Reading has always brought me pleasure, but I came to enjoy writing only after many years. It fascinates me how writers came to their calling. On Amazon Prime the other night, I watched the American Masters biographical documentary of Louisa May Alcott. She was much different and more complex than my imaginings. Her history was…
Enjoyed Laura Lippman
The Hunger Games, Frankenstein, and more.
I noticed the other day when I posted a snapshot of ‘Buffalo Girls’ that it was the first novel I’d read in 4 months. After I finished scolding myself, I recalled that I’d taken a short story appreciation class in Aug and Sep and had continued on in that vein for awhile.
The bright streamers seemed pennants of aristocratic families and fair beauties. Local peasants hawked their handiworks, made in the dim light of the fireside, after long hours of hard labor on their master’s domain. The lab morphed into a palomino, lead by Lady Rowena. The tournament at Ashby would begin if the weather cleared.
What counts more to you – style or substance?
Can a woman write a male lead as credibly as she writes a female lead? Can a man – vice versa?
Hitherto, I could only notice the effect and relate it to a mysterious control the author had over the story. Now I see a way that it can be done.
Diem Perdidi by Julie Otsuka
It’s a good example of the difference to a reader between a story and an essay. Ms. Otsuka could have described the mother in either style.