Just found this at Jesse Kornbluth’s Head Butler site.
The subject of the post was James Frey, author of the Million Little Pieces bogus memoir of a few years ago; I liked what it said about writers and writing, and liked the Orwell quote very much:
Contrary to what Frey, his publisher, Larry King and Oprah believe, writing is not a career. For some writers — for the writers who, I like to think, will endure — it’s a calling. Those who write especially well are like priests. It follows that books are sacred texts, and that the best ones — even the best novels — faithfully deliver what the writer believes is the truth.
That is why we have favorite writers, just as we have favorite musicians; their works “speak” to us. And it is why we have very definite ideas who they are. George Orwell ends his essay on Charles Dickens by addressing this:
When one reads any strongly individual piece of writing, one has the impression of seeing a face somewhere behind the page. It is not necessarily the actual face of the writer. I feel this very strongly with Swift, with Defoe, with Fielding, Stendhal, Thackeray, Flaubert, though in several cases I do not know what these people looked like and do not want to know. What one sees is the face that the writer ought to have. Well, in the case of Dickens I see a face that is not quite the face of Dickens’s photographs, though it resembles it. It is the face of a man of about forty, with a small beard and a high colour. He is laughing, with a touch of anger in his laughter, but no triumph, no malignity. It is the face of a man who is always fighting against something, but who fights in the open and is not frightened, the face of a man who is generously angry — in other words, of a nineteenth-century liberal, a free intelligence, a type hated with equal hatred by all the smelly little orthodoxies which are now contending for our souls.
In a conversation with The Younger Sister last weekend, at one point she interrupted the story of her everyday life which she was sharing. You always do this, she said, You get us talking about all the stuff we’ve been up to and never tell us what’s going on with you.
Well, I told her, the problem is that my everyday life feels so humdrum — so beige — compared to the everyday lives of other people I know, in real or virtual life.
It’s hard for me to talk about programming (database development, Web development, hardware and software debugging) with anyone who doesn’t also spend their work days doing it, so “How’s work?” is more or less out as a topic. (Exceptions allowed for occasional encounters with humans in serious need of debugging, if you get my drift.)
At home, well, we watch a lot of TV. We interact with each other and with The Pooch. We read. And I write, of course.
Some of all this makes its way into my online presence. But most of what you see here (and in my comments at your own sites), although it’s really “me,” simply reports things going on between my ears, and things going on elsewhere online and between other people’s ears. And in return, I recognize, nearly all of what I read elsewhere will (must) be filtered in some way.
Not deliberately misrepresented; just not the whole picture, y’know?
What do you think about the “I” represented in blog posts (your own or others’) — especially the “I” who averages out over many posts — versus the “I” of everyday life? Would Dickens have recognized himself in Orwell’s generously angry-laughing “Dickens”? Do you think you’d be surprised at the face (not just the features, but the characteristic expression: the sense of your face) which readers assemble in their heads when they think of “you”?
And does it matter?
_________________________
Notes:
- This post was triggered, as I said, by Kornbluth’s essay at Head Butler. It was the first time I’d visited there, having run across it while tracking something else down; I recommend it highly, based on my quick dash through its contents. You might want to start with his “What’s Head Butler?” page to decide if you, too, would like to give it a go.
- I’d also like to recommend a blog called YesterYear Once More: Life as it was reported back then, where — among all its posts tagged “Charles Dickens” — I found the image at the top of this RAMH post. As with Head Butler, this was my first visit there. And I can see it, too, would be a good time sink when I’m in the mood for one. Each post (going back to mid-December 2008) consists of a scan or transcription of a newspaper article, book, or other print source from (as far as I can tell) the 19th and early 20th centuries.
- Finally, on the subject of “What does Writer X look like to you, as you imagine him/her?,” you might be entertained by Froog’s occasionally updated “Cast List” project of matching up photos of celebrities with those who comment at his two sites, as Froog imagines their personas and regardless of what he may already know of their appearance. What fun — casting an imaginary movie about your blog’s real readers!
The Querulous Squirrel says
The “Squirrel” me is my ideal writer self.
DarcKnyt says
I don’t know how I feel about this; for one thing, I’ve never given it much thought. I, like you, feel my everyday mundanity is so much MORE mundane than everyone else’s, who wants to read that? It’s like watching fish. Initially very hypnotic, but eventually boring. All they do is swim and eat, after all.
So when I comment on someone’s blog or write something, I’m not sure whether I’ve created an online persona or if it’s just something I let out from inside.
Weird, eh?
John says
Squirrel: We have a good number of trees around our house, and a back door from our living room which opens onto a screened-in area of the deck. Sometimes it seems we’ll go for days without seeing a squirrel (although The Pooch always seems to know they’re there), and sometimes, for days at a stretch, they singly and severally perform daily entertaining Spiderman impressions all over the screened-in area.
