I’ve just finished reading The End of the Story by Lydia Davis. Just finished it less than a minute ago, and it’s got my brain all aswim. The book’s narrator is writing a novel about the end of a real-life relationship. The reader’s experience is that Davis’s novel is the very novel the narrator is writing, and that Davis is the narrator. That Davis is writing to us about her experience with this man, with the loss of this man, and with the experience of writing about him. It seems, somehow, quite clear that this is an autobiographical story taken from Lydia Davis’s life… And yet…that’s the artifice, the fiction, that right there.
Maybe this is an autobiographical work; maybe we are reading about something from Lydia Davis’s “real life.” Maybe we are not. There’s an excellent chance that it is entirely invented. Either way, it’s fiction. Even if it were presented as autobiography, even if it were absolutely “true,” it would still be fiction, because all memory is fiction. When we remember an event we change it, innocently or intentionally. Time warps our recall. Events are convoluted, two people’s actions becoming the actions of one, words spoken by one person assigned to another. I say I was wearing the blue skirt because I remember I was wearing the blue skirt, and yet it may well have been red. I say that we lost each other in Rome on an overcast winter day fourteen years ago, that I turned away from him for a single moment and when I turned back he was gone. And yet maybe I actually walked a few paces away. Maybe I was angry and walked an entire block. Maybe we were separated by a crowd and one of us was swept off… The details get hazy as time passes and we fill them in with what feels right or what we would have wanted to happen, or what would make us more heroic, or more tragic. We’re all unreliable narrators. Every one of us.
I’m often asked if my writing is autobiographical. (It isn’t.) Most of my writer friends are asked the same thing, and often by other writers. When I’m reading fiction, I will sometimes find myself wondering how much of the story was taken from the writer’s life. Why is that? Why do we do that? Where does this need come from…to take a piece of fiction and try to find what’s “true” about its creator, culling the text for clues about that person behind the curtain pulling the strings?
Part of that impulse seems to come from wanting to connect to the artist. We want to recognize ourselves in the work, want to recognize its creator as someone we share something with, a fellow human with fears and loves and losses and all that, just like us. Especially if we care about their work. The more a piece of art moves us, the more we want to feel that the artist is just like us. And of course, they are. And so we go looking for clues. I felt this when I went to see the Basquiat exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum this past spring. I couldn’t connect with the work, wasn’t moved by it, until I came to a painting that had his footprints on it. There, right there, was my connection to this man who had once been alive, like me. Who had walked on that canvas as he created the painting.
Same with fiction…we’re always looking for those footprints, aren’t we? I’m not sure that’s a bad thing. I’m not sure that makes me a bad reader, or a bad viewer of art… That part of what I’m looking for is that feeling that we’re all connected, all walking through it together. Then again, I’ve certainly been accused of being an overly sentimental reader. I have no love for Pynchon, for Foster Wallace, for DeLillo. All head. No heart. No heat, no blood.
Not for me…
I want those footprints on the canvas.
A very insightful post. I’m going to have to think on it and read it again. And probably again. I do think it’s all about looking for connections and I think that’s a huge part of why we all blog. We’re looking to connect with other knitters. When I read a book I’m definitely looking for connections – with a character, with a setting (and I really read for setting) with the author. Without the connection I have a hard time finishing a book. I had no feeling whatsoever for any character in The Corrections and I only finished the book because it was for book club. Anyway, thank you for this post, I really enjoyed it.
Posted by: Carole
Footprints? Yes.
…as in almost any life experience, what we get from it is directly related to what we bring to it.
I love you…you amazing person!
Posted by: Mom
I’ll have to mull this over a bit, but wanted to say that I love this post. I was going to say that I take a story as a story and don’t wonder about the author’s connection to it, nor mine. But then I remembered that my lack of connection with The Girl with the Pearl Earring made me stop reading fiction. I’m now also wondering if too much connection and recognition to fiction caracters drove me away from fiction. In non-fiction you get facts, and that’s that. One can like them or not, there’s no wishing the passage or the end went differently. OK, I didn’t mean to mull this over right here.
Posted by: valentina
I read this wonderfully lyrical description of a relationship with narration and think…
yup. eye-witness testimony sucks.
I’d prefer not to contemplate what this says about me.
Posted by: claudia
This makes me think of when I read Middlesex recently. I knew enough about the plot that I figured any autobiographical material in the story would have to be somewhat limited, but I was very struck when I got to a point where the narrator described himself looking sort of like a modern-day Musketeer, goattee and all, and I flipped the book over to confirm the presence of the picture of Jeffrey Eugenides on the back that I had seen over and over, in which he totally looks like a musketeer. It’s like Eugenides was trying to imagine how someone could be raised as a woman and end up a lot like himself, or something.
I’m also reminded of a Carson McCullers quote I read ages ago. I wish I could remember it better. Something about how people asked her if her work was autobiographical, and she would say that it was, in the sense that in one way or another she had been every one of her characters, no matter what their gender, race, age, etc. It kind of gets at what is so great about fiction writing–you’re always drawing from your own experience, obviously, but you’re putting yourself into different points of view in a way that both the writer and the reader can learn a lot from.
