Memoirs are tricky business. As someone who writes almost exclusively about things that have happened to me, I am interested in the ethics and conventions of the memoir. James Frey aside, there was also the whole hullabaloo with Augusten Burroughs settling with the foster family portrayed in “Running With Scissors” and changing the author’s note in the book after publication. And there’s been talk that there is just no way in hell that David Sedaris’ family is that concisely funny. (Although, Amy has publicly proved herself funny, so you never know)
The LA Times book blog points out a pre-emptive move made by another memoirist:

… Robert Leleux’s “The Memoirs of a Beautiful Boy” … A note to readers is prominently displayed on the page preceding the table of contents. Here’s an excerpt:

“This is the story of my Texas life. And while (essentially) true to my experience, I must warn that it often reads better (as in funnier, or happier) than it was lived. This service I’ve performed not merely for the sake of your sensibilities, but also for my art. After all, how does the old song go? A hat’s not a hat till it’s tilted. Well, mea culpa, I have tilted hats throughout….”

Is this the literary equivalent of a warning label that serves only to invalidate legal claims? Or is it a sign that our expectations for truth and accuracy in memoirs are changing?

I have always been cynical about memoirs and assumed that they were a fiction/non-fiction hybrid more than an accurate retelling of events. It’s frequently left me wondering what all the fuss in these ’scandals’ is about. Of course, I’ve also never been written about in a published book. I’ve never had anyone put words in my mouth I didn’t say or attribute someone else’s personality quirks to me to save time and keep the pacing quick.

–Marcia

Maybe I should move? Other places have lower housing prices AND they are more literate overall. According to some people, the most literate cities in the U.S. are:

1. Minneapolis

2. Seattle

3. St. Paul, Minn.

4. Denver

5. Washington, D.C.

6. St. Louis

7. San Francisco

8. Atlanta

9. Pittsburgh

10. Boston

“The rankings, originated and authored by CCSU’s president John W. Miller, compare the country’s 69 biggest cities in terms of libraries, bookstores, educational levels, newspaper readership, locally published magazines and Internet resources.”

I am glad San Francisco is on the list, at least. I am surprised Portland, Oregon is not.

~ Joy

Cocktails inspired by Dickens.

Smoking bishop
“‘A merry Christmas, Bob!’ said Scrooge, with an earnestness that could not be mistaken, as he clapped him on the back. ‘A merrier Christmas, Bob, my good fellow, than I have given you, for many a year! I’ll raise your salary, and endeavour to assist your struggling family, and we will discuss your affairs this very afternoon, over a Christmas bowl of smoking bishop, Bob! Make up the fires, and buy another coal-scuttle before you dot another i, Bob Cratchit!’” (A Christmas Carol)

5 oranges * 1 grapefruit * 1/4 lb sugar * 2 bottles red wine * 1 bottle ruby port * 30 cloves

Bake the oranges and grapefruit in the oven until they are pale brown and then put them into a warmed earthenware bowl with five cloves pricked into each. Add the sugar and pour in the wine. Then, either (i) cover and leave in a warm place for a day, or (ii) warm the mixture gently (do not boil) for about three hours. Squeeze the oranges and grapefruit into the wine and pour it through a sieve. Add the port and heat (again, don’t boil). Serve in warmed cups/glasses and drink hot.

Merry Christmas, Word Pirates.

(Via Bookslut, as usual.)

One of my favorite blogs is Chicks Dig Poetry by poet Sandra Beasley. Today’s post had insight to the short essay:

There’s a musculature to the short essay (under 1,000 words) that is really winning me over. “Just enough time to open a subject, expand it, and close it again,” said my friend Richard. Just enough space that you can illustrate a story with a few quotes and moments genuinely remembered; not so much space that you’re tempted to add filler that may or may not be true. That, to me, was the ethical intricacy (and ultimately, discouraging factor) of creative non-fiction.

True, don’t you think?

~Joy

I prize clarity in writing above linguistic cartwheels. But am I straying away from the “big words” (or more accurately, obscure words) out of fear in a way that is slowly homogenizing my writing? Am I ignoring something that could enhance my writing?

In a book otherwise devoted to simple, straightforward writing, the style manual The Complete Plain Words, Sir Ernest Gowers takes a moment to remind us that ostentatiously avoiding long words can be as annoying to readers as over-using them. Winston Churchill, writes Gowers, promoted the virtue of the short and simple phrase; yet it was Churchill, in his account of the second world war, who talked about “flocculent” thinking, instead of “woolly” thinking, “and so conveys to his readers just that extra ounce of contempt that we feel ‘flocculent’ to contain, perhaps because the combination of ‘f’ and ‘l’ so often expresses an invertebrate state, as in ‘flop’, ‘flap’, ‘flaccid’, ‘flimsy’, ‘flabby’ and ‘filleted.’” - From the Guardian

Do people go to a dictionary when they don’t know a word in a piece of writing, or do they just go away period?  Is there a balance between unknown words and the plain language of the everyday? How much is too much?

I guess the bigger question would be … do I even know those wild and crazy words in the first place?

-marcia

Here’s a really cool short story by Jennifer Egan in The New Yorker: Found Objects..

~ Joy