In 1966, Hunter S. ThompÂson launched his career with the pubÂliÂcaÂtion of Hell’s Angels: The Strange and TerÂriÂble Saga of the OutÂlaw MotorÂcyÂcle Gangs. The book was the result of ThompÂson livÂing with the bikÂers for a year. He drank with them, hung out with them and witÂnessed both their comÂradery and their bruÂtalÂiÂty. “I was no longer sure whether I was doing research on the HelÂl’s Angels or being slowÂly absorbed by them,” he wrote. He was ultiÂmateÂly seduced by their outÂlaw mysÂtique and parÂticÂuÂlarÂly by their pasÂsion for motorÂcyÂcles.
There was no helÂmets on those nights, no speed limÂit, and no coolÂing it down on the curves. The momenÂtary freeÂdom of the park was like the one unlucky drink that shoves a waverÂing alcoÂholic off the wagÂon.
Thompson’s flirÂtaÂtion with the Hell’s Angels endÂed abruptÂly when he called out a bikÂer named Junkie George for engagÂing in domesÂtic abuse. “Only a punk beats his wife,” he quipped. Junkie took umbrage and proÂceedÂed to beat him senseÂless.
The book, when it came out, simÂiÂlarÂly didn’t impress the Angels. In the clip below, which aired on CanaÂdiÂan TV, an Angel conÂfronts a surÂprisÂingÂly quiÂet and twitchy ThompÂson before a stuÂdio audiÂence.
Jonathan Crow is a Los AngeÂles-based writer and filmÂmakÂer whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The HolÂlyÂwood Reporter, and othÂer pubÂliÂcaÂtions. You can folÂlow him at @jonccrow.
“What has been my pretÂtiÂest conÂtriÂbuÂtion to the culÂture?” asked Kurt VonÂnegut in his autoÂbiÂogÂraÂphyPalm SunÂday. His answer? His master’s theÂsis in anthroÂpolÂoÂgy for the UniÂverÂsiÂty of ChicaÂgo, “which was rejectÂed because it was so simÂple and looked like too much fun.” The eleÂgant simÂplicÂiÂty and playÂfulÂness of Vonnegut’s idea is exactÂly its endurÂing appeal. The idea is so simÂple, in fact, that VonÂnegut sums the whole thing up in one eleÂgant senÂtence: “The funÂdaÂmenÂtal idea is that stoÂries have shapes which can be drawn on graph paper, and that the shape of a givÂen society’s stoÂries is at least as interÂestÂing as the shape of its pots or spearÂheads.” In 2011, we feaÂtured the video below of VonÂnegut explainÂing his theÂoÂry, “The Shapes of StoÂries.” We can add to the dry wit of his lesÂson the picÂto-infoÂgraphÂic by graphÂic designÂer Maya EilÂam above, which strikÂingÂly illusÂtrates, with examÂples, the varÂiÂous stoÂry shapes VonÂnegut described in his theÂsis. (Read a conÂdensed verÂsion here.)
The preÂsenÂter who introÂduces VonÂnegut’s short lecÂture tells us that “his sinÂguÂlar view of the world applies not just to his stoÂries and charÂacÂters but to some of his theÂoÂries as well.” This I would affirm. When it comes to puzÂzling out the import of a stoÂry I’ve just read, the last perÂson I usuÂalÂly turn to is the author. But when it comes to what ficÂtion is and does in genÂerÂal, I want to hear it from writÂers of ficÂtion. Some of the most endurÂing litÂerÂary figÂures are expert writÂers on writÂing. VonÂnegut, a masÂter comÂmuÂniÂcaÂtor, ranks very highÂly among them. Does it do him a disÂserÂvice to conÂdense his ideas into what look like high-res, low-readÂabilÂiÂty workÂplace safeÂty graphÂics? On the conÂtrary, I think.
