I can't make up my mind about novels about writers and writing.
On the one hand, it seems a bit of a copout for a writer to make her (or more often his) main character another writer, a way of sidestepping the fact that a year of waiting tables, colourful or arduous as it might be, has little bearing on the working lives most of her readers, constantly updating their CV's. Who cares about the writing life anyway, except for other writers (although I confess that there seem to be enough of us about to make this a big enough market to target)? Despite, through this blog, I'm buying into the current requirement for self-promotion, and I'm sure Shelley Harris was being modest when she protested she was ordinary, generally I believe we writers are less interesting than what we write.
On the other hand, a work of fiction tells the story of a specific set of characters in specific situation to shine a light on aspects of the human condition common to us all. So if a writer manages to write about writing in a way that helps us understand ordinary creativity, I'm all for it. Just because I can't think of any right now that fit that category doesn't mean they don't exist, it's probably easier to achieve this the way some novelists have done by exploring a different kind of creativity, such as music composition or painting. Even so, these are still somewhat esoteric, and I'd love to see the novel about the creativity of the woman at the supermarket checkout.
(Actually, come to think of it, wasn't that Morven Callar?)
I’m also full of admiration for the writer who’s prepared to explore the darker side of creativity, and the way it comes close to madness, such as William Golding in his novel The Spire. Perhaps all our creative urges are located in the murky depths of our unconscious minds and we, like Jocelin, the Dean of the Cathedral determined to build a 400 foot spire with no foundations, can never be sure if our artistic endeavours are merely a delusion.
(Actually, come to think of it, wasn't that Morven Callar?)
I’m also full of admiration for the writer who’s prepared to explore the darker side of creativity, and the way it comes close to madness, such as William Golding in his novel The Spire. Perhaps all our creative urges are located in the murky depths of our unconscious minds and we, like Jocelin, the Dean of the Cathedral determined to build a 400 foot spire with no foundations, can never be sure if our artistic endeavours are merely a delusion.
But the theme itself which William Golding chose is significant: the collapse of his work is always a threat of which the artist is aware. And here Golding describes a particular threat which must be experienced by every artist. Artists are often accused of being narcissistic, which is a great misconception, but the particular kind of omnipotent narcissism represented by Jocelin must be a temptation that they probably have always to struggle with and to overcome.
The Work of Hanna Segal, p216.
This has taken me quite a way from the original trigger for this post: the publication of my short story, Lunch Break. I hardly dare mention it after all the sombre pontificating above, or perhaps the lighter touch will come as a welcome change to the palate, some simple home cooking after fussy restaurant fare.
RSS Feed
