On "Extracts from a Life"

Lydia Davis is one of my favorite writers. Perhaps it’s because I’m a fan of brevity and wit, but I have a feeling impatience may also have something to do with it. In any event, in her story “Extracts from a Life,” Davis sets up a biographical narrative constructed of fragmented snapshots, or extracts, as the title suggests, of the life of Shinichi Suzuki. Each section is given an italicized subtitle, such as ‘Childhood,’ and ‘My meeting with Tolstoy.’ These sections are based on real-life historical occurrences in Suzuki’s life, some even drawing direct quotations from his life. It is difficult to say how to read this story. Upon first reading, it was not apparent to me that this was based on a real, historical person, with real historical events specific to Suzuki’s life. Without this knowledge, the story seemed to be bringing together disparate parts in an odd, unsettling synthesis: violins and classical music, Tolstoy, Japanese poetry, idioms and aphorisms, and Albert Einstein. However, after discovering that the Shinichi in this story is in fact Shinichi Suzuki, it blurs the line between fiction and nonfiction. This story appropriates a different form of nonfiction than we have previously imagined. Rather than using a dictionary entry or an musical album’s liner notes, “Extracts from a Life,” appropriates history, sometimes word for word (The sentence “Plenty of people often think, “I’d like to do this, or that,” seems to be written by Suzuki, as a loose internet search revealed). Because of these facts, I am left questioning which parts of the story are fact and which are fiction, and if it even matters. It is Davis’ arrangement of these seemingly disparate facts that make up the fiction, correct?

Critique of "Overlap"

“Overlap experiments with story and authorship by converging to seemingly disparate narratives at the end of the piece, and then ambiguously gesturing toward Charles Bronswick potentially writing the story, “Overlap.” The title suggests that this is the direction the fiction will move toward, and a quick once over of the text confirms these suspicions, as sections are visible and separated by three crosses. The language is this fiction is often very clear and precise, and the fiction is given to us mostly in exposition. The story ties up pretty perfectly in the end. Bronswick finds little Verdermaine’s casket and respects the dead, ordering his workers to fill in the empty space where his pool would have been.

Critique of “THE MEMORY BOOK”

“THE MEMORY BOOK” is written with cryptic and, at times, abstract prose, which makes it difficult to discern what exactly is going on. It seems a woman is very old and her whole body is pulled down by gravity. Towards the end, she unwittingly opens a ‘memory book’ that houses old photos of her father. These photos transform into reality, I believe, and manifest themselves in the real world, or at least she believes they do, and she becomes haunted by her memories, I believe, and commits to a suicidal jump from the window. Just before her jump, she sees her father, or an apparition of her father walking along the walk. This fiction is very cryptic, and it works well to that end, though I think the piece needs a little more work to figure out what it’s trying to say about memory, death and age.

Critique of “Things in a Shooting Gallery”

At the outset, “Things in a Shooting Gallery” recalls Lydia Davis’ “Extracts of a Life.” This is done mostly through the form of the piece, as passages ranging from one sentence to a few paragraphs are arranged, each with their own heading title. Similarities to the piece continue throughout, with the heading titles often mimicking each other and the thus also the content. Childhood, If you think of something, do it, and The Japanese poet Issa are matched by Childhood, Stick to your guns, and the The Wit and Wisdom of Will Rogers. Is it fair to call this piece an imitation? Not so fast, cowboy. “Things in a shooting gallery,” puts an old-western spin on Davis’ strange, Japanese violin hybridization. I’d say that this piece sticks more closely to a centerpiece--cowboys and guns--rather than Davis’ story which is somewhat eccentric in its parts.

The voice in this piece is unique and authoritative, adopting the attitude of a young girl whose father is a gun-proud cowboy. It seems she’s from New Mexico, or Oklahoma, and the story is set sometime in the late 90’s or early 2000’s. The piece develops throughout her life, ranging from childhood to college, but there were times when I wasn’t sure how old the narrator was supposed to be. The voice doesn’t change, and I suppose it shouldn’t, as the narrator isn’t changing. This piece is very evocative and strong, and I would work on wrenching it a bit away from the template Davis has set and seeing how you can mold it more to your liking.

