This is James Agee writing about the Bugs Bunny cartoon Rhapsody Rabbit:
The best part of it goes two ways: one, very observant parody of concert-pianistic affectations, elegantly thought out and synchronized; the other, brutality keyed into the spirit of the music to reach greater subtlety than I have ever seen brutality reach before. I could hardly illustrate without musical quotation; but there is a passage in which the music goes up with an arrogant wrenching of slammed chords — Ronk, Ronk, RONK (G-B-E) — then prisses downward on a broken scale — which Bugs takes (a) with all four feet, charging madly, scowling like a rockinghorse late for a date at stud, (b) friskily tiptoe, proudly smirking, like a dog toe-dancing through his own misdemeanor or the return of an I-Was-There journalist, a man above fear or favor who knows precisely which sleeping dogs to lie about. It killed me; and when they had the wonderful brass to repeat it exactly, a few bars later, I knew what killed really meant.
I would kill, and hide the bodies in deeply inconvenient places, to be able to write like that.
More to the point, though: when was the last time you read a movie review, a book review, a review of an anime, anything that had this kind of brash panache, this sort of uninhibited gusto? Agee wasn't so much trying to review the movie as recreate a moment from it in our minds, and that is one of the most ambitious impulses for any critic to attempt, let alone, indulge in, let alone succeed at.
OK, time for a new wrinkle on an old complaint.
I've written before about how one of the most consistent disappointments I have with self-publishing is seeing people work really, really hard to do nothing more than recapitulate what's already out there. Instead of trying to do the things that conventional publishing won't do because it has no idea how to market such material, the self-published crowd too often falls back on doing the things that everyone else is doing, just in highly miniature form. Hence the floods of self-pubbed paranormal romance, warmed-over space opera, dark teen fantasy, and so on.
If I sound like I'm being critical of people's tastes, it's not because I think those books shouldn't be written. Such material will find an audience in any market. It's that I think a big part of the point of not going through the apparatus of conventional publishing is to avoid repeating all its most obvious gestures — to do something new.Read more
The next couple of weeks around Chez Genji are likely to be very scattershot and slow, as I'm in the final stages of prepping for my cross-country move. I'll go into the whys and wherefores of that later — it's actually not some big dramatic thing, it's mostly a matter of economics and practicality — especially since I imagine I'll have more to say about the matter after I've resettled and am not living out of tote bags and banker's boxes. Between then and now, though, don't expect much out of me.
Our cultural desire for a legitimate epic — a story that feels as if it will go on forever, yet proceeds with strength and intent toward a satisfying conclusion instead of spinning out into endless side-quests and prequels — is mounting. Maybe it's never gone away.
I've written before about my problem with so-called epic storytelling, something Gabriel echoes in his post above: it's too easy for something like that to turn into shapelessness for its own sake, to start as Homer and end up as General Hospital. Hence my general aversion to storytelling as a mechanism to provide people with a bath to lie down in and go to sleep, so to speak. A good story should wake you up, not lull you into complacency.Read more
The systematic study of most any spiritual path (in my case, Zen) leads you, if you're lucky, to confront the incarnate meaning of the clichés thrown around by people who have at best read a few books about it. "All is one" is a perfect example of such a thing, not only because it's such a generic spiritual bromide but because it's so easy to get wrong, or turn into total twaddle.
Here's a f'rinstance. At some point I mean to sit down with both the book and movie of David Mitchell's Cloud Atlas, one of the more recent bits of semi-popular culture that makes this conceit central to its execution. What worries me is whether or not the book/movie (one, the other, or both) will simply invoke the idea without actually being about it. It's the difference between Traffic¹ and Crash. The former was unsparing in its understanding how everything is connected, because that connectivity is not always a benevolent thing. The latter was shameless piffle, which pulled so many strings I wanted to start pulling them back. (Don Cheadle was good in both of them, though — but let's face it, a film of him counting cracks in a wall would be good.)
The way I see it, you can't make "the interconnectedness of all things" into a theme by just showing a bunch of stuff from 35,000 feet up, drawing lines between them, and saying "See? They're connected!"
For one, doing that makes the work no longer about the things in question, but about the arbitrary connections between them. The problem is that the creator doesn't see those connections as arbitrary, because she made those connections, and she'll always convince himself there's a good reason for why Tab A belongs in Slot B. What's harder to do, by orders of magnitude, is to convince the audience that such connections and no other are the spokes that belong in that particular wheel.
The other problem is that the connectedness of things is not always a feel-good experience.
Strike that: the full-blown version of such an experience has to be something that rattles the teeth and squashes the eyeballs. The default, fall-back feeling for most people is to believe they're a unique and special snowflake, and therefore can feel all the more separate from the rest of the universe. They take from it as they need, and receive from it as they choose.Read more
Tags: Brad Warner
... as tough as it is to get any movie made, it’s even more difficult to produce and distribute genuinely original, nongeneric, non-groupthink work, which is one reason the big studios are now largely in the recycling business (“Iron Man 3” and the regurgitated like). American independent cinema is a confusing, contradictory and maybe useless designation. Who, after all, is independent? Yet it used to seem like both a refuge and a promise, a place where art and industry were on equal terms.
There was a comment on Twitter the other day — can't find the reference now, sorry — that the best measure of what constitutes "indie" vs. "corporate" in most any realm is how the artist and his work is treated. An indie comics publisher, for instance, lets the artist keep his work; a corporate comics outfit has him essentially sign the work over to them. Book publishers, thankfully, don't do this unless you're talking about work-for-hire for the likes of a major franchise.
