Ask the Author: David B. Lentz
Answered Questions (15)
David B. Lentz
This is a truly germinal question: thank you for asking.
I want to say Jonathan Swift's fictional world of the Houyhnhnms visited by Gulliver. Or the Parisian salons of Proust in his day. Or the house on the street where you live.
But the whole truth is that I would go to "The House of Writers" portrayed by EJ Nicholls and for which I have written a review at https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3...
There I would aspire to live on the first floor among the poor, obsessed and deluded devils seeking to write High Quality Literary Fiction (HQLF).
Would it appear a vanity to quote myself from this book review?
I agree with you: it would. Nevertheless:
"At least, if the prophecy of the scriptures are fulfilled, then the writers of HQLF will have somewhere safe and warm to take them in (prepositional ending). Somewhere to commiserate with others of their petty and miserable ilk. It sounds like Paradise to me. How I yearn for it. Grant me the steaming porridge, the zesty and savory intellectual comfort food of The House of Writers any day. What an upgrade it would be to anyone writing HQLF in this age. Ah, but this isn't about me, is it? It is about serious literature. And its place in the civilization of humanity well after we've been put out to pasture. Will humanity in 2050 miss HQLF? Don't make me laugh. The genre will be long since gone. And its writers will be exposed for the egoists they most surely were. In 2100 will the intelligentsia long for the Golden Age of HQLF among the overgrown ruins of The House of Writers? Surely, we are blessed to have the prophetic vision of Nicholls to imagine it. For is he not the Jeremiah, Isaiah, Ezekiel and Zechariah of all writers of HQLF wandering aimlessly among the heatherclad heaths and heathcliffs of the highlands of ScotCall?"
Am I asking too much?
I seek only to abide among the writers of HQLF in The House of Writers.
I am, aren't I?
Yet, strangely enough, The House of Writers feels like home.
I want to say Jonathan Swift's fictional world of the Houyhnhnms visited by Gulliver. Or the Parisian salons of Proust in his day. Or the house on the street where you live.
But the whole truth is that I would go to "The House of Writers" portrayed by EJ Nicholls and for which I have written a review at https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3...
There I would aspire to live on the first floor among the poor, obsessed and deluded devils seeking to write High Quality Literary Fiction (HQLF).
Would it appear a vanity to quote myself from this book review?
I agree with you: it would. Nevertheless:
"At least, if the prophecy of the scriptures are fulfilled, then the writers of HQLF will have somewhere safe and warm to take them in (prepositional ending). Somewhere to commiserate with others of their petty and miserable ilk. It sounds like Paradise to me. How I yearn for it. Grant me the steaming porridge, the zesty and savory intellectual comfort food of The House of Writers any day. What an upgrade it would be to anyone writing HQLF in this age. Ah, but this isn't about me, is it? It is about serious literature. And its place in the civilization of humanity well after we've been put out to pasture. Will humanity in 2050 miss HQLF? Don't make me laugh. The genre will be long since gone. And its writers will be exposed for the egoists they most surely were. In 2100 will the intelligentsia long for the Golden Age of HQLF among the overgrown ruins of The House of Writers? Surely, we are blessed to have the prophetic vision of Nicholls to imagine it. For is he not the Jeremiah, Isaiah, Ezekiel and Zechariah of all writers of HQLF wandering aimlessly among the heatherclad heaths and heathcliffs of the highlands of ScotCall?"
Am I asking too much?
I seek only to abide among the writers of HQLF in The House of Writers.
I am, aren't I?
Yet, strangely enough, The House of Writers feels like home.
David B. Lentz
Dear Joms,
Thank you for your very interesting question.
Both Rand and Lawrence are extraordinary writers and you can expect to benefit by the joy of reading both well crafted novels.
Their personal philosophies differ widely and it's best to leave to you what to make of them according to your personal experience and social convictions.
Ayn Rand escaped a repressive regime in Russia and came into her own with vast wealth and recognition in America. She is an unabashed but possibly myopic and chauvinistic champion of American capitalism, which is certainly understandable given her personal success within this economic system. Her protagonists work hard and strive intelligently within a capitalist society and profit immensely by it to realize the American Dream: good for them, right?
DH Lawrence is more focused on the tension between the structure of British society and the deep, inborn, human emotions repressed by it. Lawrence is concerned about the power of society of repress the expression of powerful, natural, inborn human sentiments which may lead to personal happiness without actually creating real harm to the structure of an enlightened civilization.
I hope this input combined with my reviews leads you to good reading: you are onto two skilled novelists whose writing speaks well of you to choose to experience and understand.
Cordially,
David
Thank you for your very interesting question.
Both Rand and Lawrence are extraordinary writers and you can expect to benefit by the joy of reading both well crafted novels.
