I was recently recommended Manhattan Transfer by John Dos Passos and it has a similar feel, loaded with seemingly unrelated streams of consciousness and non sequiturs that are quite expertly tied together.
Another great one, Lincoln. Thank you! I’ve been a jazz musician for 20 years now and for the last 15 of those have been a heavy practitioner of free jazz and free improvisation. For the past three years, I’ve been writing, nothing much good yet, but I’ve really loved the journey so far. As a result of my background, I think often think about the improvisational quality you reference. I love when I feel it in works. And I miss it in my own work. It feels daunting to try and break free of the self-conscious voice that starts screaming about self-indulgence and plot beats and unnecessary sentences. I feel I end up with a sterility that I don’t enjoy in my own work as a result but that feels safer and that in and of itself, as someone just trying to make some art, is just… not fun.
One thing I’ve been thinking about in terms of balancing this in an art form that doesn’t share the same fleeting temporality as the freely improvised music performance is the role of listening. In free Improvisation, the best improvisers have the biggest ears, are able to hear what’s happening around them on the bandstand in the most eager and lucid way and know when to build, when to destroy, when to augment, when to disrupt, and when to stay silent (the hardest part for some ((most)) people). The tiny voice in your heard that says, that’d be a bad idea to hit that going right now or what if this ruins the vibe, you don’t have time to hesitate in free improvisation, you can hear hesitation and it’s the worst thing you can become aware of as a listener.
I’ve been really trying to cultivate what the parallel might be in the practice of writing and I’m tempted to say the story itself is the fellow improvisers. The world outside of yourself while you’re tucked away behind a drum-set and being able to open your ears to feel, really feel, when to drop the bomb, when to stay silent, when to steamroll, when to make a joke and in the lovely tradition of Han Bennink stick your teeth out, put the brushes on your head and pretend to be a rabbit (the Dutch are the best). I think about the Bernhard quote about seeing stories and shooting them down all the time and what that makes him as an improviser, what listening meant to him, and how he became so big earred that the cracking of a twig in the forest was enough to get him cocked and aiming. As a reader I begin to hear him listening, and that is so satisfying to me.
I want that quality in my own work, deep listening. I don’t know if I’ll ever find it and I don’t know if I can silence the voice that makes me hesitate. I’m ready to follow any author on any ramble, I’m ready to at least give it a chance before saying “why?” But I feel like I don’t give myself the same grace as a writer. Any thoughts on how to open up and stop worrying and love the bomb? Or is it just a case of knowing rules before you can break them and know that as voice and style and ears develop these things sort themselves out in way or another? Or am I just a self-indulgent jerk who needs to read more Hemingway? Thanks again Lincoln, always love getting Counter Craft on my inbox!!
Thanks for the recommendation. Last evening I also watched a Japanese film. ‘Call me Chihiro’. Japanese storytelling is unique in many ways. The way they observe the world is quite remarkable.
What a moving, delightful film, so different from 'Tampopo' but with the same quirkiness. It's so refreshing to discover filmmaking from other countries.
A great film. One that has a devoted cult audience for a very good reason — it offers a really enjoyable, unique cinematic experience. Itami’a directorial debut The Funeral is a more conventional comedy drama but also well worth watching, if you haven’t already.
Thank you for this, I can't wait to watch the film! In a similar vein to your point on Calvino, I'd recommend Bruce Sterling's Robot Artists and Black Swans, a collection of scifi/histfic short stories varied in time and space and tone, bit all centered around Turin, Italy, where Sterling has lived as an expat for the last 15 years or so, writing 'Fantascienza' stories under his Italian pseudonym, 'Bruno Argento'. It's hit or miss on story quality, but one of those works that has stayed with me in the few years since I've read it.
I find your posts interesting because you are not quite the the run of the mill anti-establishment espousing f- all the rules writer. Nor are you an orthodox the rules are there for a reason, we must keep them sacroscant acolyte. You tend to highlight great opportunities to move away from the rules while always recognizing the rules at the same time. Find the duality very interesting.
It's been a really long time since I've seen Tampopo, but I just remember feeling like the egg yolk scene was one of the most singularly erotic moments in cinema ever.
I was recently recommended Manhattan Transfer by John Dos Passos and it has a similar feel, loaded with seemingly unrelated streams of consciousness and non sequiturs that are quite expertly tied together.
