My reading tastes were shaped, in a major way, by Amy Bloom. It seems to me Bloom understands that reading should be for pleasure; though she has a "literary sensibility," she also enjoys plot. She enjoys well-written stories in which things actually happen. As opposed to stylish stories in which nothing happens (Rachel Cusk). Or awkwardly-written, lumpy stories in which *everything* happens. (e.g. "I Am Pilgrim.")
I *like* this Amy Bloom-ish way of operating.
So, for example, asked by the New York Times what she should choose for the beach, Bloom chooses thrillers written with style. Val McDermid, P.D. James, Alan Furst, Ed McBain, Benjamin Black. She says, "Death, suffering, resolution, and a well-shaped sentence seem to go so well with sun and sand." Notice that inclusion of well-shaped sentence. Without that, you have nothing.
The more-"literary" writers Bloom names in this piece are writers who enjoy telling an old-fashioned story. They are writers who invent hot-blooded humans, then move these humans around in interesting, unusual ways. Michael Cunningham: "The Snow Queen." William Maxwell: "So Long, See You Tomorrow." Jane Austen: "Persuasion." Anthony Trollope: "The Eustace Diamonds." Carol Shields: "The Stone Diaries." Edward St. Aubyn: "Patrick Melrose."
Bloom's interview brings to mind a comment from Maile Meloy: "Of course adults are now reading kids' books. Of course adults read Harry Potter. They do this because nothing happens in contemporary literary fiction. An acclaimed novel-for-adults, today, can be like watching paint dry."
Bloom--like Scott Spencer, whom she doesn't mention, to my surprise--wants to build a beautiful story *that also includes upheavals, dramatic twists* .....She wants to deliver the pleasures of Victorian fiction in a more streamlined way. Her novel, "Lucky Us," moves and moves and moves: It gives us lesbians at secret Sapphic Hollywood parties mid-century, it gives us the bombing of Dresden, it gives us a German-American wrongly labeled, and mistreated, in WWII, it gives us an extramarital affair, it gives us people pretending to be who they are not. The title is only slightly ironic: These characters really do feel lucky, despite suffering. They feel lucky to have had such eventful lives. Humming along underneath most of the story is a sense of sororal love: Two sisters screw up and hurt each other and drift apart, and still care about each other despite separations and misunderstandings.
It's not a shock to me that Bloom mentions Michael Cunningham, because the two seem to be friends, and I'd argue you can actually detect the influence of one on the other. Bloom enjoys detailing the mechanics of an actual journey: the way a stranger can surprise you on a train ride, the thoughts you may have about a not-beautiful flight attendant, the memories you might have about your childhood in Martinique, with the dusty bus and the chickens. Cunningham uses a similar trick, at the start of "By Nightfall": A middle-aged married couple takes a cab through Manhattan, and everything becomes enchanted, including the dead horse they notice, the young party animals in a neighboring cab, the "gray light that seems to come up from the sidewalk, not down from above."
It's tricky to find fiction in the sweet spot that includes both smart observations and a sense of suspense: Beautiful sentences that aren't just beautiful. Beautiful sentences that make you wonder what will happen next.
I appreciate Bloom because she doesn't just promote trendy current works; her tastes are hard-won and idiosyncratic. That fondness for Trollope is real.
Because Bloom hasn't really ever led me astray, and because Christmas is a time to think about WHAT TO READ NEXT, I offer this interview, here, in the hope that it is helpful:
https://www.nytimes.com/2014/08/03/books/review/amy-bloom-by-the-book.html
P.S. It's worth paying close attention to Bloom's championing of children's lit. A good picture book must have style, insight into human behavior, and a fast-moving plot. Children's writers do what good writers-for-adults ought to do, and children's writers have to be especially skilled because, as critics, children are unsparing. You won't see many children pretending to enjoy the most recent volume of "My Struggle." Bloom teaches Dr. Seuss to her adult students. Her fondness for Beverly Cleary, Arnold Lobel, Marshall, Hoban, Ezra Jack Keats: also worth noting.
I *like* this Amy Bloom-ish way of operating.
So, for example, asked by the New York Times what she should choose for the beach, Bloom chooses thrillers written with style. Val McDermid, P.D. James, Alan Furst, Ed McBain, Benjamin Black. She says, "Death, suffering, resolution, and a well-shaped sentence seem to go so well with sun and sand." Notice that inclusion of well-shaped sentence. Without that, you have nothing.
The more-"literary" writers Bloom names in this piece are writers who enjoy telling an old-fashioned story. They are writers who invent hot-blooded humans, then move these humans around in interesting, unusual ways. Michael Cunningham: "The Snow Queen." William Maxwell: "So Long, See You Tomorrow." Jane Austen: "Persuasion." Anthony Trollope: "The Eustace Diamonds." Carol Shields: "The Stone Diaries." Edward St. Aubyn: "Patrick Melrose."
Bloom's interview brings to mind a comment from Maile Meloy: "Of course adults are now reading kids' books. Of course adults read Harry Potter. They do this because nothing happens in contemporary literary fiction. An acclaimed novel-for-adults, today, can be like watching paint dry."
Bloom--like Scott Spencer, whom she doesn't mention, to my surprise--wants to build a beautiful story *that also includes upheavals, dramatic twists* .....She wants to deliver the pleasures of Victorian fiction in a more streamlined way. Her novel, "Lucky Us," moves and moves and moves: It gives us lesbians at secret Sapphic Hollywood parties mid-century, it gives us the bombing of Dresden, it gives us a German-American wrongly labeled, and mistreated, in WWII, it gives us an extramarital affair, it gives us people pretending to be who they are not. The title is only slightly ironic: These characters really do feel lucky, despite suffering. They feel lucky to have had such eventful lives. Humming along underneath most of the story is a sense of sororal love: Two sisters screw up and hurt each other and drift apart, and still care about each other despite separations and misunderstandings.
It's not a shock to me that Bloom mentions Michael Cunningham, because the two seem to be friends, and I'd argue you can actually detect the influence of one on the other. Bloom enjoys detailing the mechanics of an actual journey: the way a stranger can surprise you on a train ride, the thoughts you may have about a not-beautiful flight attendant, the memories you might have about your childhood in Martinique, with the dusty bus and the chickens. Cunningham uses a similar trick, at the start of "By Nightfall": A middle-aged married couple takes a cab through Manhattan, and everything becomes enchanted, including the dead horse they notice, the young party animals in a neighboring cab, the "gray light that seems to come up from the sidewalk, not down from above."
It's tricky to find fiction in the sweet spot that includes both smart observations and a sense of suspense: Beautiful sentences that aren't just beautiful. Beautiful sentences that make you wonder what will happen next.
I appreciate Bloom because she doesn't just promote trendy current works; her tastes are hard-won and idiosyncratic. That fondness for Trollope is real.
Because Bloom hasn't really ever led me astray, and because Christmas is a time to think about WHAT TO READ NEXT, I offer this interview, here, in the hope that it is helpful:
https://www.nytimes.com/2014/08/03/books/review/amy-bloom-by-the-book.html
P.S. It's worth paying close attention to Bloom's championing of children's lit. A good picture book must have style, insight into human behavior, and a fast-moving plot. Children's writers do what good writers-for-adults ought to do, and children's writers have to be especially skilled because, as critics, children are unsparing. You won't see many children pretending to enjoy the most recent volume of "My Struggle." Bloom teaches Dr. Seuss to her adult students. Her fondness for Beverly Cleary, Arnold Lobel, Marshall, Hoban, Ezra Jack Keats: also worth noting.
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