I've been fascinated by storytelling for awhile now--all my life, actually--and I always seem to come back to a key frustrated of mine through the re-telling of stories: how to render each person's voice so that it accurately fits the truest possible depiction of the person, and how am I able to re-tell the story in a way that honors others' voices and not just my own interpretation of the narrative?
Lately I've read Joan Didion's collection of essays, Slouching Towards Bethlehem. Didion, at least in the creative nonfiction world, seemed to reinvent new journalism. She speaks with a reserved and subtle passion for her subjects; for the most part, the "I" that is so prevalent to the traditional story (the "I" needing to be present in order for the readers/listeners to feel connected, feel as if they are being led through the experience) almost altogether disappears. What is left, however, is a beautifully rich scene of detail and voice. While others embrace the personal, interior journey of the mind, Didion allows her subjects to speak for themselves; she allows the surrounding environment to bear witness, as she provides detail after detail. It is, for the most part, a journey into the everyday. What is gained by such a project, however, is a deep sense on the reader's part that what Didion is in fact doing is using these outside subjects as vehicles, or a way to get inside an idea--what she wants to really say about such a scene. In this sense, we as readers do not feel cheated or deceived; we feel, strangely, as though we know more about Didion from these outside sources and the everyday notation than if she were to come out and say so directly herself, "This is who I am."
I felt the same way with Stewart, and although I respect the comments made by others and some slight frustrations with her style choices, I think I'm beginning to understand these choices. By grounding her readers in the characters, by asking them to "imagine" and "picture" certain details of the scene, we in fact learn much more about our narrator than we might have anticipated. Story allows us a lens, and we see that lens through a certain perspective. I think Stewart's aim--or lens--was to try to accurately paint scene and allow us as readers to perhaps fill in those gaps. Where Glassie plugs up those holes with minute procedures and measurements, Stewart lends a bit more freedom. It is as if by just reading, the space on the side of the road is left wide enough to allow for us to enter and commune for a time--we have room to ask questions (where Glassie just provides the answer).
I also must say, on a side note, that I appreciated the readings and authors leading up to this book. Stewart does name and refer to quite a variety of thinkers in her field, and it was refreshing for me to be able to see those names and connect what I had read of their work to how Stewart referenced them in her work. I felt like I was being rewarded.
--Julie Lauterbach-Colby
Sunday, April 5, 2009
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