What do you think?
Rate this book


208 pages, Hardcover
First published June 1, 2014
I have published four novels, but I have become increasingly frustrated with the aspect of fiction that involves making up characters and the things that happen to them; it seems to me fatally artificial, an abuse of my own imaginative powers and an insult to what I see as the underlying purpose of any novel I would write (to examine or anatomize a problem or a situation, in the process transmitting something of a mood or an emotional affect -- really I am an intellectual at heart rather than a novelist, but I don't see that the two should finally be at odds with one another).Davidson also cites Lydia Millet on the consequences of a certain sort of realistic and personal fiction ("domestic" fiction) exemplified by the literary short story (Munro, William Trevor, and Franzen in longer fiction). Millet:
The shortcoming of this fiction of "people with problems" [is that] these problems are rarely starvation or war; they tend to be adultery or career disappointment, say, which leaves us with a literary culture whose preoccupation is not meaning or beauty, not right or wrong, not our philosophies or propensity for atrocities or corrupt churches and governments, but rather our sex lives, our social mistakes, our neigbourhood failures and sibling rivalries. Enlightenment humanism finds a kind of perfect expression here: If our deliberations about our personal lives, consisting of a near-infinite scrutiny of the tiny passages through which we move in relation to friends and lovers, constitutes the best calling of art, must such self-scrutiny not also be our own highest calling and rightful task?Then Davidson: [...]
the literary short story, in North America, suffers especially pervasively from the sort of self-absorption (to use the term literally rather than pejoratively, describing simply an involvement with individual self) ...[...] the tradition of John Updike and John Cheever and Alice Munro seems to me excessively centered on an aspect of life that would seem to be woefully narrow, at least in the greater context of political struggle and institutional service and global migration and passionate religious belief or intellectual commitment, to name just a few of the things that make lives interesting.Then she quotes a passage from an Alice McDermott novel and says:
the problem I have with it - the thing that makes it leave me cold - is that it is so much concerned with sensation at the expense of thought or even emotion. I'm not enthusiastic about that aspect of Woolf's writing either - [...] I find myself not very interested even in my OWN sensations, and not at all interested in sensations and physical observations supposedly filtered through the consciousness of this character of McDermott's. I would rather know what the character THINKS, thinks about something interesting or funny or important or irrelevant.Lest it seem that Davidson is hostile to contemporary fiction, this from a Columbia University Press blog interview:
My life would be almost unbearably impoverished if I didn’t read space opera, urban fantasy, neo-noir, horror (it would pain me to give up any one of these, and the thought of a life without any of them is genuinely intolerable).She reads Stephen King, Lavie Tidhar, Harry Stephen Keeler . . . what an interesting reader she is.
"I'm seventeen and I'm crazy. My uncle says the two always go together. When people ask your age, he said, always say seventeen and insane." (Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury)