Random
What is a happy story?
Last Tuesday afternoon, someone in my Introduction to Fiction class asked me if we would ever read a ‘happy’ story this semester, and I didn’t know how to answer. I didn’t feel comfortable saying ‘no’ or ‘yes,’ because I have a hard time understanding what is a happy story and what is a sad story. For those who don’t know, all of our readings have come from The Anchor Book of New American Short Stories, and we’re about to start reading My Happy Life by Lydia Millet for the novel portion of the course. I like to think that the kinds of things we’re reading are somewhat varied; however, another student disagreed, and criticized the selections Ben Marcus had made. The student pointed at what Marcus says in the introduction (“What I found in my reading was an amazing range of styles, beliefs, methods, ideologies, and instincts.”) and commented that despite the differences Marcus intended to show, the stories in the anthology, in the student’s opinion, are all generally sad and depressing. And if we categorize stories that way, and if we assume that we share the student’s definition of sad, then there isn’t much variety in that, right?
But, and this is my question, are there really happy stories and sad stories? If they exist, how do you define one or the other, or is it even a matter of one or the other?
I’m not hounding the students here; rather, both of their questions, which I think are good questions, got me thinking about how I feel emotions when I read, when I write, and when I do other things in my life. Rather than say ‘no’ or ‘yes,’ I tried to explain to the group what I thought about when I thought about it: that I didn’t see much difference between happiness and sadness, or that, if there was a difference, it was minor, and that I had, over the course of the past three years, realized that I was often existing in a pretty neutral state, so that when I did feel an emotion, sadness or happiness for example, I should enjoy it and try to examine it and so on, because the emotions generally were pretty temporary. I don’t know if I was fair in my answer, but I tried. It’s something that still confuses me, and I’m now again unsure of what I’m typing this moment and need to go to class.
But then last night I read an essay by Charles Bock in the DFW Tribute Issue put together by Sonora Review. Bock quotes an excerpt from a speech given by Wallace at a Kafka symposium.
Wallace writes:
And it is this, I think, that makes Kafka’s wit inaccessible to children whom our culture has trained to see jokes as entertainment and entertainment as reassurance. It’s not that students don’t “get” Kafka’s humor but that we’ve taught them to see humor as something you get — the same way we’ve taught them that a self is something you just have. No wonder they cannot appreciate the really central Kafka joke — that the horrific struggle to establish a human self results in a self whose humanity is inseparable form that horrific struggle. That our endless and impossible journey toward home is in fact our home.
I felt like this quotation and my having read it a day after that question came up in class were interesting enough to share here.
Tags: david foster wallace, sonora review
My wife said last night I should write a happy story about children telling their shadows to stop following them. I loved watching my son do that, killed me really, but I don’t know how to write a happy story about that.
Kevin Wilson, in the notes following his SS collection, said the last story was his most “hopeful.” It’s a brutal story but funny as hell, and arguably ends “happily.”
That’s about as much happiness as I want in a story.
I’ve stopped asking non-writer friends to read my stuff because all they say is “you write well but your stories are so fucked up. can’t you write something happy?”
My aunt told my mom that if I weren’t my nephew she’d be fairly impressed with my writing. Instead, she’s just concerned.
Great Wallace quote — “but that we’ve taught them to see humor as something you get — the same way we’ve taught them that a self is something you just have” Oh, shouldn’t “inseparable form” be “inseparable from”?
Ryan, this is a great post, thanks.
My wife said last night I should write a happy story about children telling their shadows to stop following them. I loved watching my son do that, killed me really, but I don’t know how to write a happy story about that.
Kevin Wilson, in the notes following his SS collection, said the last story was his most “hopeful.” It’s a brutal story but funny as hell, and arguably ends “happily.”
That’s about as much happiness as I want in a story.
I’ve stopped asking non-writer friends to read my stuff because all they say is “you write well but your stories are so fucked up. can’t you write something happy?”
My aunt told my mom that if I weren’t my nephew she’d be fairly impressed with my writing. Instead, she’s just concerned.
Great Wallace quote — “but that we’ve taught them to see humor as something you get — the same way we’ve taught them that a self is something you just have” Oh, shouldn’t “inseparable form” be “inseparable from”?
Ryan, this is a great post, thanks.
“you write well but your stories are so fucked up. can’t you write something happy?”
that’s great, i get that all the time, i’ll have to check out your work – oh, and write that story, that sounds really endearing
but to the topic at hand
there are happy moments and sad moments in life, but happy stories? i guess there are some fairy tales out there (just not the original Grimm), and Disney of course, but i think the more important aspect here is that the stories RESONATE, the effect the reader
and one man’s ceiling is another man’s floor
i think a couple of threads ago we were talking about THE ROAD being one of the most depressing books ever written – now, i’d go so far as to say that it is indeed sad at times, very powerful, but the ending to ME is hopeful – the man does all he can to prepare his boy and without spoiling the ending, i think there is hope there, even if you are reading, and crying your eyes out
the problem with a lot of “happy” stories is that the lack conflict – man wakes up, kisses wife and kids, has a great day, works, comes home, has a nice dinner, the tuck the kids in, and have a glass of wine and watch a movie – everyone is happy, but what happens?
