People keep saying this is beautify written and stuff, but I feel like I just read a research paper in a topic I don't know about. Am I just dumb, what am I missing here? I feel genuinely confused about what I just read.
My takeaway, if I had to reduce it to one (it doesn't really want to be reduced like that), is that many careers in our society consist of jumping through a series of arbitrary and ultimately pointless hoops, in order to eke out some kind of feeling of identity or personal worth. For the people who fail these challenges, there is no story. They lose their story, in some sense, unless they reframe it around something different. The author is able to be aware of this state of affairs despite remaining subject to it on some level.
Do you find yourself gravitating to Realism? [1] Or are you comfortable with the abstract?
Because I think it's not just about feelings. It's about the comfort with abstractions. The writer is writing EXTREMELY specific narratives that are meant to evoke extremely RELATABLE general feelings. And she is incredible at it. It's a real skill.
But it's okay if you don't grasp it. This stuff isn't automatic. However, I will say that you could learn to appreciate it, if you were so inclined.
[1] * https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Realism_(arts) * https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Classical_Realism
To me, this author is the modern form of Jane Austen. Flourishes, flourishes, flourishes. Full of inner dialogue.
You overstate the abstractions. They are obvious.
I did say meant to invoke relatable feelings. It's not objective or guaranteed that they would in all.
The abstraction of the feelings are in the analysis of the work rather than in the reading. I suppose some people combine the two as they read.
I suppose some will put themselves in the place of the author as well. Reading this feels like being trapped into being someone’s therapist.
Well, that's empathy. It's not about having the same experiences yourself verbatim so being able to directly relate.
I think my problem is:
1. Fiction: I think it is pointless. I try to watch fictional movies.
2. Information I feel is irrelevant: Say I'm writing, I would prefer:
"He proposed to her in a park with friends."
To:
"The sun stood firm, there was melody in the wind, his body was perfect like diamonds rubbed together. He held her gaze for an eternity, ignorant of his friends at the park. She felt puzzled -- he could see her in a way that would make even Heimdall jealous. Finally, he brought out the ring and proposed."
I feel like I'm missing out on a colorful part of life. But my attempts to change this hasn't work (like forcing myself to see more fiction).
I'm also motivated to change this to improve conversations (like dates or group conversations). I find more people are into this than me.
Thanks.
There are many ways of enjoying and appreciating writing, fiction, art, etc. You can approach from so many angles.
For example, I love science fiction and fantasy, but I love it in a different way to some of my friends. For me, the real enjoyment is about strong characters, story arcs that wouldn't be possible in another genre, and to some extent about getting to the core of how humans relate to each other and what about them is "human" when you put them in a totally different context.
For some of my friends it is more about fantastical worlds that are self consistent but have different rules to our own. For others it is about prediction of the future through careful analysis of how a particular technological advance might play out. The narrative is simply a useful vehicle for that analysis.
Are there _any_ pieces of fiction that you have enjoyed? Or perhaps biographies or documentaries where the subjects were compelling characters? I would try to find the edges where these things blur a little into interests you already have. But I will admit I find it hard to relate to some extent - I've always loved stories.
Vicarous joy is a gateway drug to real joy.
"Welcome to my very old antiquarian bookshop, Daniel"
versus:
"This is a place of mystery, Daniel, a sanctuary. Every book, every volume you see here, has a soul. The soul of the person who wrote it and of those who read it and lived and dreamed with it. Every time a book changes hands, every time someone runs his eyes down its pages, its spirit grows and strengthens. This place was already ancient when my father brought me here for the first time, many years ago. Perhaps as old as the city itself. Nobody knows for certain how long it has existed, or who created it. I will tell you what my father told me, though. When a library disappears, or a bookshop closes down, when a book is consigned to oblivion, those of us who know this place, its guardians, make sure that it gets here. In this place, books no longer remembered by anyone, books that are lost in time, live forever, waiting for the day when they will reach a new reader's hands. In the shop we buy and sell them, but in truth books have no owner. Every book you here has been somebody's best friend. Now they only have us, Daniel. Do you think you'll be able to keep such a secret?"