Their personal philosophies differ widely and it's best to leave to you what to make of them according to your personal experience and social convictions.
Ayn Rand escaped a repressive regime in Russia and came into her own with vast wealth and recognition in America. She is an unabashed but possibly myopic and chauvinistic champion of American capitalism, which is certainly understandable given her personal success within this economic system. Her protagonists work hard and strive intelligently within a capitalist society and profit immensely by it to realize the American Dream: good for them, right?
DH Lawrence is more focused on the tension between the structure of British society and the deep, inborn, human emotions repressed by it. Lawrence is concerned about the power of society of repress the expression of powerful, natural, inborn human sentiments which may lead to personal happiness without actually creating real harm to the structure of an enlightened civilization.
I hope this input combined with my reviews leads you to good reading: you are onto two skilled novelists whose writing speaks well of you to choose to experience and understand.
Cordially,
David
David B. Lentz
I would recommend highly any other profession as long as it comes with a 401(k).
David B. Lentz
I have great respect for the off-the-charts creativity of John Sibley whose stylistic artistry and honesty never cease to intrigue. John's creative ventures show a fine eye and vivid imagination, which enable him to draw fascinating figures and enable them to come to life so credibly. Clearly, he is an artist willing to take creative risks and yet he is so grounded in a creative commitment to realism in both his art and writing that readers of his genres gain an immersive 3D reading experience. He is fascinated by the portrayal of characters who do not fit into their worlds, which lend drama and sympathy to their portraits. The alienation of his protagonists enables the reader to see more clearly the breach between life and reality, and then to rally to cope with it heroically through faith and courage. Follow this artist and writer, as he makes a name for himself, so that you can say you read his work when his growing reputation was still young.
David B. Lentz
John, yes, this finished product is great stuff and here's the part of your review of Young's biography of Nietzsche which stayed with me after a second reading and lingers still:
"What impresses me most from a second reading of Young's account is how easily FN was persuaded of the absolute, universal truth of the thoughts he chose to record. FN makes endless claims about "man" without so much as a nod to qualification, quite as if his claims hold absolutely across all space and time, since the very first specimen of homo sapiens appeared on the planet. I simply can not get past the question: How is it possible that strength of conviction or the strength of feeling that his ideas are "true" persuaded FN (or anyone else, for that matter) that he has discovered or formulated "truths" that are indeed true and that exist and abide independently of his personal existence? Especially in view of the epistemology FN affirms - perspectivism - why did FN believe - apparently - that his thought was exempt from the limitations and qualifications at the source of all thought - according to the results of his own analysis? Isn't any affirmation of this kind convincing evidence of Nietzschean megalomania? As far as I can tell - and I have no intention of reading his work - the content of FN's books reveals nothing so much as evidence of upheavals in the writer's emotional/psychological life.
But for my purposes that is sufficient. It's utterly pointless to concern myself with the "truth value" - whatever that is - of a thinker's expressions of fact and faith. What interests me are his affirmations and negations, what he deemed undecidable, the questions/issues he ignored or found altogether uninteresting; the route a mind took to arrive at judgements/conclusions (and so on) - and why."
Why should any writer dare to write even a single word?
Of what value is the so-called "truth" -- even by epiphany -- articulated by a writer even to the writer?
How could such "truth value" possibly matter to anyone else?
I am intrigued by this extraordinary question concerning "truth value" for which a writer should have an simple, redemptive answer and yet I find that I have none, except for this: all that I can murmur and stutter and whisper is that ultimately writing must engage the fine art of grace.
An enlightened utterance, muddled though it may be in its expression, serves as meagre proof of the simple existence of epiphanies of grace and such grace may be taken as reassurance to humanity that life has meaning.
I am imperfect. I know that my imperfection exists. Therefore, I must be.
Well done, John: love the photo of Thoreau.
"What impresses me most from a second reading of Young's account is how easily FN was persuaded of the absolute, universal truth of the thoughts he chose to record. FN makes endless claims about "man" without so much as a nod to qualification, quite as if his claims hold absolutely across all space and time, since the very first specimen of homo sapiens appeared on the planet. I simply can not get past the question: How is it possible that strength of conviction or the strength of feeling that his ideas are "true" persuaded FN (or anyone else, for that matter) that he has discovered or formulated "truths" that are indeed true and that exist and abide independently of his personal existence? Especially in view of the epistemology FN affirms - perspectivism - why did FN believe - apparently - that his thought was exempt from the limitations and qualifications at the source of all thought - according to the results of his own analysis? Isn't any affirmation of this kind convincing evidence of Nietzschean megalomania? As far as I can tell - and I have no intention of reading his work - the content of FN's books reveals nothing so much as evidence of upheavals in the writer's emotional/psychological life.
