There is only so much that a writing manual can say; Anne Lamott's new book covers familiar territory. But I like the gimmick: Lamott's husband offers an essay, then Lamott jumps in with her own commentary. So the book is a portrait of a marriage--we get the impression that Neal Allen really understands the weather, the atmosphere, of Anne Lamott, and we get the impression that these two have a lot to discuss, on any given day, at the dinner table.
Lamott is obviously the more interesting character. I appreciate the insight into her career; for example, the novel "Rosie" is really three surprising portraits of Anne Lamott (bereaved little girl, quirky mom, flighty neighbor). It was also intriguing to read that Lamott's father--the central subject of "Hard Laughter"--had some harsh words about the "Hard Laughter" manuscript, i.e., "Stop showing off."
A good writing manual will quote Charles Dickens--specifically this passage, from "Great Expectations":
As I never saw my father or my mother, and never saw any likeness of either of them (for their days were long before the days of photographs), my first fancies regarding what they were like, were unreasonably derived from their tombstones. The shape of the letters on my father's, gave me an odd idea that he was a square, stout, dark man, with curly black hair. From the character and turn of the inscription, "Also Georgiana Wife of the Above," I drew a childish conclusion that my mother was freckled and sickly. To five little stone lozenges, each about a foot and a half long, which were arranged in a neat row beside their grave, and were sacred to the memory of five little brothers of mine - who gave up trying to get a living, exceedingly early in that universal struggle - I am indebted for a belief I religiously entertained that they had all been born on their backs with their hands in their trousers-pockets, and had never taken them out in this state of existence.
There are a few things to notice here. First, Dickens captures something truthful about childhood. The child--in her effort to make sense of the world--sometimes unwittingly takes a "cognitive shortcut." For example, my daughter has a friendly doctor named Dr. Buono. That's a hard name to wrap one's mind around. At the same time, my daughter really likes the creature "Elmo"--who is just as friendly as the local pediatrician. So, for Susie, the neighborhood doctor has become "Dr. Elmo." (This is exactly the kind of phenomenon that Dickens is describing above.)
Second, the Dickens passage is a celebration of voice. Some current writers worry that screenplays are ruining literature. Novelists get the wrong idea that they must only show and never tell. But that's nonsense. A novel *can* tell. Not everything needs to be readymade for the big screen. Dickens proves the point.
Third, the Dickens passage is instructive because of its first sentence. A sentence should save its fireworks for the very last word. The surprising word in the first sentence is "tombstone" -- and, artfully, Dickens has saved that word for last. This is not an accident.
I had a nice time with Anne Lamott (and with Dickens) this weekend.
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