December 2011 – Page 2

So we are supposed to judge the covers…

bellomyc12

I recently stumbled across an interesting article in the New York Times. I’ve lately been interested in the ongoing print vs. electronic debate in the book world, and this article offered an interesting answer to the question:

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/12/04/books/publishers-gild-books-with-special-effects-to-compete-with-e-books.html?ref=books

One line in particular stuck out. “If e-books are about ease and expedience, the publishers reason, then print books need to be about physical beauty and the pleasures of owning, not just reading.” There are pictures in the article of books with beautiful, embossed covers, gilded pages, tasseled bookmarks. It’s true that many of these features might make a book a beautiful addition to your shelf or coffee table. However, for now at least, it doesn’t seem that many people take their decorator to the bookstore and pick up the latest Stephen King because their den needs some more color. It seems to me that the pleasures of owning are intertwined with the pleasures of reading.

Working on a paper the other night, I found myself on the floor of the library, going through volume after volume of the beautiful 1903 Library Edition of the Works of Ruskin, and I have to say that the deckled edges and thick, high quality paper made the experience infinitely more enjoyable. I know the same thing goes for my books at home. My “pleasures of owning” don’t come from the books’ physical beauty, but more from the way their appearance correlates with my memory of reading them. I have a beautiful edition of Pride & Prejudice and I admit I liked it better than my dog-eared paper back. I like it better not just because it looks nicer on the shelf, but because the sky blue cloth cover covered in burnt red curling script makes me feel a little more Jane Austenian, a little more Lizzie Bennet curled up in a tree, when I read it.

You’ll note that the picture at the very top of the page shows Jay-Z signing his intricate memoir. Not having read Decoded I can’t comment on it or how it compares to the rest of the celebrity memoir wave, but it is interesting to see how gorgeous editions are no longer reserved for the classics. I only hope that publishers are realizing that while we can judge books, and maybe buy them, by their covers, content will never cease to be important.

The Unsaid

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Recently I have been scrolling through the “Words of Wisdom” at the bottom of the Shenandoah website (an activity I recommend with enthusiasm), and I came across a couple ideas that sparked my interest. The first is a quote from Logan Pearsall Smith: “What I like in a good author is not what he says but what he whispers.” The other excerpt, which I find to be more profound, comes from Louise Gluck’s essay on poetry entitled “Disruption, Hesitation, Silence.” Gluck writes “The unsaid, for me, exerts great power: I often wish an entire poem could be made in this vocabulary.”

Both these writers assert that perhaps a hidden theme or a vague notion can be the most unsettling part of the written word. This theory immediatly draws my memory to Percy Shelley’s poem, “Hymn to Intellectual Beauty,” which starts out, “The awful shadow of some unseen Power/Floats though unseen amongst us.” This unidentifiable power, Shelley insists, is, “Dear, and yet dearer for its mystery.” In this first stanza, Shelley demonstrates that poetry about a vague subject can still evoke vast concepts (and chills) in the reader.

Does a poets lack of exactititude add to a poems effect? Is there not something to be said of beautifully descriptive poetry? I will save you the lengthy essay that could ensue and instead leave you with the unsaid.

Chuck Reviews Cormac M. Never Wrote

R.T. Smith

Here’s a link to an amusing blog which specializes in imaginary restaurant reviews by Cormac McCarthy (who was born in New Jersey, and christened “Charles.” . . or Chuck).

http://yelpingwithcormac.tumblr.com/

R. T. Smith has edited Shenandoah since 1995 and serves as Writer-in-Residence at Washington & Lee. His forthcoming books are Doves in Flight: 13 Fictions and Summoning Shades: New Poems, both due in 2017.

Is It Literature?

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While wandering around the Shenandoah offices today in search of inspiration, I stumbled across the Spring 2008 issue of the Virginia Quarterly Review. The issue is superhero themed, complete with a cover art styled like a classic comic book panel. As I was perusing the cover, I began to wonder: can a comic book be counted as literature?

The more I think about it, the more I’m inclined to think comics can be counted as literature. According to the Oxford dictionary on my Macbook, a book is defined as “a written or printed work consisting of pages glued or sewn together along one side and bound in covers.” A comic fits that basic definition, a graphic novel fits even better. In fact, there is a great deal of similarity between children’s literature and comics; both are books with lots of pictures and a varying but relatively small number of words per page. Both use illustrations and words to drive plot progression. And yet we don’t seem to consider Goodnight Moon and Superman to be equal. Many of the plots found in comic books or graphic novels are more complex and engaging than anything in Dr. Seuss. Yet still, we hold only one up as literature. The two genres even share a target demographic to an extent. My father and I share a love for Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas. His childhood sandbox chatter was about how many times the Justice League saved the day, mine was about Corduroy and Blueberries for Sal. With so many similarities between the two, I see this upholding of one over the other as unfair. My father’s favorites have far more going on in terms of plot and character, but my favorites get called “literature.” Superheroes and comics taught my father about patriotism, morality, and cultural values, something the Very Hungry Caterpillar didn’t give to me. Superman taught my dad to fight for what’s right, I got to find out what a gluttonous insect does. Even if we can’t accept comics as better than children’s literature, they should be given some type of consideration for having content.

The serialized format of comics is also typical of Regency and Victorian literary publishing practices. Readers of the mid to late 19th century and early 20th century were used to reading a small section of a larger story each month. Authors like Dickens had their stories reach the audience in installments, not the “all in one” format we are used to today. Comic books, then, are published in a longstanding literary format. I am not proposing that publishing format is justification for literary standing, but it is good to consider that publishing a story in pieces wasn’t a new idea by any means when comics began appearing.

I’m not positing placing comic books in the pantheon of great literature. I don’t believe in placing the Justice League in the same category of literary heroes as Faulkner’s Ike McCaslin or Joyce’s Leopold Bloom. Then again, shouldn’t Superman be given at least a shred or consideration in the face of “heroes” like Dan Brown’s Robert Langdon? If Dan Brown can publish a massively inaccurate novel and be hailed as a celebrated author, why can’t a comic book be given some literary merit?