Read Like A Writer

There are two ways to learn how to write fiction: by reading it and by writing it. Yes, you can learn lots about writing stories in workshops, in writing classes and writing groups, at writers' conferences. You can learn technique and process by reading the dozens of books like this one on fiction writing and by reading articles in writers' magazines. But the best teachers of fiction are the great works of fiction themselves. You can learn more about the structure of a short story by reading Anton Chekhov's 'Heartache' than you can in a semester of Creative Writing 101. If you read like a writer, that is, which means you have to read everything twice, at least. When you read a story or novel the first time, just let it happen. Enjoy the journey. When you've finished, you know where the story took you, and now you can go back and reread, and this time notice how the writer reached that destination. Notice the choices he made at each chapter, each sentence, each word. (Every word is a choice.) You see now how the transitions work, how a character gets across a room. All this time you're learning. You loved the central character in the story, and now you can see how the writer presented the character and rendered her worthy of your love and attention. The first reading is creative—you collaborate with the writer in making the story. The second reading is critical.


John Dufresne, from his book, The Lie That Tells A Truth: A Guide to Writing Fiction

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Monday, May 1, 2023

The Golden Honeymoon by Ring Lardner

 

The Golden Honeymoon by Ring Lardner

The Golden Honeymoon
by Ring Lardner (1885-1933)
 
Approximate Word Count: 6758
Mother says that when I start talking I never know when to stop. But I tell her the only time I get a chance is when she ain't around, so I have to make the most of it. I guess the fact is neither one of us would be welcome in a Quaker meeting, but as I tell Mother, what did God give us tongues for if He didn't want we should use them? Only she says He didn't give them to us to say the same thing over and over again, like I do, and repeat myself. But I say:
 
"Well, Mother," I say, "when people is like you and I and been married fifty years, do you expect everything I say will be something you ain't heard me say before? But it may be new to others, as they ain't nobody else lived with me as long as you have."
 
So she says:
 
"You can bet they ain't, as they couldn't nobody else stand you that long."
 
"Well," I tell her, "you look pretty healthy."
 
"Maybe I do," she will say, "but I looked even healthier before I married you."
 
You can't get ahead of Mother.
 
Yes, sir, we was married just fifty years ago the seventeenth day of last December and my daughter and son-in-law was over from Trenton to help us celebrate the Golden Wedding. My son-in-law is John H. Kramer, the real estate man. He made $12,000 one year and is pretty well thought of around Trenton; a good, steady, hard worker. The Rotarians was after him a long time to join, but he kept telling them his home was his club. But Edie finally made him join. That's my daughter.
 
Well, anyway, they come over to help us celebrate the Golden Wedding and it was pretty crimpy weather and the furnace don't seem to heat up no more like it used to and Mother made the remark that she hoped this winter wouldn't be as cold as the last, referring to the winter previous. So Edie said if she was us, and nothing to keep us home, she certainly wouldn't spend no more winters up here and why didn't we just shut off the water and close up the house and go down to Tampa, Florida? You know we was there four winters ago and staid five weeks, but it cost us over three hundred and fifty dollars for hotel bill alone. So Mother said we wasn't going no place to be robbed. So my son-in-law spoke up and said that Tampa wasn't the only place in the South, and besides we didn't have to stop at no high price hotel but could rent us a couple rooms and board out somewheres, and he had heard that St. Petersburg, Florida, was the spot and if we said the word he would write down there and make inquiries.
 
Well, to make a long story short, we decided to do it and Edie said it would be our Golden Honeymoon and for a present my son-in-law paid the difference between a section and a compartment so as we could have a compartment and have more privatecy. In a compartment you have an upper and lower berth just like the regular sleeper, but it is a shut in room by itself and got a wash bowl. The car we went in was all compartments and no regular berths at all. It was all compartments.
 
We went to Trenton the night before and staid at my daughter and son-in-law and we left Trenton the next afternoon at 3.23 P.M.
 
This was the twelfth day of January. Mother set facing the front of the train, as it makes her giddy to ride backwards. I set facing her, which does not affect me. We reached North Philadelphia at 4.03 P.M. and we reached West Philadelphia at 4.14, but did not go into Broad Street. We reached Baltimore at 6.30 and Washington, D.C., at 7.25. Our train laid over in Washington two hours till another train come along to pick us up and I got out and strolled up the platform and into the Union Station. When I come back, our car had been switched on to another track, but I remembered the name of it, the La Belle, as I had once visited my aunt out in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin, where there was a lake of that name, so I had no difficulty in getting located. But Mother had nearly fretted herself sick for fear I would be left.
 
"Well," I said, "I would of followed you on the next train."
 
"You could of," said Mother, and she pointed out that she had the money.
 
"Well," I said, "we are in Washington and I could of borrowed from the United States Treasury. I would of pretended I was an Englishman."
 
Mother caught the point and laughed heartily.
 
Our train pulled out of Washington at 9.40 P.M. and Mother and I turned in early, I taking the upper. During the night we passed through the green fields of old Virginia, though it was too dark to tell if they was green or what color. When we got up in the morning, we was at Fayetteville, North Carolina. We had breakfast in the dining car and after breakfast I got in conversation with the man in the next compartment to ours. He was from Lebanon, New Hampshire, and a man about eighty years of age. His wife was with him, and two unmarried daughters and I made the remark that I should think the four of them would be crowded in one compartment, but he said they had made the trip every winter for fifteen years and knowed how to keep out of each other's way. He said they was bound for Tarpon Springs.
 
We reached Charleston, South Carolina, at 12.50 P.M. and arrived at Savannah, Georgia, at 4.20. We reached Jacksonville, Florida, at 8.45 P.M. and had an hour and a quarter to lay over there, but Mother made a fuss about me getting off the train, so we had the darky make up our berths and retired before we left Jacksonville. I didn't sleep good as the train done a lot of hemming and hawing, and Mother never sleeps good on a train as she says she is always worrying that I will fall out. She says she would rather have the upper herself, as then she would not have to worry about me, but I tell her I can't take the risk of having it get out that I allowed my wife to sleep in an upper berth. It would make talk.
 
We was up in the morning in time to see our friends from New Hampshire get off at Tarpon Springs, which we reached at 6.53 A.M.
 
Several of our fellow passengers got off at Clearwater and some at Belleair, where the train backs right up to the door of the mammoth hotel. Belleair is the winter headquarters for the golf dudes and everybody that got off there had their bag of sticks, as many as ten and twelve in a bag. Women and all. When I was a young man we called it shinny and only needed one club to play with and about one game of it would of been a-plenty for some of these dudes, the way we played it.
 
The train pulled into St. Petersburg at 8.20 and when we got off the train you would think they was a riot, what with all the darkies barking for the different hotels.
 
I said to Mother, I said:
 
"It is a good thing we have got a place picked out to go to and don't have to choose a hotel, as it would be hard to choose amongst them if every one of them is the best."
 
She laughed.
 
We found a jitney and I give him the address of the room my son-in-law had got for us and soon we was there and introduced ourselves to the lady that owns the house, a young widow about forty-eight years of age. She showed us our room, which was light and airy with a comfortable bed and bureau and washstand. It was twelve dollars a week, but the location was good, only three blocks from Williams Park.
 
St. Pete is what folks calls the town, though they also call it the Sunshine City, as they claim they's no other place in the country where they's fewer days when Old Sol don't smile down on Mother Earth, and one of the newspapers gives away all their copies free every day when the sun don't shine. They claim to of only give them away some sixty-odd times in the last eleven years. Another nickname they have got for the town is "the Poor Man's Palm Beach," but I guess they's men that comes there that could borrow as much from the bank as some of the Willie boys over to the other Palm Beach.
 
