Posts tagged ‘fiction’
FRANNY AND ZOOEY BY J. D. SALINGER
I’ve mentioned in a past post that, after reading an author’s work, I seek out their biography. With J. D. Salinger, I did the exact opposite.
I first read Salinger’s biography by David Shields and Shane Salerno. I couldn’t remember if I had read Salinger’s classic, The Catcher in the Rye, so I read it and recently posted my thoughts, and now have read Franny and Zooey. This book is composed of two works concerning members of the Glass family. Here are my thoughts.
Franny and Zooey are the youngest of the seven siblings, two girls and five boys, of the Glass family. Their parents are vaudeville actors and the children are all described as being extremely intelligent and attractive. The radio show, It’s a Wise Child, features the siblings for an extended period for there is a great age difference between the first and the last.
In the first piece, Franny, we find a girl of twenty, with a rather unstable nature, meeting her boyfriend for a weekend game. They go for lunch where martinis are consumed and endless cigarettes smoked. The language is stilted, by today’s standards. The Zooey piece concerns her brother and her condition in the previous piece. Zooey, along with his mother, also smoke constantly. Zooey also exhibits an attitude and sophistication not keeping with his age of perhaps 25.
The purpose of this post is, in my opinion, today’s reader would not find these works entertaining, or meaningful.
After publishing his work, Salinger wrote, as a recluse for 45 years, producing a reported volume of work to be published in the future, dealing with the Glass family as well as the Caulfield family from The Catcher in the Rye.
I’m looking forward to reading these works to see, while in seclusion, Salinger kept up with the times. Generations of both families would have past. Did they trade martinis for marihuana? Did the stiltedness of their encounters become steamy sex? Did his writing change to reflect the time?
Here are some links where you may purchase my work.
Melange Books
http://www.melange-books.com/authors/walttrizna/index.html
Barnes & Noble.com
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/walt-trizna?store=book&keyword=walt+trizna
Amazon.com
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BEGINNING A NEW YEAR, 2014 in review
This is the time we make promises to ourselves, most of which we won’t keep. Time to reflect on the year past and the one that approaches. Time to get on with life.
As in the past, my blog will focus on writing, on where and how to publish your work, and how to endure this absurd profession. If I have any successes, I’ll share them with you. Failure will find itself under the rug.
For the coming year, I’ve decided to begin a new category, one I’ve felt growing for some time now. I already have a category, Observations and Opinions, but I find the title too mellow for what I observe as I travel through space and time. Rants & Raves will be the new category I plan to visit often in this upcoming year. It will encompass subjects which, to me, make little sense, or in general, just piss me off. The older I get, the larger this category grows.
“How does that apply to writing?” you may ask. As I read I find many current authors address issues in their fiction nudging important topic into public view. My last post, Flight Behavior by Barbara Kingsolver, is a case in point where she addresses climate change incorporated in a fantastic story. But this trend is not new. Currently, I’m reading Charles Dickens’, Hard Times, an author whose work constantly addresses the wrongs in English society. Then, there is Upton Sinclair writing The Jungle, altering the meat processing industry. The list goes on and on where fiction is used to alter fact.
Let me finish this post by thanking you for entering my life and thoughts this last year, and hope that our relationship continues.
Finally, I’ve included my past year’s blog life as reported by WordPress.
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 1,400 times in 2014. If it were a cable car, it would take about 23 trips to carry that many people.
LOVE MACHINE/STEPPING STONE by WALTER MOSLEY
As usual, I’m way behind the curve in becoming familiar with the important authors of the genres in which I’m most interested and participating in, namely science fiction and horror. The problem is, I’m interested in so many different types of works; mystery, historical fiction, literary works. Also nonfiction; biographies, military history to name a few. My stacks of to-be-read books sometimes gets quite ridiculous, as the list of my interests goes on and on.
Not long ago, I picked up my first work written by Walter Mosley and now I’m hooked on the guys writing having read a few Easy Rawlins and Leonid McGill mysteries, two compelling characters. Once you get into his mysteries it’s hard to stop, but then again, why should you?
Some time ago, while on a bookstore expedition, I notice a book my Mosley, Love Machine/Step Stone. Not even reading the blurb about the short novels, I added it to my stacks. There it sat for quite a few months until a few days ago when I decided to give it a try.
