over that. Three shirts, sweatpants, gloves, and a winter hat. Sometimes even three layers isn't enough to keep out the bitter wind.
Imagine my surprise, then, when, as I was running down Carson to encounter another runner (in and of itself not remarkable, as I said) clad in shorts and a t-shirt. That's it. No hat, gloves or anything else. Shorts and a t-shirt!!!
I have nothing else to say.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Unrestrained
To echo the sentiments of Benedict in his latest entry about a coworker erupting on him, I have to confess to being guilty of doing the erupting myself on a coworker. Shocking, I admit, but Kingmob's fuse is short when it comes to the matter of working hours and the fair application of trades and deals regarding those hours.
The story is as follows. As we are all well aware, the Pittsburgh Steelers went to the Super Bowl this year. Now, seeing that there were minor riots in both Oakland and the South Side after their victory over the Denver Broncos and the mere fact that it is the Pittsburgh Steelers, logic would seem to dictate that it might be wise to close prior to the Super Bowl because (1)everyone wants to watch it (2) the chances of further rioting, win or lose, increased substantially for the Big Game. Well, logic is a funny thing, and it appears that it's used on a random basis in some instances. Case in point, the longer than necessary debate as to whether or not to close the library early. Granted, some people don't care about football, and if the teams involved were any but the local one, it would be unfair to close entirely, early, or at all. However, the evidence seems to dictate that the demand for the library's services will fall to an astonishingly low number if the facility were open. Four people utilized the library during the previous game. Four! Also, seeing that every business on Forbes was closing early, other than the bars, it would seem fitting to close the library as well. Well, after some back and forth, finally the campus police suggested that it would be wise for us to close, and the hours were trimmed to a reasonable ten to six.
All of that background sets up this tale. My coworker, who is experiencing some personal problems, appealed to my sympathetic nature and asked me to work for him. Now, I told him previously that if it meant that much to him I would do so. However, as my disbelief at the unreasonableness of the superiors not to close library reached its peak, I hastily agreed to work for him. After simmering down, I thought about the fact that I didn't want to be here any more than anyone else, and I'd made that clear to numerous people. I issued a request for further compensation to my coworker in the form of an email. When I came in the next day, that's when the trouble started.
I approached him in a non-confrontational manner and inquired if he'd received my offer. He acknowledged that he had, and that the terms of my request were absurd. His points were thus:
I had made an agreement and you can't renege on that.
You can't just change a deal.
Sometimes you don't get what you want.
I countered with:
I'm getting nothing out of this, and I demand compensation for my sacrifice.
I didn't back out of the deal. I just reconsidered it after I calmed down.
Originally, you didn't want me to be bitter about the request. Now I am.
In other words, I stormed out in a fury. All of it became moot when the next day the decision came down to close early. However, I still had had an argument in public with a coworker. That could have been handled more professionally. Amazingly, I found agreement on the terms of my request with my other co-worker. It was just the execution of it that could have been handled better.
The lesson in all of this: never agree to anything out of haste if there is even the slightest chance of reconsideration on your part. It makes life easier.
To echo the sentiments of Benedict in his latest entry about a coworker erupting on him, I have to confess to being guilty of doing the erupting myself on a coworker. Shocking, I admit, but Kingmob's fuse is short when it comes to the matter of working hours and the fair application of trades and deals regarding those hours.
The story is as follows. As we are all well aware, the Pittsburgh Steelers went to the Super Bowl this year. Now, seeing that there were minor riots in both Oakland and the South Side after their victory over the Denver Broncos and the mere fact that it is the Pittsburgh Steelers, logic would seem to dictate that it might be wise to close prior to the Super Bowl because (1)everyone wants to watch it (2) the chances of further rioting, win or lose, increased substantially for the Big Game. Well, logic is a funny thing, and it appears that it's used on a random basis in some instances. Case in point, the longer than necessary debate as to whether or not to close the library early. Granted, some people don't care about football, and if the teams involved were any but the local one, it would be unfair to close entirely, early, or at all. However, the evidence seems to dictate that the demand for the library's services will fall to an astonishingly low number if the facility were open. Four people utilized the library during the previous game. Four! Also, seeing that every business on Forbes was closing early, other than the bars, it would seem fitting to close the library as well. Well, after some back and forth, finally the campus police suggested that it would be wise for us to close, and the hours were trimmed to a reasonable ten to six.
All of that background sets up this tale. My coworker, who is experiencing some personal problems, appealed to my sympathetic nature and asked me to work for him. Now, I told him previously that if it meant that much to him I would do so. However, as my disbelief at the unreasonableness of the superiors not to close library reached its peak, I hastily agreed to work for him. After simmering down, I thought about the fact that I didn't want to be here any more than anyone else, and I'd made that clear to numerous people. I issued a request for further compensation to my coworker in the form of an email. When I came in the next day, that's when the trouble started.
