BJ Hoff's GRACE NOTES

Break Time

It will be quiet here for a few days as I take a break to do some research and general "catch-up." 

BJ

Travelogue Description

One of my answers to a question in the recent Q & A entry seems to have prompted another question. A reader wrote to ask me what I meant by my reference to the "travelogue type of description."

Think of a guide who's taking us on a tour. Just for the sake of example, let's say we're visiting a spacious old mansion in the historical district of a city--any city. The guide might offer this: "On your left, you'll see the twenty-four steps leading up to the wide-plank porch. The porch, which incidentally was built by Col. Marston himself with the help of his brother, is temporarily in a state of disrepair, but we can walk across it to catch a view of the western gardens. Just be sure to hold tightly to the bannister. Be careful--it leans a little. First, though, notice the solid oak double doors and the six stained glass windows on either side. The doors were hung by master carpenter Giovanni Antolini, a resident of our city, but the windows were imported from Italy. Mrs. Marston, you may have noticed in your brochure, grew up in Rome. The dominant blue shades in the glass represent a lake, and the gold and crimson reflect the sunset of a summer evening. Lovely, aren't they? The window on the far left is missing, as you can see. Vandalism, I'm afraid. It happens, especially here in the inner city.  Now, then, on your right ..."

That's what I mean by the "travelogue type of description." Overly detailed--even a little fussy--overly precise. And overwritten. Although it might be acceptable for a tour guide, it's not acceptable in fiction. And yet I see it all the time, and I imagine you do, too. It's a kind of "purple prose."

When we  provide description of setting, we need very few details--emphasis on "few"--and we also need to choose carefully what we want the reader to see. Usually one or two highlights will do the job. The reader's imagination will fill in the rest. For example, if the above scene were to appear in a novel, we could offer this much, and any reader would almost surely get the picture:

"The rambling mansion in the heart of downtown had gone to ruin and hovered like a bad-tempered old pirate over Main Street. The sagging doors and a missing window gave the appearance of a negligent shrug and a drunken wink."

Okay, it's not literature, but I'm trying to make a point.

Overwriting, too much description--whether of setting or characters or emotions--can wear on a reader until she begins to feel a kind of heaviness ... or boredom. Conversely, too little description--especially if it's mundane and unrelated to characterization or story--makes for a thin novel. Not thin in page length, but thin in texture and appeal.

So many things we talk about here seem to come back to the word "balance." It applies with this issue, too--but not only balance. Add discernment and choice. We have to choose what we'd most like the reader to see, and then find the words and the images and the rhythm to help her see it. It can be much like walking across a narrow, wobbly bridge: if you misstep too far on either side, you'll lose your balance and take a fall.

Thing is, your reader isn't likely to follow you down.

BJ

   

Q & A

Q.I'm trying to improve on how I write description of characters and settings. Could you please tell me some authors who you believe do description really well?

A. There are many. My preferences run to those authors who don't do the travelogue type of description but use significant details that highlight their characters or settings. Pete Hamill comes to mind, especially in his novel, Snow in August. Pat Conroy, Flannery O'Connor, Susan Howatch, both Emily and Charlotte Bronte, Jodi Picoult, Joyce Carol Oates, Jan Karon, Khaled Hosseini, Alice Hoffman. Too many to name, but these will give you ideas for description done really well. There's also some excellent information about this very subject in a book titled Between the Lines by Jessica Page Morrell. The subtitle is Master the Subtle Elements of Fiction Writing, and you'll find a number of good suggestions and examples on doing just that.

Q.I keep hearing about "epiphanies" in my critique group and at writers conferences. What, exactly, is an epiphany?

A.In relation to fiction, an epiphany usually refers to that moment when a character discovers or comprehends something she hasn't realized before. It's a "defining moment" kind of thing, usually a profound realization that lends to an important change. It can come in the form of an event or another character or information, etc., and can occur in an otherwise ordinary happening. It doesn't have to be a dramatic event, although sometimes it is.

Q.What word processor do you use?

