Tyler Van Riper

Rereading: Virtue or Vice?

Tyler Van Riper

I am what you might call a rereader. That’s right, I said it. I am a chronic rereader. The books that I like, I read again. The books that I love, I read again and again and again. I first read Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice at the tender age of thirteen, and I honestly cannot tell you how many times I have witnessed Darcy and Elizabeth find romance since that fateful first reading. But don’t think that Austen’s are the only novels that I return to for second helpings. I was the kid who reread all of the previous Harry Potter books before the release of a new one. (I also did it before each movie came out in theaters…) I reread books that were required in high school, hoping I would get something more from them outside of a classroom full of less-than-enthusiastic students. Basically, unless I hate it (and let’s be honest, I even reread books that I hated the first time around), chances are I’m going to read it again at some point in my life.

They say that admitting you have a problem is the first step, but is rereading really a problem? Yes, I know what’s going to happen. Yes, I’ve already experienced the delights and dilemmas of the main character. Yes, life is short, and the canon is large. But I have found that I personally get just as wrapped up in the characters’ lives a second time around as I did the first. For instance, no matter how many times I read J.R.R. Tolkein’s The Fellowship of the Ring, my heart jumps at the first mention of Tom Bombadil because it means the hobbits are finally out of the Shire, and Tolkein’s extensive background information can give way to the actual journey through Middle-earth. Even though I know the moment is coming, it doesn’t stop my physiological reaction to the author’s words.

In a different way, it amazes me how much more I comprehend upon rereading a novel. Whether due to a difference in age, experience, or simply my specific state of mind while reading, I always pick up on different things: a character’s tone of voice, a detail that I missed, nuances of the author’s language. Perhaps this ability to rediscover literature in a new way is the reason that so many of us return to the same books over and over again. I actually just read about a recently published book that chronicles a retired teacher’s year-long project of rereading dozens of different books. Entitled On Rereading, Patricia Meyer Spacks details her impressions from rereading books from childhood, books she frequently rereads, books she hasn’t touched since adolescence, and books she taught in the classroom, among others. Throughout the book, she attempts to answer a number of interesting questions regarding why people reread at all. An avid rereader myself, I definitely plan to check it out!

So what do you think about the concept of rereading? Are you among the ones who don’t quite see the point? Do you belong to the camp that would consider it a bad habit and nothing more? Or do you find yourself going back to the same worn, dog-eared book on your shelf to sink into a familiar setting with characters that you already know and love? For the umpteenth time, I’ll be spending the holidays at Pemberley. What about you?

“This Darksome Burn” by Nick Ripatrazone

Tyler Van Riper

For a blog post that I wrote earlier this month, I had the chance to speak with author and current contributor to Shenandoah, Nick Ripatrazone. A professor living in New Jersey with his wife and 5-month-old identical twin girls, Ripatrazone gave me the inside scoop on his newly released novella This Darksome Burn and the process that surrounded the writing of this work in particular. You can read more on that here. Having now had the opportunity to read the novella myself, I feel that I can give Snopes readers a little more insight into This Darksome Burn and the features that make it stand out from anything else you’ll find on the shelves of your local bookstore.

Set in the rural Oregon wilderness, the novella centers around the lives of the three members of the McGovern family: Luke; his daughter, Aurea; and his son, Ford. From the outset of the story, it is apparent that the family has been through hardship. The mother is conspicuously absent, and the McGovern family farm seems far from prospering as it did in past generations. However, the opening chapters work to assert the age-old idiom “when it rains, it pours”; in the first five pages alone, Luke loses the last of his family’s horses and returns home to discover that his daughter has been raped by her ex-boyfriend Baxter. This tragic event throws the family into turmoil as Aurea attempts to make sense of what has happened to her while her father simply seeks revenge. Stuck in the middle, Ford tries to reconcile his family’s troubles, becoming fixated on finding the lost horse as a way to assuage their pain. This Darksome Burn raises questions about family, relationships, the nature of life and how much control we as humans have over it.

Even more significant than that of Baxter or the watchful eye of the local police, the environment is an ever-present threat in the lives of the McGovern family. Attempting to survive in the shadow of Oregon’s Siskiyou Mountains, the characters battle harsh weather, the rural landscape, and a variety of wildlife throughout the course of the novella. These elements of nature are characters in their own right, especially the stream that curves through the woods surrounding the McGovern property. This small, seemingly insignificant body of water is referred to by multiple characters, and it is described by all with apprehension and a sense of foreboding. Nothing good occurs from interacting with this particular element of nature, a rule that the McGovern family seems to learn the hard way.

When I initially compiled the interview material for use in my first blog post about This Darksome Burn, I was a little thrown off by Ripatrazone’s assertion that film had played a significant role in his writing process. However, after reading the novella and experiencing the short, scene-like chapters, I completely understand how these “snapshots” of life work to create the story’s unique style. Each chapter generally centers around one main subject and uses vivid description and extremely focused language to fully immerse the reader in the scene. The chapters vary in length and when they occur (some jump months ahead while others simply describe the next action), but they all give a “zoomed in” view of the significant events in the story. I would even liken reading This Darksome Burn to watching a film put together by an immensely skilled director, one who, with painstaking detail, captures exactly what he wants the viewer to see in each shot through his lens.

