One of my favorite devices in writing non-fiction is that of writing auto-biographical elements in the third person. This actually has a name - Illeism - and is a long held mechanism in literature of many sorts. Julius Caesar used the device based on an egoistic assumption of hubris not unlike that used in the present day by Cam Newton, or Floyd Mayweather in sports interviews. Henry Adams used it to distance himself from his own family stories in "The Education of Henry Adams" though he acknowledged its use was in some ways falsely self-deprecating. It gave the appearance of distance while in fact maintaining a deep sense of self.
So it goes.
Showing posts with label Tanzania. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tanzania. Show all posts
Friday, November 29, 2013
Saturday, November 23, 2013
An Excerpt from "The Beast"
This week's blog entry is a taste of what we're talking about here. It is the opening of "The Beast". This was written approximately twenty minutes after the events told within it transpired. It is interesting that I knew kind of where the book would be going - but not in a precise sort of way.
I couldn't obviously control the events upon the bus to make a readable story about a bus ride, but I could not escape my own personal context either. I carried that with me to the bus: my ethos, my experiences, my deep feelings for why I am on this earth, and my voice. Of all my books, this one bears my writer's voice perhaps the best of any - maybe because it is the book that means the most to me.
Chapter One
7:24 am – LaGanga: The Beast is unforgiving. It
moves to its own internal rhythm – at its own pace. It cares not whether those
it claims as its passengers are early, or are late, or are precisely on time.
To The Beast, it simply matters not.
No.
It cares only for its own selfish, belching, rheuming, fuming journey along the
Bara-Bara (main thoroughfare) of the Arusha Road from Usa River to Morogoro,
Tanzania, East Africa.
The
Servant of the Dust stood quietly at the bus station at LaGanga with his young
Tanzanian friend MeHost who had driven him there. Together they patiently
waited. And waited. Tanzanian Time, you know. Meanwhile a long line of
small, local Dalla-Dalla buses – so called because they cost only a ‘Dalla!’
(dollar) – scurried frantically to and fro, spewing forth passengers and chaos
like so many African fire ants.
But
no Beast.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Stream of Consciousness...
Or stream of undisciplined blather...?
That is the question.
When a writer writes a stream of consciousness piece, it can often be a self-indulgent work that meanders back and forth across the landscape of the page, and never really alights anywhere of note. There are notable exceptions of course, "On the Road", ostensibly feels to be written that way, and mostly was, but as crazy of a process as that may have been, it was edited by one of the great minds in literature on the fly and hence is coherent and cohesive.
My intent was to create a work not unlike that in its unity. Written without the strictures of acceptable-restraint, yet hopefully still imminently readable.
My feeling as I sat down to write "The Beast" practically as the events were unfurling, was to let it flow freely, but also to advance it toward a clear and pre-defined end. I knew approximately how many chapters I would be writing ahead of time. I knew certain elements I would incorporate within the anecdotes - the dedication of the Terry Berg School at Ndoombo, the final days of my mother, my first trips to Tanzania, things like that. I didn't know how per se I was going to get there and the bus ride itself helped to define all that.
I knew before I even opened the noteboook on my lap that I would call the book, "The Beast" and that it would be akin to one of those metaphorical short works by William Faulkner ("The Bear"), or Glenway Wescott ("The Pilgrim Hawk") or even Norman Mailer ("Why we are in Vietnam"). I can't remember if I had discovered the twist at the end so much before boarding the bus or not. I think it was only vaguely broiling in the back of my mind at that point and came more fully alive later on as the writing progressed and took shape.
The structure of the book, I knew would be hourly. Not exactly. But close. I tended to write about the events of 7:30 at 8:30ish, but part of the time - namely when The Beast broke down and we were stranded in the middle of nowhere - I was not writing at all, so I had to catch up with those later.
In a way, there were four threads of storylines working at once:
In a few weeks, you'll see for yourselves whether "The Beast" is a rambling mess, or a glimpse at a world in need of compassion. I hope that you find the latter!
That is the question.
When a writer writes a stream of consciousness piece, it can often be a self-indulgent work that meanders back and forth across the landscape of the page, and never really alights anywhere of note. There are notable exceptions of course, "On the Road", ostensibly feels to be written that way, and mostly was, but as crazy of a process as that may have been, it was edited by one of the great minds in literature on the fly and hence is coherent and cohesive.
My intent was to create a work not unlike that in its unity. Written without the strictures of acceptable-restraint, yet hopefully still imminently readable.
 |
| The children of Ndoombo arriving at the The Terry Berg School dedication. |
I knew before I even opened the noteboook on my lap that I would call the book, "The Beast" and that it would be akin to one of those metaphorical short works by William Faulkner ("The Bear"), or Glenway Wescott ("The Pilgrim Hawk") or even Norman Mailer ("Why we are in Vietnam"). I can't remember if I had discovered the twist at the end so much before boarding the bus or not. I think it was only vaguely broiling in the back of my mind at that point and came more fully alive later on as the writing progressed and took shape.
The structure of the book, I knew would be hourly. Not exactly. But close. I tended to write about the events of 7:30 at 8:30ish, but part of the time - namely when The Beast broke down and we were stranded in the middle of nowhere - I was not writing at all, so I had to catch up with those later.