Published in 2013 by Tor, I was amazed to find that they were two short science fiction novels. I know I’m probably the last to discover that Mosley wrote science fiction, but just in case there is one more of you out there lacking in this knowledge, I thought I’d write this article. Both works are complex and well written contributions to the genre.
Love Machine is nothing you would expect from its title. Rather, it centers on a device used to merge individual psyches, and that’s just the start. I finished this book in one night and defy you to put it down once you begin turning pages.
Stepping Stone takes you on a fantastic ride, starting slow with a ‘special needs’ man. The pace quickens as you find both of these observations, ‘special needs’ and man, stand on shaky ground bringing you to a conclusion you never see coming.
If you enjoy reading science fiction with a twist, or are a Walter Mosley fan, definitely give these short works a try.
Here are some links where you may purchase my work.
Melange Books
http://www.melange-books.com/authors/walttrizna/index.html
Barnes & Noble.com
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/walt-trizna?store=book&keyword=walt+trizna
Amazon.com
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SALINGER by DAVID SHIELDS, SHANE SALERNO, THE CATCHER IN THE RYE by J. D. SALINGER
Until recently I knew little about J. D. Salinger other than the fact that he was the author of the Catcher in the Rye, that he was out there remaining secluded, and then he was dead. I could not remember if I had ever read his classic.
After catching some of the documentary by Shane Salerno on PBS about Salinger, I decided to read the biography he and Shields wrote about the author. I found it to be a compelling read exploring the complex personality of the writer and the influence of WW II on his work, and how an off-shoot of Buddhism, Vedanta, influenced his life and made him the man he became after the war. Shields and Salerno brought home the point that Salinger could not tolerate phoniness in people and the life that surrounded him. This, of course, is the primary theme of Holden Caulfield, the main character in the Catcher.
After reading Salinger’s biography, I decided to either read or reread the Catcher. After finishing the book, I can say that I either totally missed the great revelations supposedly contained within the pages of the work, wouldn’t be the first time, or the book is like a good poem, you take away from the reading what you bring.
Holden Caulfield, Salinger’s alter ego, cannot tolerate the phoniness in all he sees around him. At the age of sixteen, he has an opinion on everything and yet has accomplished nothing other than being kicked out of a series of exclusive prep schools.
It seems to me, and here is where I may be missing something, that Caulfield is the biggest phony of them all. His total existence is dependent on his lawyer father’s ‘dime’. The language in the novel is true to the era, but dated by today’s standards. This should make the future publication the 45 years of constant writing Salinger supposedly accomplished in solitude interesting. During those years, Salinger was allegedly working diligently in fleshing-out the Caulfield family along with the Glass family, the subject of much of his other works.
The setting for the Catcher strongly reflects the 1940’s. It will be interesting, taking into account Salinger’s isolation from the world, how he handles the development of his characters, their language and lifestyles. Needless to say, Salinger’s publishing future provides great anticipation.
To be continued…
Here are some links where you may purchase my work.
Melange Books
http://www.melange-books.com/authors/walttrizna/index.html
Barnes & Noble. Com
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/walt-trizna?store=book&keyword=walt+trizna
Amazon.com
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=walt+trizna
STRUGGLING TO GET IT WRITE: HOW MUCH OF ‘YOU’ IS IN YOUR CHARACTERS?
This is a question I often ask myself of the author while I read his novel. How many of the characteristics of a main or minor character are yours?
I’ve recently finished reading Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut. It’s a strange, enjoyable read. In the book, one of the characters is the creator of the characters in the story which makes for a strange interaction. The ‘author’ character refers to elements of his past. I’ve also recently completed reading And So It Goes by Charles J. Shields, and all the facts and incidents mentioned by the ‘author’ character are also true for Vonnegut.
As in the above, what I like to do when I find an author whose work I enjoy is seek out facts about the mind behind the words by reading their biography. Here’s a sampling of whose fiction I’ve enjoyed and whose lives I wanted to discover.
I expect that you know by now that I enjoy writing horror. One of my favorite authors of the genre is H. P. Lovecraft. I have a volume of his complete works and occasionally visit the volume to enjoy a short story or one of his longer works. His writing is quite dated but I find the worlds he creates interesting. Lovecraft gave birth to a subgenre of horror which lives on. Sometime ago I read a biography of his short life. I recall he died around the age of 49. He initially fancied himself a poet but eventually fell into horror much to our benefit.