During our stay we paid a visit to the Lewis Tent City, which is the headquarters for the Tin Can Tourists. But maybe you ain't heard about them. Well, they are an organization that takes their vacation trips by auto and carries everything with them. That is, they bring along their tents to sleep in and cook in and they don't patronize no hotels or cafeterias, but they have got to be bona fide auto campers or they can't belong to the organization.
 
They tell me they's over 200,000 members to it and they call themselves the Tin Canners on account of most of their food being put up in tin cans. One couple we seen in the Tent City was a couple from Brady, Texas, named Mr. and Mrs. Pence, which the old man is over eighty years of age and they had come in their auto all the way from home, a distance of 1,641 miles. They took five weeks for the trip, Mr. Pence driving the entire distance.
 
The Tin Canners hails from every State in the Union and in the summer time they visit places like New England and the Great Lakes region, but in the winter the most of them comes to Florida and scatters all over the State. While we was down there, they was a national convention of them at Gainesville, Florida, and they elected a Fredonia, New York, man as their president. His title is Royal Tin Can Opener of the World. They have got a song wrote up which everybody has got to learn it before they are a member:
 
"The tin can forever! Hurrah, boys! Hurrah!
Up with the tin can! Down with the foe!
 
We will rally round the campfire, we'll rally once again,
Shouting, 'We auto camp forever!'"
 
That is something like it. And the members has also got to have a tin can fastened on to the front of their machine.
 
I asked Mother how she would like to travel around that way and she said:
 
"Fine, but not with an old rattle brain like you driving."
 
"Well," I said, "I am eight years younger than this Mr. Pence who drove here from Texas."
 
"Yes," she said, "but he is old enough to not be skittish."
 
You can't get ahead of Mother.
 
Well, one of the first things we done in St. Petersburg was to go to the Chamber of Commerce and register our names and where we was from as they's great rivalry amongst the different States in regards to the number of their citizens visiting in town and of course our little State don't stand much of a show, but still every little bit helps, as the fella says. All and all, the man told us, they was eleven thousand names registered, Ohio leading with some fifteen hundred-odd and New York State next with twelve hundred. Then come Michigan, Pennsylvania and so on down, with one man each from Cuba and Nevada.
 
The first night we was there, they was a meeting of the New York-New Jersey Society at the Congregational Church and a man from Ogdensburg, New York State, made the talk. His subject was Rainbow Chasing. He is a Rotarian and a very convicting speaker, though I forget his name.
 
Our first business, of course, was to find a place to eat and after trying several places we run on to a cafeteria on Central Avenue that suited us up and down. We eat pretty near all our meals there and it averaged about two dollars per day for the two of us, but the food was well cooked and everything nice and clean. A man don't mind paying the price if things is clean and well cooked.
 
On the third day of February, which is Mother's birthday, we spread ourselves and eat supper at the Poinsettia Hotel and they charged us seventy-five cents for a sirloin steak that wasn't hardly big enough for one.
 
I said to Mother: "Well," I said, "I guess it's a good thing every day ain't your birthday or we would be in the poorhouse."
 
"No," says Mother, "because if every day was my birthday, I would be old enough by this time to of been in my grave long ago."
 
You can't get ahead of Mother.
 
In the hotel they had a card-room where they was several men and ladies playing five hundred and this new fangled whist bridge. We also seen a place where they was dancing, so I asked Mother would she like to trip tne light fantastic toe and she said no, she was too old to squirm like you have got to do now days. We watched some of the young folks at it awhile till Mother got disgusted and said we would have to see a good movie to take the taste out of our mouth. Mother is a great movie heroyne and we go twice a week here at home.
 
But I want to tell you about the Park. The second day we was there we visited the Park, which is a good deal like the one in Tampa, only bigger, and they's more fun goes on here every day than you could shake a stick at. In the middle they's a big bandstand and chairs for the folks to set and listen to the concerts, which they give you music for all tastes, from Dixie up to classical pieces like Hearts and Flowers.
 
Then all around they's places marked off for different sports and games--chess and checkers and dominoes for folks that enjoys those kind of games, and roque and horse-shoes for the nimbler ones. I used to pitch a pretty fair shoe myself, but ain't done much of it in the last twenty years.
 
Well, anyway, we bought a membership ticket in the club which costs one dollar for the season, and they tell me that up to a couple years ago it was fifty cents, but they had to raise it to keep out the riffraff.
 
Well, Mother and I put in a great day watching the pitchers and she wanted I should get in the game, but I told her I was all out of practice and would make a fool of myself, though I seen several men pitching who I guess I could take their measure without no practice. However, they was some good pitchers, too, and one boy from Akron, Ohio, who could certainly throw a pretty shoe. They told me it looked like he would win them championship of the United States in the February tournament. We come away a few days before they held that and I never did hear if he win. I forget his name, but he was a clean cut young fella and he has got a brother in Cleveland that's a Rotarian.
 
Well, we just stood around and watched the different games for two or three days and finally I set down in a checker game with a man named Weaver from Danville, Illinois. He was a pretty fair checker player, but he wasn't no match for me, and I hope that don't sound like bragging. But I always could hold my own on a checker-board and the folks around here will tell you the same thing. I played with this Weaver pretty near all morning for two or three mornings and he beat me one game and the only other time it looked like he had a chance, the noon whistle blowed and we had to quit and go to dinner.
 
While I was playing checkers, Mother would set and listen to the band, as she loves music, classical or no matter what kind, but anyway she was setting there one day and between selections the woman next to her opened up a conversation. She was a woman about Mother's own age, seventy or seventy-one, and finally she asked Mother's name and Mother told her her name and where she was from and Mother asked her the same question, and who do you think the woman was?
 
Well, sir, it was the wife of Frank M. Hartsell, the man who was engaged to Mother till I stepped in and cut him out, fifty-two years ago!
 
Yes, sir!
 
You can imagine Mother's surprise! And Mrs. Hartsell was surprised, too, when Mother told her she had once been friends with her husband, though Mother didn't say how close friends they had been, or that Mother and I was the cause of Hartsell going out West. But that's what we was. Hartsell left his town a month after the engagement was broke off and ain't never been back since. He had went out to Michigan and become a veterinary, and that is where he had settled down, in Hillsdale, Michigan, and finally married his wife.
 
Well, Mother screwed up her courage to ask if Frank was still living and Mrs. Hartsell took her over to where they was pitching horse-shoes and there was old Frank, waiting his turn. And he knowed Mother as soon as he seen her, though it was over fifty years. He said he knowed her by her eyes.
 
"Why, it's Lucy Frost!" he says, and he throwed down his shoes and quit the game.
 
Then they come over and hunted me up and I will confess I wouldn't of knowed him. Him and I is the same age to the month, but he seems to show it more, some way. He is balder for one thing. And his beard is all white, where mine has still got a streak of brown in it. The very first thing I said to him, I said:
 
"Well, Frank, that beard of yours makes me feel like I was back north. It looks like a regular blizzard."
 
"Well," he said, "I guess yourn would be just as white if you had it dry cleaned."
 
But Mother wouldn't stand that.
 
"Is that so!" she said to Frank. "Well, Chancy ain't had no tobacco in his mouth for over ten years!"
 
And I ain't!
 
Well, I excused myself from the checker game and it was pretty close to noon, so we decided to all have dinner together and they was nothing for it only we must try their cafeteria on Third Avenue. It was a little more expensive than ours and not near as good, I thought. I and Mother had about the same dinner we had been having every day and our bill was $1.10. Frank's check was $1.20 for he and his wife. The same meal wouldn't of cost them more than a dollar at our place.
 
After dinner we made them come up to our house and we all set in the parlor, which the young woman had give us the use of to entertain company. We begun talking over old times and Mother said she was a-scared Mrs. Hartsell would find it tiresome listening to we three talk over old times, but as it turned out they wasn't much chance for nobody else to talk with Mrs. Hartsell in the company. I have heard lots of women that could go it, but Hartsell's wife takes the cake of all the women I ever seen. She told us the family history of everybody in the State of Michigan and bragged for a half hour about her son, who she said is in the drug business in Grand Rapids, and a Rotarian.
 
When I and Hartsell could get a word in edgeways we joked one another back and forth and I chafed him about being a horse doctor.
 
"Well, Frank," I said, " you look pretty prosperous, so I suppose they's been plenty of glanders around Hillsdale."
 
"Well," he said, "I've managed to make more than a fair living. But I've worked pretty hard."
 
"Yes," I said, "and I suppose you get called out all hours of the night to attend births and so on."
 
Mother made me shut up.
 
Well, I thought they wouldn't never go home and I and Mother was in misery trying to keep awake, as the both of us generally always takes a nap after dinner. Finally they went, after we had made an engagement to meet them in the Park the next morning, and Mrs. Hartsell also invited us to come to their place the next night and play five hundred. But she had forgot that they was a meeting of the Michigan Society that evening, so it was not till two evenings later that we had our first card game.
 
Hartsell and his wife lived in a house on Third Avenue North and had a private setting room besides their bedroom. Mrs. Hartsell couldn't quit talking about their private setting room like it was something wonderful. We played cards with them, with Mother and Hartsell partners against his wife and I. Mrs. Hartsell is a miserable card player and we certainly got the worst of it.
 
After the game she brought out a dish of oranges and we had to pretend it was just what we wanted, though oranges down there is like a young man's whiskers; you enjoy them at first, but they get to be a pesky nuisance.
 
We played cards again the next night at our place with the same partners and I and Mrs. Hartsell was beat again. Mother and Hartsell was full of compliments for each other on what a good team they made, but the both of them knowed well enough where the secret of their success laid. I guess all and all we must of played ten different evenings and they was only one night when Mrs. Hartsell and I come out ahead. And that one night wasn't no fault of hern.
 
When we had been down there about two weeks, we spent one evening as their guest in the Congregational Church, at a social give by the Michigan Society. A talk was made by a man named Bitting of Detroit, Michigan, on How I was Cured of Story Telling. He is a big man in the Rotarians and give a witty talk.
 
A woman named Mrs. Oxford rendered some selections which Mrs. Hartsell said was grand opera music, but whatever they was my daughter Edie could of give her cards and spades and not made such a hullaballoo about it neither.
 
Then they was a ventriloquist from Grand Rapids and a young woman about forty-five years of age that mimicked different kinds of birds. I whispered to Mother that they all sounded like a chicken, but she nudged me to shut up.
 
After the show we stopped in a drug store and I set up the refreshments and it was pretty close to ten o'clock before we finally turned in. Mother and I would of preferred tending the movies, but Mother said we mustn't offend Mrs. Hartsell, though I asked her had we came to Florida to enjoy ourselves or to just not offend an old chatter-box from Michigan.
 
I felt sorry for Hartsell one morning. The women folks both had an engagement down to the chiropodist's and I run across Hartsell in the Park and he foolishly offered to play me checkers.
 
It was him that suggested it, not me, and I guess he repented himself before we had played one game. But he was too stubborn to give up and set there while I beat him game after game and the worst part of it was that a crowd of folks had got in the habit of watching me play and there they all was, hooking on, and finally they seen what a fool Frank was making of himself, and they began to chafe him and pass remarks. Like one of them said:
 
"Who ever told you you was a checker player!"
 
And:
 
"You might maybe be good for tiddle-de-winks, but not checkers!
 
I almost felt like letting him beat me a couple games. But the crowd would of knowed it was a put up job.
 
Well, the women folks joined us in the Park and I wasn't going to mention our little game, but Hartsell told about it himself and admitted he wasn't no match for me.
 
"Well," said Mrs. Hartsell, "checkers ain't much of a game anyway, is it?" She said: "It's more of a children's game, ain't it? At least, I know my boy's children used to play it a good deal."
 
"Yes, ma'am," I said. "It's a children's game the way your husband plays it, too."
 
Mother wanted to smooth things over, so she said:
 
"Maybe they's other games where Frank can beat you."
 
"Yes," said Mrs. Hartsell, "and I bet he could beat you pitching horse-shoes."
 
"Well," I said, "I would give him a chance to try, only I ain't pitched a shoe in over sixteen years."
 
"Well," said Hartsell, "I ain't played checkers in twenty years."
 
"You ain't never played it," I said.
 
"Anyway," says Frank, "Lucy and I is your master at five hundred."
 
Well, I could of told him why that was, but had decency enough to hold my tongue.
 
It had got so now that he wanted to play cards every night and when I or Mother wanted to go to a movie, any one of us would have to pretend we had a headache and then trust to goodness that they wouldn't see us sneak into the theater. I don't mind playing cards when my partner keeps their mind on the game, but you take a woman like Hartsell's wife and how can they play cards when they have got to stop every couple seconds and brag about their son in Grand Rapids?
 
Well, the New York-New Jersey Society announced that they was goin' to give a social evening too and I said to Mother, I said:
 
"Well, that is one evening when we will have an excuse not to play five hundred."
 
"Yes," she said, "but we will have to ask Frank and his wife to go to the social with us as they asked us to go to the Michigan social."
 
"Well," I said, "I had rather stay home than drag that chatterbox everywheres we go."
 
So Mother said:
 
"You are getting too cranky. Maybe she does talk a little too much but she is good hearted. And Frank is always good company."
 
So I said:
 
"I suppose if he is such good company you wished you had of married him."
Mother laughed and said I sounded like I was jealous. Jealous of a cow doctor!
Anyway we had to drag them along to the social and I will say that we give them a much better entertainment than they had given us.
 
Judge Lane of Paterson made a fine talk on business conditions and a Mrs. Newell of Westfield imitated birds, only you could really tell what they was the way she done it. Two young women from Red Bank sung a choral selection and we clapped them back and they gave us Home to Our Mountains and Mother and Mrs. Hartsell both had tears in their eyes. And Hartsell, too.
 
Well, some way or another the chairman got wind that I was there and asked me to make a talk and I wasn't even going to get up, but Mother made me, so I got up and said:
 
"Ladies and gentlemen," I said. "I didn't expect to be called on for a speech on an occasion like this or no other occasion as I do not set myself up as a speech maker, so will have to do the best I can, which I often say is the best anybody can do."
 
Then I told them the story about Pat and the motorcycle, using the brogue, and it seemed to tickle them and I told them one or two other stories, hut altogether I wasn't on my feet more than twenty or twenty-five minutes and you ought to of heard the clapping and hollering when I set down. Even Mrs. Hartsell admitted that I am quite a speechifier and said if I ever went to Grand Rapids, Michigan, her son would make me talk to the Rotarians.
 
When it was over, Hartsell wanted we should go to their house and play cards, but his wife reminded him that it was after 9.30 P.M., rather a late hour to start a card game, but he had went crazy on the subject of cards, probably because he didn't have to play partners with his wife. Anyway, we got rid of them and went home to bed.
 
