As Rember notes in his introduction, MFA in a Box is not a How to Write Book. It's a Why to Write Book. By exploring the relationships between the writer and love, grief, place, family, race and violence, Rember helps writers dive deep into their own writing. He tells them how they can breathe down there and how they can get back. "A big part of writing involves grappling with the terrors and discouragements that come when you have writing skills but can't project yourself or your work into the future," says Rember. "My hope is that MFA in a Box will help writers balance the despair of writing with the joy of writing. It's a book designed to help you to find the courage to put truth into words and to understand that writing is a life-and-death endeavor -- but that nothing about a life-and-death endeavor keeps it from being laugh-out-loud funny."
John Rember lives and writes in the Sawtooth Valley of Idaho. Recurring themes in his writing include the meaning of place, the impact of tourism on the West, and the eventual impossibility of industrial civilization.
John's latest work, Journal of the Plague Years, is a three-volume series of personal journal entries written during and after the Covid-19 pandemic. His book, A Hundred Little Pieces on the End of the World, is a meditation on teaching, writing, and friendship in an increasingly fragile world. MFA in a Box: A Why to Write Book was recognized by the Nautilus Awards, Hoffer Awards, and Midwest Book Awards as one of the best new books on creative writing. His memoir Traplines: Coming Home to Sawtooth Valley was named Idaho Book of the Year by the Idaho Library Association. He is also author of three short story collections: Sudden Death, Over Time; Cheerleaders from Gomorrah: Tales from the Lycra Archipelago; and Coyote in the Mountains.
John has written numerous articles, stories, and essays for publications ranging from Travel and Leisure to Wildlife Conservation to High Desert Journal to The Huffington Post. He taught for many years at The College of Idaho in Caldwell and in the Pacific University MFA program in Forest Grove, Oregon.
"MFA in a Box" is a beautifully written book not so much about the mechanics as the psychology of fiction writing. The author, a beloved professor of creative writing in the northwest, argues that the best authors endeavor like Buddhas to dive into awful truths everyday people wanting to maintain their sanity naturally avoid.
Rember echoes the advice of my old writing teacher, the deceased Harry Crews, when he implors aspiring novelists to be so honest their mother (and everyone else) despises them -- to trust where the story wants to go and go there. (A task easier done, Rember notes, by authors who reject the idea that stories belong to them and accept the idea that they belong to the stories.)
The subtitle of the book is "A Why to Write Book" but I contend that the book is really still a how to write book, in that it is full of advice about how to enter into the forbidden zone and come back sane enough to keep from blowing your brains out a la Hemingway.
One strange thing: Rember consistently uses "may be" in place of "maybe." For me, it was a little distracting and made me wonder if he couldn't have used an editor in addition to a spell checker.
A single reading is probably insufficient.
Read King's "On Writing" first, but don't neglect this insightful advice from a man who should know.
If ever there was a solid argument for why writers need to continue on with their craft, even in the face of a general disavowal of its importance, this is it. While it claims to be a "why" to write book there is plenty of "how" in here as well. The concepts presented about writing and living a creative life are not easy, and I have to admit that I did not grasp everything in this book on the first read through. I hope to have time for more reads in the future. But the depth of this book is what made me give it 5 stars. There is stuff to mull over in here that could occupy you for decades. I have not yet read a book about writing that I found as brutally honest as this one. This is not happy, life is great book about how to write pretty stories or poems for Readers Digest. This is a book about the hard things in life, perhaps the hardest things in life, and why grief and suffering need to be at the core of our writing practise. I did not come out of this book feeling warm, fuzzy, and encouraged. Instead I emerged feeling slightly terrified, stunned, but perhaps empowered to revisit writing in a more serious way. If you are a writer, if you want to be a writer, if you think you're a writer, read this book.
If Adam West was an MFA professor... Didn't connect to the long rambling stories laid out in each chapter, but the lists of rules at the end were not bad. Also, apparently does not supplant an MFA. Huh.
This is pretty much what I'd expect an MFA to be: a bloviating gassbag of a baby boomer, still fighting against The War and ranting about how evil Robert McNamara is and whatnot, rambling at length about the emptiness of "modern society" because it "isolates us from suffering" and how it's the job of a writer to take all those readers down into Hades to face their misery. He conveys this with winding anecdotes that are his life's reminisces: some are self-effacing and mildly humorous; but none are without Deep Meaning(TM). He also makes some points by lapsing into Literature Professor mode, providing critique of a few classics (The Book of Job, The Epic of Gilgamesh), spiced-up with cool references to Terminator 2 (just to show he's with-it, man). In-between we occasionally stumble on some interesting ideas that an aspiring writer such as myself can add to the collection of aphorisms that may or may not make for useful advice someday (at least if you're a white middle-class American male; like all good ivory tower inhabitants, he does his best to imagine what it must be to not be one, and still be a writer). To complete the experience for us, he even dons what appears to be a genuine tweed jacket on the back cover's photograph.
At least I only paid $16.95 and spent a few hours on it, unlike the poor hapless hopefuls that actually go through this for a few years to get that MFA.
John Rember is unafraid to stare down life's big questions, but does so always with a twinkle in the eye. Like the fool in King Lear's court, he will rap you on the noggin with a truth so sweet it hurts. If you don't close his book somehow transformed, you may well be un-transformable.
Rember's "why to write" book is a memoir of the creative heart and mind in conflict with itself, which is to say a universal struggle that any artist will recognize. More than this, he emerges triumphant over big issues-family, violence, bearing witness, estrangement, grief. Gilgamesh, "Hansel and Gretel," Greek mythology and Paris Hilton all figure in to his survey of literature and culture, teaching through the age-old workshop mantra of showing, rather than telling us, what good, deep writing is all about.