In a way, there were four threads of storylines working at once:
- One thread contained the events happening in almost real-time on the bus,
- Another was a leap back to the prior few days from this present journey to Tanzania,
- Another was a leap further back to prior events - backstory if you will to these two sets of events,
- And the fourth was the metaphorical ethos that began winding its way through the story and leads up to the twist.
In a few weeks, you'll see for yourselves whether "The Beast" is a rambling mess, or a glimpse at a world in need of compassion. I hope that you find the latter!
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Day Four: Building Hope in Africa
Here we are on Day Four of The Missionary and the Brute Blog Tour ready to discuss the other side of Tanzania for me. The good side. For as dark as the novel is, the work I do building preschools in Tanzania is equally as light. Join me today on my friend Raychelle Muhammad's great author interview site as I discuss my passion for education in Africa.
As you'll probably remember, Raychelle interviewed me a while back and I am more than happy to bring people back to her realm. While there - read some of her many wonderful interviews and get to know this wonderfully impassioned author.
Today:
"Educating Tanzania"
Complete Schedule:
Wednesday February 29th
"Interview with John Kenworthy"
Thursday March 1st
"Mrs. Starr's EZ Peasy Spinach Surprise"
Friday March 2nd
Saturday March 3rd
"Educating Tanzania"
Sunday March 4th
"Kenworthy interviews Author Raychelle Muhammad" at http://www.raychelle-writes.blogspot.com/
Monday March 5th
"Kenworthy interviews the Missionary Jadwin Ross" at http://www.catherinenoble.com/
Tuesday March 6th
"Interview with John Kenworthy"
Wednesday March 7th
"Eroticism in The Missionary and the Brute"
Thursday March 8th
"Raven's Reviews"
Friday March 9th
"How to get a bad review without slitting your wrists"
Saturday March 10th
"Free Excerpt from The Missionary and the Brute"
Sunday March 11th
"Travel Tips with Jadwin Ross"
Monday March 12th
"Video Excerpt"
Tuesday March 13th
"Interview with John Kenworthy"
Enjoy!!!
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Roman a Clef and the Brute
"Newton, Iowa it was..."
I love that. It's my favorite line from "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac by far and for reason. I love it because Newton, Iowa - don't you know - is my hometown. I was born there and grew up there. I spent a couple of decades of my existence in that small midwestern industrial community and felt it was an absolutely lovely place in which to be born and raised.
Newton born; Newton bred; when we die, we'll be Newton dead.
 |
| Newton, Iowa it was... |
Newton born; Newton bred; when we die, we'll be Newton dead.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
The Fiddler on the Hut
There is a certain device that some writers have used wherein they populate an otherwise natural story with a character so unique as to be wholly unreal. The classic case of this is the title character of "The Fiddler on the Roof". The Fiddler plays a very real role as being one of Tevya's village-mates, but yet has a more important role as an otherworldly symbol as well. It is almost as if the Fiddler is the very conscience of the play. What he plays upon his violin, is the pure ethereal thread of hope and light that sustains. Even though it is not a speaking part, it is an essential role - one that is part mime, part soundtrack, part Greek Chorus, and every bit amazing as a unifying element.
There are similar character elements throughout literature - from the Fiddler to Beatrice in Dante's "Il Purgatorio" to Jiminy Cricket.
There are similar character elements throughout literature - from the Fiddler to Beatrice in Dante's "Il Purgatorio" to Jiminy Cricket.
Friday, December 2, 2011
MIS- oh, wait, what's that moving over there? - DIRECTION...
Misdirection is key to "The Missionary and the Brute". I had the idea from the very start that nothing would be as it seemed. I wanted to disorient and slightly confuse the reader at times as to place and time and I wanted to lead them astray with every step.
There are a couple of reasons for this. Foremost is that it's darned fun to do. I especially work this at transitional scenes. I will pose a hypothetical question at the end of a chapter and sometimes literally answer it in the beginning of the next. Only it may or may not be the real answer - it may just seem that way. Like the time when I tell you that the killer is actually...
There are a couple of reasons for this. Foremost is that it's darned fun to do. I especially work this at transitional scenes. I will pose a hypothetical question at the end of a chapter and sometimes literally answer it in the beginning of the next. Only it may or may not be the real answer - it may just seem that way. Like the time when I tell you that the killer is actually...
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
The Decision to Self-publish
For most of my life - I have been a writer. For some of that life I actually got paid for it.
But it was always in me - it has always been a way I have defined myself to myself. It makes sense to who I am. The ultimate dream for me has always been, and I think shall always remain, to write for a living.
That is danged difficult though.
My first book, "The Hand Behind the Mouse" was a 'successful' book by most qualifications. I got paid a nice advance, it sold a fair (if not huge) amount of copies, it got mostly favorable critical reviews (minus a couple of fellow animation historians with their own competitive and contrary books to sell) and it even won a pithy award (voted on by animation professionals and beating out one of my heroes - the legendary John Canemaker for that wonderful honor). But it was certainly not successful enough in any of those realms to make it a full-time gig.
But it was always in me - it has always been a way I have defined myself to myself. It makes sense to who I am. The ultimate dream for me has always been, and I think shall always remain, to write for a living.
That is danged difficult though.
