A Tale of Two Writers
Jun. 2nd, 2006 05:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
opera142The short of it: Raymond Carver > Ernest Hemingway.
The long of
So, one of my summer reading goals is to read "stripped-down" writers. Because I'm always barking about how much I dislike obviousness and blantantness in fiction, I thought it would be good for me to see how others handle "empty" writing.
The first author that came to mind was Ernest Hemingway. My only experience with Hemingway was Old Man and the Sea back in 10th grade. Hated it. I got the whole no one understands the importance of your goals but you-thing, but the execution of the was so tedious and monotonous and stale that I wasn't moved in the least.
But, maybe since them I've grown into a mindset better able to appreciate Ernest. Last weekend, the thrift store by my house had a copy of The Sun Also Rises for 69 cents. Where better to start?
It's. So. Awful. Gawd. I'm only about a third through it, so maybe the title becomes relevant later, but from what I've read a better title would be Rich American (and British) Assholes Drink A Lot In Paris. The main character had his dick blown off in WWI. I think I'm supposed to believe he broods over this. Mostly, he just seems obsessed with mentioning the name of every single street he walks down, rides down or knows exists.
The racism is hard to stomach too. I keep reminding myself that I need to read the book within the context of the times it was written (1926), but lines like There was a nigger drummer. He was all lips and teeth just put me off.
I'm also not seeing what makes Hemingway "great". The only thing I can think off is that his straight-forward prose must have felt refreshing after decades of overly-lush Victorian-style prose. Or maybe, he was the first to write about hot, easy sluts. People like reading about sluts.
The prose bugs me. So monotonous. So same overly-simple sentence structure over and over and over and over and over and over and yawn. There's no grace to the writing. It's tone-deaf. I think a lot of people interpret that empty feel as the character holding back, or the character walling up emotions, but I can't agree.
Contrasting Hemingway's blah is Raymond Carver. I had to read a short of his "Cathedral" for a class and Holy Wow. Same simple sentence structure, same minimalist writing, same 2nd-grade words, but with 4 trillions times the life. Carver's prose vibrates. It has a pulse.
His characters don't say much. Lots of secondaries sleep through his stories. No one admits anything out loud. And the stories are gut-wrenching. They pester you days later.
Sadly, I'm way too much of a book mark to dissect what makes his writing so gorgeous. That's an issue of mine; I won't pick apart the books I love in order to get at their secrets.
The long of
So, one of my summer reading goals is to read "stripped-down" writers. Because I'm always barking about how much I dislike obviousness and blantantness in fiction, I thought it would be good for me to see how others handle "empty" writing.
The first author that came to mind was Ernest Hemingway. My only experience with Hemingway was Old Man and the Sea back in 10th grade. Hated it. I got the whole no one understands the importance of your goals but you-thing, but the execution of the was so tedious and monotonous and stale that I wasn't moved in the least.
But, maybe since them I've grown into a mindset better able to appreciate Ernest. Last weekend, the thrift store by my house had a copy of The Sun Also Rises for 69 cents. Where better to start?
It's. So. Awful. Gawd. I'm only about a third through it, so maybe the title becomes relevant later, but from what I've read a better title would be Rich American (and British) Assholes Drink A Lot In Paris. The main character had his dick blown off in WWI. I think I'm supposed to believe he broods over this. Mostly, he just seems obsessed with mentioning the name of every single street he walks down, rides down or knows exists.
The racism is hard to stomach too. I keep reminding myself that I need to read the book within the context of the times it was written (1926), but lines like There was a nigger drummer. He was all lips and teeth just put me off.
I'm also not seeing what makes Hemingway "great". The only thing I can think off is that his straight-forward prose must have felt refreshing after decades of overly-lush Victorian-style prose. Or maybe, he was the first to write about hot, easy sluts. People like reading about sluts.
The prose bugs me. So monotonous. So same overly-simple sentence structure over and over and over and over and over and over and yawn. There's no grace to the writing. It's tone-deaf. I think a lot of people interpret that empty feel as the character holding back, or the character walling up emotions, but I can't agree.
Contrasting Hemingway's blah is Raymond Carver. I had to read a short of his "Cathedral" for a class and Holy Wow. Same simple sentence structure, same minimalist writing, same 2nd-grade words, but with 4 trillions times the life. Carver's prose vibrates. It has a pulse.
His characters don't say much. Lots of secondaries sleep through his stories. No one admits anything out loud. And the stories are gut-wrenching. They pester you days later.
Sadly, I'm way too much of a book mark to dissect what makes his writing so gorgeous. That's an issue of mine; I won't pick apart the books I love in order to get at their secrets.