Depends on one's mental make up as well. E.g. Aspies have a hard time with such things (your description sounds like classic spectrum).
It's not something dehabiliting, but it is like missing a lot of nuance and "dimensions" of the world. I have many of the same problems in person to person interactions (but not with fiction - and I mean the more lyrical, feelings-related part of fiction too).
>"He proposed to her in a park with friends."
As a developer, notice how this loses a lot of the informational content. Did he want to propose? Was he forced to? Did he feel anxious about it? Did she? Why did he chose this place? Does the setting tell us something? Did something in the environment made the experience worse for them?
>But my attempts to change this hasn't work (like forcing myself to see more fiction).
Try books too. I think some authors work better than others. E.g. Borges classic short stories might be a good place to start (The library of Babel, etc). Perhaps some sci-fi. Things with a mental focus as opposed to a sentimental one. You could then incrementally jack-up the sentimental/empathy part of the literature you read.
It's also about enjoying the journey (e.g. the descriptions, emotional states, etc.) not just the destination (the plot, the "what do I get out of this book" in concrete terms).
> Depends on one's mental make up as well. E.g. Aspies have a hard time with such things (your description sounds like classic spectrum).
> It's not something dehabiliting, but it is like missing a lot of nuance and "dimensions" of the world.
Idunno, wild speculation: Could this be related to the old "Read the book first, see rhe movie only afterwards!" phenomenon? You know, where people recommend getting into a story as pure text first, so you can envision it the way you want, before getting it locked into your head as some film-maker's vision.
Maybe those of us who recommend this order (I frequently do) have some of the traits of your "classic spectrum Aspies".
So I think the "read the book first" is probably orthogonal, whereas the "I don't get the point of literature/poetry" is closer to a common Aspie type. Getting literature and especially poetry, for example, is (among other things) all about having or developing an intuitive "first-person focus".
That's the trick: you're participating. Movies are easy to participate in: they're very engrossing and they pass by literally even if you fall asleep. But you can also devote your life to them: learning how they're made, comparing and contrasting them, writing about them, etc. That's not better or worse, just another form of participation.
A book can also invite more or less participation. The type of prose you're talking about there doesn't do much for me: the metaphors are all over the place, and so they don't add up to any more than the sum of the parts (or even less). Some do feel like they are intricate jewelry boxes, which you can engage with either as a whole or by looking deeply into the parts.
Again, either way is fine: it's like the difference between writing a video game and playing one.
Don't worry that some forms are presented as "highbrow". That's irrelevant. It rewards what rich people like. Which can be great: they've got the time to spend looking at it. But the idea that it's inherently superior because of that, that's just gatekeeping douchenozzlery. The same kind as you get in comic books or sci fi or anything else where some prestigious people get to declare that they've got the only kind that matters.
The nice thing about this essay is that it's short. You can read it a few times and see if pieces of it engage you. You can talk about why some of the phrases were written the way they were; you can hold that discussion right here as an impromptu book club.
That's the really important thing: not the "colorful part of life" that you're missing, but the chance to bond over it with others. If that's not for you, you're not missing anything at all.
I'm also less patient with others who dwell on such feelings (this is probably a bad thing, something I am working to address), and get annoyed with art that is overly sentimental. To be clear I didn't find this article to be overly sentimental, and I enjoyed reading it... but it was close.
You could say this is running away from my feelings, and that's fair. But I don't think I would prefer to have it any other way.
For me, I think she made me feel what it would be like to work toward an achievement, to fail, and to look back and contemplate on the idea that maybe the achievement was arbitrary and as simplistic and fantastical as a fairy tale.
I understand, conceptually, that people work toward achievements and respond to incentives like more money or promotion or power. And I understand, logically, that people often mis-identify what outcomes matter to them, and are instead working toward something that won’t ever provide satisfaction, all while the work exhausts them.
But I rarely contemplate that idea, marinate in it, feel it. She made me feel it. And she also made me realize that I’m also doing the same thing, and that I likely will some day look back on my life right now and contemplate that maybe everything I’m working for is simplistic and fantastical and not going to accomplish whatever it is I really want. I’m curious, could you share some writing that made you feel something, and it made you feel?