It was the next morning, when we met over to the Park, that Mrs. Hartsell made the remark that she wasn't getting no exercise so I suggested that why didn't she take part in the roque game.
 
She said she had not played a game of roque in twenty years, but if Mother would play she would play. Well, at first Mother wouldn't hear of it, but finally consented, more to please Mrs. Hartsell than anything else.
 
Well, they had a game with a Mrs. Ryan from Eagle, Nebraska, and a young Mrs. Morse from Rutland, Vermont, who Mother had met down to the chiropodist's. Well, Mother couldn't hit a flea and they all laughed at her and I couldn't help from laughing at her myself and finally she quit and said her back was too lame to stoop over. So they got another lady and kept on playing and soon Mrs. Hartsell was the one everybody was laughing at, as she had a long shot to hit the black ball, and as she made the effort her teeth fell out on to the court. I never seen a woman so flustered in my life. And I never heard so much laughing, only Mrs. Hartsell didn't join in and she was madder than a hornet and wouldn't play no more, so the game broke up.
 
Mrs. Hartsell went home without speaking to nobody, but Hartsell stayed around and finally he said to me, he said:
 
"Well, I played you checkers the other day and you beat me bad and now what do you say if you and me play a game of horseshoes?"
 
I told him I hadn't pitched a shoe in sixteen years, but Mother said:
 
"Go ahead and play. You used to be good at it and maybe it will come back to you."
 
Well, to make a long story short, I give in. I oughtn't to of never tried it, as I hadn't pitched a shoe in sixteen years, and I only done it to humor Hartsell.
 
Before we started, Mother patted me on the back and told me to do my best, so we started in and I seen right off that I was in for it, as I hadn't pitched a shoe in sixteen years and didn't have my distance. And besides, the plating had wore off the shoes so that they was points right where they stuck into my thumb and I hadn't throwed more than two or three times when my thumb was raw and it pretty near killed me to hang on to the shoe, let alone pitch it. Well, Hartsell throws the awkwardest shoe I ever seen pitched and to see him pitch you wouldn't think he would ever come nowheres near, but he is also the luckiest pitcher I ever seen and he made some pitches where the shoe lit five and six feet short and then schoonered up and was a ringer. They's no use trying to beat that kind of luck.
 
They was a pretty fair size crowd watching us and four or five other ladies besides Mother, and it seems like, when Hartsell pitches, he has got to chew and it kept the ladies on the anxious seat as he don't seem to care which way he is facing when he leaves go.
 
You would think a man as old as him would of learnt more manners.
 
Well, to make a long story short, I was just beginning to get my distance when I had to give up on account of my thumb, which I showed it to Hartsell and he seen I couldn't go on, as it was raw and bleeding. Even if I could of stood it to go on myself, Mother wouldn't of allowed it after she seen my thumb. So anyway I quit and Hartsell said the score was nineteen to six, but I don't know what it was. Or don't care, neither.
 
Well, Mother and I went home and I said I hoped we was through with the Hartsells as I was sick and tired of them, but it seemed like she had promised we would go over to their house that evening for another game of their everlasting cards.
 
Well, my thumb was giving me considerable pain and I felt kind of out of sorts and I guess maybe I forgot myself, but anyway, when we was about through playing Hartsell made the remark that he wouldn't never lose a game of cards if he could always have Mother for a partner.
 
So I said:
 
"Well, you had a chance fifty years ago to always have her for a partner, but you wasn't man enough to keep her."
 
I was sorry the minute I had said it and Hartsell didn't know what to say and for once his wife couldn't say nothing. Mother tried to smooth things over by making the remark that I must of had something stronger than tea or I wouldn't talk so silly. But Mrs. Hartsell had froze up like an iceberg and hardly said good night to us and I bet her and Frank put in a pleasant hour after we was gone.
 
As we was leaving, Mother said to him: "Never mind Charley's nonsense, Frank. He is just mad because you beat him all hollow pitching horseshoes and playing cards."
 
She said that to make up for my slip, but at the same time she certainly riled me. I tried to keep ahold of myself, but as soon as we was out of the house she had to open up the subject and begun to scold me for the break I had made.
 
Well, I wasn't in no mood to be scolded. So I said:
 
"I guess he is such a wonderful pitcher and card player that you wished you had married him."
 
"Well," she said, "at least he ain't a baby to give up pitching because his thumb has got a few scratches."
 
"And how about you," I said, "making a fool of yourself on the roque court and then pretemiding your back is lame and you can't play no more!"
 
"Yes," she said, "but when you hurt your thumb I didn't laugh at you, and why did you laugh at me when I sprained my back?"
 
"Who could help from laughing!" I said.
 
"Well," she said, "Frank Hartsell didn't laugh."
 
"Well," I said, "why didn't you marry him?"
 
"Well," said Mother, "I almost wished I had!"
 
"And I wished so, too!" I said.
 
 "I'll remember that!" said Mother, and that's the last word she said to me for two days.
 
We seen the Hartsells the next day in the Park and I was willing to apologize, but they just nodded to us. And a couple days later we heard they had left for Orlando, where they have got relatives.
 
I wished they had went there in the first place.
 
Mother and I made it up setting on a bench.
 
"Listen, Charley," she said. "This is our Golden Honeymoon and we don't want the whole thing spoilt with a silly old quarrel."
 
"Well," I said, "did you mean that about wishing you had married Hartsell?"
 
"Of course not," she said, "that is, if you didn't mean that you wished I had, too." So I said:
 
"I was just tired and all wrought up. I thank God you chose me instead of him as they's no other woman in the world who I could of lived with all these years."
 
"How about Mrs. Hartsell?" says Mother.
 
"Good gracious!" I said. "Imagine being married to a woman that plays five hundred like she does and drops her teeth on the roque court!"
 
"Well," said Mother, "it wouldn't be no worse than being married to a man that expectorates towards ladies and is such a fool in a checker game."
 
So I put my arm around her shoulder and she stroked my hand and I guess we got kind of spoony.
 
They was two days left of our stay in St. Petersburg and the next to the last day Mother introduced me to a Mrs. Kendall from Kingston, Rhode Island, who she had met at the chiropodist's.
 
Mrs. Kendall made us acquainted with her husband, who is in the grocery business. They have got two sons and five grandchildren and one great-grandchild. One of their sons lives in Providence and is way up in the Elks as well as a Rotarian.
 
We found them very congenial people and we played cards with them the last two nights we was there. They was both experts and I only wished we had met them sooner instead of running into the Hartsells. But the Kendalls will be there again next winter and we will see more of them, that is, if we decide to make the trip again.
 
We left the Sunshine City on the eleventh day of February, at 11 A.M. This give us a day trip through Florida and we seen all the country we had passed through at night on the way down.
 
We reached Jacksonville at 7 P.M. and pulled out of there at 8.10 P.M. We reached Fayetteville, North Carolina, at nine o'clock the following morning, and reached Washington, D. C., at 6.30 P.M., laying over there half an hour.
 
We reached Trenton at 11.01 P.M. and had wired ahead to my daughter and son-in-law and they met us at the train and we went to their house and they put us up for the night. John would of made us stay up all night, telling about our trip, but Edie said we must be tired and made us go to bed. That's my daughter.
 
The next day we took our train for home and arrived safe and sound, having been gone just one month and a day.
 
Here comes Mother, so I guess I better shut up.
  