Posted by: susan
Hey! I’ve been thinking about Lydia Davis all day! She and I will be side by side in an best of anniversary anthology for a journal a story of mine appeared in – I’ve been tickled all day to be in such awesome company!
As for all head no heart DeLillo – I’m with you on Pynchon and Foster Wallace – but have you read Libra? White Noise – yes – all head – but Libra was different – one of the greatest reads of my life. And I’m all about feeling in writing.
Posted by: Cara
I look for the same thing in poetry, which is not to say that I am in love with confessional-type poetry–I’m not. I just want to have some sense of connection with that voice, and I can only connect as another human being searching for some kind of commonality. It doesn’t have to be “I did the same thing, I felt the same thing….” I think it’s more the possibility that I could do or feel the same thing, and you’ve very eloquently described for fiction what I describe in poetry as the “ah…” moment. It means everything to me. If the writer intentionally tries to obfuscate that possibility of connection, I am not his or her reader. Can’t do it.
I can’t stand Pynchon. Your mentor is more my speed, for fiction.
Posted by: Lee Ann
A very insightful post. I’m going to have to think on it and read it again. And probably again. I do think it’s all about looking for connections and I think that’s a huge part of why we all blog. We’re looking to connect with other knitters. When I read a book I’m definitely looking for connections – with a character, with a setting (and I really read for setting) with the author. Without the connection I have a hard time finishing a book. I had no feeling whatsoever for any character in The Corrections and I only finished the book because it was for book club. Anyway, thank you for this post, I really enjoyed it.
Posted by: Carole
Footprints? Yes.
…as in almost any life experience, what we get from it is directly related to what we bring to it.
I love you…you amazing person!
Posted by: Mom
I’ll have to mull this over a bit, but wanted to say that I love this post. I was going to say that I take a story as a story and don’t wonder about the author’s connection to it, nor mine. But then I remembered that my lack of connection with The Girl with the Pearl Earring made me stop reading fiction. I’m now also wondering if too much connection and recognition to fiction caracters drove me away from fiction. In non-fiction you get facts, and that’s that. One can like them or not, there’s no wishing the passage or the end went differently. OK, I didn’t mean to mull this over right here.
Posted by: valentina
I read this wonderfully lyrical description of a relationship with narration and think…
yup. eye-witness testimony sucks.
I’d prefer not to contemplate what this says about me.
Posted by: claudia
This makes me think of when I read Middlesex recently. I knew enough about the plot that I figured any autobiographical material in the story would have to be somewhat limited, but I was very struck when I got to a point where the narrator described himself looking sort of like a modern-day Musketeer, goattee and all, and I flipped the book over to confirm the presence of the picture of Jeffrey Eugenides on the back that I had seen over and over, in which he totally looks like a musketeer. It’s like Eugenides was trying to imagine how someone could be raised as a woman and end up a lot like himself, or something.
I’m also reminded of a Carson McCullers quote I read ages ago. I wish I could remember it better. Something about how people asked her if her work was autobiographical, and she would say that it was, in the sense that in one way or another she had been every one of her characters, no matter what their gender, race, age, etc. It kind of gets at what is so great about fiction writing–you’re always drawing from your own experience, obviously, but you’re putting yourself into different points of view in a way that both the writer and the reader can learn a lot from.
Posted by: susan
Hey! I’ve been thinking about Lydia Davis all day! She and I will be side by side in an best of anniversary anthology for a journal a story of mine appeared in – I’ve been tickled all day to be in such awesome company!
As for all head no heart DeLillo – I’m with you on Pynchon and Foster Wallace – but have you read Libra? White Noise – yes – all head – but Libra was different – one of the greatest reads of my life. And I’m all about feeling in writing.
Posted by: Cara
I look for the same thing in poetry, which is not to say that I am in love with confessional-type poetry–I’m not. I just want to have some sense of connection with that voice, and I can only connect as another human being searching for some kind of commonality. It doesn’t have to be “I did the same thing, I felt the same thing….” I think it’s more the possibility that I could do or feel the same thing, and you’ve very eloquently described for fiction what I describe in poetry as the “ah…” moment. It means everything to me. If the writer intentionally tries to obfuscate that possibility of connection, I am not his or her reader. Can’t do it.
I can’t stand Pynchon. Your mentor is more my speed, for fiction.
Posted by: Lee Ann
I totally agree with you about David Foster Wallace. I know him personally – he was my teacher at the University of Arizona. He was the worst teacher I ever had for fiction writing. He was so totally self-absorbed and obviously felt like teaching the class was just a big hassle for him. He had nothing to offer the students. So I would say that his personality & personal life are accurately reflected in his writing! 🙂
Posted by: stephanie
So, I was once told that art (in any form) is only inherently meaningful to the creator, or artist. You can NEVER truly “get it”, or “understand” it, or interpret it 100% correctly. So, we must all do our parts as the viewer, reader, etc. That’s what makes it meaningful to us. At least for me. The joy I get is being able to just let it move me. Period. Just say……..ah. Or just cry. Or just get fucking pissed off. Nothing to figure out. The shit has power, man. See the light, I say.