and maybe i’m confusing happy with boring but i personally like exploring the dysfunctional in life with my writing, and i am much more interested in seeing how a character reacts to trouble – cornered in an alley, falling of the wagon, catching his wife in an affair, losing his job, girlfriend gets raped, father dies, etc.
i think “puppy” by saunders is another example of a great story that explores human emotion – some people would say it is depressing, or at least that the woman’s perspective of the boy and family is sad, but we know they are simply doing what is necessary to survive, to protect that boy, even if it means a leash
i’d rather have touching or endearing than happy, if there is a difference there – but i’m all for any story that gets your heart pumping, makes you laugh or cringe or sweat a bit, that’s much more important than happy vs. sad
my two cents – sorry for the rambling
peace,
richard
“you write well but your stories are so fucked up. can’t you write something happy?”
that’s great, i get that all the time, i’ll have to check out your work – oh, and write that story, that sounds really endearing
but to the topic at hand
there are happy moments and sad moments in life, but happy stories? i guess there are some fairy tales out there (just not the original Grimm), and Disney of course, but i think the more important aspect here is that the stories RESONATE, the effect the reader
and one man’s ceiling is another man’s floor
i think a couple of threads ago we were talking about THE ROAD being one of the most depressing books ever written – now, i’d go so far as to say that it is indeed sad at times, very powerful, but the ending to ME is hopeful – the man does all he can to prepare his boy and without spoiling the ending, i think there is hope there, even if you are reading, and crying your eyes out
the problem with a lot of “happy” stories is that the lack conflict – man wakes up, kisses wife and kids, has a great day, works, comes home, has a nice dinner, the tuck the kids in, and have a glass of wine and watch a movie – everyone is happy, but what happens?
and maybe i’m confusing happy with boring but i personally like exploring the dysfunctional in life with my writing, and i am much more interested in seeing how a character reacts to trouble – cornered in an alley, falling of the wagon, catching his wife in an affair, losing his job, girlfriend gets raped, father dies, etc.
i think “puppy” by saunders is another example of a great story that explores human emotion – some people would say it is depressing, or at least that the woman’s perspective of the boy and family is sad, but we know they are simply doing what is necessary to survive, to protect that boy, even if it means a leash
i’d rather have touching or endearing than happy, if there is a difference there – but i’m all for any story that gets your heart pumping, makes you laugh or cringe or sweat a bit, that’s much more important than happy vs. sad
my two cents – sorry for the rambling
peace,
richard
isn’t part of the nature of fiction that it doesn’t deal with happy families or contented people because then nothing would happen in the story? the happy characters would sit around going, “hey, how are you?” “great, and you?” “fabulous! let’s have dinner.” then a peaceful dinner ensues and we’re falling asleep. you need trouble to generate excitement and interest. otherwise, you it’s literature on a xanax trip.
and if you have a troubled character whose story ends in a happy way, the resolution often feels forced or too cleanly tied up, which is contrary to real life, and we readers feel insulted or cheated. or i do. there are exceptions, but i’m not sharp enough to think of what they are.
isn’t part of the nature of fiction that it doesn’t deal with happy families or contented people because then nothing would happen in the story? the happy characters would sit around going, “hey, how are you?” “great, and you?” “fabulous! let’s have dinner.” then a peaceful dinner ensues and we’re falling asleep. you need trouble to generate excitement and interest. otherwise, you it’s literature on a xanax trip.
and if you have a troubled character whose story ends in a happy way, the resolution often feels forced or too cleanly tied up, which is contrary to real life, and we readers feel insulted or cheated. or i do. there are exceptions, but i’m not sharp enough to think of what they are.
what is this chicken soup for the soul shit.
ryan, tell your student life is war and to shut the fuck up.
and i mean that in the most humorous of ways.
what is this chicken soup for the soul shit.
ryan, tell your student life is war and to shut the fuck up.
and i mean that in the most humorous of ways.
I’ve been interested in happiness in fiction and poetry for a while now. Something I’m not sure exists but I want it to exist, and I often try to write it.
I think surrealism (or magic realism or whatever) is where it can happen. Because surrealism doesnt have to have an apparent purpose or plot or emotion or etc. and a lot more depends on a reader’s perception of it, and that reader can choose to read it as happiness. It can just exist in the background ambiantly. I read this way a lot, just letting things seep and sit comfortably in me. I’m not so much interested in surrealism that has the intention of inducing fear or a horrifying feeling, like how Lynch uses it, but I think a happy fiction, or a comfortable fiction can exist in a surreal atmosphere, that due to its surrealism keeps you reading and feeling good and interested. I am saying happy and comfortable and calm as synonyms. A lot of diane williams work I read as happy even though it is probably not supposed to be read like that. But something about the language, more than what it is saying, makes me smile. Wordplay can make something happy, regardless of what the words are saying, it can be said playfully and makes a reader feel happier than if they were paying too much attention to the words. Like how some songs are about horrible things but are sung happily and it becomes a happy song.
I’ve been interested in happiness in fiction and poetry for a while now. Something I’m not sure exists but I want it to exist, and I often try to write it.