A.Let me preface this with the caveat that a word processor in itself has little or nothing to do with how well you write. It's a tool, nothing more. These days I mostly use Microsoft Word (the Mac version)--only because there is no longer a version of WordPerfect, my all-time favorite word processor, for Mac computers. A situation I deeply lament.

Q.What's a book you'd like to read but can't find?

A.Honesty in Politics for Dummies.

Q.If you could have only one junk food item for the rest of your life, what would it be?

A.Is cheese-and-crackers considered junk food? Couldn't I also add pizza? Please?

BJ

The Believers

You might wonder why I would devote an entire entry to a novel written in 1957 by an author who, although highly acclaimed and respected, is relatively unknown to many contemporary readers. In fact, Janice Holt Giles remained relatively unknown to me as well until a few years ago when I was in the mood for some "regional fiction" that didn't feature stereotypes of Appalachian characters and a lot of deadly dialect.

I had recently read for the second time Harriette Arnow's The Dollmaker and was on the hunt for more in the same genre when I spotted a well-worn copy of a novel on my own shelves that I'd been given by a friend many years before but had never got around to reading. It was titled The Believers, and a few pages into the first chapter I felt the "sunburst" that occasionally ignites inside a reader who knows she's just discovered a new favorite author.

The Believers is a small novel by most standards--the newer edition I purchased a few years ago is 214 pages--but it's huge and rich in story. I've seen it referred to as a novel of Shaker life, but in reality it's more the story of the seventeen-year old Rebecca Fowler who reluctantly follows her husband into a Shaker religious community in Kentucky. While the story does take place in a Shaker settlement, the real story takes place in a woman's heart.

This is the book that, when I read it for the first time, led me on a search for other novels by the same author. To my surprise, I found many. To my even greater surprise (and pleasure), I discovered an author of historical fiction who keenly and authentically managed to capture the color and character of any rural culture she chose to write about in some of the most realistic, honest, and well-written fiction I'd come across in years. Janice Holt Giles has remained a favorite, whose books are always worth another read.

Not long ago I re-read her Piney Ridge Trilogy (The Enduring Hills, Miss Willie, and Tara's Healing) and followed it up by reading The Believers again. It struck me during this cycle that one of the elements that drew me to her body of work is the integrity and simplicity of her fiction. Giles was no stylist, could never be accused of being enamored with her own words or manipulative with her characters' emotions. She made no pretensions of being anything but what she was: a storyteller. I imagine she'd be surprised today to learn the high degree of respect and admiration accorded to her fiction.

I confess that from time to time over the years I've entertained the idea of writing a novel set in a Shaker community. Some of the miscellaneous reading I've done on Shaker life has only sharpened my taste for more, and I've long had the seeds of a story just waiting to be planted. I haven't given up the idea , but unless I come to the point that I think I can write about this community with as much honesty, understanding, and realism as Giles did in The Believers, I wouldn't dare take on such a project. The clarity, the lack of bias, and the insightful observation with which Giles was able to write The Believers--and her development of one of the strongest and most interesting female protagonists in her entire body of work--is nothing less than inspiring, in the truest sense of the word.

I'm also intrigued by the way Giles is able to show the effect of change on people and communities who would appear to be stationary and "unchangeable." It's never more evident than in The Believers.

So--my answer to why I'm writing about a book published half a century ago by a woman whose name is not exactly a household word is all the above, plus a deep love and insatiable hunger for Appalachian fiction and its best writers.

Reason enough.

BJ   

Digging for the Obvious

I never cease to be amused at the need of some to interpret, to find the hidden meanings or the symbolism in a work of fiction. If their search for the veil behind the veil weren't so amusing, it could easily be downright annoying.

As it is, I especially appreciate Flannery O'Connor's dry wit at work when she encountered this tendency, especially among academics who continually insisted on interpreting her work. (Many of O'Connor's letters don't exactly express a high degree of admiration for academics in general.)