My first book, "The Hand Behind the Mouse" was a 'successful' book by most qualifications. I got paid a nice advance, it sold a fair (if not huge) amount of copies, it got mostly favorable critical reviews (minus a couple of fellow animation historians with their own competitive and contrary books to sell) and it even won a pithy award (voted on by animation professionals and beating out one of my heroes - the legendary John Canemaker for that wonderful honor). But it was certainly not successful enough in any of those realms to make it a full-time gig.
Monday, November 28, 2011
It's Cyber Monday...
...and do you know where your copy of "The Missionary and the Brute" is?
I do.
It's right here ready for purchase at the eStore on this blog!
Special Cyber Monday Deal for Today only! - for every book ordered here, $2 goes to Brick by Brick for Tanzania!, Inc. to build preschools in Tanzania. (Normally $1 for every book sold goes to Brick by Brick.)
Or you can find it at Amazon.com as well. Cyber Monday would be a great day to place an order for the chilling new adult literary novel that has been referred to as "The Silence of the Lambs goes to Africa".
Get yours now!
I do.
It's right here ready for purchase at the eStore on this blog!
Special Cyber Monday Deal for Today only! - for every book ordered here, $2 goes to Brick by Brick for Tanzania!, Inc. to build preschools in Tanzania. (Normally $1 for every book sold goes to Brick by Brick.)
Or you can find it at Amazon.com as well. Cyber Monday would be a great day to place an order for the chilling new adult literary novel that has been referred to as "The Silence of the Lambs goes to Africa".
Get yours now!
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Special treat - a short story set in Kintori...
What follows is a short story written using the same Kintori setting that is used throughout "The Missionary and the Brute". You might recognize the name Vandover from my previous discussions of Frank Norris and his influence on my work. Sharp-sighted readers will also pick up on one character who also appears in my novel... I have slowly come to realize that like Keruoac with Duluoz - I have a singular saga within my creative reach. In the upcoming years, there will be other novels featuring the Ross family - and a few odd compilations of short stories and peripheral matter as well... Enjoy!
The Tanzanian Fortune Cup
By John D. Kenworthy
In the northeastern Tanzanian village of Kintori the pathways sprawled forth in all directions. Like most roads in east Africa, these were single-lane, red-dirt abominations that bore no shoulders and were pockmarked with ugly, meter-deep potholes that scarred the surface like mortal sin upon the blighted soul of humanity itself.
Jansen Vandover struggled to keep up with the ancient man he was following through the dusty labyrinth of these connections - footpaths, trails, and what passed to be otherwise navigable streets of the village. They were walking to the old man's home on the western outskirts of Kintori where Vandover would have his fortune read - to be told of a fate that he desperately longed to know.
“Mzee,” Vandover called, using the traditional Swahili name for any elder, “Polé, Mzee, slow down please. I cannot keep up.”
Without turning, the old man slowed his pace just enough to allow Vandover to catch up, breathless.
“Thank you.” The American said gratefully. “Is it much further?”
The Mzee nodded silently, forming his thoughts in English carefully. “We are almost. The hill. The river. Then we are to there. Not much more, Bwana.”
The Tanzanian Fortune Cup
By John D. Kenworthy
In the northeastern Tanzanian village of Kintori the pathways sprawled forth in all directions. Like most roads in east Africa, these were single-lane, red-dirt abominations that bore no shoulders and were pockmarked with ugly, meter-deep potholes that scarred the surface like mortal sin upon the blighted soul of humanity itself.
Jansen Vandover struggled to keep up with the ancient man he was following through the dusty labyrinth of these connections - footpaths, trails, and what passed to be otherwise navigable streets of the village. They were walking to the old man's home on the western outskirts of Kintori where Vandover would have his fortune read - to be told of a fate that he desperately longed to know.
“Mzee,” Vandover called, using the traditional Swahili name for any elder, “Polé, Mzee, slow down please. I cannot keep up.”
Without turning, the old man slowed his pace just enough to allow Vandover to catch up, breathless.
“Thank you.” The American said gratefully. “Is it much further?”
The Mzee nodded silently, forming his thoughts in English carefully. “We are almost. The hill. The river. Then we are to there. Not much more, Bwana.”
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Setting the table...
I have read that the setting of a novel is metaphorically akin to a table - it is the firm foundation upon which everything else - the theme, the plot, the characters - are arranged for our ready consumption. Without that foundation, the spoons tumble asunder, the peas spill to the floor and the candlesticks have no base upon which to share their glorious light.
In some books however, the setting plays more than a predetermined structural role, and in "The Missionary and the Brute" this is indeed the case. Tanzania is definitely the structure which supports and allows the characters to interact as they do, but more than that, it almost becomes as a character unto itself. Reflecting shades of plot and theme in myriad ways.
I unabashedly adore Tanzania. The people, the landscape, the culture - they all add so much beauty and color to my life. But for all that is beautiful in this wondrous land, there is also an undercurrent of danger and indeed death that is constantly surprising to these American eyes. When I return from my trips to Africa, lots of people view my slides and express a desire to travel there as well, and I appreciate that. Unfortunately, unless you have been truly been there, there is practically no way aside from the lyricism of creative art to express the deep complexities of this seemingly simple locale.
For my novel, I have created the mythical village of Kintori upon which to lift up just such a story. It is based on places I have been and sights I have witnessed, and it tries to capture the essence of village life in rural Tanzania. Kintori is my MiddleEarth, my Perelandia. It is not real. Yet, in a way, it is hyper-real as well. There is much that is familiar to anyone who has traveled thus, or so I do hope. I have embellished this setting with the dogs, the plant life and the people - the sights, sounds and smells - that are known to me as I travel there. I have tried to assure that the customs and cultural aspects of Tanzanian life are evident in my little Kintori just as they are in the very real places to which I traverse.