I would recommend Nick Ripatrazone’s This Darksome Burn to any reader who appreciates being fully immersed in fiction. While I have admittedly not read a plethora of novellas, this example of the genre kept me engaged throughout its entirety with its innovative “snapshot” chapters and the raw emotion exhibited by the characters. Of perhaps even greater value, it forced me to think about difficult aspects of the human condition while leaving me with more questions than answers by the end.

Check out Nick Ripatrazone’s new novella This Darksome Burn, which is available from Queen’s Ferry Press.

A Conversation with Nick Ripatrazone

Tyler Van Riper

Nick Ripatrazone, a contributor for the current issue of Shenandoah, has immersed himself in many aspects of the literary world, writing fiction, non-fiction, and poetry, serving as a founding editor of The Susquehanna Review, and teaching English courses at both secondary and undergraduate levels. His flash fiction piece, “The Cribbing Collar,” received honorable mention in this year’s Bevel Summers Contest. Recently, we asked Nick to share some information regarding his newly published novella, This Darksome Burn. Named a “great new read” by High Country News, here is what the author had to say about his latest published work.

Tell us a little about This Darksome Burn.

The novella is set in the shadow of Oregon’s Siskiyou Mountains, and is focused on the splintered McGovern family. Aurea is raped by her ex-boyfriend, and though her overbearing father, Luke, gains revenge, the act does little to soothe her pain. Luke soon can’t control his vengeance, causing grief to those he is supposed to love and protect.

What made you decide to write this story in the form of a novella?

I love novellas–in fact, I recently wrote an appreciation of the form for The Millions, and although this book went through a few different forms (experimental play, novel manuscript, shooting script, and, finally a novella), its final form felt the most true. I think readers who like novellas appreciate that they are short enough to digest in a day or afternoon, but long enough to be revisited and make new discoveries.

Can you give us some insight into your writing process?

I have 5 ½ month identical twin daughters, so I write in short but focused bursts, and often late at night (and on through to midnight and the early morning hours during the weekend). The forms of the novella and short fiction are perfect for me, since I can keep them churning in the back of my mind during the day (I teach public-school English, then go for an afternoon run) but they can be refined and finished in a manageable amount of time. And I’m the type of writer who relishes revision. I’m old enough to know that drafts deserve to be torn apart, and this book is the product of cross-outs, margin notes, and the guidance of my editor/publisher, Erin Knowles McKnight.

How is this novella different from your previously published work?

My first two books of creative work were poetry (Oblations was prose poetry, This Is Not About Birds was more traditional, lineated poetry–both from Gold Wake Press), so it’s been nice to see early reviewers and readers appreciate this novella’s language. I’ve published a lot of fiction (and have another novella, as well as a short story collection, coming out next year), but poetry has taught me to write word-to-word rather than paragraph-to-paragraph. I credit the brevity of that form for helping me revise this book.

What unique aspects of your writing can readers expect to find in This Darksome Burn?

As a fan of slow-burn horror films (everything from The Shining to the more recent The House of the Devil), I definitely take a filmic approach to fiction. The book’s short chapters are meant to be snapshots rather than exhaustive narratives. It’s a book that shifts between literary and horror genres, but I lean more toward the psychological horror of “The Pedersen Kid” by William Gass than gore. This is a book about people losing their hearts and minds against the backdrop of near-constant snow.

Check out Nick Ripatrazone’s new novella This Darksome Burn, which is available from Queen’s Ferry Press.

And the award for “Best Picture” goes to…

Tyler Van Riper

Despite all of my best intentions, I find myself publishing this post a day later than I had originally planned. Was it the week-long Washington Break that kept me from finishing it on time? The unseasonably cold Georgia weather that I was exposed to at home? The pile of assignments that I happened to remember once I returned back to Lexington? No, I am late with this post for one simple reason: the Academy Awards. I couldn’t help myself; the ceremony came on my roommate’s tiny television screen, and I was hooked. While I always resolve (and fail) to see all of the “Best Picture” nominations before the winners are announced, I can nonetheless appreciate the nominees simply due to the reputation of the Academy and its members.

This particular Oscars season, I was struck by the number of acclaimed films that were adapted from literature. I know what you’re thinking: it isn’t exactly news that our movie theaters have recently been inundated with book-turned-films. Just look at the success of Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight Saga or J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series on the big screen. However, these hype-surrounded, box office hits differ greatly from the films that were recognized this past weekend. The Academy Awards celebrates the absolute best in the craft of film-making: the most vivid cinematography; the best costume design; the most powerful acting performances; the most well-adapted screenplay. When I see that Leo Tolstoy’s novel Anna Karenina (1877) has been nominated for an Academy Award, I can rest assured that the director Joe Wright has succeeded in creating his own work of art from Tolstoy’s great piece of literature, which is something that cannot be said for every film that is adapted from literature. With Oscar’s seal of approval, I know that Anna Karenina didn’t miss the mark.

