#TBT: Nonfiction

Back when I first started this blog, I did a series of posts on nonfiction. I was about to start my MFA program and knew I’d be taking a creative nonfiction class that fall, and I was kind of freaking out about it, so I decided to write about it on my blog in the hopes that I’d learn something along the way.*

I’m not sure why, but I’ve been thinking about creative nonfiction lately, and it reminded me of these posts. So, without further ado, here is a (belated, hence the #TBT) round-up of my old posts on nonfiction!

In Part 1, I sort of meander through a general introduction into the genre and what I think/know/think I know about nonfiction.

In Part 2, I take a look at some definitions of the word “nonfiction” and compare and contrast “nonfiction” and “fact.”

Here’s Part 3, in which I narrow things down a bit and talk specifically about the “personal essay.”

Part 4 further compares the terms “nonfiction” and “fiction,” taking into account fact, historicity, and a bit of religion.

Finally, in Part 5 I wrap things up (kind-of) and emphasize the idea that nonfiction ≠ fact, which is what really makes it appealing to me in the first place.

I mention two important books in my musings, John D’Agata’s The Next American Essay and Phillip Lopate’s The  Art of the Personal Essay, both of which are phenomenal resources for learning about nonfiction. But I’ve read a number of nonfiction collections since then that I’ve found really interesting, so if YOU are interested in reading more/learning more about nonfiction, I highly recommend the following:

If you’re interested in nonfiction as it relates to blogs and the internet (and in reading some generally awesome pieces), check out Your Hate Mail Will Be Graded by John Scalzi.

If you’d like to read something experimental, try Reality Hunger: A Manifesto by David Shields.

If something intensely, almost painfully personal strikes your fancy, I highly recommend The Journals of John Cheever.

If quirkiness is more your thing, you might like Vanishing Point by Ander Monson.

If you’re looking for a good laugh, you should definitely read Me talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris.

And if you just want to read something fascinating, disturbing, hilarious, introspective, and more, then read Consider the Lobster by David Foster Wallace. (In fact, if you haven’t read DFW, you need to immediately. Like now.)

So there you have it, a retroactive look at nonfiction. While the genre still interests me a great deal, I unfortunately do not have as much time as I’d like to read the fiction that I’d like, so nonfiction just inherently takes a back seat. I suppose I’ll get back around to it one day, but until then, this will have to do!

* Full disclosure: I was also hoping that as I wrote about nonfiction I’d somehow vomit up something I could use as one of my required essays for the class—writer’s laziness at its best! I did not end up doing that, but I do think I learned quite a bit as I wrote these posts, which ended up informing the pieces I actually did write for the class. Full circle type-stuff, I guess.

Two (very unrelated) reviews

Leon:  The Professional

I've been hearing about this movie for some time now, mostly as Natalie Portman's acting debut.  I finally watched it the other night, and pleasantly surprised does not do it justice.  More like delightedly dumbstruck.  Rapturously amazed.  Exultantly astounded.

It was a really good movie.

The acting, first of all, was superb.  I didn't think Portman would be as believable as she was (her only other young performance I was aware of was in Phantom Menace--not known for its acting by any means), but I was with her every step of the way.  Her portrayal of the abused, disillusioned, neglected, infuriating young girl with nothing to live for was touching at times, funny at others, and often surprising.

Jean Reno's performance was impressive as well, both lonely and enigmatic, but it was Gary Oldman's portrayal of the villain that caught me most off-guard.  He was terrifying and despicable, and but strangely alluring.  I have nothing but respect for Oldman.

The story was surprising as well--when I thought I was in for a long assassin-in-training montage, I got some unexpected character development.  When I thought betrayal was imminent, I saw a strange friendship.  The ending was somewhat predictable--it is the type of story for which I can only conceive three or four possible endings off the top of my head, all of them very similar--but it was tastefully done and kept me interested in the film and the characters.

Overall, I would highly recommend it, especially if you're a fan of any of the three main actors in the film.  A very well-done, surprising movie.

My rating:  ****** (6/7 stars)

The Next American Essay

Edited by John D'Agata

And, of course, my first official foray into the world/genre of nonfiction.

D'Agata arranged the collection by taking a different essay, from a different American essayist, from every year from 1975-2003.  Each year is preceded by a segment of an essay that D'Agata himself wrote, weaving in and out of each author and each year, connecting them all together.  Indeed, D'Agata's essay was one of the most compelling components of the compilation--not only was it a great connector between each collected essay, but in and of itself was a thought-provoking and informative piece about the genre of the personal essay.

I've discovered that the personal essay (and nonfiction in general) is really a hit-and-miss category/genre for me.  I loved some of the pieces in the collection.  Some of my absolute favorites included the prologue by Guy Davenport, "And;" Annie Dillard's "Total Eclipse" from 1982; Eliot Weinberger's "Dream of India" from 1984 (which, incidentally, was the inspiration behind the current nonfiction piece I'm working on regarding perceptions of Mormonism); "Notes Toward a History of Scaffolding" from 1990, by Susan Mitchell; and from 1997 David Foster Wallace's "Ticket to the Fair."  Each one of these essays either informed and educated me, mystified me, emotionally provoked me, intrigued me, or all of the above.  They were delightful samples of the genre, and pieces that genuinely inspired me to venture my own attempts in the genre.

But there were a few other essays, ones I won't mention by name, that I found boring and overly presumptuous, if not utterly useless.  Whether they're more of an acquired taste or the type of essay that I simply will never appreciate remains to be seen as I continue exploring the genre.

I'll return again to D'Agata's own essay (again, without a doubt on an equal level of the favorites I mentioned earlier, and one of the more delightful sections of the compilation).  Portions of his last entry I found particularly interesting, especially in light of my current thoughts on nonfiction.  To quote D'Agata (p. 435-6):

"Some literature in this genre challenges [the] very presumption of fact."

"What happens when an essayist starts imagining things, making things up, filling in blank spaces, or--worse yet--leaving the blanks blank?  What happens when statistics, reportage, and observation in an essay are abandoned for image, emotion, expressive transformation? . . . There are now questions being asked of facts that were never questions before.  What, we ask, is a fact these days?  What's a lie, for that matter?  What constitutes an 'essay,' a 'story,' a 'poem'?  What, even, is 'experience'?"

"Facts, in these essays, are not clear-cut things.  What is a lyric essay?  It's an oxymoron:  an essay that's also a lyric; a kind of logic that wants to sing; an argument that has no chance of proving anything."

I'm loving (and appreciating, as this volume is the one that made me seriously question my understanding of "nonfiction" in the first place) the blurring of fact--"statistics, reportage, and observation"--and nonfacts--"image, emotion, expressive transformation."  That, to me, is one of the most appealing aspects of creative nonfiction.  It is nowhere near as confined as I once considered it, and this collection (among other things) has taught me that.

My rating:  **** (4/7 stars)