Frederick Exley is a writer I found to be both funny and sad. For a great read, find a copy of his novel, A Fan’s Notes, a work following the career of Frank Gifford and is a weakly veiled account of Exley. The biography of Exley I read confirmed this. As an example of Exley’s outlook, in one episode of the book the main character thinks he is dying. He decides to practically take up residence in a bar and then relates how he gained twenty pounds while wasting away from cancer. You’ve got to feel sorry for the guy and yet love him. As I said, funny but sad.
Jack Kerouac is another author I enjoy and read his biography. His classic novel, On the Road, closely reflects his life with the names changed to protect the guilty.
So many authors endure lives that are far from pleasant, something I’ll touch on in a latter post concerning the merits of good vs bad in an author and his characters. But with their many and sometimes tragic faults, we readers reap the rewards of their work.
So back to my original question to you writers: How much of your characters reflect details of your life? As far as my work is concerned, there is one character in my novel, New Moon Rising, who is me, and I’d like to challenge my readers to name the character and reap a reward.
To be continued…
STRUGGLING TO GET IT WRITE: A WRITER’S NEED TO READ
I want to approach the making of a writer from a new direction, that with reading in mind.
These thoughts are the result of the ongoing question I have: Can imagination be taught? I have pondered this topic in past posts. You can be taught how to write, but can you be taught what to imagine, taught how to provide that spark which becomes a work of fiction. Some writers use prompts to get their writing juices flowing, but I feel these prompts could provide either the imagination trigger for a piece or merely a subject, depending on the individual. The crux of the effort is the individual.
The birth of this piece is the fact we are told over and over that when a writer is not writing he should be reading. As I write this I continue to perform mental gymnastics. If you must be encouraged to read can writing be in your future? For some reason, I have always had a burning desire to read which required no encouragement and feel naked when books are not present or readily available. I’ve always felt that the more vivid your imagination, the more enjoyment you derive from reading, the more vivid your imagination the more brilliant the pictures created in your mind as you read a book. Images which a video game or television show cannot compete with. In this sense, a writer can’t help but be a reader feeling incomplete without a book close by. For that book is feeding what is the life’s blood of the writer – his imagination.
STRUGGLING TO GET IT WRITE: PEOPLE WATCHING
Reading as a writer, I am constantly in awe of details ‘good writers’ see in their characters. The emotions, mannerisms and body language, to say nothing of physical description, bring a writer’s characters off the paper and strut before you, and let you hear them speak when the tone of their voice is described. One of my favorite details, which I have seen a few times is: ‘His mouth smiled, but that smile did not reach his eyes.’ I can truly say that, in real life, I do not know if I am capable of detecting that emotion.
I’ve always thought of myself as more of an observer than a participant in this complex existence, but I’m beginning to find that my observations are lacking in detail, not adequately fulfilling my writer’s needs. I working on remedying that flaw, but can it really be corrected? Can your level of observation be actively increased or is it just something you’re born with?
To bring a character to life, the writer must have a clear picture of that character in his head, both physically and emotionally. The better the writer is able to accomplish this feat, the better the story. I’m in the process of struggling to slow the act of writing down, to expand on the details that bring the character to life. I tend to rush my writing and concentrate more on plot and action. I now seek a more balanced approach between character and action.
While recently watching a documentary by Ken Burns about the life of Samuel L. Clemens (Mark Twain). I’m sure PBS will provide ample opportunities for you to view it if you missed it. I highly recommend you watch it. One comment that struck me was how Clemens spent years observing the world around him and the people populating it long before he knew he would become a writer of fiction. For example, he would notice whether a man had his hands in his pocket or not, and what the contents of those pockets probably were.
NEED A BEACH READ?
Need that book for the beach you won’t be able to put down?
Give New Moon Rising a try!
Here’s a taste.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Pasadena
A phone ringing in the early morning hours is seldom a harbinger of good news. When Wade’s phone rang at two thirty-five in the morning, he came out of a peaceful sleep and with dread, reached for the receiver.