Sunday, April 30, 2023

Types of Prose Narratives: A Text-Book for the Story Writer by Harriott Ely Fansler (PDF)

Types of Prose Narratives: A Text-Book for the Story Writer by Harriott Ely Fansler (PDF)

 

Types of Prose Narratives: A Text-Book for the Story Writer

 

by Harriott Ely Fansler

 

 

PREFACE

 

Inspiration for any craftsman lies in the history of his art and in a definite problem at hand. He feels his task dignified when he knows what has been done before him, and he has a starting point when he can enumerate the essentials of what he wants to produce. He then goes to his work with a zest that is in itself creative. There is a popular misconception, especially in the minds of young people and seemingly in the minds of many teachers and critics of literature, that geniuses have sprung full-worded from the brain of Jove and have worked without antecedents. There could not be to a writer a more cramping idea than that. It is the aim of the present volume to help dispel that illusion, and to set in a convenient form before students of narrative the twofold inspiration mentioned—a feeling for the past and a series of definite problems.

There has been no attempt at minuteness in tracing the type developments; though there has been the constant ideal of exactness and trustworthiness wherever developments are suggested. In other words, this book is not a scrutiny of origins, but a setting forth of essentials in kinds of narratives already clearly established. The analysis that gives the essentials has, of course, the personal element in it, as all such analyses must have; but the work is the work of one mind and is at least consistent. Since I have not had the benefit of other texts on the subject (for there are none that I know of) and since the inquiry into narrative types with composition in view is thus made, put together with illustrations, and published for the first time, it has been my especial aim to exclude everything dogmatic. As can readily be seen, the details have been worked out in the actual classroom. The safe thing about the use of such a text by other instructors is the fact that they and their pupils can test the truth of the generalizations by first-hand inquiry of their own.

The examples chosen from literature and here printed are specific as well as typical. They have been selected not only to illustrate general principles, but for other reasons as well—some for superior intrinsic worth; some for historical position; all because of possible inspiration. But none have been selected as models.

The themes written by my present and former pupils are added for the last reason—as sure reinforcement of the inspiration, as provokers to action. Often students fail to write because there is held up to them a model, something complicated and perfect in detail. They feel their apprenticeship keenly and hesitate to attempt a likeness to a masterpiece. But, on the other hand, when they get a glimpse of history and when they see the work of a fellow tyro, they know that an equally good or even better result is within their reach and so set to work at once. The productions of pupils under this historical-illustrative method, wherever it has been tried, have been encouraging. Seldom has any one failed to present an acceptable piece of work. Once in a while a "mistake" has been made that has reassured a teacher and a class of the accuracy of the contamination theory—the historical cross-grafting or counter influence of types; that[vii] is, sometimes in the endeavor to produce a theme that should vary from those he thought the other students would write, an earnest worker has unconsciously produced an example of the next succeeding type to be studied; unconsciously, because hitherto, of course, the classes have gone forward without a printed text.

This statement leads to the question, Why publish the literary examples? Why not merely give the references? Because school and even town libraries are limited. Twenty-five card-holders can scarcely get the same volume within the same week. Besides, the plan I consider good to insure the pupil's thorough acquaintance with the library accessible to him and with library methods and possibilities is quite other than this. This book is meant as a work-table guide for the student and as a time-saver for the teacher; hence all the necessary material should be immediately at hand. The instructor's concern in the teaching of narrative writing is just the twofold one mentioned before—to orientate the young scribbler and to give him a quick and sure inspiration. After that he is to be left alone to write, and the fewer the books around him the better.

The bibliography is added for two other classes of persons: those who desire to make a somewhat further and more minute study of type developments, and those who wish merely to read extensively or selectively in the works of fiction and history themselves. The list of books and authors is intended simply to be helpful, not exhaustive, and consequently contains, with but few exceptions, only those works that one might reasonably expect to find in a well-stocked college or city library.

I confess I hope that some amateur writer out of college or high school may chance upon the book and be encouraged by it to persevere. There are many delightful hours possible for one who enjoys composition, if he can but get a bit of a lift here and there or a new impulse to an occasionally flagging imagination. All but the very earliest literature has been produced thus—namely, by a conscious writing to a type, with an idea either of direct imitation, as in the case of Chaucer, who gloried in his "authorities;" or of variation and combination, as in the case of Walpole; or of equaling or surpassing in excellence, as in the case of James Fenimore Cooper; or of satire and supersedence, as in the case of Cervantes.

But to go back to the student themes here presented. They were written, with the exception of two, for regular class credit. These two were printed in a college paper as sophomore work. A number of the remaining came out in school publications after serving in the English theme box. All in all, they are the productions of actual students; from whom, it is hoped, other young writers may get some help and a good deal of entertainment. In each case the name of the author is affixed to his narrative, since he alone is responsible for the merits and faults of the piece.

In regard to the Filipino pupils no word is necessary: they speak for themselves. The work here given as theirs is theirs. I have not treated it in any way different from the way I treat all school themes, American or other. It is everyday work—criticized by the instructor, corrected by the pupil, and returned to the English office. The examples could be replaced from my present stock to the extent literally of some ten,[ix] some twenty, some two hundred fold. Naturally, of course, as is true of all persons using a foreign language, the Filipinos mistake idiom more often than anything else, and they write more fluently than they talk; but there is among them no dearth of material and no lack of thought. Indeed, the publishers have been embarrassed by the supply of interesting stories, especially in the earlier types. The temptation has been to add beyond the limits of the merely helpful and illustrative and to pass into the realm of the curious and entertaining. Regardless of literary quality, Filipino themes have today an historic value; many of them are the first written form of hitherto only oral tradition.

To say to how great an extent a writer and talker is indebted to his everyday working library is difficult. Like a sculptor to an excellent quarry, a teacher can indeed forget to give credit where credit is due, especially to the more general books of reference such as encyclopedias and histories of literature—Saintsbury, Chambers, Ticknor, Jusserand. I would speak of the "Standard Dictionary," that does all my spelling for me and not a little of my defining; and the "Encyclopedia Britannica," which in these days of special treatises is sometimes superciliously passed over, though it offers in its pages not only much valuable literary information, but some of that information in the form of very valuable literature. Next to these might be placed Dunlop's "History of Fiction;" and last, particular and occasional compilations like Brewer's and Blumentritt's, and criticism like Murray's, Keightley's and Newbigging's. Then there is the "World's Great Classics Series." Just how much I owe to these general texts I cannot perhaps[x] tell definitely; though I am not conscious of borrowing where I have not given full credit. As I have said before, direct treatises on my subject are lacking; so I shall have to bear alone the brunt of criticism on the analysis, or the main body of the book. I know of no one else to blame.

Grateful acknowledgment is due to my husband, Dean Spruill Fansler, for long-suffering kindness in answering appeals to his opinion and for reading the manuscript, compiling the bibliography, and making the index. Without his generous help I should hardly have found time or courage to put the chapters together.

In justice to former assistant English instructors in the United States who have successfully followed earlier unpublished outlines, and to my colleagues in the University of the Philippines who have been teaching from the book in manuscript form for nine months, it ought to be said that, whatever faults the work may have—and I fear they are all too many—it can hardly be dismissed as an immature and untried theory.

If there should be found any merit in the content of the book in general, I should like to have that ascribed to the influence of the department of English and Comparative Literature of Columbia University, where I had the privilege of graduate study with such scholars as Ashley Horace Thorndike, William Peterfield Trent and Jefferson Butler Fletcher.

My chief material debt is to the publishing firms who have very courteously permitted the reprinting of narratives selected from their copyrighted editions.

H. E. F.

University of the Philippines, Manila, 1911.