Though the design may be a litÂtle slick for VonÂnegut’s unapoloÂgetÂiÂcalÂly indusÂtriÂal approach, he’d have appreÂciÂatÂed the slightÂly corny, slightÂly macabre boilÂerÂplate iconogÂraÂphy. His work turns a susÂpiÂcious eye on overÂcomÂpliÂcatÂed posÂturÂing and chamÂpiÂons unsenÂtiÂmenÂtal, MidÂwestÂern directÂness. Vonnegut’s short, trade pubÂliÂcaÂtion essay, “How to Write With Style,” is as sucÂcinct and pracÂtiÂcal a stateÂment on the subÂject in exisÂtence. One will encounter no more a ruthÂlessÂly effiÂcient list than his “Eight Rules for WritÂing FicÂtion.” But it’s in his “Shapes of StoÂries” theÂoÂry that I find the most insight into what ficÂtion does, in brilÂliantÂly simÂple and funÂny ways that anyÂone can appreÂciÂate.
Austen was, by and large, a homeÂschooled and autoÂdiÂdacÂtic child. Although she had takÂen part in some forÂmal schoolÂing between the ages of 7 and 10, illÂness and the family’s lack of means dicÂtatÂed that she had to rely on her father’s extenÂsive library for an eduÂcaÂtion. By the time she was fifÂteen, Austen had eviÂdentÂly gathÂered sufÂfiÂcient mateÂrÂiÂal to fuel her writÂing, and had comÂpletÂed a hisÂtoÂry of EngÂland, beginÂning with HenÂry IV (1367–1413), and endÂing with Charles I (1600–1649). Above, you can see one of the book’s many illusÂtraÂtions drawn by Jane’s elder sisÂter, CasÂsanÂdra, depictÂing Edward IV, of whom Austen writes, “This Monarch was famous only for his BeauÂty & his Courage, of which the PicÂture we have here givÂen of him, & his undauntÂed BehavÂiour in marÂryÂing one Woman while he was engaged to anothÂer, are sufÂfiÂcient proofs.” In spite of its breviÂty — the book numÂbers only 36 handÂwritÂten pages — Austen’s juveÂnilÂia shows unmisÂtakÂable signs of her disÂtinct satirÂiÂcal voice. The volÂume is, in fact, a parÂoÂdy of the stuffy claims of objecÂtivÂiÂty found in 18th cenÂtuÂry grade school hisÂtoÂry textÂbooks, like OlivÂer GoldÂsmith’sThe HisÂtoÂry of EngÂland from the EarÂliÂest Times to the Death of George II. Rather than folÂlow suit, Austen skips trivÂiÂalÂiÂties such as key dates and events, notÂing to her readÂers in the introÂducÂtion to a secÂtion on HenÂry VIII,
“It would be an affront to my ReadÂers were I to supÂpose that they were not as well acquaintÂed with the parÂticÂuÂlars of the King’s reign as I am myself. It will thereÂfore be savÂing them the task of readÂing again what they have read before, & myself the trouÂble of writÂing what I do not perÂfectÂly recÂolÂlect, by givÂing only a slight sketch of the prinÂciÂpal Events which marked his reign”
I had the sense that Austin relÂished writÂing such humorÂous prose as much as I enjoyed readÂing it. UnconÂstrained by the forÂmalÂiÂties of her mediÂum, she takes to refÂerÂencÂing ShakeÂspeare and givÂing voice to her numerÂous opinÂions. Take, for examÂple, her entries on HenÂry V and HenÂry VI:
HenÂry the 5th
This Prince after he sucÂceedÂed to the throne grew quite reformed and amiÂable, forÂsakÂing all his disÂsiÂpatÂed ComÂpanÂions, & nevÂer thrashÂing Sir William again. DurÂing his reign, Lord CobÂham was burnt alive, but I forÂget what for. His Majesty then turned his thoughts to France, where he went & fought the famous BatÂtle of AginÂcourt. He afterÂwards marÂried the King’s daughÂter CatherÂine, a very agreeÂable Woman by ShakeÂspear’s account. Inspite of all this howÂevÂer, he died, and was sucÂceedÂed by his son HenÂry.
