I’ve had to cut back from posting, and I’m banking on the possibility that it will interest you to find out why.
I find myself, suddenly, with a writing deadline in real life. I have a friend who’s helping me find an agent, for my fiction. Which is great! With only one teensy caveat— I don’t have any fiction.
An agent is going to want to sell an actual product. That’s the key to the whole agent job, as it’s been patiently explained to me.
So, I have a bunch of short stories that are almost finished. And I’m spending many hours a day grinding to finish them. I think they’re pretty good, but they do need to be better and I’m polishing them rigorously every day.
Even when I’m napping; I’m committed to rigorous naps only now, and once you make a commitment of this type, your naps have to be rigorous. All of them, and no excuses.
I’ve also had to do some research for these stories, on aberrant psychology, the predatory behavior of barracudas and sharks, and so forth. And all this toothy research takes time.
But I can’t just publish nothing, so I’m trying a new thing here. Inspired by my French prose hero, the Grand Abbreviator Félix Fénéon— more on him later— I’m giving you some micro-essays here on topics I want to cover at more length but cannot at the moment.
Godzilla
Even though I love trashy movies, monster movies, etc., I’ve never seen the original Godzilla film until now. Turns out— the American version, where Raymond Burr pops up and hogs the running time in new footage and narration, is a bad movie that retains only snatches of the original.
The Japanese original is quite poignant, and packed with visual poetry. While Hollywood was busy in the 1950s retreating from the artistry of the previous decade and giving us toothless spectacle and overwrought melodrama, Japan stepped up their cinematic game. Despite the much-mocked scenes of Godzilla stomping on things and destroying them with atomic fire, it’s really an extraordinarily beautiful movie. Many types of scenes that are always perfunctory in genre films are quietly moving here; many rich moments occur when Godzilla is offscreen. Let’s be clear— the monster movie Tokyo-trashing material is not junk. To my surprise, it is really emotionally involving; the visuals remind me of German expressionism.
From what I’ve heard about Oppenheimer, Godzilla is by far the more nuanced and sophisticated cinematic achievement. If you’re in the habit of mocking Godzilla movies, you should see the first one in its original state (before Hollywood stomped on it). I have complicated feelings about what we did to Japan, but what we did to Godzilla (Gojira)— that was indefensible. It’s an art film.
On Criterion now.
BOOKS ABOUT WRITING
I’m working on this project in the background. I’ve been studying Borges, William Gass, Roberto Bolaño, Francine Prose, Burroughs, and more.
Two previous installments in this series:
And part two:
SHORT STORY LENGTHS
I’ve done tons of research on this; when I have time I’ll write it up. Many installments to come in this series. Check out the first installment here⬇️ (pictured: the glorious Silvina Ocampo.)
Here are a few tidbits from my ongoing research:
Novelettes— stories that are 7.5 to 17.5 thousand words— pop up in my reading more than I’d thought they would, and they never seem as long as they are. A great writer stretches out to that length because they need the words. I’ve read novelettes by John O’Hara, Walter De La Mare, Lovecraft, Henry James, and De Maupassant, and after some time has passed, I don’t typically recall that they were long: all of these writers use words wisely. They don’t waste them.
O’Hara needed the length to tell a story (The Doctor’s Son) where the passage of time and gradually shifting emotion was needed. De La Mare— a criminally neglected master— had those requirements, plus he needed elbow room for his skill with atmosphere.
Henry James is the poster boy for what many see as old-fashioned overwriting, but the closer you get to his stories, the easier it is to see how his sentences require those syllables to get his rhythmic effects. Typically, he combines this surface aesthetic with insight into great psychological complexities; in short, he needs his length.
Figure In The Carpet is one of my favorite stories by anyone. This novelette about our misguided obsession with artistic tricks and secrets needed the fifteen thousand words; it’s in my head forever. It’s also a great example of something James did well— a story that makes a point, but is also a riveting suspense yarn. (It may not rivet you; I’m not responsible for your riveting proclivities.)
I kind of want to write a novelette just because that sounds dainty AF. I don't write fiction, so there's that. Hope yours is progressing well though!
In the spirit of your bite - sized approach: I agree that de la Mare was good at atmosphere. I had to memorise his poem "The Listeners" at school and it's a doozy. My favourite Lovecraft (I think) is The Case of Charles Dexter Ward. Of James' books I've only read The Turn of the Screw but it was a belter. Decades ago I read some de Maupassant short stories and liked them a lot. Wasn't there a locked room mystery in one of them or am I confusing him with someone else? I hadn't heard of John O'Hara so thanks for that. Now get back to your writing and may the force be with you.