But for my purposes that is sufficient. It's utterly pointless to concern myself with the "truth value" - whatever that is - of a thinker's expressions of fact and faith. What interests me are his affirmations and negations, what he deemed undecidable, the questions/issues he ignored or found altogether uninteresting; the route a mind took to arrive at judgements/conclusions (and so on) - and why."
Why should any writer dare to write even a single word?
Of what value is the so-called "truth" -- even by epiphany -- articulated by a writer even to the writer?
How could such "truth value" possibly matter to anyone else?
I am intrigued by this extraordinary question concerning "truth value" for which a writer should have an simple, redemptive answer and yet I find that I have none, except for this: all that I can murmur and stutter and whisper is that ultimately writing must engage the fine art of grace.
An enlightened utterance, muddled though it may be in its expression, serves as meagre proof of the simple existence of epiphanies of grace and such grace may be taken as reassurance to humanity that life has meaning.
I am imperfect. I know that my imperfection exists. Therefore, I must be.
Well done, John: love the photo of Thoreau.
David B. Lentz
Tony, thank you for asking this deceptively hard question as, in distinguishing among our books, they are much the same as our children. The most physically demanding novel that I've written is a new one entitled "The Fine Art of Grace." The novel is about a beautiful woman named Grace Lovejoy who is photographing the neglected mosaic art of the New York City Subway for her MFA at Columbia. Her husband, Arthur, is afflicted by the disquiet and is trying to create a new novel. So he agrees to join in Grace's photographic journey throughout the subway system of New York. My wife and I travelled far and wide on foot throughout the subways of New York to photograph the many stunning but almost abandoned mosaics on display almost by default in one of the largest art galleries in the world beneath the streets of New York City. We shot most of the photography during steamy, summer months: it was exhausting and sometimes perilous work as in most cases we photographed from the edge of narrow subway platforms adjacent walls where the mosaics were on display. I'm very pleased with the quality of the color photography inside the book and the drafting process. My most intellectually hard novel to write was "Bloomsday: The Bostoniad," which is the American sequel to James Joyce's "Ulysses." This ungodly ambitious writing project consumed two years of my life and meant reading three translations of Homer's "Odyssey" as well as five readings of Joyce's "Ulysses" to ensure that I tried hard enough to do justice to both masterpieces. Each chapter of "Bloomsday" is written in a different literary genre and I was challenged to find settings, characters and events, which would serve well for this sequel novel set in Boston after the Vietnam War. I even scouted and art directed the photo-shoot on Beacon Hill in Boston with a truly gifted photographer, Ken Ruback from Maryland, on a lovely spring day. If a novel has any literary aspirations of being any good, then the novelist must be prepared to sustain a strong work ethic and even to suffer physically, intellectually and even sacrifice personally through many months of solitude in writing each day away from family and must be willing to make economic sacrifices, as well, until the investment in the creation of the literary novel has time to become realized. The acceptance of literary novels beyond generally more sensitive literary circles like Goodreads usually takes a long time and demands real patience. Real literary novelists -- the truly innovative stylists -- may not outlive the public acceptance of the innovation within their work, which is also difficult after such an investment of Time. Writing is definitely hard work, Tony, and there have been many days when I wouldn't wish its hardships upon my worst enemy. Again, thank you, Tony, for your great question.
David B. Lentz
Dear Saul, thank you for your intriguing question about Hemingway. At the height of his career he sold as many as half a million copies of his novels in one year. He pioneered stylistically in the use of dialogue by writing as people actually spoke to each other. He believed in writing one true sentence after another and so his simple syntax is uncommonly powerful and immersive to read. His views on women reflect the macho bias of his era and although many of his women are strong and heroic, his sentiments on women as sex objects and in some cases in stereotyping American minorities fall short of depicting them as well-rounded characters. He adored Cubanos and lionized Spanish bullfighters but on the whole we may expect more humanity in the characters inhabiting the novels of our Nobel Prize winners in literature. Nonetheless, Hemingway fascinates by virtue of his robust lifestyle and his more mature fiction after "The Sun Also Rises." For example, in my view "The Old Man and the Sea", "A Farewell to Arms" and "For Whom the Bell Tolls" are all true literary masterpieces. My new novel publishing in January of 2016, "The Fine Art of Grace," offers a chapter about Hemingway in Key West where he soberly instigates a bare-knuckled, boxing match with Nobel Prize winning poet, Wallace Stevens, after the drunken poet made disparaging remarks about the novelist to Hem's sister at a cocktail party in Key West. In the Pantheon of American Novelists Hemingway's immortality is certainly assured.