I approached him in a non-confrontational manner and inquired if he'd received my offer. He acknowledged that he had, and that the terms of my request were absurd. His points were thus:
I had made an agreement and you can't renege on that.
You can't just change a deal.
Sometimes you don't get what you want.
I countered with:
I'm getting nothing out of this, and I demand compensation for my sacrifice.
I didn't back out of the deal. I just reconsidered it after I calmed down.
Originally, you didn't want me to be bitter about the request. Now I am.
In other words, I stormed out in a fury. All of it became moot when the next day the decision came down to close early. However, I still had had an argument in public with a coworker. That could have been handled more professionally. Amazingly, I found agreement on the terms of my request with my other co-worker. It was just the execution of it that could have been handled better.
The lesson in all of this: never agree to anything out of haste if there is even the slightest chance of reconsideration on your part. It makes life easier.
Friday, January 27, 2006
Finally, the truth has emerged: Frey Admits Lying; Oprah Apologizes to Viewers. Frey has apparently taken lessons at avoiding the question from some in our current administration. His stammering and stuttering defense of his fabricated tales of addiction and recovery are about as convincing as the tall tales of the sea.
What I find incredible about the entire article is this quote from Frey's publisher:
"“But this question of fact checking is a complicated one. At The New Yorker and Time and Newsweek, you have experienced people who know where to go and what's right and what'’s wrong. We don'’t. There'’s been a traditional dependency on the author."
Is this possible? Why can't a huge publisher afford to fact-check the works they're foisting upon us?
What I find incredible about the entire article is this quote from Frey's publisher:
"“But this question of fact checking is a complicated one. At The New Yorker and Time and Newsweek, you have experienced people who know where to go and what's right and what'’s wrong. We don'’t. There'’s been a traditional dependency on the author."
Is this possible? Why can't a huge publisher afford to fact-check the works they're foisting upon us?
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
As further evidence of the widening gulf between those professors who have a grasp of the proper usage of English grammar and devices and those who think they do in some misguided way, I had a T.A. suggest to our class that when writing a paper it was encouraged to use footnotes. Just for the hell of it?
I've never had to grade papers for a class of undergraduates at a large university, but, from the impression I get from my instructor this semester, it's easier than ever to plagiarize a written assignment. For this reason, I was required to submit my first paper of the semester to a web-based organism called Turnitin.com, which is supposed to check your documents to make sure they aren't plagiarized in parts or as a whole. How it works is beyond my comprehension of the internet, but, from what I can gather, it searches the web for instances of phrases and similar writing that the writer may have used without giving proper credit. Oddly enough, one of the FAQs on the board has a question related to using one's own previous writing, and, it states that if you don't credit yourself, you're are, in fact, plagiarizing. Plagiarizing one's self? I don't know how you'd do it, but I'd love to see someone sue themselves for plagiarism.
Friday, January 20, 2006
Tainted Memories
I count myself as one who was not surprised to hear that the author of the memoir A Million Little Pieces, James Frey, fabricated or embellished large portions of the text. As a New York Times piece proclaimed, the incident is nothing more than a continuation of the blurring of the line between reality and fiction. Oprah Winfrey, who chose the book for her book club, has even chimed in to state that the message is what is important regardless of how it's ultimately delivered, or something along those lines.
The ramifications of this are obvious to anyone who has a vested interest in keeping the separation of fact and fiction plain for everyone to see. In a previous post, I wrote about the possibility that our news is creating reality as well as vice versa. In the post I discussed the New York Times' seemingly obvious attempts to create a mood in the White House. Are they really nervous, on edge, etc. about any number of things, or is that how the Times wants to perceive it as being? I don't know, but if true it seems to speak to a sense of hypocrisy on their part to blast Frey for his embellishments.
I don't know how much he manufactured. Really, I don't care all that much because these types of books do not interest me in the least, but the industry for them is increasing substantially. I find it hard to believe that any of them are spot-on in their accuracy. It just seems like the premises for a lot of these books are works of fiction spun around a few facts interspersed throughout. As I said about dream recollections that seem flawless in narrative, I just think that writers know that a fractured narrative isn't likely to sell very well, so they fill in the gaps with all sorts of fluff that acts as an epoxy to hold the whole thing together.
The impression I get is that Frey essentially lied about large portions of his life in order to write this book. That, I think, is wrong, and it's equally wrong to label the book as a memoir when it should be labeled, if not just plain fiction, then at least a memoir with embellishments.
