Enjoying the Stories
07/08/12 05:27
I am a fan of fiction. I almost always am reading a novel. My current favorite publishing house is McSweeney’s a small firm that seems to be good at discovering new authors and introducing them. McSweeney’s also publishes a quarterly journal of fiction and nonfiction works. I’m saving my copy of Dave Eggers new novel, A Hologram for the King, for our upcoming vacation. I like reading Eggers in part because it is good to know that there are still a few authors around who earn their living crafting words for others.
The business of publication is changing dramatically and it is difficult to see what the future may be. People are buying fewer books. It may be that they are reading less, I’m not sure about that, but it is clear that more and more people are accessing their fiction through electronic devices. Libraries are getting proficient at distributing books to those with e-readers. Traditional bookstores are disappearing and online sellers are shifting form print to electronic media.
I still like having a book in my hands, but I am changing, too. I don’t subscribe to as many magazines as I once did. I used to share subscriptions with others, receiving their magazines a week or a month late and passing on the magazines that I had read to others. The New Yorker and Atlantic Monthly used to be good sources for short stories. Both still “print” short stories, but it is easier to access their material electronically. The New Yorker has a way to access only the short stories. Now that the magazine isn’t supporting cartoonists the way it once did, the lure of the actual magazine has decreased for me. Getting the short stories is sufficient, even though many of their short stories are repeats of stories previously printed in the magazine.
It was through this electronic media that I ran across a story by John Updike that was originally printed in the New Yorker in December of 1981. I wasn’t receiving the magazine in those days and I hadn’t previously read the story. Updike was such a prolific author that I haven’t begun to read all that he wrote. He is best known for his novels. The four Rabbit Angstrom novels are perhaps his best known. I read three of them. I was bored with his character at that point. The character was marked by bad decision after bad decision and I was ready for someone who made good choices for a change. But Updike also published 12 collections of poetry and 18 collections of short stories. He published a dozen nonfiction works as well as his 21 novels. He wrote a lot. It isn’t a surprise that there are stories I haven’t read.
At any rate, his story, “Learn a Trade,” struck me yesterday. The main character, Fegley, is a successful artist. He grew up in Missouri, where his father was a carpenter. When he became interested in art, his father urged him to “learn a trade.” He didn’t follow his father’s advice. In the story, he is now grown with four children and finds himself agreeing with his father’s advice. He tries to encourage his children to become interested in science and to learn some practical skills. The children, however, seem to drift off into the world of art. One daughter is working on a novel, another makes pinch pots in California. The eldest son showed promise as an athlete, but now is working on a film and hanging out with creative people on the fringes of the movie business. Fegley hopes his young son will learn a trade. He shows an interest in carpentry, which seems promising to Fegley. His ex-wife calls him and tells him that the son is making mobiles. Fegley doesn’t like the news, but agrees to see the mobiles. It turns out that the mobiles are beautiful. The story closes with Fegley saying, “That’s right, keep breaking my heart.”
My little abstract doesn’t do justice to Updike’s story, but perhaps it serves as a little illustration of a tension that must have inhabited the author’s mind. How does one balance the artistic and practical? Updike found his own balance. His first published book was poetry. Poetry is wonderful and lasting and it doesn’t sell enough books for poets to survive off of their craft. Updike earned his living with essays, short stories and novels. Poetry is nice, but it doesn’t pay the bills.
I have a similar love affair with the creative life, though my talent falls far short of people who are able to earn their living with writing. Over the years I have had an article published here or there. Some years I was able to earn a bit of money from freelance writing, though never enough to support my family. And, unlike “real” authors, I have a deep love for my “day job.” I don’t long for a day when I give up my vocation for the life of a writer. And I haven’t written that much, really. My daily essays are joined by some unpublished pieces of fiction, a few magazine articles and some educational resources that weren’t very big sellers. That’s about it.
But there is a part of me that admires those who are artistic and who have figured out a way to pursue their art. They have found the discipline to hone their craft and add beauty to this world. It is a contribution of value that cannot be measured. How impoverished we would be without visual arts, music and good literature to add to the joy of living.
I used to think that one day I’d make a stab at the great American novel. That seems less likely as I grow older without ever having finished a single novel. I know that there are authors who started publishing late in life, but one can’t get published that which one has not written. These days, I’ve lowered my goal. It seems like it would be nice to have a short story worthy of publication some day. Perhaps I ought to focus on writing a single poem. But if I never do, I will still have lived in a time when there is plenty of creative writing going on. And I can access this art by reading.