Posted by: john
Great post.
Did you like the book–or just the process?
Posted by: Te
Oh yeah…books. @#*(&!! knitting keeps me from them. Thank you for reminding me that there’s more to life than yarn!
Posted by: Cassie
Perfect.
Posted by: Rachael
Oh how many times do I ponder the whole memory thing, and perception of memory and events. I love your post. Give me the footprints everytime.
Posted by: Alison
I totally agree with you about David Foster Wallace. I know him personally – he was my teacher at the University of Arizona. He was the worst teacher I ever had for fiction writing. He was so totally self-absorbed and obviously felt like teaching the class was just a big hassle for him. He had nothing to offer the students. So I would say that his personality & personal life are accurately reflected in his writing! 🙂
Posted by: stephanie
So, I was once told that art (in any form) is only inherently meaningful to the creator, or artist. You can NEVER truly “get it”, or “understand” it, or interpret it 100% correctly. So, we must all do our parts as the viewer, reader, etc. That’s what makes it meaningful to us. At least for me. The joy I get is being able to just let it move me. Period. Just say……..ah. Or just cry. Or just get fucking pissed off. Nothing to figure out. The shit has power, man. See the light, I say.
Posted by: john
Great post.
Did you like the book–or just the process?
Posted by: Te
Oh yeah…books. @#*(&!! knitting keeps me from them. Thank you for reminding me that there’s more to life than yarn!
Posted by: Cassie
Perfect.
Posted by: Rachael
Oh how many times do I ponder the whole memory thing, and perception of memory and events. I love your post. Give me the footprints everytime.
Posted by: Alison
Brilliant observation, beautifully articulated. I was wondering, though, if our tendency to look for the “truth” or biographical element in fiction might spring from what we’re told when we first start writing: “write what you know.” Of course, since what we know is as much experiential as cerebral, it stands to reason that we look for the “truth” in fiction. And btw, i agree with you about DeLillo, Pychon and Wallace. I’ve liked some of DeLillo’s early work, but that’s about it.
Posted by: regina
It’s all about the footprints. We look for them and follow them because we want to connect to the artist, but also because we want and need to connect to people in general. We want to share in the human experience in a scope that is wider than that of our own lives.
Those of us who are writers, painters, knitters, bloggers, poets, photographers, musicians, what have you, also need to to connect to people. We draw on our own experience and use what we find to reach out to the audience. We leave our footprints for others to follow in order for them to discover us and our lives, but also so they can discover themselves and the people in their own lives.
As for DeLillo, Pynchon and Foster Wallace, yeah. I’m with you on that one. If I can’t detect humanity in a writer, I can’t read the work. Period.
Posted by: Gina H.
I came back to read the comments, which are as inspiring as your narrative.
Posted by: margene
footprints.. very true. I feel that way with almost all artwork. The awe of it being made and the hand of the person creating it.
One of my fave books, _Stone Butch Blues_, resonated that way for me (and many many people). Leslie is often asked if it was autobiographical. She has always contended that it isn’t. But I recently read another piece of fiction _Cry Baby Butch_ where the character in the book reads _stone butch_ and believes it is real. THAT was a moment for me of aha! How art influences other art and leaves the footprints of both authors. Brilliance.
Happy birthday C, and many more!
Posted by: anj
Brilliant observation, beautifully articulated. I was wondering, though, if our tendency to look for the “truth” or biographical element in fiction might spring from what we’re told when we first start writing: “write what you know.” Of course, since what we know is as much experiential as cerebral, it stands to reason that we look for the “truth” in fiction. And btw, i agree with you about DeLillo, Pychon and Wallace. I’ve liked some of DeLillo’s early work, but that’s about it.
Posted by: regina
It’s all about the footprints. We look for them and follow them because we want to connect to the artist, but also because we want and need to connect to people in general. We want to share in the human experience in a scope that is wider than that of our own lives.
Those of us who are writers, painters, knitters, bloggers, poets, photographers, musicians, what have you, also need to to connect to people. We draw on our own experience and use what we find to reach out to the audience. We leave our footprints for others to follow in order for them to discover us and our lives, but also so they can discover themselves and the people in their own lives.
As for DeLillo, Pynchon and Foster Wallace, yeah. I’m with you on that one. If I can’t detect humanity in a writer, I can’t read the work. Period.
Posted by: Gina H.
I came back to read the comments, which are as inspiring as your narrative.
Posted by: margene
footprints.. very true. I feel that way with almost all artwork. The awe of it being made and the hand of the person creating it.
One of my fave books, _Stone Butch Blues_, resonated that way for me (and many many people). Leslie is often asked if it was autobiographical. She has always contended that it isn’t. But I recently read another piece of fiction _Cry Baby Butch_ where the character in the book reads _stone butch_ and believes it is real. THAT was a moment for me of aha! How art influences other art and leaves the footprints of both authors. Brilliance.
Happy birthday C, and many more!
Posted by: anj