I count myself as one who was not surprised to hear that the author of the memoir A Million Little Pieces, James Frey, fabricated or embellished large portions of the text. As a New York Times piece proclaimed, the incident is nothing more than a continuation of the blurring of the line between reality and fiction. Oprah Winfrey, who chose the book for her book club, has even chimed in to state that the message is what is important regardless of how it's ultimately delivered, or something along those lines.
The ramifications of this are obvious to anyone who has a vested interest in keeping the separation of fact and fiction plain for everyone to see. In a previous post, I wrote about the possibility that our news is creating reality as well as vice versa. In the post I discussed the New York Times' seemingly obvious attempts to create a mood in the White House. Are they really nervous, on edge, etc. about any number of things, or is that how the Times wants to perceive it as being? I don't know, but if true it seems to speak to a sense of hypocrisy on their part to blast Frey for his embellishments.
I don't know how much he manufactured. Really, I don't care all that much because these types of books do not interest me in the least, but the industry for them is increasing substantially. I find it hard to believe that any of them are spot-on in their accuracy. It just seems like the premises for a lot of these books are works of fiction spun around a few facts interspersed throughout. As I said about dream recollections that seem flawless in narrative, I just think that writers know that a fractured narrative isn't likely to sell very well, so they fill in the gaps with all sorts of fluff that acts as an epoxy to hold the whole thing together.
The impression I get is that Frey essentially lied about large portions of his life in order to write this book. That, I think, is wrong, and it's equally wrong to label the book as a memoir when it should be labeled, if not just plain fiction, then at least a memoir with embellishments.
Dreamreader
Do your dreams really mean anything? It is one of those eternal questions that will probably be asked forever with no definitive answer. Personally, I do not subscribe to the notion that dreams are anything more than the random thoughts and images that can, and often are, induced by many different means, be it coffee, food, or alcohol. I am not saying that dreams cannot be a part of everyone's normal sleep cycle, but I have a hard time swallowing the hyper-narrative details that some people claim to recall from their dreams. It's not that I think they are lying, but, as with any good narrative, dreams can benefit from a good editor who fills in the logical gaps with any number of devices in order to comprise a whole.
What I will admit is the distinct idea that dreams can be terrifying beyond belief. Some of the common occurrences in my dreams that bother me more than anything else are those in which I cannot speak or my voice will not project properly even though I know what I want to say. For example, I have had my New York Times stolen on several occasions. So, what happens? I have a dream where I'm looking out of my window down upon someone in the midst of taking my paper. I am yelling at this person, but they do not hear me because my voice is not projecting properly. This happens a lot. The other example of really troubling dreams I have are those in which someone, usually a stranger or an intruder, remains in the dark. Another example, my roommate and I are pushing someone out of our apartment, but they remain in the dark because the hall light will not come on. Of course, I am yelling at the person, "Who are you," and they do not respond.
I do not claim to know what any of this means. To me, it is probably just two examples of things that are troubling to think about and that most people fear, being without a voice in moments of trouble and an intruder who you cannot see or will not tell you what they want. Other than that, I think dreams are not windows into the soul or deep interpretations of some Freudian psychology. They just occur.
Do your dreams really mean anything? It is one of those eternal questions that will probably be asked forever with no definitive answer. Personally, I do not subscribe to the notion that dreams are anything more than the random thoughts and images that can, and often are, induced by many different means, be it coffee, food, or alcohol. I am not saying that dreams cannot be a part of everyone's normal sleep cycle, but I have a hard time swallowing the hyper-narrative details that some people claim to recall from their dreams. It's not that I think they are lying, but, as with any good narrative, dreams can benefit from a good editor who fills in the logical gaps with any number of devices in order to comprise a whole.
What I will admit is the distinct idea that dreams can be terrifying beyond belief. Some of the common occurrences in my dreams that bother me more than anything else are those in which I cannot speak or my voice will not project properly even though I know what I want to say. For example, I have had my New York Times stolen on several occasions. So, what happens? I have a dream where I'm looking out of my window down upon someone in the midst of taking my paper. I am yelling at this person, but they do not hear me because my voice is not projecting properly. This happens a lot. The other example of really troubling dreams I have are those in which someone, usually a stranger or an intruder, remains in the dark. Another example, my roommate and I are pushing someone out of our apartment, but they remain in the dark because the hall light will not come on. Of course, I am yelling at the person, "Who are you," and they do not respond.
I do not claim to know what any of this means. To me, it is probably just two examples of things that are troubling to think about and that most people fear, being without a voice in moments of trouble and an intruder who you cannot see or will not tell you what they want. Other than that, I think dreams are not windows into the soul or deep interpretations of some Freudian psychology. They just occur.
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