Yeah. I think you’ve got the right mask.
Darc: I think there must be some magic threshold, different for each person we meet online: on one side, the person remains a stranger to us; on the other, which they cross after some suitable amount of interaction, we decide we “know” them.
So, I don’t know. I think despite our best efforts ;), I think people probably have formed images in their heads of what sort of guys we must be. And I think unconsciously they may associate a face with the personality, a face which may or may not be that of an actor in a particular movie or TV role. You’re one of those tricky cases, because you don’t post photos of yourself anywhere online — but for some reason I have always (for example) imagined you to have jet-black hair. Maybe because of the “DarcKnyt” handle. Anyhow, if I had a list of actors before me, I bet I could come up with a specific face to identify the “you” I think of.
marta says
I think there is the persona a writer tries to cultivate–the branding aspect of the business–and what readers will imagine whether you brand or not. It is like the characters in a book. The writer can tell me the character is a redhead, but I’m going to imagine my kind of redhead which may be different than what the writer intended.
It seems that men often think nothing at work or wherever is worth talking about. “How was work, dear?” “Fine.”
Women often (though not always of course) find interest in the mundane. “How was work, sweetheart?” “Fine. You know, Susan in accounting? You’re not going to believe what she said to Dale over in HR. Well, first…”
This is something of a stereotype, but one with truth to it.
Too bad I can’t put that Orwell quote in query letters.
fg says
Funny thing now I see your post, but this morning I received an invite to an opening which is an exhibition of ‘Faces of our Times’. The photo selected for the invite was of Ernest Hemingway (Yousuf Karsh.1957) For some reason I can’t put my finger on it’s surprising and I have pondered on it all morning. A face of a writer – the writer, an unknown face and yet we imagine we know it so well.
You know my view on this of old – knowing a person through writing only (unless that person unbeknowst has integrity) is an unknown quantity. Someone you never know.
This is why the internet is liberating for some – including: holders-of-court, one-way conversationalists, control freaks, deceivers, and anyone who resides in the dark and yet such a deceptive meeting place.
Having said that, living vicariously through others? I’d say “why not.” Though you surely have more to offer than you know, my friend.
“We read”. What a happy thing to write about you and The Misses. I aspire to writing that about someone.
PS, On a (un)related note I happen to note that many men live vicariously through other men as a step towards having their cake and eating it. – Funny to watch – they don’t go there and instead they watch on the side-line as their nominee (a rarer sort, a modern martyr?) stumbles from pillar to pillar. This is I understand, the way it has always been.
John says
marta: The Orwell quote — I bet you could work at least the first two sentences into a sort of page footer on letterhead stationery. And/Or your email signature. And/Or a Gmail contacts status. (Hmm. Actually, I think I’ll do just that… Done!)
I think you’re right: whether it’s the author’s persona or a character’s, there’s no guarantee that readers will “see” just what the author “sees” — or intends. Well, maybe if the work makes it into movies or TV, at which point it becomes real hard not to see the actor who took the role. (I’ll never see Gus McCall with a face, set of mannerisms, voice, etc. other than Robert Duvall’s.)
fg: I bet you’re talking about this photo:
Right? :)
At the page at the Metropolitan Museum of Art site where I found that, the photographer is said to have thought of Hemingway as “a man of peculiar gentleness” — not very much like the stereotype of him as a macho blusterer, eh?
Wonder what E.H. would have made of the Internet? Wonder what his blog would have been like?
Whatever else you can say about living vicariously, it’s certainly safer than doing it on one’s own. People talk a lot, with reason, of women’s image-consciousness. Yet I think men may want even more to control their images, in particular not wanting to reveal their (real or imagined) vulnerabilities. Which, if true, would explain why we’d much rather see a “nominee” (as you say) risk dangers, risk failure. “There, but for the grace of God, go I” is so much more satisfying a thing to say than “Holy crap — look what just happened to me!” Heh.
Tessa says
This is a tough one, John. All my life, especially in social situations, people have completely misread me on early acquaintance. The husband says I intimidate people, which makes no sense to me at all. So I would have to say that I have no idea how people might interpret the persona I project in print. But they would have a hard time doing any worse than they do in person!
Froog says
Thank you for linking to my little frippery, JES.
I fear I must point out that all of the dramatis personae in my ‘Cast List’ post are in fact known to me. Well, apart from one who I invented. And one who’s a public figure. And one who’s purely a blog-friend (although I have seen a couple of pictures).
I wondered if you were angling for inclusion yourself. That would be quite a challenge! That blurry glimpse in your blog banner (if that’s even you) always puts me a little in mind of Quentin Crisp. Beyond that, I have no inspirations at the moment. I must ponder this further.
