Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Type out a book?

Courtesy of Ann Althouse comes this great anecdote about Hunter S Thomson typing out The Great Gatsby:
He'd look at each page Fitzgerald wrote, and he copied it. The entire book. And more than once. Because he wanted to know what it felt like to write a masterpiece. He was so hungry, yeah. Innocent, and yearning.
I wonder if that's true. It's one of those stories people tend to tell about themselves to try and prove something about themselves to themselves and others. "I copped a feel of the breasts on statue of Marie Antoinette in the church at Saint Denis just to see what it would feel like." Actually that's true*. I did. Maybe he did type it out.

Althouse goes on to suggest that it might be a good idea:
I'm thinking maybe that would be a good practice for all of us who presume to write. Pick one book, the book that exemplifies the best writing for you, and type it out, to see how it feels, to learn something elemental in that mysterious eyes-to-fingertips interplay.
Intriguing. I can't imagine doing a whole book. When my father was in school, one of the brothers who taught him used to make students write out chapters from books they hated as a punishment for not doing their homework. My father got stuck writing out huge sections of Thackeray for his sins.

But I like the idea of trying it for maybe a chapter or so. My first choice, as will be obvious to anyone who reads me regularly, would be Brideshead Revisisted. My second choice would be Edith Wharton's The Reef. And you?




* Since you ask, it felt really exciting to do it. And, hey, she practically gave me permission by doing it first as you can see below. (I wouldn't try it today, they probably have video monitoring there now and, besides, I thought of it first so you have to think of your own thrilling transgression damnit.)



5 comments:

  1. Mine would be something by Austen. I'd love to know what if feels like to be so shrewd.

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  2. PS: my book, that is. Not my thrilling transgression. :)

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  3. "my book, that is. Not my thrilling transgression"

    Tragically, I'm too much of a gentleman to ask what that might be?

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  4. Oh My. Wow. You dog! In church! Crazy! It dawns on me suddenly that being 'uncool' must really actually truly be a STUDY for you. As in something you have to work at, that might not come naturally to you. (Yes, I'm impressed.)
    So. Back to books I'd like to ... oh who cares!
    Wow. Nuts.

    What was it like?

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  5. My crueler friends always insist that uncoolness comes easily for me and that I am only making a virtue out of necessity with the title of this blog.

    What was it like? Well, I was much younger. There is a chapel off to the liturgical south of the main chapel. It features statues of Marie and Louis praying before a small altar. There was a bunch of people in the chapel originally and then everyone drifted off leaving me alone.

    And? Well, I should resist this, but she was unquestionably firm.

    The same church also features a mausoleum of Catherine de Medici (the mother of French cuisine by the way) naked from the waist up. Ah the French, what would we do without them?

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