In Jill Baumgaertner's book, Flannery O'Connor: A Proper Scaring, the author gives a few classic O'Connor examples of her disapproval of such probing interpretive tactics: "One teacher asked why The Misfit's hat was black and what it meant. She (O'Connor) answered that country men wore black hats and they did it to cover their heads."

You can almost picture the blank looks over that one. 

Here's another, from a letter to an English professor: "The interpretation of your ninety students and three treachers is fantastic and about as far from my intentions as it could get to be .... The meaning of a story should go on expanding for the reader the more he thinks about it, but meaning cannot be captured in an interpretation. If teachers are in the habit of approaching a story as if it were a research problem for which any answer is believable as long as it is not obvious, then I think students will never learn to enjoy fiction. Too much interpretation is certainly worse than too little,and where feeling for a story is absent, theory will not supply it. My tone is not meant to be obnoxious. I am in a state of shock."

From the same book, in regard to another letter written to a professor of English about her story, Greenleaf: ".... As for Mrs. May, I must have named her that because I knew some English teacher would write and ask me why. I think you folks sometime strain the soup too thin."

I confess that with the work of certain authors, I sometimes tend to mull over what a phrase or an event or even a piece of dialogue might mean "behind the veil." A text presents itself that's just too delicious or mysterious or evocative not to ponder it for more than can be seen on the surface. But that's not the way I typically read, nor would I want to.

I've also been asked about "symbolism" in my work, and while some may exist (there is always symbolism among the Irish, don't you know?) I have to admit that it's not my doing. To my knowledge, I've never intentionally tried to inject symbolism or deeper meanings into my fiction--and if I were to try, I'm fairly certain I'd make a royal mess of it. My standard reply is something to the effect of "it's whatever you want it to be, whatever you understand it to be." My preference is simply that readers read my work for story. And my own reading preference (in regard to fiction), is also to read for story. Not to interpret. Not to search for deeper meanings. Not to unearth examples of symbolism. 

This need to interpret, to find different layers of meaning or symbolism in fiction seems to contend that the obvious has no significance, only what is veiled or hidden. There again, I'd point to O'Connor's disdain for the practice. Nothing I've read sums it up any more clearly than this, again from Baumgaertner's book (sections of which I read every two or three years for a number of reasons):   

"Flannery O'Connor's meaning is in her stories because it was in her life. She knew that one can never 'put meaning in.' It is implicit in the characters in a work of fiction as much as in an individual's personal existence."

Which leads me to believe that any deliberate effort on the part of a writer to inject meaning or significance or symbolism is not only futile, but manipulative as well. 

BJ

Potpourri

You may have noticed that I keep politics well away from Grace Notes. That's because I don't like opening a can of worms, don't like bickering, don't like contention--and also because politics just happen to bore me. Rest assured you'll never know who "my candidate" is or whom I plan to vote for. (With the current crop in the running, I'm not so sure "my candidate" won't remain a mystery, even to me.) 

But I am getting a chuckle out of a statement I've been hearing just in the past few days that comes directly from the campaign trail. I've heard this three or four times now from different candidates, so I can only assume it's a trend: "I've found my voice ... " Or "In Iowa, I've found my voice." Or "In New Hampshire, I've found my voice." You get the picture.

What exactly does this this mean--"I've found my voice?" Are you telling me that none of these folks knew their "platform" until they stormed Iowa and New Hampshire? Or is it more that when they realized the polls weren't quite on target, they had to clear their throats and find a new tack? Or--this more likely--with all the glib lines and blather they actually did lose their voices and are just now regaining them for more speechifying. (Heaven help us.)

I'm thinking that what it really means (coming from a politician) is that he's (she's) confused no more, so look out: more pompous speeches and attack ads to come.

-----

I am so happy (almost giddy) to have completed the very hefty set of galleys for my upcoming April release, Song of Erin. I'm sure I've told you about this one: it's a re-release of my novel, Cloth of Heaven and its sequel, Ashes and Lace. You can see the cover on the sidebar (a particularly lovely cover, I happen to think). It's a peculiar feeling, in a way, to re-read a book you wrote a few years ago. You actually find places you've almost forgotten about--you get this feeling of "I wrote that?"

