Well, to me, they’re a reflection of the diverse and unique reading list throughout the semester. It’s almost a perfect representation: a column by a nonfiction icon, an essay by a fiction writer who muses about the pitfalls of the digital age and an in-depth series of kick ass investigative reportage.
When I try to explain to folks what the general gist of this class is, I tend to say something like, “We read a seemingly random, er, a diverse array of nonfiction pieces against the backdrop of the digital publishing world.”
But were they random? I’m inclined to say no. But how do I weave this all together?
Let me give it a shot.
I think I’ve got to start with Shteyngart. Shteyngart’s essay, Only Disconnect, which is another episode of “when fiction writers write nonfiction,” is a meandering piece, where the author is, no doubt, projecting his imagination upon reality and reality is pushing right back. His essay, I think, pairs well with the David Foster Wallace, Colson Whitehead, Zadie Smith and Cabernet Sauvignon. But for me, Shteyngart’s essay epitomized, what was perhaps one of the biggest questions, of the semester. How does a writer manage her/his existence in the digital world? Well, as Shteyngart follows his Itelephone taco-ward, seeing his once-nostalgic Boulevardier disappear into pixilated, streaming cyberwaves, it presents an unsure, uncertain reality of a digitally washed world. It’s a world that I think rightly lends itself to hyperbole. How far will this go? How long before social networking incites riots and sit-ins? (Oh, nevermind.) How far is too far? How many hours, minutes, seconds can I go without checking my e-mail, my facebook, my twitter? How long before I no longer drive across town for interviews, and I simply skype with all my sources? (um, excuse me Mr. Smith, could you please pan your laptop around your living room, so I can add some detail and color to this article.) I mean, when I wrote a recent draft of a story about the town of Braddock, I was using Google map’s street cameras to recollect details of the streetscape. Things may be getting out of hand.
I suppose, the easy answer is that it’s a blessing and a curse, a curse and a blessing. But how does it fit with nonfiction "literature?" Does it give the modern nonfiction authors and edge over NF forefathers and foremother (Didion)? Let’s consider Tom Wolfe. He’s an icon. In the who’s who of Nonfiction classics, it’s usually Wolfe, Didion, Hunter S. in some order, right? (By the way, the aforementioned list of authors reminds me, that it would be super fun to take a class where we read fiction by nonfiction writers.) But, these days when we read the NF classics, it’s imperative to consider how they fit into our modern world.
I heard in an interview with Ken Kesey on NPR, and he was reflecting on how Tom Wolfe pretty much nailed it, in regards to his portrayal of the Merry Pranksters in The Electric Cool-Aid Acid Test. The incredible thing, Kesey said, was that Wolfe didn’t even pick up a pen or paper, in all of his time with the Pranksters. He did it from memory, and was pretty much spot on. (Kesey, did object a bit to Wolfe’s portrayal of the women in the group – saying the Pranksters weren’t as patriarchal as perceived.) But, by God, how can that be? No notes? I think those are days over. If I were to shadow a group of Anaracho kids travelling cross-country in a van, living dumpster to dumpster, for a few months and wrote a book or an article about it, it’s all but guaranteed that, if I didn’t have any documentation, there’s no way my work would get published. Imagine: no pictures, no tapes, not even a notebook. I get the feeling an editor would laugh me out the door. A more likely scenario, would be that even if I did document it, an editor might ask, why didn’t you roll any video? Where’s the multi-media effect?
Although, considering, I’m analyzing a piece of work by Tom Wolfe and comparing it to a writing project that I’d like to pitch, it’s kind of a moot analogy. It’s Tom Wolfe we’re talking about; by the time he wrote that book, he was very well established in the literary world and he had an extensive reporting pedigree. I suppose to look at his NYT piece, One Giant Leap to Nowhere, I ought to consider The Right Stuff. He spent seven years researching for that book and two years writing it. ( according to Wikipedia, and I’m sorry. Please excuse a Wiki-reference – but this, of course, is just another digital pitfall we must consider, right?) When Wolfe was researching for The Right Stuff he was working toward a comprehensive history of the space program before he decided that the Chuck Yeager era rightly symbolized the whole of it. So in his NYT piece, when he uses an anecdotal memory about Wernher von Braun’s "bridge to the stars," as the hinge of his piece, with no way to document the idea, it’s a move that, in my mind, can only be pulled off by Wolfe – or other iconic types of authors. But Wolfe, no doubt, has the type of resume where we can take his word for it. He is, after all, living history. His body of work epitomizes American Culture in the late 60s through the 70s.
But it begs the question, where did Tom Wolfe go? I know he’s still writing fiction and the occasional nonfiction article or book, but in his NYT essay, the core of it is based on Wolfe’s creative peak in the 70s. One could say Tom Wolfe’s past work is influential, and his current work is nostalgic. I myself couldn’t rightly say though, b/c I haven’t read a Tom Wolfe book published before 1987. And that’s the point.
It’s the type of thing that’s documented in rock music all the time. Pre-80s Dylan is the best. Pre-68 Beach Boys is the best. Pre-90s Bruce Springfield is the best. And et cetera. So my question is, who are the NF writers of our time? Perhaps the New Journalism movement was a one-time spurt of history, revealing a list of icons – McPhee, Capote, Talese, Mailer.
If so, what does it say about the world of NF today and who is the quintessential voice in the field, is there a Tom Wolfe lurking among us today? What does that even mean?
Or given these times when internet publications, kindles, and half-decent blogs can overwhelm our literary gaze, giving access to a plethora of view points, a plethora of voices, and a plethora of standards, is it even possible for an icon to come out of the wake of inundation?
Did we read anybody’s work this semester that would fit the bill?
Well, it’s an obviously subjective question. But let me answer it by saying, for me, yes. But not how you’d think.
***
To be continued. (my folks are in town tomorrow and I probably won’t have a chance to finish this post until Monday but … I think I can tie these three readings together, maybe, which may entail some heavy editing, and reeling in of some of these tangents, like I said: to be continued…) spoiler alert: my personal icon would be Krakauer.
Heh. Good. (To answer your question: No, not random.)
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