Crunchy ‘Nanas

Last night we sought out the new Barbara Kingsolver narrative, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle which, I have to admit (in hushed, embarrassed tones) I didn’t realize was out until yesterday afternoon. Not that I get too wrapped up in the wizard world or anything crazy like that. We made it to the shopping center too late for Waterstone’s, but just in the knick of time to duck into W.H. Smith. Once we got past the stacks of Deathly Hallows, two things made me cock my dainty little ears and take notice.

First, no book. What?! I strode up to the woman at the register. Barbara Kingsolver, yeah? Awesome writer, yeah. Animal Dreams, Poisonwood Bible, you know, great books. You know? Blank stare. She, apparently, didn’t know. “Well if we had it and it’s new, it would be out here. Or, along that wall if, as you say, it’s non-fiction.”

The second thing that caught my attention was that “that wall” contained two labels: “Biography” and “Tragic Life Stories”. I stood there ear to shoulder, lips pursed, brows furrowed, trying to figure out how I felt about it. I recognize the value in reading stories of human strife and sacrifice. Often there is much inspiration to be found in tales of struggle, great hope to be found wound tightly around the understanding that amongst torture, oppression, rape and troubled childhoods there is a better world for us to strive for. But, is it necessary to cull these stories from the overarching “Biography” category and so obtrusively call them out? Or, why not at least label the countering “Uplifting Life Stories”? Perhaps there are less of those. I don’t know. I hope not. And yet, I fear this emphasis on tragedy is marketing and demand. Does the general public thrive off toil and torture, pain and doom? Is Crunchy husband right to theorize that EastEnders is so popular because engaging in the on-screen misery makes people feel better about their own lives? Do we feed off of others’ misfortune in some sort of twisted way to comfort ourselves?

I stood there for a moment, and then felt a book thrust into my hand, yet too small and too paperback to be the copy we came for. I looked down. It was a silent but encouraging nudge from Crunchy husband that he thinks it might be time to talk business, to get moving on making certain aspirations more than simply small talk and wishful thinking. I’m usually a little bit hesitant about books like this, The Writer’s Handbook: Guide to Writing for Children, but it looks more like a reference index than a “how-to” book for creativity. The first page of the first chapter (it’s been a busy day), though written in choppy, interview transcript format, contains a nugget from Philip Pullman: “you have to realise that a lot of the time, you are going to be writing without inspiration. The trick is to write just as well without it as with.”

Am I to take this to mean that all those moments when my mind feels an empty pit of dull nothingness, or is spitting out garbled, nonsensical phrases that would make me look like, well like my parents’ hard earned money was wasted on college and my own hard earned money was wasted on grad school, are moments I’m supposed to be harnessing and turning into powerful, tantalizing prose that will entertain and enrapture, dazzle and inspire five year-olds everywhere?

I think I am in trouble.

Incidentally, I checked in at Waterstone’s today, and they didn’t have Animal, Vegetable, Miracle either, with no plans of getting it in. WHAT? Words fail me.

This entry was posted on Thursday, 26th July 2007 at  22:16 and is filed under Random foliage. You can follow responses to this entry using the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.