In a way, "The Missionary and the Brute" can be seen as an epic clash of cultures that is based at least partially on this magnificent setting. It is probably important that I tell you that I have never witnessed with my own eyes serial killers in Africa, nor most of the events that transpire herein the novel - all of those have sprung forth from a fertile imagination reared on David Lynch films and Chuck Palahniuk novels in equal accord.
But truthfully when I am in country, even though I am typically sheltered fairly well away from the tragedies and travesties that befall the Tanzanian people, (any people) - I yet hear the muffled rumblings and stumble upon muted stories of a darker side. People are people despite their bucolic locale and death and brutality exist in Tanzania as they do elsewhere in the world. I certainly don't want to give the impression that is an us versus them tale, because I know there is certainly enough evil in this world to go around. No one people or place hold the monopoly on that.
Thankfully, there is - in my view of the world - even more light and goodness to go around as well. And that is the hope that we all bring to this and any land - regardless of the setting.
In some books however, the setting plays more than a predetermined structural role, and in "The Missionary and the Brute" this is indeed the case. Tanzania is definitely the structure which supports and allows the characters to interact as they do, but more than that, it almost becomes as a character unto itself. Reflecting shades of plot and theme in myriad ways.
I unabashedly adore Tanzania. The people, the landscape, the culture - they all add so much beauty and color to my life. But for all that is beautiful in this wondrous land, there is also an undercurrent of danger and indeed death that is constantly surprising to these American eyes. When I return from my trips to Africa, lots of people view my slides and express a desire to travel there as well, and I appreciate that. Unfortunately, unless you have been truly been there, there is practically no way aside from the lyricism of creative art to express the deep complexities of this seemingly simple locale.
For my novel, I have created the mythical village of Kintori upon which to lift up just such a story. It is based on places I have been and sights I have witnessed, and it tries to capture the essence of village life in rural Tanzania. Kintori is my MiddleEarth, my Perelandia. It is not real. Yet, in a way, it is hyper-real as well. There is much that is familiar to anyone who has traveled thus, or so I do hope. I have embellished this setting with the dogs, the plant life and the people - the sights, sounds and smells - that are known to me as I travel there. I have tried to assure that the customs and cultural aspects of Tanzanian life are evident in my little Kintori just as they are in the very real places to which I traverse.
In a way, "The Missionary and the Brute" can be seen as an epic clash of cultures that is based at least partially on this magnificent setting. It is probably important that I tell you that I have never witnessed with my own eyes serial killers in Africa, nor most of the events that transpire herein the novel - all of those have sprung forth from a fertile imagination reared on David Lynch films and Chuck Palahniuk novels in equal accord.
But truthfully when I am in country, even though I am typically sheltered fairly well away from the tragedies and travesties that befall the Tanzanian people, (any people) - I yet hear the muffled rumblings and stumble upon muted stories of a darker side. People are people despite their bucolic locale and death and brutality exist in Tanzania as they do elsewhere in the world. I certainly don't want to give the impression that is an us versus them tale, because I know there is certainly enough evil in this world to go around. No one people or place hold the monopoly on that.
Thankfully, there is - in my view of the world - even more light and goodness to go around as well. And that is the hope that we all bring to this and any land - regardless of the setting.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
To whet the appetite...
To give an impression of the tone and timbre of the story, I am excerpting a part of the story here for your early perusal. To set up what follows - The Missionary, Jadwin Ross, is walking up the mountainside of Kintori with a group of American tourists. Lead by their Tanzanian guide, Daud, they traverse one of those beautifully winding paths that I love so much from my own journeys to Africa. I won't spoil too much of what has come before or after - but this can kind of stand alone as a teaser for the mystery and majesty of the story...
Chapter 21
What a glorious morning! The sun was up. The view was delightful. The fellowship was grand and jolly. Day two in Tanzania began absolutely beautifully!
As their mission project in Tanzania, the Americans – at Ross’s urging – had chosen to build a modest preschool building a few short kilometers from the Guest House up the foothills of the mountain. As they walked together to the worksite, the Missionary swelled to think of the generosity of the Americans generosity. Truly it was a beautiful thing indeed.
The trail was fairly remarkable also. Awesome! Instead of turning from the Guest House to the main dirt road on which Daud had lead them to church – and hence through all the village streets – they went via the shortcut path. The path was dirt upon dirt and covered with matted down, trampled leaves. It skirted around the village itself and rose quickly enough to isolate and make the visitors feel remote and adventuresome. At various places the path forked into differing directions. One leading to the evangelist trail of the day previous another to the church and primary school, yet another tracing the path to the building project for the new preschool up in the foothills.
Any way you took it, it was a path of peace and was absolutely gorgeous. Especially now. Mostly uninhabited – save for a few farmers knee deep in their shambas picking carrots, or tending to cows staked along the lonesome path, it was a place where travelers could seek solitude and reflection before they returned to civilization – such as it was – and the pushing, noisome tumult of the friendly and enthusiastic Tanzanian people of the village.
