There Are No Unremarkable Books
Apr 2nd, 2009 by Nut
I’ve mentioned a couple of times that one book above all others put the wheels in motion in my becoming a writer. It was David Foster Wallace’s (RIP) A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again.
At first glance, it might seem to be a pretty unremarkable book: no awards, no heaping praise, no bestseller buzz. Nothing. And that’s part of its charm, sure, but what hit home for me was how DFW wrote about such different subjects in one book.
He writes an essay on being on a cruise ship, one is a scholarly piece on television, then there’s the one on tennis and the midwest—they’re all over the map.
And they’re all great, entertaining pieces of writing.
That’s what impressed me so much: this guy was so good he could write about a state fair and make it interesting. And that, essentially, is the mark of a great writer. That’s why I can’t miss any of Michael Lewis’ articles—he does the same thing.
So I was interesting to read about Amos Oz’s similar story in A Tale of Love and Darkness. In case you don’t know who he is, Oz is a big deal in the world of literature and this was his autobiography (which was long, but very good).
When he was young (and not so young), he lived in a kibbutz and never really thought of himself as a writer because he felt his life wasn’t exciting enough to write about. Until he read, what he calls, a “modest book” called Winesburg, Ohio.
The book showed him that writing about boring, everyday things wasn’t boring at all. It inspired him to write about the things he was familiar with in his kibbutz life. He went on to become a very successful writer.
So never discount what people regard as an “average” or “modest” book—it might hit home with you in a unique way that could unlock your potential in any number of ways.
Any books out there that have done that for you?
Photo by austinevan
DFW has another book called Consider the Lobster that is similar to the book you mentioned. It’s a collection of magazine essays with a wide degree of topics. I would often start an essay thinking the topic would not interest me. But he always made it interesting. His talent was a once in a generation kind of thing. Oh, and he could also write fiction extremely well.
Perhaps it’s because I tend to be a pessimist, but my reaction is the opposite of yours. After reading DFW, I tend to give up my dream of becoming a writer. I know I could never be that good – no matter how much I practice – so I tend to think “what’s the point?”. I’m not saying this is a good attitude to the have, but it’s the one I’ve got.
Nice post, WC.
Consider the Lobster was awesome, especially the Federer piece. The man was brilliant.