John says
Tessa: I’ve seen the self-deprecating, wry, and occasionally worried “you”… and the I-know-what-I-want-and-know-what-I-like “you.” I myself don’t find the latter at all off-putting!
Froog: I thought that you probably knew many if not all of them, so — in a way — casting their onscreen personas wouldn’t seem like much of a challenge. But what I liked about your casting choices, given that I myself don’t know any of the real-world counterparts, is how much thought you seem to have put into getting not just the look but the sense of them all just right.
And no, I wasn’t angling for inclusion — especially if you’re leaning towards the Quentin Crisp type! I don’t think I’ve gone a day in the last 20 years without wearing blue jeans for at least a few hours… Crispy’s mode of attire and, really, whole demeanor are on altogether a different planet than mine.
(The picture at the top, by the way, is just a mega-blowup and cropped version of the photo here. The blurring is intentional, to (a) mask the pixellation resulting from the enlargement and (b) minimize my self-consciousness.)
Froog says
I have visited your ‘about’ post before, but hadn’t remembered the photo.
Hm. I am tempted by Harrison Ford as Indy for your avatar. Or Gabriel Byrne as Tom Reagan, the man who disdains to run after his hat – but is perhaps metaphorically doing so for the whole film. Or perhaps Sean Connery as Indy’s dad – a little too old, but much classier – and with a beard.
I fear ReCaptcha is trying to tell us something again:
the fixating
John says
Froog: Oh, God — now I’m terminally embarrassed. Listen to reCaptcha and STOP TRYING TO CAST ME.
Actually I wouldn’t mind being Tom Reagan, as long as the events of Miller’s Crossing are safely some years in the past. The catch is — how to put this? — I’d have to be someone else. What I’d really like would be to find an actor + a role already played that feel (to me) like my real self… or the persona I think comes closest.
fg says
JES I mentioned our chat about EH to another the other day who can back to me promptly with,
“EH a man of vulnerability? Thoughtful but when he hit the bottle, best to avoid?”
“…STOP TRYING TO CAST ME…..” hah ha ah
John says
fg: I think Hemingway probably eventually settled into the role he’d become famous for — macho, swaggering, “when he hit the bottle, best to avoid.” But in certain situations, as when Karsh was photographing him, he probably also slipped back into that other gentler, more personable groove. It seems unlikely that someone even so talented could have become such a success if he’d been a complete jerk from the outset.
Something else to consider — I have no detailed knowledge of his life, but just thought of this: stories about people’s kindness, generosity, and (yes) vulnerability, no matter how true, are also relatively boring when stacked up against stories of their rages, cruelty, and irrational/erratic behavior. The latter are the stories more likely to get passed on to others, especially since they satisfy our hunger to find flaws in iconic personalities.
fg says
I agree with your second paragraph, in fact I would say we quite enjoy, nay pursue the “badness” in some of our celebrities. I am reminded by friends (half joking) that badness and the myth of the artist/musician fit quite comfortably in the public psyche, (you know bands throwing TV’s out of windows and such.)
What catches a little as I read your comment is: “It seems unlikely that someone even so talented could have become such a success if he’d been a complete jerk from the outset.”
Now, this raises a couple of points for me (to be fair probably not what you were thinking about.) First that jerks can’t help being jerks – yes, some take to it like ducks to water (and some are mental! sorry not very PC especially in light of EH’s demise) but by and large deep down all jerks have a choice – to be one or not to be one. Don’t you think? I suggest EH was unlikely born a jerk, he just found solice in the drama and notoriety etc + its quite nice doing what you want exactly when you want.
EH probably worked as hard as anyone might and was a jerk on the weekends. The danger came when there was no need to work (like he had made his point) and then there was seven days a week to go to seed 24/7. (As a separate but related point though I don’t think EH’s: Unemployment is a disaster for many and I suggest especially one for those who achieve their goal – to make some money and never work again.
Ok so what’s my point, it interests me, this perception of behaviour vs. capability and the way they are so often tied together. I don’t know why they are tied together? Hitler (sorry, obvious, extreme example) was almost certainly a very bright man. EH though termed a loser was an accomplished writer.
We link all sorts of other peoples attributes in our minds. It is curious that we (I’m being very general here but I think that this is the norm) haven’t developed instincts that focus us more readily what a person is actually like. Probably because in truth we are expending most of our energy perceiving ourselves?
I still can’t say what hooks me into EH’s portrait so but it may well be that through the leather exterior his child face shines through especially due I think the angle of his gaze. A curious thing because he also looks like his reputation – difficult. Oh well, thank goodness he was before my time and I am not his mother or a woman in love with him.
John says
fg: Based on your comments here and elsewhere, if I’m not mistaken, you yourself are an artist. If so, please don’t take this the wrong way; but in a way, (almost?) all creativity is a maladjustment — an urge to make, the products of which don’t (can’t!) have any precise literal counterpart in the world as known to people other than the artist… until the artist makes it, of course. (Which, btw, is one reason why plagiarism and other fakes — no matter how good they are — don’t feel like “real art”: once the original is out there in the world, any later replicas fail the “didn’t previously exist” test.)
