Day Three

Except for the essay, I did my reading late last night.

I actually read two essays earlier in the day. One was T.S. Eliot's "Tradition and the Individual Talent," from 1919. The other was Cynthia Ozick's "A Drugstore in Winter" from 1982. They make for interesting comparison. Eliot argues against individuality. And given what he means by it, he may be right. The poet must learn from tradition so that he doesn't sound like everyone else in his own age. Tradition will free him from faddishness. So far, so good. But there was also an idea of being a laboratory for emotion even while not having the emotion decide what went into the writing that I found cold. Cynthia Ozick's piece was quite different. She wrote autobiography of a kind where she knew that the nitty gritty details of place and time were likely to hit a resonating frequency in others from other very different places and times. I think she showed the good side of individuality. Yet I also knew that the first sense of Eliot's tradition might have taught her how to do this well. In any case, I think Eliot is more right than wrong, but I think the recent discussion on reason and emotion carried on by someone like Antonio D'Amasio would show where Eliot fell short.

My short story was by Roald Dahl, and my poem by William Drummond of Hawthorndon. Both of these were worth reading, but I don't feel like writing about them now. Anything worth saying about them will take some development. It may well be worth it, but I can't quickly jot worthwhile notes on those.

Day Two

I went to the library to find some of the material Bradbury mentioned. I found a book of stories by John Collier, and a collection of Greatest American Essays of the Century, which had an essay by a writer Bradbury liked, Loren Eiseley, even if it did not have the specific essay, "The Fire Apes," which he said was fantastic.

The story "The Frog Prince" was absolutely hilarious. About five pages long. Saying anything about what happens would spoil it. But I will say that the best part was all in dialog. The essay I read was from 1956 and called "The Brown Wasps." There was a lot of beautiful anthropomorphism in the essay. I'm sure some naturalists could have attacked him on that score. The images from this essay will linger with me, I think. I also got a sense that some writers know how to write about loneliness in a way that makes it communal. In a certain sense it seems to take the bite out of it and allow people to see a beauty in it. I'll be keeping my eyes open for more of that. The poem I read was "The Epicure: Sung by one in the Habit of a Town Gallant" by Thomas Jordan (ca.1612-1685). A funny carpe diem poem, saying let us eat, drink, and be merry, for we'll all be gone or what have you "a hundred years hence." Some reference to a hundred years hence is found at the end of each stanza, and the minor variations are interesting.

Day One

Yesterday was day one. It was easy for me to locate short stories and poems in my library, and a bit more difficult to find essays. I have a lot, as I have found since this morning, but I forgot to check LibraryThing under the term "essay." Even then, however, I was wanting something other than a theological essay.

The readings I ended up with last night were the story "A Curtain of Green" by Eudora Welty (one of Bradbury's specific recommendations), the essay "Diaphaneitè" by Walter Pater, and the poem "The Song of the Indian Maid" by John Keats.

The Eudora Welty story reminded me of just how little a short story needs to do to be effective. The focus seemed to be on the meaning of one feeling at one point in time. The Walter Pater piece gave me a category for a kind of person. I want to consider that idea more. The closest I've seen to this kind of thinking is in C.G. Jung, or perhaps Camille Paglia. There was a quote from Carlyle that sounds like a story idea in itself: "'What,' says Carlyle, of Charlotte Corday, 'What if she had emerged from her secluded stillness, suddenly like a star; cruel-lovely, with half-angelic, half-daemonic splendour; to gleam for a moment, and in a moment be extinguished; to be held in memory, so bright complete was she, through long centuries!'"

The Keats poem was a revelation. This did not surprise me after recently seeing the movie "Bright Star" which featured quite a few of his poems. I want to slow down and analyze this, and I may, but Bradbury will have me continuing to read, too.

Read with Me

Yesterday I ran into this video of a Ray Bradbury lecture. I had heard him speak when I was in high school, and found him inspiring. This video reminded me of advice he had given long ago. Every night, he counseled, we should read one short story, one essay, and one poem. We should also write one short story per week. I am going to try to do this.

I began yesterday. Each day will have an entry on the reading. I haven't decided yet what to do about the short story.