I think surrealism (or magic realism or whatever) is where it can happen. Because surrealism doesnt have to have an apparent purpose or plot or emotion or etc. and a lot more depends on a reader’s perception of it, and that reader can choose to read it as happiness. It can just exist in the background ambiantly. I read this way a lot, just letting things seep and sit comfortably in me. I’m not so much interested in surrealism that has the intention of inducing fear or a horrifying feeling, like how Lynch uses it, but I think a happy fiction, or a comfortable fiction can exist in a surreal atmosphere, that due to its surrealism keeps you reading and feeling good and interested. I am saying happy and comfortable and calm as synonyms. A lot of diane williams work I read as happy even though it is probably not supposed to be read like that. But something about the language, more than what it is saying, makes me smile. Wordplay can make something happy, regardless of what the words are saying, it can be said playfully and makes a reader feel happier than if they were paying too much attention to the words. Like how some songs are about horrible things but are sung happily and it becomes a happy song.
Flannery O’ Connor said that The River, the story where the child of these kind of godless alcoholics sees a baptism and then later on sinks himself into the river and washes away and then almost surely drowns (that’s by memory — probably something is not quite right with that description, but it’s the general idea), was a “hopeful” story. Have them read that. It’s a real barrel of laughs.
Flannery O’ Connor said that The River, the story where the child of these kind of godless alcoholics sees a baptism and then later on sinks himself into the river and washes away and then almost surely drowns (that’s by memory — probably something is not quite right with that description, but it’s the general idea), was a “hopeful” story. Have them read that. It’s a real barrel of laughs.
I have this conversation too often, though usually it’s with my mom, not my students.
Comic novels tend to have happy endings (comic like ha-ha, not like drawings). Though sometimes they seem kind of formulaic. Like Kingsley Amis’s Lucky Jim definitely has a happy ending, but it’s kind of a deus ex machina ending. And it’s not like the whole book is happy. Ditto Gary Shteyngart’s Russian Debutante’s Handbook.
Short stories are just exercises in misery, mostly.
I have this conversation too often, though usually it’s with my mom, not my students.
Comic novels tend to have happy endings (comic like ha-ha, not like drawings). Though sometimes they seem kind of formulaic. Like Kingsley Amis’s Lucky Jim definitely has a happy ending, but it’s kind of a deus ex machina ending. And it’s not like the whole book is happy. Ditto Gary Shteyngart’s Russian Debutante’s Handbook.
Short stories are just exercises in misery, mostly.
I just finished reading Sherrie Flick’s RECONSIDERING HAPPINESS, and I’d say I came to the same conclusion on reading it: “That our endless and impossible journey toward home is in fact our home.” I don’t assign any value to that, negative or positive, it just is. Likewise, I don’t consider Flick’s novel happy or sad, I consider it a worthwhile read full of truth, beauty, and their opposite.
I just finished reading Sherrie Flick’s RECONSIDERING HAPPINESS, and I’d say I came to the same conclusion on reading it: “That our endless and impossible journey toward home is in fact our home.” I don’t assign any value to that, negative or positive, it just is. Likewise, I don’t consider Flick’s novel happy or sad, I consider it a worthwhile read full of truth, beauty, and their opposite.
I have encountered this question before too countless times (actually eleven). The idea, I think, is to get to the point past where a story can be categorized as happy/sad. The last time this came up I was teaching Carver’s “A Small, Good Thing.” Is it a happy story? Obviously not, but only slightly less obvious is that it is not a sad story either. Bread and human connection and the warm oven-coil of language, etc.
A story is not what it is about. It is an event. The act of being moved by a story, the very possibility of such interpenetration of words on a page and human skin and beyond is in and of itself, if not welcome to zippy-do-da-ville, at least grounds for copious amounts of hope.
I have encountered this question before too countless times (actually eleven). The idea, I think, is to get to the point past where a story can be categorized as happy/sad. The last time this came up I was teaching Carver’s “A Small, Good Thing.” Is it a happy story? Obviously not, but only slightly less obvious is that it is not a sad story either. Bread and human connection and the warm oven-coil of language, etc.
A story is not what it is about. It is an event. The act of being moved by a story, the very possibility of such interpenetration of words on a page and human skin and beyond is in and of itself, if not welcome to zippy-do-da-ville, at least grounds for copious amounts of hope.
some of denis johnson’s stories in Jesus’ Son end on a happy note. Just off the top of my head, I’m thinking of “Beverly Home” & “Emergency.” Despite the totally fucked up and oddball premises and weird violence and drugs and addiction and illness &tc &tc the stories in Jesus’ Son are kind of happy. And not just hopeful, but happy.
some of denis johnson’s stories in Jesus’ Son end on a happy note. Just off the top of my head, I’m thinking of “Beverly Home” & “Emergency.” Despite the totally fucked up and oddball premises and weird violence and drugs and addiction and illness &tc &tc the stories in Jesus’ Son are kind of happy. And not just hopeful, but happy.
but i agree that often happiness is not a great emotional scaffolding to hang a good story on.
but i agree that often happiness is not a great emotional scaffolding to hang a good story on.
” A lot of diane williams work I read as happy even though it is probably not supposed to be read like that.”