With this particular galley, I was reassured to find that what I thought was a favorite among some of my own books still is. You know, authors are often asked who our favorite characters are, and we just as often reply--"the ones I'm working with right now." That's almost always a true statement, and yet I think we also have a few characters in the past who will forever hold a special place in our hearts. That's so true of Jack Kane, Gabriel Vaughan, Samantha Harte, and some of the others from Song of Erin.

I'll be interested in hearing from you when you read this one to see if you can figure out why these folks are so special to me. If you nail the right answer, you'll win a free copy of your choice of any of my books. (Yes--there is a "right" answer.)

-----

Oh--for the two of you who asked: yes, we finally took the decorations down. "Back to normal" again.

Humbug.

BJ

Is it Kindle AND paper books--or Kindle OR paper books?

My Christmas stocking was stuffed with books this year, just like every year. Actually, we're a book-giving family--all of us like to receive books for special occasions--and my daughters say I'll always be easy to buy for ... so long as I never lose my love for books. No worries there.

Among this year's goodies were the companion book to the PBS special by Burns and Ward about World War II; a beautiful new world Atlas (my old one was so worn it was becoming difficult to use); the novel Tipperary by Frank Delaney, who also wrote Ireland; and The Cult of Mac, a funny, quirky, and just plain weird collection of history, anecdotes, and questionable tales about what really makes Mac users tick. Oh, my ... a little scary.

All that and a couple of hundred other books ... just waiting for the "one-click" at amazon.com. A couple of hundred? That's some kind of Christmas stocking, BJ!

Here's the thing: hubby also gave me a Kindle. Now, if you don't know what a Kindle is, come out of that cave and go here to find out.

In the interest of time and space and your concentration level, I won't try to provide you with all the specs and other details about how a Kindle will change your life. If you're really interested, you can go to the same site and learn everything you need to know.

But, briefly: the Kindle is an electronic book reader, similar--but, at least in my opinion--superior to and distinctly different from the Sony PRS. There's been a lot of misunderstanding about it, and hence a bazillion negative and misleading reviews about it on amazon and at other places (the majority of which seem to be coming from folks who have never even touched one).

What it's not: it's not meant to replace paper books. It's an alternative. Depending on your lifestyle, it's a convenience. Again, depending on your lifestyle (including your age and how much you use your eyes), it can make the act of reading easier. It's not a "gadget." It's more than that.

Now I'll admit that I'm a bit of a gadget-head. And I tend to be--for some items--an early adopter. I enjoy trying out new "stuff." That said, though, I don't view the Kindle as just another gadget. It's more. For me, a PDA is a gadget. An iPod is a gadget. Even the iPhone--as much as I like mine--is still a gadget.

The Kindle, however does a few things that a gadget--and a paper book--can't do. It enlarges the font to fit your comfort level. It does a thorough search for words and phrases. Depending on the size of the SD card you install, it can hold hundreds of books--all of which, when downloaded within seconds from amazon.com, are significantly less expensive than paper books. It includes a surprisingly good dictionary, as well as Wikipedia (in which I put little trust). It will deliver your choice of newspapers and magazines first thing every morning at more than reasonable prices. It will even provide you with blogs to read, though why anyone would pay to read a blog that they can read free online is a bit of a puzzle to me. You can listen to music while you read through its little speaker, and you can also listen to audio books. Its wireless capability is paid for by amazon.com--you receive no extra bill for wireless, once you purchase the device. You can even browse the Web, but don't expect the same bells and whistles as on a computer. It also has a keyboard for search use, etc.

You're not limited only to offerings from amazon.com either--you can find and download freebies, especially classics, from other sites, to your heart's content. You can even (though I don't quite get the point of this) have your Word documents converted by amazon.com and downloaded on the Kindle so you can read them at will. There are already thousands of books available for download--last I heard the number was about 95,000 and growing.