For the most part, the Americans traveled the trail without words. Many were still a bit tired from the day before. Davison and Mrs. Starr walked with Daud near the front and were excitedly telling of what they had seen at the Tanzanite mines. Next came the married Johnsons and then Leah and Raven and then the Missionary.
Ross was in particularly fine spirits. He felt amazingly alive and renewed. Filled with excitement and the passions of youth. It was as if the entire world had changed over night. Everything was suddenly vibrant and energized. Pure. Bright.
Lovely.
Chapter 21
What a glorious morning! The sun was up. The view was delightful. The fellowship was grand and jolly. Day two in Tanzania began absolutely beautifully!
As their mission project in Tanzania, the Americans – at Ross’s urging – had chosen to build a modest preschool building a few short kilometers from the Guest House up the foothills of the mountain. As they walked together to the worksite, the Missionary swelled to think of the generosity of the Americans generosity. Truly it was a beautiful thing indeed.
The trail was fairly remarkable also. Awesome! Instead of turning from the Guest House to the main dirt road on which Daud had lead them to church – and hence through all the village streets – they went via the shortcut path. The path was dirt upon dirt and covered with matted down, trampled leaves. It skirted around the village itself and rose quickly enough to isolate and make the visitors feel remote and adventuresome. At various places the path forked into differing directions. One leading to the evangelist trail of the day previous another to the church and primary school, yet another tracing the path to the building project for the new preschool up in the foothills.
Any way you took it, it was a path of peace and was absolutely gorgeous. Especially now. Mostly uninhabited – save for a few farmers knee deep in their shambas picking carrots, or tending to cows staked along the lonesome path, it was a place where travelers could seek solitude and reflection before they returned to civilization – such as it was – and the pushing, noisome tumult of the friendly and enthusiastic Tanzanian people of the village.
For the most part, the Americans traveled the trail without words. Many were still a bit tired from the day before. Davison and Mrs. Starr walked with Daud near the front and were excitedly telling of what they had seen at the Tanzanite mines. Next came the married Johnsons and then Leah and Raven and then the Missionary.
Ross was in particularly fine spirits. He felt amazingly alive and renewed. Filled with excitement and the passions of youth. It was as if the entire world had changed over night. Everything was suddenly vibrant and energized. Pure. Bright.
Lovely.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Frank Norris and the Brute (part two)
In part one of my posting about Frank Norris, we looked at his masterwork, "McTeague". In this post, we shall lift up "Vandover and the Brute" an obvious inspiration behind my first novel, "The Missionary and the Brute".
In the last of Norris' novels (published posthumously), he revisits the idea of the duality of humankind. How we are often faced with conflicting impulses within ourselves. In many ways, this feels like an assured, and vastly different retelling of the classic Robert Louis Stevenson opus, "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde". Unlike that work however, there is no John Utterson to represent us - the gentle reader - with a sense of normalcy and we are left with an unreliable, almost unlikeable protagonist, Vandover.
Surprisingly, it works.
We are expected to be disgusted and horrified by his actions - and we most certainly are.
The title character is a recent Harvard grad who despite his economic class travels the dark streets of San Francisco with two friends. They are slumming in the absolute worst way - partaking of drink and drugs and women of every ilk in the very worst parts of town. They have a sense of extreme entitlement that comes with genetic-determined class and easy money. But they squander it all away incrementally upon their descent. Vandover moreso than the others, gives in freely to the wolf that he sees within himself. His actions are execrable and his degeneration so extreme, that it is only at the very end that Norris gives us a literal bread-crumb of hope.
In "The Missionary and the Brute" we look at a similar human duality as it impacts our characters' choices. It would not be incorrect to refer to Jadwin Ross as being akin to Vandover in his actions - though not perhaps in the way you may be thinking. It is not a spoiler to tell you that pretty much any assumption you make from reading the book's marketing blurb - or even from your early readings of the chapters of the book - may be entirely incorrect.
Or not.
It's hard to say. I just know I worked very hard to keep the elements of the story flowing with surprises happening on every level. If you take nothing for granted and trust not the narrative point of view, you should be fine. For me, there is nothing more reliably interesting in fiction than an unreliable narrator.
That being said, there is certainly an element of the wolf at play within "The Missionary and the Brute". Dramatically and significantly so. Ahem, there is that figure of the lion on the cover, you know. But - as has been so appropriately stated by others, I run before my horse to market...
In the last of Norris' novels (published posthumously), he revisits the idea of the duality of humankind. How we are often faced with conflicting impulses within ourselves. In many ways, this feels like an assured, and vastly different retelling of the classic Robert Louis Stevenson opus, "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde". Unlike that work however, there is no John Utterson to represent us - the gentle reader - with a sense of normalcy and we are left with an unreliable, almost unlikeable protagonist, Vandover.
Surprisingly, it works.
We are expected to be disgusted and horrified by his actions - and we most certainly are.
The title character is a recent Harvard grad who despite his economic class travels the dark streets of San Francisco with two friends. They are slumming in the absolute worst way - partaking of drink and drugs and women of every ilk in the very worst parts of town. They have a sense of extreme entitlement that comes with genetic-determined class and easy money. But they squander it all away incrementally upon their descent. Vandover moreso than the others, gives in freely to the wolf that he sees within himself. His actions are execrable and his degeneration so extreme, that it is only at the very end that Norris gives us a literal bread-crumb of hope.