I like this and feel like I probably do this a lot too. Read things as happy that might not be.
” A lot of diane williams work I read as happy even though it is probably not supposed to be read like that.”
I like this and feel like I probably do this a lot too. Read things as happy that might not be.
I think happy/sad in literature is more about tone and style than narrative outcome.
I think of Pynchon as a “happy” writer. Even when plumbing strange, dark depths, there’s a joy to the writing, an exuberance about the mess of life that can’t be sad. Vineland is certainly a happy book, right?
But he’s more of a comic writer than most. I think Mike’s onto something with regard to the comic novel.
I think happy/sad in literature is more about tone and style than narrative outcome.
I think of Pynchon as a “happy” writer. Even when plumbing strange, dark depths, there’s a joy to the writing, an exuberance about the mess of life that can’t be sad. Vineland is certainly a happy book, right?
But he’s more of a comic writer than most. I think Mike’s onto something with regard to the comic novel.
I think of Pynchon as happy also. Against The Day, what I’ve read of it, comes off as being in a happy mood to me, or atleast not depressing, and maybe as a reader I tend to default everything to being happy when something isn’t apparently depressing/horrifying. I read GR too long ago to remember it as happy or sad, but i don’t remember thinking of it as sad. Pynchon adds fantasical elements too, like pirates and elves you’re not sure are supposed to be taken seriously, and all the songs he throws in which I’m not a fan of but they are always kind of meant to be happy.
I think of Pynchon as happy also. Against The Day, what I’ve read of it, comes off as being in a happy mood to me, or atleast not depressing, and maybe as a reader I tend to default everything to being happy when something isn’t apparently depressing/horrifying. I read GR too long ago to remember it as happy or sad, but i don’t remember thinking of it as sad. Pynchon adds fantasical elements too, like pirates and elves you’re not sure are supposed to be taken seriously, and all the songs he throws in which I’m not a fan of but they are always kind of meant to be happy.
actually, maybe GR does sit in my head kind of sadly. I’ve got to read that again at some point in my life.
actually, maybe GR does sit in my head kind of sadly. I’ve got to read that again at some point in my life.
I’m with Jereme, and I mean that in the most reductive of ways.
But seriously, as Aaron points out above, this isn’t the nature of literature.
Go to the movies for happy. Go to Pixar for happy.
As for My Happy Life, perhaps your students will find the narrator’s state of mind an interesting topic for discussion. If there is any sadness, it will be in what the reader brings to the table. The narrator is unflinchingly optimistic and loving and trusting and forgiving. This might be where you get to say, Check mate.
I’m with Jereme, and I mean that in the most reductive of ways.
But seriously, as Aaron points out above, this isn’t the nature of literature.
Go to the movies for happy. Go to Pixar for happy.
As for My Happy Life, perhaps your students will find the narrator’s state of mind an interesting topic for discussion. If there is any sadness, it will be in what the reader brings to the table. The narrator is unflinchingly optimistic and loving and trusting and forgiving. This might be where you get to say, Check mate.
Somebody I’ve recently gotten into that does this very well IMO is Roy Kesey. His story “Instituto” which he read at AWP (NYC I think, not Chicago) from his collection ALL OVER is a fairly sad tale, but hilarious, very funny, and surreal for sure. I’d call it a “happy” story overall. Made me happy anyway, when he read it, and every time I’ve read it since.
Somebody I’ve recently gotten into that does this very well IMO is Roy Kesey. His story “Instituto” which he read at AWP (NYC I think, not Chicago) from his collection ALL OVER is a fairly sad tale, but hilarious, very funny, and surreal for sure. I’d call it a “happy” story overall. Made me happy anyway, when he read it, and every time I’ve read it since.
Because Diane Williams is fucking hysterical. Doesn’t laughing produce the same chemical response in the body as “happiness,” even if the content is all cheery and whatever?
Because Diane Williams is fucking hysterical. Doesn’t laughing produce the same chemical response in the body as “happiness,” even if the content is all cheery and whatever?
This shit where people want to avoid anything that cuts them open, makes them feel, or challenges their worldview, or… etc, really pushes my buttons b/c it makes me wonder why we even bother.
Roy Kesey is AMAZING. Great example.
This shit where people want to avoid anything that cuts them open, makes them feel, or challenges their worldview, or… etc, really pushes my buttons b/c it makes me wonder why we even bother.
Roy Kesey is AMAZING. Great example.
I remember reading Antonya Nelson saying somewhere that short stories are inherently depressing b/c they are about the individual, and thus about mortality, whereas novels are about the collective, and thus about something beyond mortality.
It was one of those sweeping statements you start wanting to rip apart the minute you hear it, but I also found it kind of provocative in a way.
I remember reading Antonya Nelson saying somewhere that short stories are inherently depressing b/c they are about the individual, and thus about mortality, whereas novels are about the collective, and thus about something beyond mortality.
It was one of those sweeping statements you start wanting to rip apart the minute you hear it, but I also found it kind of provocative in a way.
I may be wrong, but I get the feeling Ryan’s student is one of these people who finds that complexity depressing in and of itself.
I kind of hate those people.
