My Vibe book review: Goldberg's Writing Down the Bones
Someone recommended I read Writing Down the Bones, by Natalie Goldberg, many years ago, and I carried the cute little mini-trim-size edition around with me for quite a while. I don't remember coming away from that first possession with any particular jewels of insight or knowledge that resonated, but my general sense of the book over the intervening years is one of having been pleased and inspired by it.
So when I saw that the newest edition of the book was available from Shambhala Publications through NetGalley, I didn't hesitate to download it to my Kindle to review. I wanted to revisit the text that had pleased me (and to recall why).
Goldberg's tone and approach are accessible, and the writing tips she shares are fine_certainly valid and usable, especially for young/beginning writers. She places writing in the hands of novices through comparisons with everyday (at least for some of us) activities such as baking_which I return to later.
But one thread woven throughout the book isn't from the every day_Zen meditation. Goldberg's insistence on likening the writing process to aspects of Zen might have intrigued me oh, let's say, fifteen-plus years ago when I lived in Ann Arbor (where she also lived for a time), but this go-round, I found it tiresome, less than helpful, and disconnected from contemporary life.
That last point reflects my main issue with this edition of Writing Down the Bones: the content surely hasn't been updated since the time I first read it. Even the preface is dated 2004, presumably the year of the most recent edition.
For example, I honest-to-God gaped when I read this hangover from the pre-all-access era: "I have not worked very much with a computer, but I can imagine using a Macintosh, where the keyboard can be put on my lap, closing my eyes and just typing away." So far, no complaints, but she continues, "The computer automatically returns carriage. The device is called 'wraparound.'"
I don't see the inattention to the rules of revision as necessarily Goldberg's fault. I suppose she may still to this day not have experienced the vast array of applications beyond that of the wraparound text, but even were that the case, Shambhala is remiss in publishing a new edition for late 2010 without incorporating revisions that address out-of-date references to the world we live in and, more importantly, write about. Will young or beginning writers keep reading, knowing that text novels are being written on smartphones? To what extent will they believe the author when she says to "choose your [writing] tools carefully"?
From fairly early on, then, I admit I read this book through a veil of stale techniques and outdated viewpoints. I was hard pressed to give more than a glance to some sections, and I completely glossed over the writing-as-Zen wisdom after a time.
On the other hand, I was delighted by some of Goldberg's observations. Among the writing practice ideas she offers is to "Tell about the quality of light coming in through the window." Another is to "Take something you feel strongly about, whether it is positive or negative, and write about it as though you love it. . . . then flip over and write about the same thing as though you hate it. Then write about it perfectly neutral." And this anecdote is revealing: "A teacher in Elkton [Minnesota] called me to the side: 'Look under the desks. There's mud on the floor from their shoes. That's a good sign. It means spring.' And I look in wonder for the first time."
Some of her advice is truly timeless: "Use original detail in your writing. Life is so rich, if you can write down the real details of the way things were and are, you hardly need anything else."
In a chapter titled "Baking a Cake," Goldberg compares writing to, well, baking a cake; the details of your life are the ingredients. "You must become one with the details in love or hate; they become an extension of your body. Nabokov says, 'Caress the divine details.' He doesn't say, 'Jostle them in place or bang them around.'"
I say jostling and banging might just do a story some good.
The way the book is structured is haphazard and streaky. Though the analogies to everyday activities lead to some repetition, I find the (if you'll forgive me) jostling to be charming, as though the author is so excited to share everything she can with you. Like, "Don't self-edit. And don't fight the tofu. Oh, and be a good listener . . ."
Goldberg is to be thanked for sharing her companionship, using her experiences as examples, and sticking to her proven methods and time-tested advice. But the lack of updating sends the entire volume to the realm of the quirky, aging aunt and takes away a good reason to purchase this new edition of Writing Down the Bones.
So when I saw that the newest edition of the book was available from Shambhala Publications through NetGalley, I didn't hesitate to download it to my Kindle to review. I wanted to revisit the text that had pleased me (and to recall why).
Goldberg's tone and approach are accessible, and the writing tips she shares are fine_certainly valid and usable, especially for young/beginning writers. She places writing in the hands of novices through comparisons with everyday (at least for some of us) activities such as baking_which I return to later.
But one thread woven throughout the book isn't from the every day_Zen meditation. Goldberg's insistence on likening the writing process to aspects of Zen might have intrigued me oh, let's say, fifteen-plus years ago when I lived in Ann Arbor (where she also lived for a time), but this go-round, I found it tiresome, less than helpful, and disconnected from contemporary life.
That last point reflects my main issue with this edition of Writing Down the Bones: the content surely hasn't been updated since the time I first read it. Even the preface is dated 2004, presumably the year of the most recent edition.
For example, I honest-to-God gaped when I read this hangover from the pre-all-access era: "I have not worked very much with a computer, but I can imagine using a Macintosh, where the keyboard can be put on my lap, closing my eyes and just typing away." So far, no complaints, but she continues, "The computer automatically returns carriage. The device is called 'wraparound.'"
I don't see the inattention to the rules of revision as necessarily Goldberg's fault. I suppose she may still to this day not have experienced the vast array of applications beyond that of the wraparound text, but even were that the case, Shambhala is remiss in publishing a new edition for late 2010 without incorporating revisions that address out-of-date references to the world we live in and, more importantly, write about. Will young or beginning writers keep reading, knowing that text novels are being written on smartphones? To what extent will they believe the author when she says to "choose your [writing] tools carefully"?
From fairly early on, then, I admit I read this book through a veil of stale techniques and outdated viewpoints. I was hard pressed to give more than a glance to some sections, and I completely glossed over the writing-as-Zen wisdom after a time.
On the other hand, I was delighted by some of Goldberg's observations. Among the writing practice ideas she offers is to "Tell about the quality of light coming in through the window." Another is to "Take something you feel strongly about, whether it is positive or negative, and write about it as though you love it. . . . then flip over and write about the same thing as though you hate it. Then write about it perfectly neutral." And this anecdote is revealing: "A teacher in Elkton [Minnesota] called me to the side: 'Look under the desks. There's mud on the floor from their shoes. That's a good sign. It means spring.' And I look in wonder for the first time."
Some of her advice is truly timeless: "Use original detail in your writing. Life is so rich, if you can write down the real details of the way things were and are, you hardly need anything else."
In a chapter titled "Baking a Cake," Goldberg compares writing to, well, baking a cake; the details of your life are the ingredients. "You must become one with the details in love or hate; they become an extension of your body. Nabokov says, 'Caress the divine details.' He doesn't say, 'Jostle them in place or bang them around.'"
I say jostling and banging might just do a story some good.
The way the book is structured is haphazard and streaky. Though the analogies to everyday activities lead to some repetition, I find the (if you'll forgive me) jostling to be charming, as though the author is so excited to share everything she can with you. Like, "Don't self-edit. And don't fight the tofu. Oh, and be a good listener . . ."
Goldberg is to be thanked for sharing her companionship, using her experiences as examples, and sticking to her proven methods and time-tested advice. But the lack of updating sends the entire volume to the realm of the quirky, aging aunt and takes away a good reason to purchase this new edition of Writing Down the Bones.
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