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| Bruce Springsteen |
For years of my adolescence and young adulthood, while I devoured fiction and biographies of writers, I was convinced that my personal experience--growing up in a suburb of Los Angeles during the 1960s--would hold no appeal to a reader. My place was so familiar to me that I was sure it wasn't exciting or interesting enough to ever use as writing material.
Then, when I started to think seriously about writing, I read a novel about a teen's life in a suburb of Los Angeles. (I'd love to provide a link to that novel here; however, after racking my brain and the brains of two close friends, I cannot come up with the title or author.) The point is that I did not value where I came from, but someone else did and wrote my story into a successful novel.
Then, when I started to think seriously about writing, I read a novel about a teen's life in a suburb of Los Angeles. (I'd love to provide a link to that novel here; however, after racking my brain and the brains of two close friends, I cannot come up with the title or author.) The point is that I did not value where I came from, but someone else did and wrote my story into a successful novel.
Consider This
In a recent issue, New York Times columnist David Brooks', "The Power of the Particular," elucidates a paradox. He opens by talking about Bruce Springsteen's very American appeal abroad and analyzes why "audiences in the middle of the Iberian Peninsula [sing along with Springsteen] word for word about Highway 9 or Greasy Lake or some other exotic locale on the Jersey Shore."
Brooks' column is a model of the essay form--a clear and well-crafted documentation of his train of thought. He opens with intriguing anecdotal evidence of Springsteen's fervent audience beyond the U. S. Then Brooks analyzes Springsteen's appeal abroad, introducing a theory about a child's narrative world. Next, he makes meaning of that idea in a larger, more universal perspective.
In his analysis Brooks says, "My best theory is this: When we are children, we invent these detailed imaginary worlds that the child psychologists call 'paracosms.' These landscapes, sometimes complete with imaginary beasts, heroes and laws, help us orient ourselves in reality. They are structured mental communities that help us understand the wider world."
Very Personal Narratives
According to Brooks' theory, although we carry these personal worlds into adulthood, we too frequently ignore our own particularity. He implies that we resort instead to more general narratives, stories we think we should write. He points out the contradiction inherent in the dance between the personal and the universal: "It's a paradox that the artists who have the widest global purchase are also the ones who have created the most local and distinctive story landscapes."
Many writers of "local and distinctive story landscapes" consistently enjoy international appeal. One of these is Eugene O'Neill whose somber Irish-American plays are regularly produced and appreciated in Russia. And I'm reminded of an interview I heard with John Steinbeck's widow who reported that the Chinese told her why they love Steinbeck's fiction--"because he's so Chinese!"
I've referred (more than once) to Amy Tan's succinct declaration: "This is the paradox of writing and of life: By capturing your own individuality, you often capture what is universally true."
Brook's advice, as though he's writing to memoirists in particular: "Go deeper into your own tradition. Call more upon the geography of your own past. Be distinct and credible. People will come."
Brooks' column is a model of the essay form--a clear and well-crafted documentation of his train of thought. He opens with intriguing anecdotal evidence of Springsteen's fervent audience beyond the U. S. Then Brooks analyzes Springsteen's appeal abroad, introducing a theory about a child's narrative world. Next, he makes meaning of that idea in a larger, more universal perspective.
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| David Brooks |
In his analysis Brooks says, "My best theory is this: When we are children, we invent these detailed imaginary worlds that the child psychologists call 'paracosms.' These landscapes, sometimes complete with imaginary beasts, heroes and laws, help us orient ourselves in reality. They are structured mental communities that help us understand the wider world."
Very Personal Narratives
According to Brooks' theory, although we carry these personal worlds into adulthood, we too frequently ignore our own particularity. He implies that we resort instead to more general narratives, stories we think we should write. He points out the contradiction inherent in the dance between the personal and the universal: "It's a paradox that the artists who have the widest global purchase are also the ones who have created the most local and distinctive story landscapes."
Many writers of "local and distinctive story landscapes" consistently enjoy international appeal. One of these is Eugene O'Neill whose somber Irish-American plays are regularly produced and appreciated in Russia. And I'm reminded of an interview I heard with John Steinbeck's widow who reported that the Chinese told her why they love Steinbeck's fiction--"because he's so Chinese!"
 |
| Amy Tan |
I've referred (more than once) to Amy Tan's succinct declaration: "This is the paradox of writing and of life: By capturing your own individuality, you often capture what is universally true."
Brook's advice, as though he's writing to memoirists in particular: "Go deeper into your own tradition. Call more upon the geography of your own past. Be distinct and credible. People will come."
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