Friday, August 3, 2018

How To Write Like Tolstoy

Richard Cohen, “How To Write Like Tolstoy: A Journey Into The Minds of Our Greatest Writers,” Randomhouse, 2016, 256 pp

The author, Cohen, is not really dealing that much with Tolstoy.  Rather he is focused on writing as a craft that he provides tips on how to master.  Cohen’s book does provide many interesting tidbits associated with writing well along with many interesting comments and novel-writing components in each chapter, much as you would expect in a college lecture course.  Topics covered include beginnings, plagiarism, points of view, dialogue, irony, rhythm in prose-writing, and endings.

His first section covers beginnings, of which he has several. There is the once-upon-a-time opener, signifying an escape into a make-believe world; there is the “invitational” lead-in and the “Here I am!” proclamation, and there is the “grabber.”

My Notes:

Pg. 9:  Every good book begins with a ‘grabber,’ in that its author wants the reader to keep turning the pages; in other words, “No book worth its salt is meant to put you to sleep, it’s meant to make you jump out of bed in your underwear and run and beat the author’s brains out.’  For instance, the famous beginning of David Copperfield (1850)—‘Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show’—comes into a ‘grabber’ subcategory, that of “Here I am!”  (Then there’s “Call me Ishmael” and “If you really want to hear about it.”)

Pg. 43:  John Gardner states that The Grapes of Wrath (1939) should have been one of America’s great books.  Steinbeck had been scrupulous in his research about Okies and the miserable conditions they endured during their migration to California to find work during the Depression, but he never bothered to find out about the California ranchers who employed them, he had no interest in why they acted as they did, and so wrote a melodrama in which complex good is pitted against unmitigated, unbelievable evil. 

Pg. 81:  The first person approach is often used for detective fiction, so that the reader and narrator learn about the case at the same time.  Often the main detective’s principal assistant serves as the narrator: Dr. Watson plays this role in the Sherlock Holmes mysteries.

Pg. 127:  Any definition of irony must include that the surface meaning and the underlying meaning of what is said are not the same.  In Pride and Prejudice: “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.”  It is clear that Austen means something very different: Marriageable women—or their mothers—are often desperately on the lookout for a well-heeled husband.

Pg. 130:  An unusual example of situational irony came in 1981 when Hinckley attempted to assassinate Ronald Reagan, and every one of his shots missed.  However, a round ricocheted off the bulletproof presidential limousine and struck Reagan in the chest.  Thus a vehicle made to protect the president from gunfire was partly responsible for his being shot.

Pg. 150:  A story can only have one fault: that of asking the audience to not want to know what happens next. 

Pg. 176:  Iambic pentameter, originally imported from the French by Chaucer.  This is when ten syllables appear in five pairs, making a single line of alternating stressed and unstressed syllables.  (Penta means five, meter measure, iambic an upbeat.)  Thus:  If mu- /-sic be / the food / of love, / play on


The line goes: da DUM | da DUM | da DUM | da DUM | da DUM—an iambic pentameter. 

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