Thoughts on The Spooky Art by Norman Mailer - Part 2

The book has lost a lot of its structure in its past few chapters but remains interesting as ever.

One particular topic he continues to iterate on refers to style and the way it affects and qualifies writing. It seems to define and distinguish one writer from the next but not entirely in a unique sense, as he notes exemplary writers whose styles will alter with every page. It seems such a thing that is paramount, yet flexible and even elusive at times. And for the amount of time he spends worrying about it, his advice to us is to not, a difficult task upon reflecting on his material.

It would appear to be something that I must consider, more so for the sake of consistency with other elements, but not so beyond that, for fear of sabotaging that which would come more organically. I can only assume that it is something that really needs to be experienced before it can be understood. At the moment I’m just grasping at smoke.

The way he talks about his lifestyle is a little discomforting. Its sounds very often lonely and painful, isolated, and deprived of balance and at times, reality. It seemed to swing with every novel he wrote, being consistently inconsistent. He likens the ‘novel’ to a relationship with ‘the bitch’; a surprisingly useful metaphor. The impression I get is that this type of work, novel-writing, is very relational, whether with the book itself, the characters within, or the trappings of the author’s own mind. But I consider the books I have read, wherein character relations feel truest, and the insight becomes understandable.

One other thing that surprised me was how little he regarded the importance of plot, and knowing plot for that matter. His argument was that plot limits character. Even the decisions of each character are already predetermined, there are severe limits in ways upon which they can take on lives of their own, wherein they can grow and change. He does not say it’s impossible, but that in his experience, good character generates good plot.

This one thing that concerns me that seems to pervade the entire book. There is an element of literary elitism. I hardly blame or resent him for it. I think it is unavoidable. There are fineries to the art of writing, particularly in fiction, that will be lost on the masses. His greatest works I hadn’t heard of until reading this book, at least not in the forefront of my mind, and I doubt that the sum of all his sales come even near that of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, in spite of their literary brilliance. For all this man’s insight, I can’t help but feel his work remains somewhat irrelevant, perhaps because he wants to create an incredible world rather than tell a story or communicate a message.  That isn’t to say it is irrelevant. I’m sure his impact on the literary world is profound and lasting, but beyond that what effect is there?

I’m learning much from this novelist, but I’m remaining cautious as to what I should adopt as the norm. I’m very young and inexperienced, in worlds apart, so I think certain trepidation is understandable. There’s a disconnection that I’m hoping to understand more as I complete the picture of who this man is.

That’s all for now. I’ve missed so much, but it’s still all floating around my head somewhere.  I do recommend that if you have any interest in novel-writing, or even writing in general, to have a look at this book.

I shall return pen to paper when I have covered a few more chapters. (That was a joke. I’m typing)
Part 1 can be found here.