David Mamet, Moleskines and Gatsby

I finished "Writing in Restaurants" by David Mamet. I think that most of the theatrical theorizing was way over my head; I know very little about the stage. The strength of his essays, I believe, was in those essays when he "anecdotized" the subject matter. Some passages did catch my eye, and I ended up underlining several to which I will return. There was one particularly about technique that made sense to me:

"It [writing] is especially stultifying when accompanied, as often happens, by blandishment to the effect that there is no such thing as technique; that there is no need to study; that the only way to learn is through doing; and that, finally, pursuit of good habits of work, that is, technique, and good habits of thought, that is, philosophy, are effete."

I also found Mamet's treatment of Chekov's play "The Cherry Orchard" interesting. It was a lit crit treatment and I found it insightful. All the theorizing about the stage craft now made sense once he applied it to a specific example. He also wrote about the writing life and how it applies to age: "The pressure to continually achieve makes [writing] a young person's game, for it is easily tolerated only by the inspired and naive--by those bursting with the joy of discovery and completely, unselfconsciously generous of that gift." If anything else, it reminded me of those day-long writing marathons at Barnes & Noble bookstores cafe. How little did I think about the process and how easily the words came. But then I got to thinking about it too much and somehow lost the gift. But I still see myself as a contender, and try and write and give it still more thought.

The use of the Moleskine for the composition of this blog entry was a success. It took me nearly 20 minutes to formulate the ideas about Mamet's book and about 5 minutes more for what I am about to write next.

The next book I am reading is "Trimalchio." It is an early version/edition of "The Great Gatsby." There's a million things I could say about "Gatsby," really, but I'll keep it to a minimum since I am going to be writing in length this week as I read the book. This morning I discovered an article by Jonathan Yardley on what makes Gatsby a great novel (just about the greatest novel in the American literature canon). I was enthusiastic about the article until I realized that Mr. Yardley purposely and without discrimination bashed Ernest Hemingway. Now, I am not a lawyer defending Mr. Hemingway, but I think it is easy to bash him practically for all the ills of most Modernist American writers. People blame Hemingway for double-crossing Sherwood Anderson, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein, etc. And people who engage in this sort of behavior are concentrating on Hemingway as a social person, not the artist he was. But all the Hemingway bashing aside, the article presents Gatsby as the one marvelous book in American literature; a well-deserved place indeed. More on this as I write about "Trimalchio/Gatsby."

D.H. Lawrence, David Mamet, and Pankaj Mishra

I read voraciously last night and finished the book. Again, I do have to mention the artistry of the language; how well developed and employed it is! The complications that Lawrence introduces the reader to add so much to the plot. The return of Mellors' wife complicates things while Lady Chatterley is in Venice. One can feel her stress as she reads the letter from her husband explaining all the gossip. The subtle letter has a hint of malice, and the reader is compelled to side with Connie. For the Mellors part, one can only feel so much. The penultimate chapter is really an indictment to the rapidly expanding industrial complex, as it is the letter from him to Connie that ends the book. That was perhaps the only part of the book I really didn't enjoy much. Lawrence was indeed making a statement against some social injustice when he wrote about the colliers, the mines, the industry, etc. Somehow, however, it seemed rather forced in the latter stages of the story. I can truly say I enjoyed the book very much. It was a book that left me feeling so much love for literature. These are the strange moments when I feel gloriously alive in literature, wanting to devour all I can and get lost in all the emotions and feelings. I want to live the life of the mind constantly and surrender to the words completely.

I began reading "Writing in Restaurants" by David Mamet. It is not at all a book about writing instruction, but rather a collection of dated essays (written in the mid-1980s) regarding the dramatic theater and other aspects of dramaturgy. I am only about 30 pages into it and it is rough going. Some parts are over theorized, I believe. Here's an example: "The pursuit of Fashion is the attempt of the middle class to co-opt tragedy." This is the first sentence of an essay I could hardly decipher. I am going to force myself to finish the book, although I would much rather be reading some thing else. Oh well... can't win them all.

I purchased "An End to Suffering: The Buddha in the World" by Pankaj Mischra. This is a book I am dying to read but it will have to wait until later on this year. He is also the author of "The Romantics," an incredibly under-rated novel that caught my attention in a newspaper review in 2000. Later in 2001, I got the book on the discount rack for $6.00. It was a tour de force as far as I am concerned, and one of the best books by contemporary authors I have read. So my reading list is getting larger by the week. I won't go over my yearly total, really; what with work and trying to write I may not have time for them all.

As an effort to clarify my ideas before I put them in the blog, I am going to start writing the entries on paper first and then typing them up. I have been typing them directly from my head to the computer and I miss the feel of the pen on the paper. For this purpose I have selected 3 Moleskine cahiers that I will be taking with me to work. I will write even if I only have 5 minutes to do so. I will not waste any time and will try to keep the ideas flowing. I will give this experiment this week.