The story is about a rather sad individual named Carl who
becomes badly disfigured after he agrees to be a guinea pig for a start-up named
Mayflower, the maniacal CEO of which believes grow lights could be used to
deliver nutrients to humans in place of conventional food -- while people are involved in other activities, such as using a computer.
Sunday, August 2, 2015
Is The Food Industry Next in Line for "Disruption?"
The business section of the July 31, 2015, San Francisco
Chronicle featured a story entitled “Food Industry Ripe for Disruption,” which
brought to mind a short story in the June 22 New Yorker by Ben Marcus entitled “The Grow Light Blues.”
Monday, July 20, 2015
“The Appearance of Real-Life Chaos”
What makes a good work of fiction?
In the view of Richard Ridley, an author and contributor
to Amazon's "CreateSpace," an important element is “the appearance of real-life
chaos.” Subplots, which give depth to
characters, are also valuable in that they create familiar disorder, he maintained in a
short advice-to-authors blog post entitled “The Resolution Matrix.”
In other words, human events rarely proceed in a predictable,
straight-line fashion so to be credible, fiction shouldn’t either.
Ridley’s advice on that front is probably well taken, but
his main message is somewhat curious.
Monday, July 13, 2015
Yet More on the Dotted Line
I've written earlier posts on the idea that there is a dotted line between fact and fiction, not because I want to suggest that non-fiction is fundamentally flawed. Like almost everything else in life, it has its shortcomings from time to time, but as a former journalist I'm inclined to believe what I read in credible publications unless I have strong reasons to suspect it isn't correct.
As someone who now dabbles in fiction, it is the other side of the line that is more interesting to me: how should fact be used in fiction? I will have more to say about that in another positing, but for the moment, I want to call readers' attention to a quote in a recent "Bookends" feature in the Sunday "New York Times" Book Review section.
As someone who now dabbles in fiction, it is the other side of the line that is more interesting to me: how should fact be used in fiction? I will have more to say about that in another positing, but for the moment, I want to call readers' attention to a quote in a recent "Bookends" feature in the Sunday "New York Times" Book Review section.
Thursday, July 2, 2015
Fact and Fiction: More About The Dotted Line
The June 20, 2015, "New York Times" carried a lengthy obituary on James Salter, depicted as one of America's most under-appreciated recent novelists and writer of short stories. The piece is interesting in a couple of respects, but I just want to touch on one of them here.
In an earlier post, I wrote about the dotted line between fact and fiction, which, as a commentator subsequently noted, is not necessarily a problem when fiction makes use of fact, but deceptive when something purporting to be non-fiction is actually made up.
Thursday, May 28, 2015
When Love Fails to Heal, See a Psychiatrist
We often hear or read about the healing power of love. But it doesn't always work -- it can't overcome all obstacles -- and when that happens, perhaps one should consult a psychiatrist.
That appears to one message of "Sleep," a short story by Colm Toibin in the March 23, 2015, edition of "The New Yorker."
I know what you will do when morning comes. I wake before you do and I lie still. Sometimes I doze, but usually I am alert, with my eyes open. I don’t move. I don’t want to disturb you. I can hear your soft, calm breathing and I like that. And then at a certain point you turn toward me without opening your eyes; your hand reaches over, and you touch my shoulder or my back. And then all of you comes close to me. It is as though you were still sleeping—there is no sound from you, just a need, almost urgent but unconscious, to be close to someone. This is how the day begins when you are with me.
That's the opening paragraph of "Sleep." It's a very fine and powerful piece of writing that drew me in. Unfortunately, however, it isn't stylistically equaled by anything that follows, but that is beside the point here.
That appears to one message of "Sleep," a short story by Colm Toibin in the March 23, 2015, edition of "The New Yorker."
I know what you will do when morning comes. I wake before you do and I lie still. Sometimes I doze, but usually I am alert, with my eyes open. I don’t move. I don’t want to disturb you. I can hear your soft, calm breathing and I like that. And then at a certain point you turn toward me without opening your eyes; your hand reaches over, and you touch my shoulder or my back. And then all of you comes close to me. It is as though you were still sleeping—there is no sound from you, just a need, almost urgent but unconscious, to be close to someone. This is how the day begins when you are with me.
That's the opening paragraph of "Sleep." It's a very fine and powerful piece of writing that drew me in. Unfortunately, however, it isn't stylistically equaled by anything that follows, but that is beside the point here.
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
The Dotted Line Between Fact and Fiction
One may conventionally think of fiction as stories authors have invented -- out of the ether, as it were. But at times, not just inspiration, but certain details, come from life, viewed or experienced.
The first character one encounters in "Ulysses," -- 'stately, plump Buck Mulligan' -- is largely based on a man named Oliver St. John Gogarty, and to those who knew him, obviously so. Likewise, various other characters in James Joyce's epic can be linked to actual people. And Joyce clearly incorporated versions things that happened to him in his book.
In my novella, "Manhattan Morning," the final scene at an eatery in Grand Central Terminal is very close to an actual occurrence. After I had the experience, I thought it would work well as the final scene of a story, serving as a foil, mainly in the realm of values, to what had gone before. It is also a sympathetic and somewhat poignant portrait of a woman attempting to balance a demanding job and motherhood in a hectic world -- a good story.
I doubt that readers find such linkages distressing. But what about the reverse -- when something represented as fact turns out to be made up?
The first character one encounters in "Ulysses," -- 'stately, plump Buck Mulligan' -- is largely based on a man named Oliver St. John Gogarty, and to those who knew him, obviously so. Likewise, various other characters in James Joyce's epic can be linked to actual people. And Joyce clearly incorporated versions things that happened to him in his book.
In my novella, "Manhattan Morning," the final scene at an eatery in Grand Central Terminal is very close to an actual occurrence. After I had the experience, I thought it would work well as the final scene of a story, serving as a foil, mainly in the realm of values, to what had gone before. It is also a sympathetic and somewhat poignant portrait of a woman attempting to balance a demanding job and motherhood in a hectic world -- a good story.
I doubt that readers find such linkages distressing. But what about the reverse -- when something represented as fact turns out to be made up?
Thursday, May 21, 2015
Fiction That Forecasts the Future
The lead article in the Book Review section of the Monday, May 17, 2015 "New York Times" took a look at two non-fiction offerings that purport to forecast the future.
In "The Rise of the Robots," Martin Ford argues that even the well-educated will soon face a jobless future as a result of increasingly sophisticated technology. Meanwhile, Craig Lambert, in "Shadow Work," notes that there will still be plenty of work that needs to be done -- much of it rather menial because, well, humans will still be humans. But no one will pay for it.
I mention these books not for their own sake, but rather because the NYT review reminded me that one of the roles of fiction is to look into the future.
In "The Rise of the Robots," Martin Ford argues that even the well-educated will soon face a jobless future as a result of increasingly sophisticated technology. Meanwhile, Craig Lambert, in "Shadow Work," notes that there will still be plenty of work that needs to be done -- much of it rather menial because, well, humans will still be humans. But no one will pay for it.
I mention these books not for their own sake, but rather because the NYT review reminded me that one of the roles of fiction is to look into the future.
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