Another great one, Lincoln. Thank you! I’ve been a jazz musician for 20 years now and for the last 15 of those have been a heavy practitioner of free jazz and free improvisation. For the past three years, I’ve been writing, nothing much good yet, but I’ve really loved the journey so far. As a result of my background, I think often think about the improvisational quality you reference. I love when I feel it in works. And I miss it in my own work. It feels daunting to try and break free of the self-conscious voice that starts screaming about self-indulgence and plot beats and unnecessary sentences. I feel I end up with a sterility that I don’t enjoy in my own work as a result but that feels safer and that in and of itself, as someone just trying to make some art, is just… not fun.
One thing I’ve been thinking about in terms of balancing this in an art form that doesn’t share the same fleeting temporality as the freely improvised music performance is the role of listening. In free Improvisation, the best improvisers have the biggest ears, are able to hear what’s happening around them on the bandstand in the most eager and lucid way and know when to build, when to destroy, when to augment, when to disrupt, and when to stay silent (the hardest part for some ((most)) people). The tiny voice in your heard that says, that’d be a bad idea to hit that going right now or what if this ruins the vibe, you don’t have time to hesitate in free improvisation, you can hear hesitation and it’s the worst thing you can become aware of as a listener.
I’ve been really trying to cultivate what the parallel might be in the practice of writing and I’m tempted to say the story itself is the fellow improvisers. The world outside of yourself while you’re tucked away behind a drum-set and being able to open your ears to feel, really feel, when to drop the bomb, when to stay silent, when to steamroll, when to make a joke and in the lovely tradition of Han Bennink stick your teeth out, put the brushes on your head and pretend to be a rabbit (the Dutch are the best). I think about the Bernhard quote about seeing stories and shooting them down all the time and what that makes him as an improviser, what listening meant to him, and how he became so big earred that the cracking of a twig in the forest was enough to get him cocked and aiming. As a reader I begin to hear him listening, and that is so satisfying to me.
I want that quality in my own work, deep listening. I don’t know if I’ll ever find it and I don’t know if I can silence the voice that makes me hesitate. I’m ready to follow any author on any ramble, I’m ready to at least give it a chance before saying “why?” But I feel like I don’t give myself the same grace as a writer. Any thoughts on how to open up and stop worrying and love the bomb? Or is it just a case of knowing rules before you can break them and know that as voice and style and ears develop these things sort themselves out in way or another? Or am I just a self-indulgent jerk who needs to read more Hemingway? Thanks again Lincoln, always love getting Counter Craft on my inbox!!
Thanks for the recommendation. Last evening I also watched a Japanese film. ‘Call me Chihiro’. Japanese storytelling is unique in many ways. The way they observe the world is quite remarkable.
What a moving, delightful film, so different from 'Tampopo' but with the same quirkiness. It's so refreshing to discover filmmaking from other countries.
A great film. One that has a devoted cult audience for a very good reason — it offers a really enjoyable, unique cinematic experience. Itami’a directorial debut The Funeral is a more conventional comedy drama but also well worth watching, if you haven’t already.
Thank you for this, I can't wait to watch the film! In a similar vein to your point on Calvino, I'd recommend Bruce Sterling's Robot Artists and Black Swans, a collection of scifi/histfic short stories varied in time and space and tone, bit all centered around Turin, Italy, where Sterling has lived as an expat for the last 15 years or so, writing 'Fantascienza' stories under his Italian pseudonym, 'Bruno Argento'. It's hit or miss on story quality, but one of those works that has stayed with me in the few years since I've read it.
Calvino used to live in Turin as well. Thanks for the tip about 'Bruno Argento', a clever and correct Italian version of Sterling's real name.
I find your posts interesting because you are not quite the the run of the mill anti-establishment espousing f- all the rules writer. Nor are you an orthodox the rules are there for a reason, we must keep them sacroscant acolyte. You tend to highlight great opportunities to move away from the rules while always recognizing the rules at the same time. Find the duality very interesting.
It's been a really long time since I've seen Tampopo, but I just remember feeling like the egg yolk scene was one of the most singularly erotic moments in cinema ever.
Yes, novels and movies are strikingly similar. And as for letting someone else adapt my novel... I don't think so. I'll do it, thank you very much.