In "The Missionary and the Brute" we look at a similar human duality as it impacts our characters' choices. It would not be incorrect to refer to Jadwin Ross as being akin to Vandover in his actions - though not perhaps in the way you may be thinking. It is not a spoiler to tell you that pretty much any assumption you make from reading the book's marketing blurb - or even from your early readings of the chapters of the book - may be entirely incorrect.
Or not.
It's hard to say. I just know I worked very hard to keep the elements of the story flowing with surprises happening on every level. If you take nothing for granted and trust not the narrative point of view, you should be fine. For me, there is nothing more reliably interesting in fiction than an unreliable narrator.
That being said, there is certainly an element of the wolf at play within "The Missionary and the Brute". Dramatically and significantly so. Ahem, there is that figure of the lion on the cover, you know. But - as has been so appropriately stated by others, I run before my horse to market...
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Frank Norris and the Brute (Part one)
In a previous post, I wrote briefly about the importance of Frank Norris' writings on my work. Today I'm going to expound on that a bit.
I have to admit to coming to Norris late in my reading life. Prior to coming fully on board and becoming immersed in his work, I had resisted every futile attempt to encounter his work. Part of the problem was that I picked up a copy of "The Octopus" early on and had a devil of a time getting past the first few long-descriptive, small, dense-printed pages. I gave a few grudging attempts at forging through and actually borrowed it from the library twice and returned it having only read the first part of the first chapter.
I wanted to like it. But couldn't make it.
The subject - the effect of the railroad on wheat farmers in California definitely appealed to me in sort of a John Steinbeck/Upton Sinclair way. I was hoping for a "Oil!" type manuscript or maybe "In Dubious Battle". What I got instead was a description of a place. Or so I thought. Oh, had I but soldiered on...
What turned the tide for me was reading "McTeague" first. I picked up one of those lovely Norton Critical Editions that has lots of peripheral reading material in the back related to the subject (sort of like a pre-blog blog...) Unlike my previous Norris foray, "McTeague" engaged me from the start. "McTeague" is one of those disturbing novels from the early 20th Century that features non-idealized characters and characterizations. McTeague was not a warm and lovely protagonist - far from it. He did not live in a world we aspire to join. Instead, he was deeply flawed and presented warts and all as a sort of observation. It was not quite realism as it had a lot of overtly symbolic scenes within it, but it inhabited a natural world that was indeed real - if unwelcome.
And the characters evolved or devolved. None stayed the same. Each changed - usually for the worse - in front of our very eyes. Hauntingly so.
Through the novel, we watch as Mac (McTeague) slowly degenerates into a paranoid, quarrelsome brute of a man wholly unable to control his own violent impulses. The transformation is believable and heart wrenching in equal measure. He slowly loses his grip on all that he once adored - eventually allowing his whiskey-fueled anger to step in the way of his friendships, his business, his stature, his marriage and ultimately his life. As Mac plummets down an abyss of his own making toward a baser, more animalistic, survivalist self, we watch a similar transformative path taken by his wife Trina in a different way. Slowly she loses touch with reality as she knew it and falls prey to an absurd obsession with the gold coins she has secretly hidden from her husband. At one point, she spreads them over her bed and rolls amongst them in a scene of abhorrent sensual greed. Symbolic? - yep. Disturbing? - of course. Visually dramatic and mesmerizingly memorable? - absolutely!
For me, the sheer concept of McTeague succumbing to his innate animal instinct (an idea that Norris embellished with thoughts based on early criminologist Cesare Lombroso's work) was so intense that it immediately drew me to Norris' other works.
Quickly I collected all of his novels and discovered that had I but read a few pages further in "The Octopus" I would have discovered what I now consider to be one of my favorite novels of all time. While "The Octopus", and "The Pit" were two parts of a planned trilogy about the growing, sales and distribution of wheat - and have informed a future novel I am writing called "The Straw Man" - it is "McTeague" and another of Norris' novels that have most directly influenced the subject and subtext of "The Missionary and the Brute".
In part two of this posting, we shall look at "Vandover and the Brute"...
I have to admit to coming to Norris late in my reading life. Prior to coming fully on board and becoming immersed in his work, I had resisted every futile attempt to encounter his work. Part of the problem was that I picked up a copy of "The Octopus" early on and had a devil of a time getting past the first few long-descriptive, small, dense-printed pages. I gave a few grudging attempts at forging through and actually borrowed it from the library twice and returned it having only read the first part of the first chapter.
I wanted to like it. But couldn't make it.
The subject - the effect of the railroad on wheat farmers in California definitely appealed to me in sort of a John Steinbeck/Upton Sinclair way. I was hoping for a "Oil!" type manuscript or maybe "In Dubious Battle". What I got instead was a description of a place. Or so I thought. Oh, had I but soldiered on...
And the characters evolved or devolved. None stayed the same. Each changed - usually for the worse - in front of our very eyes. Hauntingly so.
Through the novel, we watch as Mac (McTeague) slowly degenerates into a paranoid, quarrelsome brute of a man wholly unable to control his own violent impulses. The transformation is believable and heart wrenching in equal measure. He slowly loses his grip on all that he once adored - eventually allowing his whiskey-fueled anger to step in the way of his friendships, his business, his stature, his marriage and ultimately his life. As Mac plummets down an abyss of his own making toward a baser, more animalistic, survivalist self, we watch a similar transformative path taken by his wife Trina in a different way. Slowly she loses touch with reality as she knew it and falls prey to an absurd obsession with the gold coins she has secretly hidden from her husband. At one point, she spreads them over her bed and rolls amongst them in a scene of abhorrent sensual greed. Symbolic? - yep. Disturbing? - of course. Visually dramatic and mesmerizingly memorable? - absolutely!