HenÂry the 6th
I canÂnot say much for this MonarÂch’s sense. Nor would I if I could, for he was a LanÂcasÂtriÂan. I supÂpose you know all about the Wars between him & the Duke of York who was of the right side; if you do not, you had betÂter read some othÂer HisÂtoÂry, for I shall not be very difÂfuse in this, meanÂing by it only to vent my Spleen against, & shew my Hatred to all those peoÂple whose parÂties or prinÂciÂples do not suit with mine, & not to give inforÂmaÂtion. This King marÂried MarÂgaret of Anjou, a Woman whose disÂtressÂes & misÂforÂtunes were so great as almost to make me who hate her, pity her. It was in this reign that Joan of Arc lived & made such a row among the EngÂlish. They should not have burnt her — but they did.
The whole book, includÂing the above pages on Queens Mary and ElizÂaÂbeth, may be viewed at the British library’s webÂsite.
Like many David FosÂter WalÂlace fans, I bought a copy of J. PedÂer Zane’s The Top Ten (preÂviÂousÂly feaÂtured here), a comÂpiÂlaÂtion of varÂiÂous famous writÂers’ top-ten-books lists, expressÂly for DFW’s conÂtriÂbuÂtion. Like most of those David FosÂter WalÂlace fans, I felt more than a litÂtle surÂprised when I turned to his page and found out which ten books he’d choÂsen. Here, as quotÂed in the ChrisÂtÂian SciÂence MonÂiÂtor, we have the InfiÂnite Jest author and wideÂly recÂogÂnized (if relucÂtant) “high-brow” litÂerÂary figÂure’s top ten list:
Thrillers, killers, and a dose of ChrisÂtianÂiÂty to top it off; I didÂn’t blame Zane when he asked, “Is he seriÂous? Beats me. To be honÂest, I don’t know what WalÂlace was thinkÂing. But I do think there’s a cerÂtain integriÂty to his list.” WalÂlace himÂself seemed to read assidÂuÂousÂly all over the map — or, more to the point, all up and down the scale of critÂiÂcal respectabilÂiÂty. RatÂtling off “the stuff that’s sort of rung my cherÂries” to Salon’s LauÂra Miller in 1996, for a conÂtrast, he named, among othÂer worÂthy reads, Socrates’ funerÂal oraÂtion, John Donne, “Keats’ shortÂer stuff,” SchopenÂhauer, William James’ VariÂeties of ReliÂgious ExpeÂriÂence, Wittgenstein’s TracÂtaÂtus, Joyce’s PorÂtrait of the Artist as a Young Man, HemÂingÂway’s In Our Time, Don DeLilÂlo, A.S. Byatt, CynÂthia Ozick, DonÂald Barthelme, Moby-Dick, and The Great GatsÂby. (You can find many of these texts in our Free eBooks colÂlecÂtion.)
That, some WalÂlace readÂers may think, sounds more like it. But those who’ve paid close attenÂtion to WalÂlace’s lanÂguage — that often breathÂlessÂly but hopeÂlessÂly imiÂtatÂed mixÂture of high-calÂiber vocabÂuÂlary, casuÂalÂly spoÂken rhythm, decepÂtiveÂly sharp-edged perÂcepÂtion, shrugÂging preÂsenÂtaÂtion, and delibÂerÂate soleÂcism — know how fulÂly he simulÂtaÂneÂousÂly embodÂied both “high” and “low” EngÂlish writÂing. Just look at the LitÂerÂary AnalyÂsis sylÂlabus from his days teachÂing at IlliÂnois State UniÂverÂsiÂty, which demands stuÂdents read not just The Silence of the Lambs but anothÂer Thomas HarÂris novÂel, Black SunÂday, as well as more C.S. Lewis (in this case The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe) and Stephen King (CarÂrie). Lest you doubt his comÂmitÂment to the seriÂous readÂing of popÂuÂlar ficÂtion, note the presÂence of JackÂie Collins’ Rock Star. In the classÂroom and in life, WalÂlace must truÂly have believed that there exists no low ficÂtion; just low ways of readÂing ficÂtion.
LookÂing for free, proÂfesÂsionÂalÂly-read audio books from Audible.com? Here’s a great, no-strings-attached deal. If you start a 30 day free triÂal with Audible.com, you can downÂload two free audio books of your choice. Get more details on the offer here.