John demonstrates time and again what it means to write as a fully engaged human being, teaching along the way that deep writing is deep living, and profound fun.
This book really surprised me. Not really anything to do with an MFA at all, it is a perpetually strange little book, part memoir, part philosophical inquiry, part writing advice. Its subtitle-- "a why to write book" -- is pretty apt, as it explores the philosophical reasons for writing at all, for writing and thinking and engaging with the world more deeply, drawing freely on the author's life and thoughts. This is seriously one of the best books on writing I've ever read, but don't expect career advice, advice on forming plot or character or writing beautiful sentences. The book goes much deeper, and challenges the reader to go deeper before picking up a pen at all.
Frankly, I was surprised by how much I enjoyed the book. This is likely because the author spent most of his time writing well crafted little memoir pieces that imaginatively supported the obligatory "rules for writing" lists in each chapter. Whatever with rules for writing (as Rember himself surely would say); the point is Rember's prose. Much enjoyed.
Yes, think. I do not usually read to make me think but this one encourage some study. Which is good for us. Gave me many books to look into for future reading.
This book changed how I write and how I think about writing. And his images are still swimming around in my head, weeks later. Planning to re-read, and soon.
I was fortunate enough to purchase a used copy of this book from an online retailer, complete with cynical-scolding scribblings of disagreement along the margins in nearly every essay. (Nearly. It was easy to tell where the previous owner/reader gave up, as the unsolicited Hot Takes abruptly stopped three essays from the end. Here's a super cool idea: if you hate a book so much that you intend to deface it so thoroughly, make sure you also scribble a link to your blog post/review on the inside of the front cover so your unwilling audience can feel like they have some faculty in the decision.)
I wrote my own notes in the margins of this book. In pen. Which is fine, because I'm not going to sell it to a used bookstore. I can't promise it won't end up there when I die, but this is already getting a little too pessimistic/existential for a casual Goodreads review, so let's agree to abandon that trajectory. Flipping back through my notes, the general sentiment I seemed to express - the general feeling I experienced while reading this work - was that of being witnessed. Seen/heard/known.
Let me put this another way: my college writing program ruined writing for me - which, for me, is no different from saying that it slowly and steadily devoured my soul. I went to college for writing because writing was what I loved and what I felt compelled to do with my life and my time, and it didn't turn out the way I thought/hoped it would.
This book helped me understand why. It also helped me consider all the ways I might recover what I've lost.
A book about writing that is not really a book about writing (although it is also a book about writing) but more a book about life and being alive in all senses of the word. Reads more like a memoir or a novel and I read it compulsively over a couple of days. There are some great tips in here (and some wisdom) so have your highlighter ready. I also found it useful to list all the books he references as I went along and now have an extensive reading list.
A lot of rambling yet a good and instructive read. A "Why" to write seems like a marketing move. Wouldn't writers find their own "why" themselves? If given it wouldn't be as strong, nor would they find their own way like writers should. Why would I need to write mother, couldn't I write father too?
I'm sure Rember's thoughts would be better understood in one of his classroom lectures. There's certainly important body language that's need to follow his direction.
I have been making my way slowly through John Rember’s MFA in a Box and finally finished it today. I find his voice, which I suspect is the same voice he adapts when holding workshops for his students, to be witty and engaging. I even picked up his recent short story collection Sudden Death, Over Time before I had even finished MFA in a Box. As usual, my “to read” list is packed to the gills, and I I haven’t yet had the chance to crack it yet. When I first started reading MFA in a Box, I found the title incredibly incongruous. It reads like part memoir, part advice book, and part philosophical ramblings, each chapter its own little island. It wasn’t until I reached almost the last page before I realized that the title was completely fitting. Each chapter examines a theme, such as violence, family, grief, etc. and infuses it with a mixture of personal stories from the author, philosophy and psychological evaluation and good old fashioned writing advice. It was as if each chapter was my own personal MFA workshop conducted by Mr. Rember. Sure, there were no readings and no discussion, but diversity of expression draws you in to the chapter. So many points of view are expressed in each section, so many stories told, so many threads followed, that you leave the chapter slightly discombobulated but in awe of the possibilities.
You've read all the writing books you're supposed to. You've followed the plotting script to the letter. But something is still missing from your story, and you know it. John Rember's memoir-as-teaching aid will probably come off more as therapy than technique class, and that's my guess what he was going for in the first place. MFA in a Box will help you unclog your creative drains and get to depths you were afraid of going to before, and touch subject matter you have been hiding away in dusty boxes in your brain for years. Read Stephen King, follow James Scott Bell's outlines but meditate upon John Rember.
This is a "must-have" book on creative writing. MFA in a Box is a thought-provoking and entertaining discussion of creative writing and what it means to be a writer. It's not intended to take the place of an MFA in creative writing, but whether you have an MFA or not, this book will make you a better writer.
I liked learning on different authors and books that I should read. That's about all I got out if this. And don't use metaphors. He said that enough times. In all I was disappointed with this book and expected a lot more. It seemed more like him rambling about his life than trying to inform people on why they should write like this book was supposed to do
Challenging and sometimes dark and uncomfortable, especially the chapter about Gilgamesh and goddesses. But otherwise...though it took forever to finally get it finished (between other books), it was worthwhile, especially if you want to write or read about the deeper places stories can take us. Or maybe the higher places: I finished reading the Kindle edition at 10,000 feet in the air.
For the record, I had to read this for an Advanced Creative Writing class. If I didn't depend upon reading this for a grade, I would have skipped it. Rember is all over the place. Literally. This book was practically a biography with a few lines about writing thrown in. I'm sorry for those of you who like Rember, but I do not.