If many understand the same thing, then she is a good writer. If we all think we understood different things, then you are a good reader.
> the head of the creative department asks me if the courses I would be expected to teach should even exist. “No,” I wish I had said
Threw me off. I read the comments first which suggested this was something about changing desires in life. But three days into an interview she wanted she seems to have changed her mind? With no further explanation. I guess we assume she didn't get this job, but it's not clear why she lost her enthusiasm so quickly and months before the rest of this story.
After that there's an explanation of plots in fairy tales that switches jarringly again into another line I'm not totally sure how to interpret about bread. Its also the title, I expect it to be important.
Tying the fairy tale plot lines back to her sons pointless work was interestingly done. But i feel like I missed how it fit into the bigger picture of this article.
> “I can see the wheat,” she says, “growing in the field from outside my window.” I watch a video on how to harvest wheat. I can’t believe I have no machete. I can’t believe I spent so many hours begging universities to hire me,
This I don't really get how she goes from wheat to needing machete to cut it to questioning why they want a job
> I feel like I’m in Gertrude Stein territory
I didn't get this reference, so I think a lot of the last paragraph was lost on me.
I asked my girlfriend to read it, she really liked it and thought it was well done.
The other paragraph is mind wandering. Her mind goes back to processing hiring process and her loosing it again and again.
But the description of a "beautiful, made-up reason" and the text around it makes it sound like "no" was accurate, which seems really jarring. I couldn't stop thinking about it through the rest of the story, because it confuses the context especially without any more explanation.
Specifically, in this case, the arbitrary and pointless (and impossible?) tasks in the fairytales are related to the arbitrary and pointless interview process. The author wonders what happens to her story when she fails the tasks, just like the characters who fail the tasks and then unceremoniously fall off the narrative map. But she's not a character, she's a real person who goes on living. But that living stops making sense in terms of the narrative that she was following before.
I don't totally get the connection with the bread myself. But part of figurative writing is leaving room for ambiguity and further thought.
Does this have a name? I don't know what to google to read more about it.
It is thoughtfully ambiguous. It's thought provoking in part because it is unclear. You, as the reader, are an active participant in giving it meaning. What makes it "well done" is that many readers succeed in giving it meaning they find insightful or entertaining.
It is fertile soil for your imagination.
> But three days into an interview she wanted she seems to have changed her mind?
There are two time periods in this line at once. "I wish I had said" is talking about what she wishes now that she had said to him at the time. The tip off is the "had said" is referring to the time period in which she responds to the dean and is in past tense, and "I wish" is present.
> After that there's an explanation of plots in fairy tales that switches jarringly again into another line I'm not totally sure how to interpret about bread. Its also the title, I expect it to be important.
"Fuck the bread" is literally something her mother said to her, but also subtextually saying "fuck academia" (and maybe even the more broad "fuck societal standards of success"). This is the chain of associations that builds up the metaphor:
1. In fairytales, the characters are given impossible tasks. <List of examples>
2. In the fairytales, completing these tasks defines their worth. Characters who do not complete the tasks drop out of the story.
3. Getting a job in academia requires her to complete a list of impossible tasks. She cannot complete it.
4. Even basic tasks in society are impossible during the pandemic, like bread making. These basic tasks are part of appearing successful.
5. "Fuck the bread" == fuck 3, fuck 4, define yourself outside of impossible tasks and do not be a bit character in a fairytale.
> This I don't really get how she goes from wheat to needing machete to cut it to questioning why they want a job
Given the rest of the piece talking about how working in academia was a useless task, I think this is about wasting her time on something so frivolous instead of her basic needs (bread?). But that does go against the title. I'm comparatively pretty unsure about this association.
- She's struggling with finding bread, the main task that is defining her at that moment (the writer goes around the idea that on fairy tales the task is what the defines the character, and no fulfillment of task means no character), so she's struggling with the definition of herself too
> “I can see the wheat,” she says, “growing in the field from outside my window.” I watch a video on how to harvest wheat. I can’t believe I have no machete. I can’t believe I spent so many hours begging universities to hire me,
- For me this means that she wants to get bread and she discovers that for obtaining the wheat you need something to cut it, like a machete. A machete is a tool for cutting, for removing obstacles. And she doesn't have a machete, so she cannot remove those obstacles for the position, like the universities interviews, so she cannot reach the position as she cannot get the bread.