Despite his respectÂed facilÂiÂty with the EngÂlish lanÂguage, ArgenÂtine masÂter craftsÂman of short ficÂtion Jorge Luis Borges did his best work in his native SpanÂish. Though we rememÂber proÂlifÂic interÂviewÂer and even more proÂlifÂic writer William F. BuckÂley for his forÂmiÂdaÂble comÂmand of EngÂlish above all else, he didÂn’t even learn it as his first lanÂguage, startÂing in on his EngÂlish eduÂcaÂtion at age sevÂen, havÂing already learned SpanÂish (not to menÂtion French).
This must have placed him well to appreÂciÂate Borges’ writÂing, and indeed, in his introÂducÂtion to their FirÂing Line conÂverÂsaÂtion above, BuckÂley cites Borges’ repÂuÂtaÂtion as the greatÂest, most influÂenÂtial writer then alive. “We met in Buenos Aires, in 1977, durÂing the milÂiÂtary junÂta days,” BuckÂley recalls of the tapÂing in a Paris Review interÂview. “He seemed astonÂishÂingÂly frail, but he spoke withÂout a pause.”
BuckÂley goes on to proÂvide many choice quotes from Borges’ answers to quesÂtions about his sight (“When you are blind, time flows in a difÂferÂent way. It flows, let’s say, on an easy slope”), his love of AmerÂiÂcan writÂers like EmerÂson and Melville, his lanÂguages (“Of course, my Latin is very rusty. But still, as I once wrote, to have forÂgotÂten Latin is already, in itself, a gift”), and where he finds beauÂty and art (“A man may say a very fine thing, not being aware of it. I am hearÂing fine senÂtences all the time from the man in the street, for examÂple. From anyÂbody”), and how he taught (“I tried to teach my stuÂdents not literature—that can’t be taught—but the love of litÂerÂaÂture”). For more on that last, see also “The DagÂgers of Jorge Luis Borges,” a piece on the new book ProÂfesÂsor Borges: A Course on EngÂlishLitÂerÂaÂture, by Michael GreenÂberg in the New York Review of Books.
I conÂfess, I preÂfer FaulknÂer to HemÂingÂway and see nothÂing wrong with long, comÂplex senÂtences when they are well-conÂstructÂed. But in most non-FaulknÂer writÂing, they are not. Stream of conÂsciousÂness is a delibÂerÂate effect of careÂfulÂly editÂed prose, not the unreÂvised slop of a first draft. In my days as a writÂing teacher, I’ve read my share of the latÂter. The EngÂlish teacher’s guide for parÂing down unruly writÂing resemÂbles a new online app called “HemÂingÂway,” which examÂines writÂing and grades it on a colÂor-codÂed difÂfiÂculÂty scale. “HemÂingÂway” sugÂgests using simÂpler dicÂtion, editÂing out adverbs in favor of stronger verbs, and elimÂiÂnatÂing pasÂsive voice. It promisÂes to make your writÂing like that of the famous AmerÂiÂcan minÂiÂmalÂist, “strong and clear.”
Of course I couldn’t resist runÂning the above paraÂgraph through HemÂingÂway. It received a score of 11—merely “O.K.” It sugÂgestÂed that I change the pasÂsive in senÂtence one and remove “careÂfulÂly” from the fourth senÂtence (I declined), and it idenÂtiÂfied “unruly” as an adverb (it is not). Like all forms of advice, it pays to use your own judgÂment before applyÂing wholeÂsale. NevÂerÂtheÂless, the sugÂgesÂtion to streamÂline and simÂpliÂfy for clarity’s sake is a genÂerÂal rule worth heedÂing more often than not. BrothÂers Adam and Ben Long, creÂators of the app, realÂized that their “senÂtences often grow long to the point that they became difÂfiÂcult to read.” It hapÂpens to everyÂone, amaÂteur and proÂfesÂsionÂal alike. The app sugÂgests writÂing that scores a Grade 10 or below is “bold and clear.” WritÂing above this meaÂsure is “hard” or “very hard” to read. Which prompts the inevitable quesÂtion: How does HemÂingÂway himÂself score in the HemÂingÂway app?