For me, the sheer concept of McTeague succumbing to his innate animal instinct (an idea that Norris embellished with thoughts based on early criminologist Cesare Lombroso's work) was so intense that it immediately drew me to Norris' other works.
Quickly I collected all of his novels and discovered that had I but read a few pages further in "The Octopus" I would have discovered what I now consider to be one of my favorite novels of all time. While "The Octopus", and "The Pit" were two parts of a planned trilogy about the growing, sales and distribution of wheat - and have informed a future novel I am writing called "The Straw Man" - it is "McTeague" and another of Norris' novels that have most directly influenced the subject and subtext of "The Missionary and the Brute".
In part two of this posting, we shall look at "Vandover and the Brute"...
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
What's in a name?
So, what's in a name? Quite a lot actually. Choosing a title for a book is a tricky business. It should theoretically entice the prospective reader into opening the book while not giving away too much or too little of the context of the novel at hand. With "The Missionary and the Brute" I carefully considered various options before settling in on this one.
The other serious contender for title was initially "African Psycho", which seemed to accurately underscore the serial killer aspect of the tale while placing it in the appropriate locale. Ultimately I decided against this option because it seemed a bit sensational and misleading perhaps. Not that "The Missionary and the Brute" isn't sensational in its way too. It is. But that's not the point of it - it's subtext is more complicated and philosophical than that.
It also was too closely attuned to Bret Easton Ellis' "American Psycho" for comfort. Not that this connection is not apropos. It is as well. I consider "American Psycho" to be one of the great American novels for a variety of reasons - and will compare and contrast similarities and differences between Ellis' novel and mine at some later point in this blog. It is definitely one of the conceptual godfathers of my work and I am unabashedly a fan.
But I wanted something more ambiguous and yet apt. I took as my guiding light a different authorial godfather - Frank Norris. Most folks frankly haven't given Norris his due in my opinion. His work is disarmingly complex, and yet accessible. He has a well-honed philosophical bent that plays directly to what I am attempting in this work.
"McTeague" is considered his masterwork, and for me I would tend to agree although I truly love all of his fiction with equal ardor. "The Octopus" and "The Pit" are my two favorites. And of course, "Vandover and the Brute" has informed my mindset and my work greatly. In "McTeague" (which was turned into the classic silent film, "Greed" by Eric von Stroheim), the titular character struggles with competing forces within himself. Perhaps it can be simplified to the civilized self and the animal self, but that is merely a structure.
That too, is the underlying premise behind my work. In my telling - we have characters who hear the still, small voice of their conscience and those who hear a much different bestial voice. Those voices can be summarized blithely as being those of a missionary and those of a brute. In Norris' "Vandover and the Brute", the brute is that part of Vandover which can not control its animal impulses - its sexuality, its self-preservation and raw instinct. In concept, it is a masterful philosophical MMA event that is not unlike Freudian battles betwixt ego, superego and id. The brute is the unrelenting id. The missionary is the superego.
Of course, it may also be a double entendre in my case. There may indeed be two separate characters - one a missionary and one a brute who engage a danse macabre - a pas de deux of sorts that plays out in front of our wondering eyes. Perhaps.
But before we get too close to solving crimes and revealing too much - let me close by saying that for me, the title "The Missionary and the Brute" is all of those things as well as a not so subtle homage to Norris himself. I tend to toss in sly (and not so sly) literary allusions along as I am writing - and am more than happy to lift up the work of an under appreciated giant of the literary world.
The other serious contender for title was initially "African Psycho", which seemed to accurately underscore the serial killer aspect of the tale while placing it in the appropriate locale. Ultimately I decided against this option because it seemed a bit sensational and misleading perhaps. Not that "The Missionary and the Brute" isn't sensational in its way too. It is. But that's not the point of it - it's subtext is more complicated and philosophical than that.
It also was too closely attuned to Bret Easton Ellis' "American Psycho" for comfort. Not that this connection is not apropos. It is as well. I consider "American Psycho" to be one of the great American novels for a variety of reasons - and will compare and contrast similarities and differences between Ellis' novel and mine at some later point in this blog. It is definitely one of the conceptual godfathers of my work and I am unabashedly a fan.
But I wanted something more ambiguous and yet apt. I took as my guiding light a different authorial godfather - Frank Norris. Most folks frankly haven't given Norris his due in my opinion. His work is disarmingly complex, and yet accessible. He has a well-honed philosophical bent that plays directly to what I am attempting in this work.
"McTeague" is considered his masterwork, and for me I would tend to agree although I truly love all of his fiction with equal ardor. "The Octopus" and "The Pit" are my two favorites. And of course, "Vandover and the Brute" has informed my mindset and my work greatly. In "McTeague" (which was turned into the classic silent film, "Greed" by Eric von Stroheim), the titular character struggles with competing forces within himself. Perhaps it can be simplified to the civilized self and the animal self, but that is merely a structure.