“Wade, this is Jeff at the lab.” The excitement in the young graduate student’s voice spoke of disaster before he revealed the reason for his early morning call. “It may have started. We have seismic activity along the whole Hawaiian chain. We have earthquake activity measuring 8.6 on the Richter scale. It’s the strangest earthquake, associated with the islands, anyone here has seen. The earthquake occurred at 4:20PM Hawaiian time. We cannot pinpoint the origin. It’s a series of earthquakes occurring simultaneously beneath the whole island chain. There have already been reports of tsunamis from Midway Island, the Marshall Islands, and the Samoan Islands. New Zealand, Australia, Central America, and China are all bracing for a giant wave. No one knows if the tsunami will be as bad as 2004.”
Jeff responded, “This is amazing! Earthquakes like this have never been described before. No one will know what to expect.”
“Jeff, try to calm down. Juliet and I will be at the lab as soon as we can.
Have the proper authorities been notified?”
“Are you kidding? Every lab in the world recorded this event. Damage reports are already coming in from Hawaii and the damage is widespread.”
“We are also getting signs of volcanic activity around the dormant volcano you instrumented on the island of Hawaii. There have been reports of ash spewing from several volcanoes on some of the islands that haven’t had activity for hundreds, or in some cases, thousands of years.
Wade’s thoughts instantly went to Foster on Oahu. “Is there any report of activity of Oahu?”
“Koolau volcano on Oahu is reported to be putting out ash and smoke.” Wade finished by saying, “We’re on our way, Jeff.”
Wade tried to control his own emotions as he turned toward Juliet. She had propped up her pillow and was listening to the conversation. Just from hearing Wade’s end, she knew that the news was not good.
With fear in his voice, he said, “It looks like it’s begun.” He went on to tell her all that he knew from Jeff as they hurriedly dressed and set out for the lab.
As they approached the Geology Building, every window was illuminated. Wade noticed that the parking lot was already half full as they pulled into his
organized and assigned specific tasks.
A group was told to keep track of earthquake damage and aftershocks. Another was told to track tsunamis, and a third group was told to monitor the Hawaiian Islands for volcanic activity. Constant contact was established with labs in Australia, New Zealand and their colleagues in Japan. There was an attempt made to contact the lab in Hilo at the University of Hawaii—but the lines were out.
With all the phones and computers manned, order began to emerge from the chaos. Wade had a chance to inspect the seismic tracings from the earthquake beneath the Hawaiian Islands. They represented not a single quake, but a long series of overlapping quakes. The location was difficult to determine. The earthquakes occurred at a series of points beneath the Pacific Ocean surrounding the Hawaiian Islands. The character of these quakes fit into the scenario along with the other events that occurred, supporting Professor Humphries’ theory. They were unprecedented in modern time.
Wade stood in the lab, holding the tracings, and wondered about his brother and all the rest of the population of Hawaii, people in love with their paradise. So in love were the residents, that it may have cost countless lives to enjoy heaven on Earth just a little longer.
* * * *
Oahu
Foster continued to work at the surf shop and Heather at the bed and breakfast although each had little to do. Heather took her baby to work with her and found time to feed and care for him while she accomplished her tasks. The working conditions were ideal for caring for the baby. In fact, Lulu gave him so much attention, that if it weren’t for the fact Heather was breast-feeding; he would need no care at all.
Although life went on, there was a pall hanging over the islands knowing that its days might be numbered. Foster had become close friends with most of the surfers who congregated on the beach and shopped at the store. A few that were originally from the mainland returned home but all the native surfers chose to stay. For the most part, they were young men who loved the surf and sun and little else. When asked about their future, almost to a man, they talked about quality of life—not quantity.
Foster was working behind the counter one day while Joe was grabbing some lunch when his friend Rich Loana entered the shop.
“What can I do for you, Rich?”
“Just wanted to see if you’d be interested in doing some surfing later this afternoon. The waves are supposed to be great today.”
“I should be able to get away around four. I’ll meet you on the beach in back of the shop.”
“Sounds like a plan, Foster. I’ll see you then.”
After Rich left, Foster thought about a conversation he had with Rich months earlier, when the news of what might happen to Hawaii was released.
He had had similar conversations with a lot of the surfers he had gotten to know. One conversation with Rich stuck in his mind.
He’d asked Rich, “What will you do now, Rich?” “What do you mean—I’m going to surf.”
