Fiction II


It’s strange. A great story is a selfish thing. It seems to take more than it gives. When you’re done with it…no when it’s done with you, it leaves you feeling hollowed out.

When you come across a good story you unfold and unpack it, you pull it out and look it over.

A great story does the opposite. It pulls you out; unfolds you; flattens out the creases. It takes from you. It makes you invest yourself in it. It hooks you like a drug. It makes you depend on it and you have it at the back of your mind always.

And then you reach that last period and it’s gone and there is nothing left in that place where it burrowed into you.

You put it down, you sit back, and you don’t do a damn thing.

You sit there and you feel around in that empty place and wait for another great story to fill it.

That is what a great story does.

And now on to some great story tellers:

Cormac McCarthy – McCarthy is a genius and that is all there is to it. People thought he peaked too soon with Suttree. They called it his masterpiece. Then came Blood Meridian. It is one of those books that changes you. Another masterpiece. Then No Country for Old Men and The Road. Two more masterpieces. Read them.

Philip K. Dick – Dick is a master of the absurd. His stories shouldn’t work. They’re too strange; too far removed. Then after he’s done dragging you through one of the surreal worlds created in his head you are left to ponder an impossibly faceted gem of story telling. Dick can make you question anything no matter how rooted you may believe it is in reality.

Gene Wolfe – Wolfe’s Book of the New Sun series and his Latro trilogy are spectacular. His writing is dense, it squirms, it moves around and is fun to read, not just for its content, but for the actual words themselves. The worlds he creates are vivid and fantastic and immense. Try not to get lost.

Frank Stanford – One thing to know about Frank going in is that he’s insane. Stark raving mad. It’s what makes his poetry so amazing. Read his collection The Light the Dead See and find out for yourself. His poetry is twisted. It reminds me of what Huckleberry Finn might have been like if Twain was on acid.

Joseph Conrad – Conrad is timeless. Heart of Darkness is one of those rare stories that has power, actual raw power. It hits you over the head with insanity, brutality, and senselessness. It is great.

Anton Chekhov – Chekhov’s stories hurt. They’re bitter. They remind you of how the world really is. They’re fantastic.

If you haven’t read any of this then I want you to do three things:

1) Hit yourself for not reading them sooner.

2) Stop what you’re doing right now.

3) Go. Read.


5 responses to “Fiction II”

  1. I was watching Shaun of the Dead today and I really enjoyed this:
    Ed: Any zombies out there?
    Shaun: Don’t say that!
    Ed: What?
    Shaun: That!
    Ed: What?
    Shaun: The zed-word. Don’t say it!
    Ed: Why not?
    Shaun: Because it’s ridiculous!

    And I realized that I have been doing that subconsciously in my own writing. I try to find any way around explicitly writing the word “zombie” because it is, as Shaun says, “ridiculous”.

  2. I still have yet to convince my wife to watch Shaun of the Dead — she loves British humor, and loves ‘Hot Fuzz’ and ‘Spaced,’ but can’t abide watching horror flicks.

    To my surprise (glee?) I found out that she hates them because when she was young, the nearby college (Keuka) would do movie-nights where they would project a film on the side of a white building with huge speakers. One night they showed an indie horror flick and from that day forward she has been terrified of horror movies.

    The film?

    1968’s Night of the Living Dead.

    *cackle*

  3. The other issue I have is trying to keep my descriptions fresh after the umpteenth time describing rotting, animated flesh.

    We should write a zombie thesaurus — filled with unique and grotesque adjectives for the zombie-fiction writer. 😉

  4. There’s nothing really gross in Shaun of the Dead except for the part where the girlfriend’s annoying friend gets pulled through the window at the Winchester and all the zombies pull like 10 lbs of hamburger out of his stomach.

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