David B. Lentz
Yes, you have chosen wisely twice. Congratulations on embarking upon two of the greatest literary novels ever written. Tolstoy's style in "War and Peace" is straight-ahead narrative and, though lengthy, is truly engaging and the pages fly by. Joyce is a greater challenge stylistically: nothing a good understanding of the "Odyssey" won't cure. You'll remember these genius novels as long as you live.
David B. Lentz
William, thank you for your thoughtful question. New publishing technology enables writers to revise their work with an opportunity to "improve" their early published works and first editions with minimal economic downsides for publishers who print on-demand or must reprint to refresh warehouse inventories of well received works. So if the revisions actually do enhance earlier versions of a published work and publishers agree to its economic value, then it may make sense to upgrade an edition. A further benefit is that imperfect first editions may assume higher valuations for investments in secondary literary markets. For example, a genius work by Alexander Theroux in "Darconville's Cat" contains a printer's error on a first-edition spread midway through the novel which left a "moire" pattern where he intended a solid-black, printed page, like Thackeray in "Tristram Shandy" who left pages intentionally blank. I purposely bought as an investment this flawed first edition of "Darconville's Cat," which now trades at a considerable premium to "improved" later editions. The revision of some of my published hardcover first editions has served to reward those clever readers, whom I dearly love, investing early in my work some of which signed, true first editions in mint condition have listed in secondary literary markets for as much as 1600 USD. The new technology enables living writers to become more dynamic as the times in which they wrote may have made liars or fools of them in first editions. Further, such re-publications may help to extend some copyright protection for authors by serving as renewals of their work. There exists the definite risk that any author may tarnish a masterpiece in its reissue and so such revision is wisely undertaken with the judicious assumption of prudent risk on all sides.
David B. Lentz
I am polishing and proofing a new novel entitled THE FINE ART OF GRACE which is scheduled to publish in January 2016.
David B. Lentz
Thank you, Nesrin, for your intriguing question and it speaks to the legacy that a writer may aspire to leave behind in one's work. Odds are against nearly all writers of a legacy of any enduring literary impact except timeless anonymity. If the creative work is judged downstream to be worthy -- and future generations may not recognize it either -- in my case I hope to have added some stylistic innovation to English narrative styles. For example, "AmericA, Inc." is written in "stream of voice" in the narrative style of "JR" by Gaddis in which the story line unfolds in the dialogue of unidentified characters which has the effect of drawing readers mindfully into the writing. "Bloomsday" is the American sequel to Homer's "Odyssey" and James Joyce's "Ulysses" and each chapter is written in a different narrative style. "Bourbon Street" is a novel that experiments with dialect. "The Silver King" deploys an impressionist or "pixelist" writing style using short, non-traditional syntax. I shall soon publish a book of sonnets offering some new sonnet forms to build upon the Petrarchan, Elizabethan and Occitan sonnet forms of the Middle Ages and Renaissance. The real challenge for a serious writer is to engage readers with an immersive 3D writing style, which must be accessible, to build upon the innovations and create a new narrative tool chest for writers who follow us just as we now stand upon the shoulders of those literary giants and stylistic innovators who came before us.
David B. Lentz
Never had it: not even once. Yet there were times when I wish I did.
David B. Lentz
I simply review the balance of my checking account.
David B. Lentz
It's important to find your own voice. This isn't easy. Write about what you know best. Read relentlessly the best writers of the genres in which you choose to work. Let your soul open. Go fallow like a farmer's field and purposely don't write every now and then. If you've written for a few hours and you've arrived at a high point, then wait until tomorrow to continue the joy of writing: this approach keeps the fountainhead flowing. Every defeat is only temporary, if you are able to persist, and every victory is transitory: both belong in your writing. Edit yourself ruthlessly until you can't bear to look at your work, again: when you're ready to abandon your work, odds are that it's done. Connect and share with other writers whose work you respect. Live well and lead a full life: you are one of the few people whom you have spent your entire lifetime to get to know.
David B. Lentz
I have written several longer novels and find that the long form of meta-fiction can be liberating as it is less restricted by length, subject and literary style. So I wanted to experiment with the discipline of a shorter form and decided to take a closer look at the sonnet. Its traditional form is well defined as a love song of 14 lines with different rhyming schemes invented in the Middle Ages. I like the idea of writing on the subject of love to understand what I may have learned over time and people seem to enjoy reading about it. I also wondered if the sonnet form itself could be updated or possibly improved by new rhyming schemes and exploring the cadences of the 14 lines. I deeply believe that writers have a duty to the language to see if new forms of expression can enhance it for the writers who follow us. So I have written 27 new love sonnets and intend to write another 18: the book is entitled "Sonnets from New England: Love Songs" and it will publish in October.
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