Archives for August 6, 2007

After reading about it at Shaken & Stirred (see discussion in the comments), I’ve downloaded a free trial version of Scrivener, hailed (by someone somewhere) as ” the biggest software advance for writers since the word processor.” So far I’ve only managed a single index card on the corkboard, but it’ll be fun to play more. I especially like how the software allows you a place to keep all the detritus — the stray thoughts and oblique parentheticals (“fear of abandonment, God”) — that gets sloughed off the main manuscript during editing. Up till now I’ve been sticking those in catch-all Word documents where they are never seen again. And who knows what gold is in those hills!
Meanwhile, over at Pinky’s Paperhaus, Carolyn asks a pertinent question: “Are [programs like Scrivener] truly organizational tools, or are they just software-based stalling tactics?”

This weekend’s New York Times Book Review featured Liesl Schillinger’s review of two new books by Tessa Hadley: a novel called The Master Bedroom and a collection of short stories entitled Sunstroke.
Schillinger writes, “Hadley is so good at miniature — at close focus on a small scene that could be missed if you didn’t look twice — that it’s almost frustrating to read her longer works.” I feel the same, except with the “almost.” Both Accidents at Home and Everything Will Be All Right branched off into multi-generational storylines, and as I read I kept wanting to lop off entire branches of story. As a rule, I’m a great fan of Middlemarchian sprawl, but here the “epic-ness” felt like dead weight: Like seeing a beautifully tailored dress with two sheets tacked onto its hem, trailing out behind. So while I look forward to reading The Master Bedroom, I’ll be reading Sunstroke first.
A few of Hadley’s stories that can be read online:
• “The Surrogate”
• “Sunstroke
• “The Swan”
• “A Mouthful of Cut Glass

I was saddened to learn of the death of Aura Estrada. A gifted writer, she was killed in a swimming accident on July 25 while on vacation in Mexico. A memorial website has been created, and it includes a collection of her writings as well as a remembrance, “Mi Aura,” written by her husband Francisco Goldman, which I urge you to read. Words Without Borders has also created a page in her memory that contains links to other tributes as well a couple of her essays available online.
I met Aura at a wedding last fall. She was the dear friend of dear friends and so I had heard a great deal about her before the meeting. She was exactly as she’d been described: Radiant and lovely, quickly intelligent and humorous. What I mostly remember about the wedding, though, is watching her and Frank dance; they themselves had been married only the year before, and their joy in each other was obvious. That weekend wasn’t enough time to get to know Aura well, only long enough to understand why her death is such a terrible loss to the many friends and family she leaves behind.

“‘Nothing makes sense.’
“‘Do you expect things to make sense?’ asked Oliver, in a spirit of sincere enquiry.
“‘Yes.’
“‘I’m not aware of any cure for that condition, Vice-Chancellor.'”
Alan Plater, Oliver’s Travels