In a blog post yesÂterÂday for The New YorkÂer, Ian Crouch ran a few of the master’s pasÂsages through the online editÂing tool (a conÂcept akin to John Malkovich enterÂing John Malkovich’s head). The openÂing paraÂgraph of “A Clean, Well-LightÂed Place” received a score of 15. Hemingway’s descripÂtion of Romero the bullÂfightÂer from The Sun Also RisÂes also “breaks sevÂerÂal of the HemÂingÂway rules” with its use of pasÂsive voice and extraÂneÂous adverbs. Does this mean even HemÂingÂway falls short of the ideÂal? Or only that writÂing rules exist to be broÂken? Both, perÂhaps, and neiÂther. Style is as eluÂsive as gramÂmar is conÂstrictÂing, and both are masÂtered only through endÂless pracÂtice. Will “HemÂingÂway” turn you into HemÂingÂway? No. Will it make you a betÂter writer? Maybe. But only, I’d sugÂgest, inasÂmuch as you learn when to accept and when to ignore its advice.
The movie shows KafÂka, on ChristÂmas Eve, strugÂgling to come up with the openÂing line for his most famous work, The MetaÂmorÂphoÂsis.
As GreÂgor SamÂsa awoke one mornÂing from uneasy dreams he found himÂself transÂformed in his bed into a giganÂtic insect.
CapalÂdi wrings a lot of laughs out of Kafka’s inabilÂiÂty to figÂure out what SamÂsa should turn into. A giant banana? A kanÂgaÂroo? Even when the answer is litÂerÂalÂly starÂing at him in the face, KafÂka is hilarÂiÂousÂly obtuse.
Richard E. Grant stars as the torÂtured, tightÂly-wound writer who is driÂven into fits as his creÂative process is interÂruptÂed for increasÂingÂly absurd reaÂsons. The noisy parÂty downÂstairs, it turns out, is popÂuÂlatÂed by a dozen beauÂtiÂful maidÂens in white. A lost delivÂery woman offers KafÂka a balÂloon aniÂmal. A local lunatic searchÂes for his comÂpanÂion named Jiminy CockÂroach.
Jonathan Crow is a Los AngeÂles-based writer and filmÂmakÂer whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The HolÂlyÂwood Reporter, and othÂer pubÂliÂcaÂtions. You can folÂlow him at @jonccrow.
If you don’t have enough exisÂtenÂtial angst in your life — and if you’re operÂatÂing on the theÂoÂry that there’s no such thing as too much KafÂka (see our post from earÂliÂer today) — then check out this radio play called SamÂsa & Seuss, which aired origÂiÂnalÂly on the CBC show WireÂtap before appearÂing on This AmerÂiÂcan Life. The piece is based on an episÂtoÂlary short stoÂry by the late, great David Rakoff and is perÂformed by Rakoff along with Jonathan GoldÂstein.
The stoÂry begins with a desÂperÂate GreÂgor SamÂsa reachÂing out to Dr. Seuss lookÂing for some way to cure him of his malÂaÂdy — i.e. being a bug. Seuss’s reply is writÂten entireÂly in verse — “Rest assured, I’ll endeavÂor to glean and deduce. You’ll be betÂter than ever or my name isn’t Seuss” – which conÂfusÂes SamÂsa to no end. At one point, SamÂsa asks, “Is metÂriÂcal rhyme an AmerÂiÂcan mode of corÂreÂsponÂdence?”
I’m astonÂished at times when I think of the past, of my thouÂsands of rhymes, of how life is so vast. I’m left, then, to wonÂder how anyÂone gleans a purÂpose or sense of what anyÂthing means. It’s not ours for the knowÂing. It’s meanÂing abstruse. We both best be going. Your lovÂing friend, Seuss.
Jonathan Crow is a Los AngeÂles-based writer and filmÂmakÂer whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The HolÂlyÂwood Reporter, and othÂer pubÂliÂcaÂtions. You can folÂlow him at @jonccrow.
We're hoping to rely on loyal readers, rather than erratic ads. Please click the Donate button and support Open Culture. You can use Paypal, Venmo, Patreon, even Crypto! We thank you!
Open Culture scours the web for the best educational media. We find the free courses and audio books you need, the language lessons & educational videos you want, and plenty of enlightenment in between.