Unlike Fegley in Updike’s story, it doesn’t keep breaking my heart.
The business of publication is changing dramatically and it is difficult to see what the future may be. People are buying fewer books. It may be that they are reading less, I’m not sure about that, but it is clear that more and more people are accessing their fiction through electronic devices. Libraries are getting proficient at distributing books to those with e-readers. Traditional bookstores are disappearing and online sellers are shifting form print to electronic media.
I still like having a book in my hands, but I am changing, too. I don’t subscribe to as many magazines as I once did. I used to share subscriptions with others, receiving their magazines a week or a month late and passing on the magazines that I had read to others. The New Yorker and Atlantic Monthly used to be good sources for short stories. Both still “print” short stories, but it is easier to access their material electronically. The New Yorker has a way to access only the short stories. Now that the magazine isn’t supporting cartoonists the way it once did, the lure of the actual magazine has decreased for me. Getting the short stories is sufficient, even though many of their short stories are repeats of stories previously printed in the magazine.
It was through this electronic media that I ran across a story by John Updike that was originally printed in the New Yorker in December of 1981. I wasn’t receiving the magazine in those days and I hadn’t previously read the story. Updike was such a prolific author that I haven’t begun to read all that he wrote. He is best known for his novels. The four Rabbit Angstrom novels are perhaps his best known. I read three of them. I was bored with his character at that point. The character was marked by bad decision after bad decision and I was ready for someone who made good choices for a change. But Updike also published 12 collections of poetry and 18 collections of short stories. He published a dozen nonfiction works as well as his 21 novels. He wrote a lot. It isn’t a surprise that there are stories I haven’t read.
At any rate, his story, “Learn a Trade,” struck me yesterday. The main character, Fegley, is a successful artist. He grew up in Missouri, where his father was a carpenter. When he became interested in art, his father urged him to “learn a trade.” He didn’t follow his father’s advice. In the story, he is now grown with four children and finds himself agreeing with his father’s advice. He tries to encourage his children to become interested in science and to learn some practical skills. The children, however, seem to drift off into the world of art. One daughter is working on a novel, another makes pinch pots in California. The eldest son showed promise as an athlete, but now is working on a film and hanging out with creative people on the fringes of the movie business. Fegley hopes his young son will learn a trade. He shows an interest in carpentry, which seems promising to Fegley. His ex-wife calls him and tells him that the son is making mobiles. Fegley doesn’t like the news, but agrees to see the mobiles. It turns out that the mobiles are beautiful. The story closes with Fegley saying, “That’s right, keep breaking my heart.”
My little abstract doesn’t do justice to Updike’s story, but perhaps it serves as a little illustration of a tension that must have inhabited the author’s mind. How does one balance the artistic and practical? Updike found his own balance. His first published book was poetry. Poetry is wonderful and lasting and it doesn’t sell enough books for poets to survive off of their craft. Updike earned his living with essays, short stories and novels. Poetry is nice, but it doesn’t pay the bills.
I have a similar love affair with the creative life, though my talent falls far short of people who are able to earn their living with writing. Over the years I have had an article published here or there. Some years I was able to earn a bit of money from freelance writing, though never enough to support my family. And, unlike “real” authors, I have a deep love for my “day job.” I don’t long for a day when I give up my vocation for the life of a writer. And I haven’t written that much, really. My daily essays are joined by some unpublished pieces of fiction, a few magazine articles and some educational resources that weren’t very big sellers. That’s about it.
But there is a part of me that admires those who are artistic and who have figured out a way to pursue their art. They have found the discipline to hone their craft and add beauty to this world. It is a contribution of value that cannot be measured. How impoverished we would be without visual arts, music and good literature to add to the joy of living.
I used to think that one day I’d make a stab at the great American novel. That seems less likely as I grow older without ever having finished a single novel. I know that there are authors who started publishing late in life, but one can’t get published that which one has not written. These days, I’ve lowered my goal. It seems like it would be nice to have a short story worthy of publication some day. Perhaps I ought to focus on writing a single poem. But if I never do, I will still have lived in a time when there is plenty of creative writing going on. And I can access this art by reading.
Unlike Fegley in Updike’s story, it doesn’t keep breaking my heart.