I may be wrong, but I get the feeling Ryan’s student is one of these people who finds that complexity depressing in and of itself.
I kind of hate those people.
i generally agree with this, too, but i do think it’s possible to have happy fiction. maybe it’s just a question of degree or definition. like there can be plenty of miserable stuff in a work of fiction and it can still be “happy” e.g. end hopefully, show some understanding in a character that makes him or her happy, makes the reader happy (i think this is pretty common, really), etc. i might be misrepresenting him here, but i saw richard ford speak a couple years ago and he talked about frank bascombe being an essentially happy character. lots of unhappy things happen to him (death of child, divorce, failed friendships/relationships, etc) but he’s basically a happy dude. i mean, he might not stay that way at the end of the sportswriter (and we have two other books to fill us on this, of course) but he emerges from his grief a basically happy kind of guy, fresh eyes and all that…
same sort of feeling with jesus’ son for me. fuck head is pretty happy at the end of “beverley home.” so maybe it’s just a question of what we mean when we talk about happy?
i agree with aaron too, in the example he gives, anyway.
i generally agree with this, too, but i do think it’s possible to have happy fiction. maybe it’s just a question of degree or definition. like there can be plenty of miserable stuff in a work of fiction and it can still be “happy” e.g. end hopefully, show some understanding in a character that makes him or her happy, makes the reader happy (i think this is pretty common, really), etc. i might be misrepresenting him here, but i saw richard ford speak a couple years ago and he talked about frank bascombe being an essentially happy character. lots of unhappy things happen to him (death of child, divorce, failed friendships/relationships, etc) but he’s basically a happy dude. i mean, he might not stay that way at the end of the sportswriter (and we have two other books to fill us on this, of course) but he emerges from his grief a basically happy kind of guy, fresh eyes and all that…
same sort of feeling with jesus’ son for me. fuck head is pretty happy at the end of “beverley home.” so maybe it’s just a question of what we mean when we talk about happy?
i agree with aaron too, in the example he gives, anyway.
word
word
wtf is happiness?
what is happy?
this is silly
is masturbation happiness?
is doing the dishes happiness?
is shitting your pants a little happiness?
i can believe in love or loneliness or a myriad of other abstractions but “happy” doesn’t make sense.
wtf is happiness?
what is happy?
this is silly
is masturbation happiness?
is doing the dishes happiness?
is shitting your pants a little happiness?
i can believe in love or loneliness or a myriad of other abstractions but “happy” doesn’t make sense.
i saw her read/speak at tx/austin book festival years ago – she was fantastic and uttered something similar.
i saw her read/speak at tx/austin book festival years ago – she was fantastic and uttered something similar.
ha re the actually 11.
speak into the hole!
ha re the actually 11.
speak into the hole!
nice, Tim, exactly
why the fuck am I up at 1 a.m. writing about some boy finding true love or some girl realizing their is a god
the first true story i wrote was about a guy not believing in santa, learning there is one, and then at the end being stabbed by said Santa. sure, sure, read all the jewish angstiness into the story but it was 4th grade and that’s my kind of writing
otherwise, precisely, what the fuck are we doing
nice, Tim, exactly
why the fuck am I up at 1 a.m. writing about some boy finding true love or some girl realizing their is a god
the first true story i wrote was about a guy not believing in santa, learning there is one, and then at the end being stabbed by said Santa. sure, sure, read all the jewish angstiness into the story but it was 4th grade and that’s my kind of writing
otherwise, precisely, what the fuck are we doing
Good fiction is about problems.
Good fiction is about problems.
yeah. i think that is something of a refrain of hers. awhile ago, i transcribed an interview of Nelson for an old professor of mine in which she said the same thing–the transcription is still on my computer, so here she is verbatim:
“I think people are more interested in novels because they tend to be a more optimistic form. Again and again I finish a novel and feel a sort of uplift rather than that sort of truncated feeling of despair that I think stories often leave you with. I have sort of pondered that and written about it and talked about it before, but I do think the novel is a more optimistic form because the form privileges a social group in a society rather than an individual. A society’s trajectory in general is to sustain itself, even if it lives as individuals, and an individual’s trajectory is to die, even if the society continues. In general, I think that we are not particularly comfortable with the short story form because it’s a little more depressing. My students will always say that. “Why are these stories all so depressing?” The novels they don’t say that about. They read to the end, and they could have been moved or saddened by an event, but at the end, they go, “That was very satisfying.” (…)
I think the short story, by virtue of having so thoroughly an individual’s life that you can’t help but realize mortality, whereas a novel having more generally a social system. I’m not either optimistic or pessimistic in either instance. I just think the form taps into mortality more often in the individual and sustenance more often with the community.”
definitely get that feeling you mention, about the sweeping statements that you want to just pick at, but as you said, it’s thought provoking if nothing else, and i think it does hold true at least on some levels.