Pretty cool, eh? But here's the thing: your reaction to the device depends heavily on your expectations. If you think it's going to replace or be better than paper books, you might want to think long and hard before buying one. And if you don't like the idea of not being able to share your books--loan them to friends, etc.--that's another limitation to consider. After all, if you loan your Kindle, you're going to be loaning out a good sized portion of your library, once you've accumulated several titles.

I was a little surprised about my own response to it. I'm such a die-hard book lover, and have been all my life, that I never thought for a moment that any device could take the place of "real books" for me, so there was no disappointment as I explored its possibilities. I also knew that it would be, at best, a convenience: an alternative to carrying along several books when I'm traveling or just sitting in the car, waiting for something or someone (I really do wish I'd had one of these when I was still a band mom!). I also like the idea of being able to download samples of books before purchasing them, to make sure I really want to buy them. (Another big plus to the device, in my opinion.)

So when I started throwing hints a few weeks before Christmas, I knew what I was doing. Even so, I thought I might take to it more quickly than I have. I have no complaints about the device itself, mind. I like the design, the ease of use, and it works just great. Books are cheaper, and the ability to enlarge the font, especially at the end of the day when my eyes are really tired, is a huge plus. Amazon makes it extremely easy (maybe too easy?) to browse and find what I want quickly, and if I get the urge for some wild reason for a certain book at midnight or after, no problem. I can download it then and there. I love the convenience of sticking it in my purse when I have an appointment (especially one that I know is going to keep me sitting in the waiting room for an hour or more) instead of lugging along a hardback or a couple of magazines. I take full advantage of the sampling feature, and, although I don't travel all that much, I can certainly see the benefit for those who do.

I don't care for the note taking and highlighting features--they're pretty lame, actually. I can probably blame my dislike on years of highlighting in my own reference books, taking notes on my laptop, and printing them out whenever I like. I don't see the Kindle--even with future improvements said to be in the mix--coming up with something I'll use as much or like as well in that regard.

There's also just something ... strange ... about reading a device instead of a book. In most cases, the font is easier on the eyes, and the paper ink technology is great. But--it's not a real book!

Am I sticking with it? Oh, yes. It comes close to meeting whatever expectations I had for it, and I use it enough to appreciate it. It's a--sensible kind of device in many ways. It's convenient. It's a good alternative in a number of areas. I'm just not in love with the thing as much as some of the other users I've heard emoting about it. Nor will I ever be, I'm certain.

Books, I love. Devices, I use.

So thanks to my husband for understanding my appreciation for both. 

BJ

Back to Normal?

Here's my "after-Christmas" entry from last year:

Next Year ...

Hear the silence? That's the sound of After-the-Holidays: Absence of car horns and traffic jams. Company now gone. The blessedly inactive calculator. Children back in school. The end of squawking, dancing Santas at the mall and frantic shoppers vying for position.

Unfortunately, it's also the sound of missing Christmas carols, gone from the airwaves until next year. Silenced silver bells. Fading echoes of church cantatas and carillons and singing children. Sighs and lingering good-byes of loved ones leaving for the airport.

It's over, and life is ... back to normal again. And even though we don't miss the squeezed budgets, the crass commercialism, the desperate retailers hawking their wares, the late nights, the frenzied trips and wearing fatigue, and the noise that seems inescapable--isn't there, deep within, a small part us that feels an emptiness, a yearning for the colors, the music, the smiles of strangers, the good will that somehow thaws the coldest of hearts for a season?

Don't we miss the meaning and the magic of those winter weeks that make the ordinary things shine and set the common things aglow? Don't we, every now and then, at least in secret, wish we had it back so we could capture the best of it to take out and look at when we need to touch the wonder one more time? We'd treasure it more, be more sensitive to its beauty, more reverent in its holiness, more thankful for its gifts--the ones without a price tag.

Next year, we tell ourselves. Next year will be different. We won't rush as much, buy as much, bake as much, eat as much, fret as much. We'll do less and enjoy it more, bask in the priceless things and cherish each passing moment. We'll live the season so thoughtfully, so gratefully, so generously, there will be no feelings of lament, no memories to regret, no sadness when it passes ... only a fullness of joy and a smile of remembrance.