“No, you know what I’m talking about. When are you leaving?” “I’m not.”
“You can’t stay here, it’s not safe.”
“Listen Foster, I was born on this island, it’s my home, the only place I’ve ever lived. And surfing is the only thing I know how to do. I don’t have an education. I don’t have a skill. If I moved to the mainland, what would I do? I’d be a bum the rest of my life. I’m a bum here, but at least I have a chance to do what I love. If this theory is wrong – no harm done. If its right, I’ll be doing what I love doing right to the end.”
Foster found that most of the native-born Hawaiian surfers he talked to had a similar attitude. They were determined to embrace their ‘hang loose’ attitude of life right to the end.
* * * *
Traffic through the shop was light, had been for months. Three-thirty arrived and Foster told Joe he was thinking of riding some waves until Heather came home. “I don’t think I’ll be able to handle this crowd all alone,” Joe said as he looked around the empty store. “Go ahead; get your butt on the beach.”
Foster got a couple good rides before Rich showed up. They rode together for a while until Rich caught a wave that Foster missed. Foster paddled back out to deeper water turned toward the beach and was preparing to get up on his board
It was 4:20.
He could see Rich on the beach taking a breather, when his friend suddenly fell to the sand. Foster thought to himself, “What the hell is he doing now?” Then he noticed branches falling from the palm trees. In quick succession, the roof of the shop caved in leaving a pile of rubble where the shop and apartment had been. He quickly paddled to shore, and as soon as his feet made contact with the sand, he fell to his knees in the shallow water. He looked up and down the beach and the few people still standing were holding onto a tree or other stabilizing object with looks of shock and disbelief on their faces.
The trembling lasted minutes, but it seemed like hours. Time slowed as the Earth shook. The violent shaking subsided, settling down to series of lesser and lesser ripples of movement. Foster ran around front and found Joe sitting on the grass clutching a blood-soaked towel to his head.
“Is this what we’ve been waiting for?” asked Joe. Foster pointed to the south. “What’s that Joe, a fire?” “If it is, it’s one hell of a fire.”
Then they noticed pillars of smoke dotting the horizon.
“I think some of our dead volcanoes have come to life. Come on, we need to get to the B&B. Although the trembling had ceased, the trembling of both
men had not. A mixture of adrenaline, fear, and awe fed emotions waiting for months to be released. Both men knew in their hearts THIS WAS IT.
They hopped into Joe’s jeep and began the short drive to the bed and breakfast. A drive that should have taken minutes, took nearly an hour. The narrow road was littered with tree branches and debris from collapsed buildings and clogged with people walking, stumbling in a state of shock, and not knowing where to go or what to do. Screams could be heard from some of the partially collapsed structures, but for now, aid was nonexistent.
Joe could see the column of smoke issuing to the sky before his business came into view. As they turned the last bend in the road, there stood the B&B, or at least what was left of it, engulfed in flames. The men felt relief when they saw Lulu and Heather standing in the parking lot holding the baby. Their clothes were torn and they were both covered in soot, but they were safe.
They parked the jeep a safe distance from the fire and approached the women. Lulu was in hysterics, sobbing and could not be consoled.
“Thank God you’re all safe. It’s only a building,” Joe said as he embraced his frantic wife.
All Lulu could say over and over was, “Oh no, no, no.”
Foster noticed Heather was also crying. He hugged her and his son. Through choked-back tears, she explained what had happened. “Lulu and I were in the kitchen. Thank God we had the baby with us. We were preparing tomorrow’s breakfast when everything began to shake. Things fell off the shelves and the ceiling started coming down. We made it out just in time before the whole place came crashing down and began to burn.”
Lulu stood listening, clutching herself and moaning.
“A few hours ago we had the first guests we’ve had in a long time check in, a young couple from California, along with their five year old son. They went upstairs to get some rest before they began their tour of the island. They never came out.”
They all watched the burning structure as it caved in further. As the flames singed the nearby palms, they knew it was also a funeral pyre. Both women sobbed as the men stood helpless. Oahu and the rest of the Hawaiian Islands were also helpless, caught in the grasp of a power that was no longer a theory.
Here’s where you can buy it.
Thanks.
http://www.melange-books.com/authors/walttrizna/triznanewmoonrising.html
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