yeah. i think that is something of a refrain of hers. awhile ago, i transcribed an interview of Nelson for an old professor of mine in which she said the same thing–the transcription is still on my computer, so here she is verbatim:
“I think people are more interested in novels because they tend to be a more optimistic form. Again and again I finish a novel and feel a sort of uplift rather than that sort of truncated feeling of despair that I think stories often leave you with. I have sort of pondered that and written about it and talked about it before, but I do think the novel is a more optimistic form because the form privileges a social group in a society rather than an individual. A society’s trajectory in general is to sustain itself, even if it lives as individuals, and an individual’s trajectory is to die, even if the society continues. In general, I think that we are not particularly comfortable with the short story form because it’s a little more depressing. My students will always say that. “Why are these stories all so depressing?” The novels they don’t say that about. They read to the end, and they could have been moved or saddened by an event, but at the end, they go, “That was very satisfying.” (…)
I think the short story, by virtue of having so thoroughly an individual’s life that you can’t help but realize mortality, whereas a novel having more generally a social system. I’m not either optimistic or pessimistic in either instance. I just think the form taps into mortality more often in the individual and sustenance more often with the community.”
definitely get that feeling you mention, about the sweeping statements that you want to just pick at, but as you said, it’s thought provoking if nothing else, and i think it does hold true at least on some levels.
i would put money on this comment if it were a horse.
i would put money on this comment if it were a horse.
I’m just going to say it: Tim fucking owned this thread.
I’m just going to say it: Tim fucking owned this thread.
I am going to assume this post is purposely inflammatory to get responses? I can give you a SHIT-LOAD of awesome “happy” literature. What about coming of age literature? What about the adultery literature (Updike said 75% of lit was about adultery–but, admittedly, he was a bit of an ass) where the mister/mistress have no regrets and glow. What about Ignatius J. Reilly, motherfuckers? Happy as a clam, or an unread file.
S
I am going to assume this post is purposely inflammatory to get responses? I can give you a SHIT-LOAD of awesome “happy” literature. What about coming of age literature? What about the adultery literature (Updike said 75% of lit was about adultery–but, admittedly, he was a bit of an ass) where the mister/mistress have no regrets and glow. What about Ignatius J. Reilly, motherfuckers? Happy as a clam, or an unread file.
S
Plenty of good fiction is about problems solved. An unhappy ending often leads to a happy result. Think history, or necessary divorce, or a tooth pulled.
Plenty of good fiction is about problems solved. An unhappy ending often leads to a happy result. Think history, or necessary divorce, or a tooth pulled.
great comment, and i agree. some people get uncomfortable thinking too deeply or probing too far into the human pysche. most people spend their whole lives avoiding discomfort, and when they find it in this literary form, it “saddens” them (boo hoo), and that they call depressing. complexity is fascinating, it’s half of why i read, and rarely do i feel sad about it. maybe i’m a masochist and i like feel uncomfortable or confouded, but i don’t see it that way.
i bet ryan’s student’s also young (or losing his hair), so it’s forgivable. i like that he’s asking questions, that’s the important part.
great comment, and i agree. some people get uncomfortable thinking too deeply or probing too far into the human pysche. most people spend their whole lives avoiding discomfort, and when they find it in this literary form, it “saddens” them (boo hoo), and that they call depressing. complexity is fascinating, it’s half of why i read, and rarely do i feel sad about it. maybe i’m a masochist and i like feel uncomfortable or confouded, but i don’t see it that way.
i bet ryan’s student’s also young (or losing his hair), so it’s forgivable. i like that he’s asking questions, that’s the important part.
im not trying to inflame anything, honestly. just wanted to hear what others thought?
im not trying to inflame anything, honestly. just wanted to hear what others thought?
yeah. so how to define ‘happy’?
yeah. so how to define ‘happy’?
I don’t have anything smart or important to say, just that the link led me to something wonderful and that that is why I continue to visit this site. Thank you for this.
I don’t have anything smart or important to say, just that the link led me to something wonderful and that that is why I continue to visit this site. Thank you for this.
“Complexity is fascinating, it’s half of why I read, and rarely do I feel sad about it.”
Indeed. William Gass’s essay “Simplicities” speaks in part to this issue: “…[M]ost of all, [simplicity] is a longing: for less beset days, for clarity of contrast and aginast grays, for certainty and security, and the deeper appreciation of things made possible by the absence of distraction, confusion, anxiety, delay. Simplicity understands completenness and closure…What it does not understand is exuberance, abundance, excess, gusto, joy, absence of constraint, boundless aspiration, mania, indulgence, sensuality, risk, the full of the full circle, variation, elaboration, difference, lists like this, deviousness, concealment, the pleasures of decline, laughter, polyphony, digression, prolixity, pluralism, or that the devil is the hero in the schemeless scheme of things.”
In typical Gass fashion, though, he pulls for simplicity too, albeit a variety complex and earned.
“Complexity is fascinating, it’s half of why I read, and rarely do I feel sad about it.”
Indeed. William Gass’s essay “Simplicities” speaks in part to this issue: “…[M]ost of all, [simplicity] is a longing: for less beset days, for clarity of contrast and aginast grays, for certainty and security, and the deeper appreciation of things made possible by the absence of distraction, confusion, anxiety, delay. Simplicity understands completenness and closure…What it does not understand is exuberance, abundance, excess, gusto, joy, absence of constraint, boundless aspiration, mania, indulgence, sensuality, risk, the full of the full circle, variation, elaboration, difference, lists like this, deviousness, concealment, the pleasures of decline, laughter, polyphony, digression, prolixity, pluralism, or that the devil is the hero in the schemeless scheme of things.”