This book is meant as a work-table guide for the student and as a time-saver for the teacher; hence all the necessary material should be immediately at hand. The instructor's concern in the teaching of narrative writing is just the twofold one mentioned before—to orientate the young scribbler and to give him a quick and sure inspiration. After that, he is to be left alone to write, and the fewer the books around him the better.

 

TABLE OF CONTENTS

List of Stories xv-xx
Introduction xxi-xxvi
Part 1. Narratives of Imaginary Events

Chapter I. The Primitive-Religious Group

1-82
I. Myth—Classes of myths: primitive-tribal and artificial-literary—Myth age not a past epoch—How traditional myths are collected—How original myths are composed—Difference between myth and allegory, and myth and legend—Working definition—List of mythological deities: Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Hindu, Russian, Finnish, Norse, Filipino—Examples 1
II. Legend—Myth and legend compared—Saga—Saint legends—Geoffrey of Monmouth—Legendary romance—Modern literary legends—How to select and record a legend of growth—How to write a legend of art—Working definition—Examples 22
III. Fairy Tale—Attitude toward fairy stories—Fundamental characteristics of fairies—Northern fairies and their attributes—Some literary fairy tales—How to proceed to write a fairy tale—Summary definition—Partial lists of fairies of different countries: Northern, Irish and Scotch, Filipino, Russian, Arabian, and Miscellaneous—Examples 43
IV. Nursery Saga—Origin—The brothers Grimm—English nursery sagas—Distinguishing elements: kind of hero, rhymes, repetition of situation, supernatural element—A few specific suggestions—Working definition—Examples 65

Chapter II. Symbolic-Didactic Group

83-127
I. Fable—Æsop—Other early fabulists—"Hitopadesa" and "Panchatantra"—"Reynard the Fox" and bestiaries—Some more writers of fables—Working definition—Classes of fables: rational, non-rational, mixed—How to write an original fable—Maxims upon which fables may be built—Examples 83
II. Parable—Distinguishing characteristics—Tolstoy—Suggestions on writing a parable—Working definition—A list of proverbs that might be expanded into parables—Examples 101
III. Allegory—Characteristics—Plato's "Vision of Er"—Modern allegories—Some famous English allegories—Allegory fable, and parable differentiated—Working definition—How to write an allegory—Present-day interest in primitive types—Examples 112

Chapter III. Ingenious-Astonishing Group

128-254
I. Tale of Mere Wonder—Definition—Collections of wonder stories, ancient and modern—Suggestions for writing—Characteristic elements—Mediæval tales of chivalry—Heroic romances—Examples 128
II. Imaginary Voyage with a Satiric or Instructive Purpose—Distinguishing elements—Source of the type—Famous imaginary voyages—Suggestions on how to write a satiric imaginary voyage—Examples 150
III. Tale of Scientific Discovery and of Mechanical Invention—Relation to imaginary voyages—Essential elements—Kind of stories included in this type—Suggestions on how to write the type—Examples 194
IV. The Detective Story and Other Tales of Pure Plot—The detective story: connection with stories of ingenuity—Poe and Doyle—Other stories of plot—Romance—A few suggestions—Examples 225

Chapter IV. The Entertaining Group

255-344
I. Tale of Probable Adventure—Characteristics and definition—How to write a probable adventure—A warning—Examples 255
II. The Society Story—Definition—Pastoral Romance—Suggestions on writing a society story—Examples 277
III. The Humorous Story—Definition—Fableaux—Picaresque romance—Difference between a humorous story and a comic anecdote—Examples 299
IV. The Occasional Story—The spirit of the occasional story—Its masters—Suggestions for subjects—Examples 313

Chapter V. The Instructive Group

345-394
I. The Moral Story—Differentiated from the symbolic-didactic group—Great authors who have written this type: Hawthorne, Johnson, Voltaire, Tolstoy, Cervantes—What to put in and what to leave out—Examples 345
II. The Pedagogical Narrative—Definition—Some famous pedagogical books—Froebel—Examples 361
III. The Story of Present Day Realism—What realism is—The realistic school—Suggestions on characters to treat—Examples 370

Chapter VI. The Artistic Group: the Real Short-Story

395-478
I. The Psychological Weird Tale—Origin—The School of Terror—Poe, Stevenson, Maupassant, and others—Suggestions on writing a weird tale—Material and method—Form—Examples 398
II. Story That Emphasizes Character and Environment—Kipling—Mary E. Wilkins Freeman—Hamlin Garland—Bret Harte—Suggestions and precautions—The "Character": Overbury and Hall—Novel of Manners—Trollope's Cathedral Town Studies—Examples 426
III. Story That Emphasizes Character and Events—Difference between character-place story and character-events story—Component elements of this type—A scrapbook suggestion—Other suggestions—Examples 455
Part II. Narratives of Actual Events

Chapter VII. Particular Accounts

479 -556
I. Incident—Definition—How to tell an incident—Examples 480
II. Anecdote—Meaning of the term—Ana—Collection of anecdotes—How to write an original anecdote—Examples 490
III. Eye-Witness Account—What it is and how to write it—An ancient eye-witness account—Literary eyewitness accounts—Examples 499
IV. Tale of Actual Adventure—The one necessary element—Suggestions for writing—Examples 512
V. The Traveler's Sketch—What a traveler's sketch includes—Great travel books—Fielding's gentle warning—A motto for the narrator—Examples 530

Chapter VIII. Personal Accounts

557-611
I. Journal and Diary—The two distinguished—The range of journals—"Vida del Gran Tamurlan"—Great diaries—How to write journal and diary—Examples 557
II. Autobiography and Memoirs—Distinction—Cellini, Franklin, and others—Selection and coherence—Examples 572
III. Biography—Beginning in England of literary biography—Great biographies in English—Writer and subject—Beginning, emphasis, and attitude—Outline for a life—Examples 590

Chapter IX. Impersonal Accounts

612-645
I. Annals—What annals are—Famous old annals—Stow—Suggestions on material—Examples 613
II. Chronicles—Definition—Froissart, Ayala, "General Chronicle of Spain"—Saxo Grammaticus—Holinshed—True relations—Examples 626
Bibliography 647-660
Index 661-672

LIST OF STORIES

 

NARRATIVES OF FICTITIOUS EVENTS

 

Myths

  PAGE
The World's Creation and the Birth of Wainamoinen From the Kalevala 14
Students' Themes
Origin of the Moon Emanuel Baja 16
The First Cocoanut Tree Manuel Reyes 18
The Lotus Ida Treat 21

 

Legends

Kenach's Little Woman William Canton 28
Students' Themes
A Legend of Gapan Teofilo Corpus 36
Manca: a Legend of the Incas Dorothea Knoblock 38
The Place of the Red Grass Sixto Guico 42

 

Fairy Tales

The Boggart From the English 55
Students' Themes
Cafre and the Fisherman's Wife Benito Ebuen 57
The Friendship of an Asuang and a Duende Emanuel Baja 58
A Tianac Frightens Juan Santiago Ochoa 61
The Black Cloth of the Calumpang Eusebio Ramos 63

 

Nursery Tales

Princess Helena the Fair From the Russian 69
Students' Themes
Juan the Guesser Bienvenido Gonzalez 73
The Shepherd who became King Vicente Hilario 78

 

Fables

Jupiter and the Countryman From the Spectator 90
The Drop of Water (Persian) From the Spectator 91
The Grandee at the Judgment Seat Kriloff 91
The Lion and the Old Hare From the Hitopadesa 92
The Fox and the Crab From the Turkish 93
The Fool who Sells Wisdom From the Turkish 94
The Archer and the Trumpeter From the Turkish 95
Students' Themes
The Courtship of Sir Butterfly Maximo M. Kalaw 96
The Hat and the Shoes José R. Perez 98
The Crocodile and the Peahen Elisa Esguerra 99
The Old Man, his Son, and his Grandson Eutiquiano Garcia 100