Critique of “The Explorer”

The title of this piece evokes a sense of adventure and mystery. Who is this explorer, what will they be exploring? Just under the title sits a boldfaced case number, psychiatrist name, and date. This is a psychiatric case-study and evaluation. The piece is divided into two parts: description and conclusion. In the first paragraph she is described as a ‘five year old, bilingual, Hispanic female...living in a rural area.’ It also notes that she has speaking animal friends who are all interrelated and coexistent. Journeying into the second paragraph, it becomes clear that this child is actually Dora the Explorer. This becomes clear when it is noted that ‘the patient also states that she often does not know where to go and calls on a bilingual map to show her where she needs to go...etc.’ The conclusion then delves into a scathing evaluation of young Dora, declaring her ‘very disturbed’ and outlining a series of mental deficiencies, such as schizophrenia.

I think this is an incredibly fascinating draft with a ton of possibilities. I’m immediately imagining Dora in a shrink’s office, and then progressing to Dora in a mental institution or Dora in her mid-thirties. This form experiments with character and somewhat with form, though the form largely stays true to what I would conceive a psychiatric evaluation would. In other words, there is much more room for experimentation, and a wealth of directions. This piece could take a new form, such as a narrative of Dora’s experience dealing with her developing schizophrenia. Or the piece could retain its current form, but look to break out of it by inserting deviations into the text. This is a very promising draft. Good job.

Critique for “The Last Will and Testament of Edward P. Unum”

I’d like to begin this critique by looking at the title of this piece. This is Edward P. Unum’s last will. Have there been previous wills? How are they different, how are they similar? The name Edward P. Unum plays off of the latin E pluribus unum (from many, one), which Wikipedia calls one “de facto motto of the United States,” dating back to the 18th century. Given this title, expectations are set that this piece will invoke a sense of American history or ideals.

This is written as a will, though I must admit I have never read an official will before, so I do not know how they are structured. It would be interesting to look at this alongside one and note similarities and differences. The second paragraph calls Edward Unum’s death an ‘unthinkable’ occurrence, though given the fact that this is a will, that occurrence seems very thinkable, even likely. The piece proceeds from the opening anecdote through an addressing of Unum’s loved ones and relatives (and his doctor, to whom he leaves a curious 13%). At the end, he addresses his son, tells his son that he loves him and then ends the will without leaving his son anything. I found this strange because he doesn’t take any resentful tones toward his son, and it would seem logical that he would leave his son money.

This piece appropriates a nonfictional form for fictional use. This form is the will, which reads like I would expect a will to. I must admit I expected there to be more experimentation with the form of the will. The piece largely stays true to the form, or at least as far as I can tell. That said, there is undoubtedly a ton of room for experimentation with this piece. What would the previous wills look like when placed alongside this last one?

Critique of "Glossolalia"

I looked this word, glossolalia, up in the dictionary. Webster defines it as “profuse and often emotionally charged speech that mimics coherent speech but is usually unintelligible to the listener and that is uttered in some states of religious ecstasy and in some schizophrenic states.” Given this definition, I expect there to be some form of this in the story. It must be understood, then, that the italicized passages are a form of this. However, it is not clear. Are these actually being spoken by Charlie when he drifts into sleep? Does Lewis hear him? From what I can tell, Lewis does not hear these. It seems apparent, also, that the italicized passages are the stories of Old Man Pellum. However, we only get three of them, and from them we are able to piece together bits of Pellum’s birth, which seems historic and cataclysmic. I really want to know more though, and it seems like this has the makings of a very interesting and epic piece of conventional fiction. The experiment no doubt lies in these parallel passages, but as of now I feel they are too conservative. Aside from them being there, and the apparent connection between the two at the end (“bound to be either famous or crazy”).

The writing in this is strong and precise. The sentences have force and I enjoy reading them and rereading them. Good job.