In typical Gass fashion, though, he pulls for simplicity too, albeit a variety complex and earned.
the wallace speech is in consider the lobster. it’s rad.
the wallace speech is in consider the lobster. it’s rad.
i wonder this sometimes too, whether there are such things as “happy” writers and “happy” fiction. “happy” endings in particular (sexual allusion not intended)
the best example i can think of is donald barthelme. i feel like barthelme’s stuff often has a kind of happiness to it, though “hopeful” might really be the better word
i’m thinking of stories like “the school,” which is basically a series of things dying, but told in a kind of amusing way, and “the balloon,” which is about a man’s giant balloon extending all over manhattan. without giving away the endings, these stories are, i feel, quite hopeful.
i wonder this sometimes too, whether there are such things as “happy” writers and “happy” fiction. “happy” endings in particular (sexual allusion not intended)
the best example i can think of is donald barthelme. i feel like barthelme’s stuff often has a kind of happiness to it, though “hopeful” might really be the better word
i’m thinking of stories like “the school,” which is basically a series of things dying, but told in a kind of amusing way, and “the balloon,” which is about a man’s giant balloon extending all over manhattan. without giving away the endings, these stories are, i feel, quite hopeful.
i’d agree, jensen. denis johnson’s “beverly home” ends quite hopefully. though i would have to say the first time i read jesus’ son, i had to take breaks because i was getting so pummeled emotionally by it. this was mostly probably because i was 20 or so at the time and an idiot
i’d agree, jensen. denis johnson’s “beverly home” ends quite hopefully. though i would have to say the first time i read jesus’ son, i had to take breaks because i was getting so pummeled emotionally by it. this was mostly probably because i was 20 or so at the time and an idiot
Horvath or Jones-Yelvington? Both done good.
Horvath or Jones-Yelvington? Both done good.
GR has a bit of everything in it. It’s so much a book about decay, manipulation and despair and complex social machinery, but then though in between all of that, you’ve got Slothrop sliding under the porches of celebrity cocktail parties, the singing and dancing, Byron the Bulb escaping his own planned obsolescence, and so much else that it seems to me ultimately “happy”. Sure, the V-2 crashes: they always do, but adults know that – it doesn’t make the book sad. There are far more people helping one another than betraying one another. Everybody everywhere is subverting a plan or a system. That’s hope and that’s fun.
I think of the feeling of going to punk shows as a teenager: the music is loud and raw, but that doesn’t make it mean.
GR has a bit of everything in it. It’s so much a book about decay, manipulation and despair and complex social machinery, but then though in between all of that, you’ve got Slothrop sliding under the porches of celebrity cocktail parties, the singing and dancing, Byron the Bulb escaping his own planned obsolescence, and so much else that it seems to me ultimately “happy”. Sure, the V-2 crashes: they always do, but adults know that – it doesn’t make the book sad. There are far more people helping one another than betraying one another. Everybody everywhere is subverting a plan or a system. That’s hope and that’s fun.
I think of the feeling of going to punk shows as a teenager: the music is loud and raw, but that doesn’t make it mean.
Joseph Heller wrote a truly happy novel and it destroyed him. There was nowhere to go afterwards. , iThe Journalist by Harry Mathews ends with the over-all sensation of relief (as in, things are not as bad as I thought they were).
And, in case anyone forgot, D. Barthleme’s Snow White ends with “The revirgination of Snow- White’s asshole. Heigh-ho” That is the ultimate in happy endings.
Joseph Heller wrote a truly happy novel and it destroyed him. There was nowhere to go afterwards. , iThe Journalist by Harry Mathews ends with the over-all sensation of relief (as in, things are not as bad as I thought they were).
And, in case anyone forgot, D. Barthleme’s Snow White ends with “The revirgination of Snow- White’s asshole. Heigh-ho” That is the ultimate in happy endings.
This woman set me back with my work for about six months. Took a long time to get over some b.s. she said in a workshop. Anyway. After that, I left realism to the realists.
This woman set me back with my work for about six months. Took a long time to get over some b.s. she said in a workshop. Anyway. After that, I left realism to the realists.
‘happy’ seems simplistic. just the way nobody’s experiencing just one singular emotion at any given moment, so i don’t think there’s any such thing as a ‘happy’ novel or a ‘sad’ novel.
plus, don’t our reactions to books decree how we categorise them? (if we do.) i might differentiate between a book that left me feeling ‘happy’ and one that struck me as being intended to actually be cheerful. we all react to things in different ways.
‘the colour purple’ has a ‘happy’ ending, i suppose. everything’s tied up very neatly – and the abused and the abusers and those who have had their genitals mutilated and their faces ritually scarred all skip off into the sunset together.
i think the ending detracts from the book itself, lessens its impact. it’s forced and unsatisfying.
i suppose it’s whether some approximation of ‘happy’ fits the text, isn’t ambiguous or at the sacrifice of anything within it.