Putting it the other way around: you cannot just beg to the wheat to get the bread, you need a machete. She doesn't have it. She doesn't have what is needed to get the position.
I think the relation is not too obvious and I may be wrong, but I interpret it this way.
But in this case it does seem purposeful, and I'd imagine your analysis is correct.
I call a naked king here: if a text allows different interpretations, its just a bad text, not a smart one.
I learned English first (American), but I don't understand grammar well enough to explain what language rules were broken. I hate when ESL friends ask about this. In Chinese they don't really modify the verb words, they just add other words. Does anyone ever break rules in Spanish for poetry? I don't know.
This author uses present tenses to talk about the past. Is it hopeless or deterministic? I'm curious.
Consider the emotional difference between:
> It is summer, and the ice cream is melting.
> It was summer, and the ice cream melted.
These types of literary choices are a core part of writing prose at an advanced level the same way that camera angles and color palettes are a part of cinematography. Grammar "rules" don't really exist in creative prose, it's ultimately about using words to convey meaning however you can.
The French language even goes as far as to have special grammatical tenses for different literary uses:
If I may be a bit dogmatic, I think literary writing is the polar opposite of technical writing. Technical writing must be as precise and unambiguous as possible so that every reader unerstands the same thing on reading; even if it takes careful, even painstaking reading, even if it takes a large amount of background knowledge to actually be able to understand what is written (think of difficult and convoluted mathematical proofs of theories in obscure sub-fields of which there are very few experts).
Literary writing on the other hand, fails if it invokes the same feelings and images in more than one person. Good literary writing should be different for every reader, so that the relation between the reader and the written piece becomes something unique and personal for every separate reader.
This last point is lost in the way that literature is taught at schools. At school, the teacher reads a passage from some literary work, asks the students for their interpretation, then proceeds to (more or less subtly) teach the "right" interpretation. This is horribly confusing to anyone who really likes reading exactly for the freedom to interpret everything as they like, and to form their own, their very own, emotions and images.
I remember this from high school. We were given reading assignments of books such as "Jonathan Livingston Seagull" or "The Little Prince" and then spent a couple of lectures disucssing them in the format above. For me, Jonathan Livingston Seagull was all about the society of sea birds and other animals. I remember wondering, "how do the seagulls know how an owl's mind works. How about eagles"? But the book was clearly written by an author who had an entirely different idea in mind. And it was taught by a teacher who also had a completely different one, also. But somehow everybody missed the point: we're all sweeping our eyes over the same text, but each one of us is reading a different story. This attempt to shoehorn everyone's mind into boring conformity irked me back then and I rebelled against it, of course.
Anyway, what I'm saying is the OP may be under the spell of the literary teachers who try to tell you, you should always read something specific in literary writing. You shouldn't. If you don't find anything in a piece of writing, then there wasn't anything there for you. Try somewhere else. Somewhere, someone has left something just for you. Probably. If not, oh well. Life goes on.
This line works for service manuals; but for art, personal interpretation can be an even better outcome than singularity of understanding amongst readers.
I’d imagine many of the people it’s striking a chord with are in a similar place so they feel represented enough by the affect to appreciate it as beautiful.
Probably a way to make sense of something not said explicitly and a little empathy. I struggle with those myself in person, but I'm good at reading the clues in prose.
This here is a prose piece with some lyrical elements about:
(a) the struggle of having a job you studied and dreamt to do and realizing it's not valued by the world, and might not even be relevant anymore in the general turmoil (which also makes your personal troubles seem irrelevant or a luxury).
It also describes the big and little ways people you apply to work for belittle you and what you have to offer, and the person going through these realizations feeling a sense of loss of themselves and their purpose, set amidst the general covid changes.
Also offers a glimpse of the author's work as a writer/poet (either directly, or through them using fairy tales as analogies), and the irrelevance by which it is met (or so it feels to them).
In some ways this is about loss, and if you don't 'get it' it doesn't mean you're stupid, it just means you're fortunate.