Next year ...

~~~~~

Wishing you a happy, blessed, light-giving, peace-bearing, heart-singing next year.

BJ

-----

Can you tell I was feeling nostalgic when I wrote that one? Well, "next year" is here, and just as I was last year about this time, I'm already missing the season--at least my favorite parts of it.

We haven't "undecorated" yet--I delay this as long as decently possible and as long as I can before the neighbors start shaking their heads as they pass by. Radio stations have already pulled the plug on their Christmas music (and I'll admit I won't miss hearing "Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer" a dozen times a day). Most of the lights on my street have been taken down and packed away. And the "Christmas spirit" that seems to shed more kindness, more thoughtfulness, more "peace and goodwill" among us every year is slowly but surely drifting out with the fog.

Now we're left with tacky campaign tv spots and caucuses and gaudy after-Christmas ads. Some are no doubt relieved that the house is quieter and neater (a little too quiet and neat to suit me), and everyone talks about getting "back to normal" again. Whatever that is. I'm not so sure "normal" is my favorite part of life.

Did you have a white Christmas? Our snow arrived on New Year's Day, quite a lot of it actually, and I'm enjoying every minute of it. Nice of the weather to help me prolong the season and my favorite things ... things such as hot chocolate and lights reflecting on the snow and carols and church bells and rowdy grandsons and watching (for who can count the times?) "The Sound of Music" and "It's a Wonderful Life" and bringing the candy and cookies out of their hiding places and bulging stockings and ... well, you know.

I can almost see the eyes of some of my friends rolling heavenward about now. "There she goes again ... why doesn't she just turn over her calendar and face reality?"

The reality is that I have always loved Christmas. Even those Christmases that were bittersweet or sad for one reason or another. I think it's because the season is that one time of the year that allows us to become children again, to see the world through the unjaded eyes of the young, to make wishes and believe they just might come true, and to know the wonder of days and nights bathed in beauty and light and hope.

So even though I've changed the calendar to 2008, made out a brand new To-Be-Done list, and am deeply enmeshed in "normal"--I'm going to hold onto Christmas-past just as long as I can.

God rest ye and bless ye!

BJ

Hear the silence? That's the sound of After-the-Holidays: Absence of car horns and traffic jams. Company now gone. The blessedly inactive calculator. Children back in school. The end of squawking, dancing Santas at the mall and frantic shoppers vying for position.

Unfortunately, it's also the sound of missing Christmas carols, gone from the airwaves until next year. Silenced silver bells. Fading echoes of church cantatas and carillons and singing children. Sighs and lingering good-byes of loved ones leaving for the airport.

It's over, and life is ... back to normal again. And even though we don't miss the squeezed budgets, the crass commercialism, the desperate retailers hawking their wares, the late nights, the frenzied trips and wearing fatigue, and the noise that seems inescapable--isn't there, deep within, a small part us that feels an emptiness, a yearning for the colors, the music, the smiles of strangers, the good will that somehow thaws the coldest of hearts for a season?

Don't we miss the meaning and the magic of those winter weeks that make the ordinary things shine and set the common things aglow? Don't we, every now and then, at least in secret, wish we had it back so we could capture the best of it to take out and look at when we need to touch the wonder one more time? We'd treasure it more, be more sensitive to its beauty, more reverent in its holiness, more thankful for its gifts--the ones without a price tag.

Next year, we tell ourselves. Next year will be different. We won't rush as much, buy as much, bake as much, eat as much, fret as much. We'll do less and enjoy it more, bask in the priceless things and cherish each passing moment. We'll live the season so thoughtfully, so gratefully, so generously, there will be no feelings of lament, no memories to regret, no sadness when it passes ... only a fullness of joy and a smile of remembrance.

Next year ...

~~~~~

Wishing you a happy, blessed, light-giving, peace-bearing, heart-singing next year.

BJ