 

Parables

The Three Questions Tolstoy 104
Students' Themes
A Master and his Servant Eusebio Ramos 110
The Parable of the Beggar and the Givers Dorothea Knoblock 111

 

Allegories

The Artist Oscar Wilde 120
The House of Judgment Oscar Wilde 120
Students' Themes
The Chain that Binds Elizabeth Sudborough 123
The Love which Surpassed All Other Loves Florence Gifford 125

 

Tales of Mere Wonder

The Story of the City of Brass From the Arabian Nights 132
Student's Theme
The Magic Ring, the Bird, and the Basket Facundo Esquivel 147

 

Imaginary Voyages

Mellonta Tauta Edgar Allan Poe 155
Student's Theme
Busyong's Trip to Jupiter Manuel Candido 173

 

Tale of Scientific Discovery and Mechanical Invention

A Curious Vehicle Alexander Wilson Drake 200
Students' Themes
The Spyglass of the Past Hazel Orcutt 218
Up a Water Spout Edna Collister 221

Detective Story and Tale of Mere Plot

Thou Art the Man Edgar Allan Poe 228
Student's Theme
The Picture of Lhasa Hazel Orcutt 248

 

Tales of More-or-Less Probable Adventure

Fight with a Bear Charles Reade 257
Student's Theme
Secret of the Jade Tlaloc Dorothea Knoblock 267

 

Society Stories

The Fur Coat Ludwig Fulda 277
Student's Theme
The Lady in Pink Wilma I. Ball 289

 

Humorous Stories

The Expatriation of Jonathan Taintor Charles Battell Loomis 302
Students' Themes
Kileto and the Physician Lorenzo Licup 307
The Lame Man and the Deaf Family Santiago Rotea 311

 

Occasional Stories

The Lost Child François Coppée 315
Students' Themes
The Peace of Yesterdays Katherine Kurz 334
A Christmas Legend Ida F. Treat 342

 

Moral Story

Jeannot and Colin Voltaire 348

 

Pedagogical Narratives

Gertrude's Method of Instruction Pestalozzi 365
Student's Theme
Lawin-lawinan (a Filipino game) Leopoldo Uichanco 368

 

Stories of Present-Day Realism

The Piece of String Maupassant 374
Students' Themes
A Social Error Ida Treat 382
The Lot of the Poor Agnes Palmer 388
Filipino Fear Walfrido de Leon 390

 

Psychological Weird Tales

The Signal-Man Charles Dickens 403
Student's Theme
Like a Thief in the Night Dorothea Knoblock 420

 

Stories That Emphasize Character and Environment

Muhammad Din Rudyard Kipling 432
Students' Themes
The Fetters Katherine Kurz 436
When Terry Quit Dorothea Knoblock 446
Nora Titay and Chiquito Joaquina E. Tirona 453

 

Stories That Emphasize Character and Events

The Necklace Maupassant 460
Student's Theme
Andong Justo Avila 470

NARRATIVES OF ACTUAL EVENTS

Incidents

A Near Tragedy Fielding 482
An Incident before Sadowa: Birds Divulge Army Secrets Newspaper 483
An Incident Related in a Letter Robert Louis Stevenson 484
Students' Themes
A Hero Dead Ida Treat 485
My First Day at School Máximo Kalaw 487
The Guinatan Prize Leopoldo Faustino 488

 

Anecdotes

Coleridge's Retort 493
An Inevitable Misfortune 494
A Point Needing to be Settled 494
Patience 494
Preaching and Practice 495
Johnson's Dictionary 495
The Boy Kipling 496
Sir Godfrey Kneller Spence 496
Pope and the Trader Spence 497
The Capitan Municipal and the Jokers José Feliciano 497
An Instance of Bamboo Spanish Pilar Ejercito 498
Mr. Taft's Mistake Amando Clements 499

 

Eye-Witness Accounts

The Portuguese Revolution Newspaper 503
Student's Theme
A Contrast Adolfo Scheerer 509

 

Tales of Actual Adventures

The Bear Hunt Tolstoy 514
Students' Themes
Saladin and I Fight an Alupong Cecilio Esquivel 525
I Get Two Beatings Facundo Esquivel 527
The Fall of Juan Gregorio Farrales 528
A Narrow Escape from a Wild Carabao José Cariño 529

 

Travellers' Sketches

On the Way to Talavera George Borrow 534
Smyrna—First Glimpses of the East Thackeray 539
Student's Theme
A Trip from Curimao to Laoag Fernando Maramag 551

 

Journals and Diaries

Extracts from Pepys' Diary 562
Students' Themes
A Diary of Four Days Facundo Esquivel 564
A Journal: Mock Heroic Victoriano Yamzon 567

 

Autobiography and Memoirs

The Life of David Hume, Esq. Written by himself 575
Student autobiography Domingo Guanio 585
What I Remember of the Coming of the Americans Leopoldo Faustino 588

 

Biographies

Queen Christina Hawthorne 595
Students' Themes
Juan Luna's Life Dolores Asuncion 604
Life of Elizabeth Glade Nellie Barrington 607
The Biography of a Traitor Walfrido de Leon 609

 

Annals

The State of England, in Stephen's Reign Peterborough Chronicle 616
Students' Themes
Annals of Mangaldan Translated by Bernabe Aquino 621
Annals of Pagsanjan Dolores Zafra 622

 

Chronicles

Rivalry between Two Towns Froissart 630
Students' Themes
A Short History of Ilagan Fernando Maramag 636
Some Incidents of the Rebellion of 1898: A True Relation Marcelino Montemayor 639


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Saturday, April 29, 2023

The Art of Writing English A Book for College Classes By Rollo Walter Brown, Nathaniel Waring Barnes, 1913

The Art of Writing English A Book for College Classes By Rollo Walter Brown, Nathaniel Waring Barnes, 1913

The Art of Writing English A Book for College Classes

 

By Rollo Walter Brown, Nathaniel Waring Barnes, 1913

 

Contents

 
PART ONE



CHAPTER I — INTRODUCTION



I. The held of composition

A. Composition a kind of communication

B. The necessity of mastering composition

II. Current objections to training in composition .

A. Impossible : Writing is wholly a gift .

B. Unnecessary : Skill is gained incidentally .

C. Injurious : Destroys spontaneity ....

D. Uninteresting : A dull grind without practical compensation



III.



The VALUE of training .