Underneath everything else, there's an attitude towards the artist that manifests itself in such things. If you think of the artist as a person, an individual, you're less likely to construct your business around treating him with contempt.Read more
A good post from a fellow self-pubbed author:
There is still a lot wrong with publishing. We still lack adequate systems for getting developing writers the feedback they need in order to improve — form rejection letters are instructive in that they tell a writer something’s wrong, but they are effectively worthless as improvement tools. We still don’t have an online system for helping people find quality, undiscovered literature — our existing systems use ‘popularity’ as the metric that increases visibility, which causes a small handful of books to become big and stay big at the expense of everyone else in the market. The list goes on, but all of our problems are solvable. The question is, will we step up to the challenge of solving them? Will we continue pining for the good old days on one side, and insist that Amazon is our savior on the other? Or will we instead reject any and all dogma, and continue to evolve as a publishing community?
Most of what he talks about is how the forces on both sides of the equation have their merits and their drawbacks. The elitism and stonewalling of conventional publishing is bad enough, but the anarchy of self-publishing creates an elitism of its own.Read more
I've spent the last couple of days engaged in the not terribly uplifting process of shoving things into boxes and then shoving said boxes into a big storage container sitting in my driveway. The Great Weeding Out And Winnowing Down, as I keep calling it. Aside from playing the game of So That's Where That Went!, I've also been realizing, with no small amount of chagrin, how easy it is to turn your home into a landfill.
Parting with most of my book collection — what I thought would be the hard part — wasn't as difficult as I imagined. Most fiction is only meant to be read once, and a lot of nonfiction or reference work is either being eclipsed by on-line resources (albeit of widely varying quality) or other, more recent works derived from better research. Anything you don't come back to in a year, or which you don't see yourself coming back to and being able to get something new out of in the future, isn't worth keeping. It's not as hard to come to this understanding as you think.Read more
If John Cassavetes, my friend and mentor, were alive today, he would certainly be using all the equipment that’s available. But he would be saying the same things he always said – you have to be absolutely dedicated to the work, you have to give everything of yourself, and you have to protect the spark of connection that drove you to make the picture in the first place. You have to protect it with your life. In the past, because making movies was so expensive, we had to protect against exhaustion and compromise. In the future, you’ll have to steel yourself against something else: the temptation to go with the flow, and allow the movie to drift and float away.
The same goes for just about every art we make these days, I think. It's gotten easier than ever to not only write but publish, to not only draw but assemble a portfolio, to not only create music but produce it with a degree of polish and technical perfection that our predecessors would have never been able to buy at any price.
For a while I believed the problem with all this was that it made things too easy, that it removed from the act of creation all the building of muscle and refinement of strength that used to be an inevitably by-product of mastering the art in question from the ground up. But it took Marty's words here to put the right perspective on it. It's not that it's become too easy to create, but that it's become too easy to simply give people what they want rather than what they deserve.
Drawing this distinction is hard enough that many people have not been able to do it over the course of their entire careers. I'm constantly torn up about it myself. If you give people what they want, then they know they can go to you, and thus you have an audience. But if you give them nothing but that, you're starving them of all the other possibilities that can only be known to you. Like Brodksy talking about Dante, there are things only you will ever be able to give any audience; neither the person you are nor the creation you could produce would ever be conjured up by anyone else.
While Flight of the Vajra was still under wraps, I mentioned to a good friend of mine that it seemed downright scary — unfair, even! — that I was the only one who could ever finish such a thing. I didn't like that, if only because it meant we lived in a world where real creativity was the exception, not the rule. Then again, if it was the rule, odds are it wouldn't get called "creative" in the first place. I came out of that conversation knowing all the more that I owed it to both myself and the world to work on the things that I could safely call irreplaceable.
.... are we caught in a diminishing loop of derivative creativity, some kind of stranglehold of the secondhand? Have we wandered deeper into Eliot’s Waste Land — the fragmented panoramas, the “heap of broken images,” only now with more zombies — than the poet himself could have foreseen? Can it be that our highest form of cultural expression is the YouTube mash-up? “The originators, the exuberant men, are extinct,” Evelyn Waugh wrote in 1957, “and in their place subsists and modestly flourishes a generation notable for elegance and variety of contrivance.” We do not have Tolkien, in other words: We have J. J. Abrams. ... Tolkien, too, was of course drawing on his sources, his own scholarly vaults of inspiration, his Kalevalas and Nibelungenlieds and all that. But he was closer to the root, to the first fictive impulse.
You can probably guess how I feel about all this and where my sympathies lie, but I'll go on anyway.
A big part of why we have a heap of broken images is because we've managed to make it unsustainable to sell anything else but last year's models. Curiosity has become an acquired taste, and an increasingly rarefied one. It's easier to give people a variation on something they — and everyone else — already know, instead of trying to tickle their imaginations in a different way.Read more
From my previous post: "The whole point of having a singular creator for something is to avoid diffusion of the kind of responsibility that needs to be assumed in a singular way."
Here's what I meant by this. A creative work can be done either singly or collaboratively, but there should always be, whenever possible, an authority somewhere to say what the project is or isn't. Without that, the results tend to be baggy and unfocused.Read more
Being around creative people of all different stripes provokes observations, especially as you see different people making the same mistakes.
One thing I see a lot: It is very difficult for creative people to turn their back on something they've already spent time on. They're worried that if they quit now, all the hard work they've poured into $PROJECT will evaporate like so much morning dew in a blast furnace. (See the "sunk cost fallacy" for more on this.)Read more
Yes, I know it's not actually a new year for some folks — that's part of why I'm always reluctant to post such a thing here, weird as that sounds — but it's a new enough year for enough people that I figured some discussion of what awaits me is in order.Read more