All of which is a rather gaseous way of saying that artists, writers, etc., can probably become addicted to the thrills of creation… including the creation of personas which (if they’d never “gone creative” to begin with) differ from whatever is truly/natively/naturally inside them. In positive reviews of someone’s art or writing, critics will often say things — in these words or otherwise — to the effect, “I can’t wait to see what s/he does next.” With some outsized artistic personas, like Hemingway’s, it’s hard to escape the sense that the individual was subconsciously saying the same thing about their own public “self”: I can’t wait to see what I’m gonna do next!
I don’t know which was the cause and which the effect — chicken vs. egg — actually, maybe it was just complete coincidence; but it’s always interested me that the caliber of his writing declined as his personality moved to center stage. It was almost like some sort of hidden psychological law in operation — call it the law of conservation of creativity: creativity can take many, many forms, but the total “amount” of it in a given person remains constant. So someone who’s (say) a gifted writer can shift some of that creative energy into forging and maintaining a Writerly Self… but only by stealing some energy from the writing itself.
I absolutely love the idea that Hemingway was a jerk only in his spare time (“on weekends” as you say), at least while his career was still in development. We all need a hobby, eh?
…Now I’m wondering what Karsh’s contact sheets from the Hemingway sitting might reveal. Maybe this child-face shot was just a random, irreproducible moment — like being caught blinking his eyes.
John says
P.S. More about Karsh…
In wondering about the EH contact sheets, naturally I turned to the Web. I haven’t yet found anything about the Hemingway shoot(s) in particular, but I did come across some interesting stuff.
It turns out that Karsh himself was quite the “adjuster” of reality. Although his work may seem to portraiture what (say) Ansel Adams’s work was to landscape photography — pinpoint-sharp, beautifully lit, and so on — often that could be the result of tinkering in the darkroom. Karsh was Canadian, and 2009 was the centennial of his birth; thus, last year in Ottawa, a couple of institutions put together their resources for a “Karsh Festival” to celebrate his life and work.
One area of that Web site particularly interested me. Called In the Studio, it describes and illustrates what equipment Karsh used, what happened during sittings, and what Karsh did after each sitting, in the darkroom. It calls the central bit — the sitting — “A Delicate Choreography”:
The whole series provides wonderful insight into Karsh’s methods. While it doesn’t (as far as I can tell) discuss the EH portrait, it does show (for example) three photos of Albert Einstein taken in the same session, side by side — only one of which is commonly reproduced (and it’s obvious why!).
fg says
JES I am so glad of the generousness of your writing and of your research. How interesting to see the Karesh festival website.
I have a feeling that were we in the same vicinity we could have a lovely time over a cold glass of pimms or the like, in your garden thinking this portrait through. But for now a couple of things.
Although I say that I don’t expect EH was a jerk from the start I would suggest that the recipe of genes, chemicals etc was always part of his make up. (I am a firm believer that people never change.) And though I like to joke that he was a sod on the weekends I think this only because his drive to communicate was a stronger pull than spending all his time being a sod. As you say the creative dive is one hell of a strong one.
With this in mind though I think you give him too much credit. Writing to him was probably like breathing – necessary and going to seed was I would guess more to do with exhausting himself of the need to write and thus if not writing then he would return to type.
I am as you can probably sense somewhat fatalistic on this. He HAD to write, it wasn’t a decision and inevitably when he couldn’t he was going to go to seed. There was no… “maybe this is what I should do for the sake of my press.” As you say there are imitators but they should be glad that they are only imitators because the real thing is a hard, lonely, mentally fraught, oft tragic road.
Maybe this is why society has so much time in some ways for artists (musicians, writers, visual) because when its good we start to understand that a hell of a lot is given/given up. And this brings me to your first point about the artistic bent being a kind of maladjustment. I actually think it is the opposite. I think it is central to our societies and always has been because though it may not keep you warm at night (I know this well, ha) it does keep your mind/our minds reflecting on living.
btw, the Wikipedia page on EH is the densest I have ever seen. I have had it open on my desktop for three days waiting for a moment when my brain will be in gear enough to take it in. Flu. Honestly I think my brains may now be in the tissues! (sorry horrid but that’s how it feels.)
PS.I guess simply what I was getting at in my last comment was that a parallel between talent and morals does not exist and yet we instinctively (it seems) continually connect the two when thinking of famous people, ie EH.
carbon centotaphs
(now that’s profound)
John says
fg, if you’re still monitoring this post: I haven’t dropped the subject yet. Just mulling things over, and looking for an opportunity to grab that cold Pimms, at least the virtual sort.