That too, is the underlying premise behind my work. In my telling - we have characters who hear the still, small voice of their conscience and those who hear a much different bestial voice. Those voices can be summarized blithely as being those of a missionary and those of a brute. In Norris' "Vandover and the Brute", the brute is that part of Vandover which can not control its animal impulses - its sexuality, its self-preservation and raw instinct. In concept, it is a masterful philosophical MMA event that is not unlike Freudian battles betwixt ego, superego and id. The brute is the unrelenting id. The missionary is the superego.
Of course, it may also be a double entendre in my case. There may indeed be two separate characters - one a missionary and one a brute who engage a danse macabre - a pas de deux of sorts that plays out in front of our wondering eyes. Perhaps.
But before we get too close to solving crimes and revealing too much - let me close by saying that for me, the title "The Missionary and the Brute" is all of those things as well as a not so subtle homage to Norris himself. I tend to toss in sly (and not so sly) literary allusions along as I am writing - and am more than happy to lift up the work of an under appreciated giant of the literary world.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Judging a book...
There is indeed a significant lion in the book - and it plays a pivotal role at a very key moment. Perhaps it is more in a symbolic than integrally active way, but it is pivotal nonetheless. And a horrifying chapter to write from my perspective.
In any event, I like the formality of the cover - and how it can easily become the first of a visually similar series of books (changing the colors as we progress), which is precisely my thought.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Welcome!
Saturday morning, 8:17 am
I just finished uploading my novel "The Missionary and the Brute" to CreateSpace's FTP server. In a few days I will receive a proof to view and a few days after that, it will be available for purchase on Amazon.com and other retailers, maybe even in a few bookstores hither and yon. I traditionally have recoiled against self-publishing, because in the context of my past experiences it implied something quite different, something more desperate than what it has evolved into.
This has truly been an interesting process for me, both in the writing and the ego-levelling realization that this book would by its very nature have to go market in a different way than did my previous work. I was truly blessed to have circumstances fall in place so effortlessly for my first two books and all the little films I worked on.
For "The Hand Behind the Mouse: an intimate biography of Ub Iwerks" (Disney Editions, 2001), Roy Disney himself was behind our project from the start (thanks to Leslie Iwerks' connections there) so we didn't have the whole sales process with which to contend. Prior to joining up with Leslie, I was looking at publishing through a South Dakota University Press - which actually would have been fine too.
Plus, the incredibly generous Leonard Maltin - a nicer human being you will never meet - was an early supporter, so we had that going for us.
"Bungee Jumping & Cocoons" was essentially a work for hire - and perhaps the easiest writing/editing/publishing process I have thus encountered. A simple book perhaps and fun, but I knew that my passions ultimately would take me somewhere else - to fiction.
I have a lot of stories a-simmering inside of me that can only be told in fiction form. I am excited to share the dark, complicated, disturbing tale that is "The Missionary and the Brute" with you and to hear what you think of it. It is certainly not for everyone - it is an adult transgressive tale with graphic imagery and complex thoughts. Think of it as Chuck Palahniuk meets Upton Sinclair in Africa. The form itself is challenging and not a little dangerous - but I truly believe it pays the reader back for their efforts.
This blog will be used in the coming weeks to discuss the process of writing "The Missionary and the Brute" and to share news and details of the characters, the settings, books that have influenced me, other works in progress and the business of publishing a work like this in a unique and fully modern way.
Thanks for reading!
J.
I just finished uploading my novel "The Missionary and the Brute" to CreateSpace's FTP server. In a few days I will receive a proof to view and a few days after that, it will be available for purchase on Amazon.com and other retailers, maybe even in a few bookstores hither and yon. I traditionally have recoiled against self-publishing, because in the context of my past experiences it implied something quite different, something more desperate than what it has evolved into.
This has truly been an interesting process for me, both in the writing and the ego-levelling realization that this book would by its very nature have to go market in a different way than did my previous work. I was truly blessed to have circumstances fall in place so effortlessly for my first two books and all the little films I worked on.
For "The Hand Behind the Mouse: an intimate biography of Ub Iwerks" (Disney Editions, 2001), Roy Disney himself was behind our project from the start (thanks to Leslie Iwerks' connections there) so we didn't have the whole sales process with which to contend. Prior to joining up with Leslie, I was looking at publishing through a South Dakota University Press - which actually would have been fine too.
Plus, the incredibly generous Leonard Maltin - a nicer human being you will never meet - was an early supporter, so we had that going for us.
"Bungee Jumping & Cocoons" was essentially a work for hire - and perhaps the easiest writing/editing/publishing process I have thus encountered. A simple book perhaps and fun, but I knew that my passions ultimately would take me somewhere else - to fiction.
I have a lot of stories a-simmering inside of me that can only be told in fiction form. I am excited to share the dark, complicated, disturbing tale that is "The Missionary and the Brute" with you and to hear what you think of it. It is certainly not for everyone - it is an adult transgressive tale with graphic imagery and complex thoughts. Think of it as Chuck Palahniuk meets Upton Sinclair in Africa. The form itself is challenging and not a little dangerous - but I truly believe it pays the reader back for their efforts.
This blog will be used in the coming weeks to discuss the process of writing "The Missionary and the Brute" and to share news and details of the characters, the settings, books that have influenced me, other works in progress and the business of publishing a work like this in a unique and fully modern way.
Thanks for reading!
J.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)