‘nadja’ popped into my mind, because theoretically i suppose it’s fairly anti-happy. but i found it’s a book that makes me feel light. it’s got a weird ungrounded almost ethereal lightness throughout. that makes me feel not a million miles from ‘happy.’
some banana yoshimoto makes me feel a little like that. it’s so light and delicate.
i’m not sure ‘happy’ is necessarily what the given authors intended, though. but those are my reactions, conditioned by who i am, whatever mood i am in when i’m reading, and all that jazz.
‘happy’ seems simplistic. just the way nobody’s experiencing just one singular emotion at any given moment, so i don’t think there’s any such thing as a ‘happy’ novel or a ‘sad’ novel.
plus, don’t our reactions to books decree how we categorise them? (if we do.) i might differentiate between a book that left me feeling ‘happy’ and one that struck me as being intended to actually be cheerful. we all react to things in different ways.
‘the colour purple’ has a ‘happy’ ending, i suppose. everything’s tied up very neatly – and the abused and the abusers and those who have had their genitals mutilated and their faces ritually scarred all skip off into the sunset together.
i think the ending detracts from the book itself, lessens its impact. it’s forced and unsatisfying.
i suppose it’s whether some approximation of ‘happy’ fits the text, isn’t ambiguous or at the sacrifice of anything within it.
‘nadja’ popped into my mind, because theoretically i suppose it’s fairly anti-happy. but i found it’s a book that makes me feel light. it’s got a weird ungrounded almost ethereal lightness throughout. that makes me feel not a million miles from ‘happy.’
some banana yoshimoto makes me feel a little like that. it’s so light and delicate.
i’m not sure ‘happy’ is necessarily what the given authors intended, though. but those are my reactions, conditioned by who i am, whatever mood i am in when i’m reading, and all that jazz.
happiness is hard to do. happiness, in the end, will kill you. happiness is a warm gun. happiness is as one-dimensional as much of the stuff that lies at the antipole. even in the worst times of my life there have been very rich, veiny textures that shone in a different light and in a different way than an overall happy feeling, but often i feel that those subdued, almost subliminally glowing textures are completely absent in fiction that deals with anti-happy themes. depression is a luxurious state of being that may very likely smother and kill you, but given the necessary pockets of air to breathe within the morass, it is possible to search and explore as though scuba diving in some lightless cave beneath the barrier reefs awash in sun.
i agree with your student, but maybe for different reasons.
tension in a story, for the sake of plot or even non-plot, can be as artificial and contrived as a forced happy ending or positive emotion. ‘a world without hope, but no despair’ –henry miller. rather than happiness or sadness, i hope for complexity of emotion, not necessarily a roller-coaster ride, but a rubik’s cube of being turned slightly in several different directions and hoping that i walk away with the feeling of wanting to be alive, happy to be alive, to be immersed in the panorama and cathedral of unadulterated experience that the human condition enables, makes possible and is one piece of bright or dull colored rock that fits just so in the kaleidoscopic shift of patterns that never cease to fascinate, whether when genuinely smiling or with a razor in my hand, it’s all there, all the time, accessible at different moments but never without potential to emerge unannounced.
happiness is hard to do. happiness, in the end, will kill you. happiness is a warm gun. happiness is as one-dimensional as much of the stuff that lies at the antipole. even in the worst times of my life there have been very rich, veiny textures that shone in a different light and in a different way than an overall happy feeling, but often i feel that those subdued, almost subliminally glowing textures are completely absent in fiction that deals with anti-happy themes. depression is a luxurious state of being that may very likely smother and kill you, but given the necessary pockets of air to breathe within the morass, it is possible to search and explore as though scuba diving in some lightless cave beneath the barrier reefs awash in sun.
i agree with your student, but maybe for different reasons.
tension in a story, for the sake of plot or even non-plot, can be as artificial and contrived as a forced happy ending or positive emotion. ‘a world without hope, but no despair’ –henry miller. rather than happiness or sadness, i hope for complexity of emotion, not necessarily a roller-coaster ride, but a rubik’s cube of being turned slightly in several different directions and hoping that i walk away with the feeling of wanting to be alive, happy to be alive, to be immersed in the panorama and cathedral of unadulterated experience that the human condition enables, makes possible and is one piece of bright or dull colored rock that fits just so in the kaleidoscopic shift of patterns that never cease to fascinate, whether when genuinely smiling or with a razor in my hand, it’s all there, all the time, accessible at different moments but never without potential to emerge unannounced.
maybe i don’t agree with your student, i don’t know. i just read ‘brief interviews with hideous men’ in the anthology you assigned, and if he thinks that’s a sad and depressing story then he should just shut the fuck up. still i would argue it’s rare to see that kind of a range in contemporary fiction. and yet i would say that argument is fundamentally fucked, given that it’s rare to see that kind of range in any fiction.
maybe i don’t agree with your student, i don’t know. i just read ‘brief interviews with hideous men’ in the anthology you assigned, and if he thinks that’s a sad and depressing story then he should just shut the fuck up. still i would argue it’s rare to see that kind of a range in contemporary fiction. and yet i would say that argument is fundamentally fucked, given that it’s rare to see that kind of range in any fiction.