A. Cultivation of the mind

1. Cultivation by sharpening observation

2. Cultivation by clarifying and stimulating thought

3. Cultivation by quickening the imagination .

B. Mastery of the means of expression ....

C. Deepening of insight into literature ....


IV. The necessary attitude toward training

A. Love for one's art . . . . ,

B. P&tience in labor

C. Open-minded consideration of possible aids

V. Composition an art .

A. The nature of art .

B. Composition as an art .

C. The conception essential
CHAPTER II — THE WRITER'S MATERIAL


I. The importance of good material 46

II. The character of good material 46

A. Truth 47

1. In instrumental writing 47

2. In aesthetic writing 49

B. Interest 51

1. In instrumental writing 53

2. In aesthetic writing 54

C. Adaptability 55

1. In instrumental writing 55

2. In aesthetic writing 56

III. Getting material for instrumental composition ... 58

A. Finding the germ idea 59

B. Developing the material 62

1. From personal sources 62

2. From printed sources 62

3. From field work 67

IV. Getting material for iESTHETic composition . . . . 68

A. The eye for copy 70

B. Developing ideas 73

V. Caring for material 76

CHAPTER HI — THE WRITER'S MEDIUM

I. The character of a good working vocabulary
II. The need of improving the vocabulary
III. Aims in improving the vocabulary


IV. Means of improving the vocabulary

A. Systematic study .....

1. The perusal of the dictionary

2. The translation of foreign languages

3. The study of Old and Middle English texts

4. The study of standard writers and speakers

B. Practice

1. The characterization of familiar objects

2. The defining of familiar terms

3. Adapting the same subject-matter to different audiences . 

4. The deliberate use of newly found words •  • 95

5. Other kinds of practice 95

V. The writer's use of words 96

A. The exclusion of words not sanctioned by good judgment 97

1. Words not understood or misunderstood • • • 97

2. Words likely to make an unfarorable impression . 100
B.  The selection of words 105

1. Kinds of words : A false basis of choice . . . 105

2. Principles of choice 107

a. Precision 107

b. Economy 108

c. Appropriateness no

d. Carrying power . . . . . . •US



CHAPTER IV — THE PRINCIPLES OF

COMPOSITION

I. Unity 120

A. Unity applied to the whole composition . . . . 1 20

1. Unity of substance 120

2. Unity of purpose 120

3. Unity of tone 121

B. Unity applied to the paragraph 123

C. Unity applied to the sentence 126

II. Coherence 128

A. Coherence applied to the whole composition . . .129

1. Coherence through sequence 129

2. Coherence through skillful transitions . . .130

B. Coherence applied to the paragraph 132

1. Coherence through sentence order . . . .132

2. Coherence through conjunctional words and phrases . 133

3. Coherence through reference words and repetition . 134

4. Coherence through parallel constructions . . • 135

C. Coherence applied to the sentence 136

1. Coherence through word order 136

2. Coherence through conjunctions 136

3. Coherence through reference words . • 37

4. Coherence through the matching of grammatical parts 138

5. Coherence through the avoidance of undue ellipsis . 138

6. Coherence through punctuation 139 
III. Emphasis • ... 140

A. Emphasis in the whole composition 140

1. Emphasis by proportion 140

2. Emphasis by paragraph position 141

B. Emphasis in the paragraph 14a

1. Emphasis by proportion and sentence position . . 142

2. G)ncentration or emphasis by emotional stress . • 143
C Emphasis in the sentence 144

1. Emphasis by proportion 145

2. Emphasis by word position 145

IV. Variety 148

A. Variety in the whole composition 149

1. Variety in approach 149

2. Variety in paragraph structure 150

3. Variety in transitions 150

B. Variety within the paragraph 151

1. Variety of sentence length 151

2. Variety of sentence form 151

C Variety within the sentence 153

D. False variety 154

V. The Interdependence of the principles . . . .154

CHAPTER V — THE PROCESSES OF COMPOSING

I. Limitation of the subject-matter 160

II. The development of the subject within the limits fixed 162

III. The Plan 163

A. The need of a plan 165

B. The making of the plan 166

1. The running outline 166

2. The expository plan 166

3. The summary plan 167

C. The plan as a test 168

IV. The act of writing 169

A. The time to write 170

B. The place to write 172

C. The proper attitude toward the principles of composition . 173

D. The function of the plan 175

E The utilization of notes . . . . ' . . .176

F. The writer's regard for his audience 177

V. Revision 178

A. Reasons for revision 178

B. Self-criticism in revision . . « 
 
 .180

1. Essentials of self-criticism 180

2. Aids to self-criticism 182

C Changes to be attempted in revision 184

D. Dangers in revision 185

VI. Variations in the processes of composing . . . .186



CHAPTER VI — EFFECTIVENESS IN

COMPOSITION

I. The writer and the material 196

A. Full knowledge of the subject  197

B. Gear thinking 198

C. Imaginative quickening 202

II. The writer and the reader 203

A. The attitude of the writer 204

1. Devotion to clearness 204

2. Sincerity 205

3. Earnestness 207

4. Reserve power and self-control 207

B. Methods of presentation 208

1. Arranging the material 208

2. Phrasing the material 210

III. The writer and good form 213

A. The aesthetic fitness of the writer 214

1. Sense of beauty 214

2. Poise of literary good breeding 215

3. Respect for audience 216

B. Satisfying the demands of good form 217

1. Arrangement of material for sjnnmetry . .217

2. Perfecting of sentences 217

3. Choice of words 219 


IV. Effectivbnbss in DKscRipnoN 321

A. Effective instrumental description 322

B. Effective aesthetic description 324

CHAPTER X — NARRATION

I. The Field of narration 332

A. The nature of narration 332

B. The relation of narration to other forms of composition . 332

C. The universal interest in narration 333

D. Classifications of narration 333

II. The elements of narration 334

A. Action 336

1. Mastery of the narrative material .... 338

2. Selection of events 343

3. Treatment of events 346

4. Handling of conversation 348

B. Character portrayal 350

1. The relation of character and action .... 350

2. The difference between character development and

character portrayal 351

3. Direct characterization 351

4. Indirect characterization 35 1

5. The twofold problem in character portrayal . 358

C. Setting 359

1. The function of the setting 359

2. The handling of the setting 361

III. Effectiveness in narration 362

A. Effectiveness in instrumental narration .... 363

B. Effectiveness in aesthetic or fictional narration . . 364



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Friday, April 28, 2023

The Raven, and The Philosophy of Composition by Edgar Allan Poe

The Raven, and The Philosophy of Composition by Edgar Allan Poe

 

The Raven, and The Philosophy of Composition

 

by Edgar Allan Poe

 

Foreword

The initial intention of the publishers to present “The Raven” without preface, notes, or other extraneous matter that might detract from an undivided appreciation of the poem, has been somewhat modified by the introduction of Poe’s prose essay, “The Philosophy of Composition.” If any justification were necessary, it is to be found both in the unique literary interest of the essay, and in the fact that it is (or purports to be) a frank exposition of the modus operandi by which “The Raven” was written. It is felt that no other introduction could be more happily conceived or executed. Coming from Poe’s own hand, it directly avoids the charge of presumption; and written in Poe’s most felicitous style, it entirely escapes the defect—not uncommon in analytical treatises—of pedantry.

It is indeed possible, as some critics assert, that this supposed analysis is purely fictitious. If so, it becomes all the more distinctive as a marvelous bit of imaginative writing, and as such ranks equally with that wild snatch of melody, “The Raven.” But these same critics would lead us further to believe that “The Raven” itself is almost a literal translation of the work of a Persian poet. If they be again correct, Poe’s genius as seen in the creation of “The Philosophy of Composition” is far more startling than it has otherwise appeared; and “robbed of his bay leaves in the realm of poetry,” he is to be “crowned with a double wreath of berried holly for his prose.”



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About the Author 

Edgar Allan Poe
Edgar Allan Poe (/poʊ/; né Edgar Poe; January 19, 1809 – October 7, 1849) was an American writer, poet, editor, and literary critic who is best known for his poetry and short stories, particularly his tales of mystery and the macabre. He is widely regarded as a central figure of Romanticism in the United States, and of American literature. He was one of the country's earliest practitioners of the short story, and is considered the inventor of the detective fiction genre, as well as a significant contributor to the emerging genre of science fiction. He is the first well-known American writer to earn a living through writing alone, resulting in a financially difficult life and career. Wikipedia

Edgar Allan Poe at Amazon