The Academy Award nominations have always represented what our culture considers to be the best examples of film in any given year. However, I have recently realized that these acknowledgments can also speak volumes about our literary culture. From biography to fantasy to classic literature, the films nominated this year were adapted from literature of different genre, time period, and style. I have already spoken of Anna Karenina, but it wouldn’t do to forget Victor Hugo’s original novel Les Misérables (1862), which first inspired the Broadway musical on which this past year’s film is based. Similary, the acclaim surrounding certain fantasy adaptations proves that these types of films aren’t just for kids anymore. Yann Martel’s beautifully written fantasy adventure novel Life of Pi (2001) flourished under the supervision of “Best Director” winner Ang Lee, and the first installment of J.R.R. Tolkein’s beloved story The Hobbit (1937) introduced children and adults to Middle Earth. On a different spectrum, author Matthew Quick treats the more serious topic of mental illness in his novel Silver Linings Playbook (2008), upon which the “Best Picture” nominated film of the same name is based. However, the novel was not the only literary form to be recognized at the Academy Awards ceremony. Also up for the Oscar for “Best Picture,” the critically-acclaimed film Lincoln was based in part by Pulitzer-prize winning historian Doris Kearns Goodwin’s biography Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln (2005). In fact, four of the nine films nominated in the “Best Picture” category were adapted from literature.

I can only hope that the literary presence in this year’s ceremony will continue to grow in following years, encouraging others to crack open a book as often as they frequent the movie theater. Maybe then I’ll have to be even more ambitious with my Academy Awards goal. Who knows, next year I may have to watch and read each of the nominations. I might actually be able to keep that resolution.

A new term begins…

Tyler Van Riper

It seems so unreal to me that a new term at Washington and Lee University is already in full swing. Didn’t we celebrate Christmas just last week? Has New Years’ even happened yet? For some reason, it has taken an unusually long time to get reacquainted with going to class every day, getting my reading done each night, finishing my writing assignments, things that, as a junior English major, should come as naturally as breathing. Maybe the difference is the variety of courses that I’ve enrolled in this semester. For example, I have never taken anything quite as hands-on as this editing internship with Shenandoah, Washington and Lee University’s literary magazine. I feel like I’m killing two birds with one stone: on the one hand, the internship amounts to a 400-level English class, which I can count toward my major and Creative Writing minor; and additionally, I feel that I have already gained important insight into how literary editing works, knowledge that will hopefully give me an edge over other applicants when I try to break into the publishing world after college.

Another exciting benefit of interning for Shenandoah is that it gets me off campus for an entire afternoon on Tuesdays and Thursday. Don’t get me wrong, I love the Colonnade as much as the next W&L undergrad, but there’s something about leaving campus and walking up Washington Street to the office that makes this course different from your average English class. On the first day of class, I was admittedly a little apprehensive about leaving the comfort of Payne Hall. The syllabus described completing a full-dress book review, presenting on other literary journals, and writing weekly journal assignments on my experiences throughout the term. I had never done anything like this, and my nerves started to kick in as I walked through the door of 17 Court House Square, an old attorney’s office that Shenandoah has only recently called home. I stepped inside to find a fairly small building with offices for the interns, our professor, R. T. Smith, and the work study student for Shenandoah as well as a little kitchen and bathroom. The space looks like most old buildings that the university has painstakingly renovated to maintain both its initial charm and its functionality. In fact, the strangest features are the large walk-in safes built into the foundation, which the previous owner obviously had more use for than a literary journal ever could. The classroom spaces are fairly tiny, filled with bookcases of old editions of Shenandoah and other reviews, a few computers, and a new large screen television that our professor uses during class to explain the technological features of the online review. In just a few short days, what began as a nerve-wracking spot far away from the comfort of the Colonnade has quickly become one of my favorite places in the Lexington community.

We’re two weeks into the term, and the two new interns and I are still learning the ropes: how to read essays for quality and content; how to write concise but informative blog posts; how to recognize the role of different literary genres. I also believe that the course’s assignments will also be helpful tools for learning to navigate Shenandoah. Within the month each of us will present reports on different print and online journals, which will give us various points of comparison with our own literary review. We will read Toni Morison’s novella Home during the term and will use this book to learn the art of crafting a well-written book review. On top of these tasks, each intern will compose a few pieces for the Snopes blog throughout the next few months, bringing you thought-provoking posts about books, authors, and many other literary topics. Until then, do yourself a favor and scroll back through our older posts. One compares J.R.R. Tolkien’s famous book The Hobbit with Peter Jackson’s upcoming film trilogy of the same name. A few of the past blog posts discuss if certain forms of the written word (comic books, social media, children’s fiction) really qualify as literature. Many focus on specific genres, such as gonzo journalism and flash fiction, and if you feel like going all the way back to the beginning of the blog, there’s an interesting series of posts about Shenandoah’s transition from a print journal to an online literary review. Every single post on our blog is sure to make you stop and ponder literature in a new and imaginative way, which makes my new student intern position as Snopes blog editor so exciting! Check back frequently to join me on this exciting new journey!