Rosencrantz and Guildenstern

"A common reaction to a script like that of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead is confusion.  Where are we?  What are the rules of this world we are in?  How am I supposed to understand exactly what is going on and why, when I'm not sure at any particular moment about what's going on, what sort of reality I'm dealing with, and why characters are behaving the way they are.  Too much of this seems either incomprehensible or just a silly game, the point of which escapes me."                   ~Ian Johnston  

Questions?  Comments?  Comments on others' questions?

Think short, multiple responses for this (at least two).  I'd love to see a little back and forth with this one.  I'll be checking in daily, and commenting.

"Araby" by James Joyce

       You are now conversant with Ernest Hemingway's meme of the "literary iceberg" -- that a lot of what goes into a story should be unexpressed.  Comments on "In Praise of Concision" reveal that different readers have different ideas of what an appropriate level of seclusion is.  I want you to read this very spare short story with that idea in mind: too much, or just right?  (I don't think anyone would say that more should be pared from the story, but that's always an option, too.)

      Have we been told enough about the narrator?  He sometimes behaves in a strange, stalkerish manner.  Is this behavior age appropriate?  How old is he, anyway?
      He apparently lives with his aunt and uncle -- no explanation of why -- and on the big night in question, the uncle comes home late.  Way late.  Where has he been?  Besides having the effect of delaying the narrator on his journey, what else is this episode doing here.  (Remember, in any short story, but especially in "The Dubliners", there are no extraneous details.)
      And then the ending.  Very spare, very puzzling.  What has happened?  How has the narrator changes?  Why has he changed?

      Does James Joyce give us enough to go on.  Does he frustratingly leave too much hidden?

      You will find a slightly annotated version of the story over at Edmodo.  (Sorry for the inconvenience.)  It's short.  I'd recommend printing it out, and then attacking it with pen in hand.

In Praise of Concision

You just learned something about good writing from George Orwell.  Among other things: don't be wordy.  Say what you mean in as few words as possible.  Think about what you actually want to say, and say that.

Ernest Hemingway said that a good short story was like an iceberg -- you left 75% of it below the surface.

Here's a short piece from The NewYorker in praise of concise writing.  [If you look at the root of the word: con -- with; cision -- cuts.]

And, p.s. -- if you've never read The NewYorker, you should pick up a copy.  It usually has a short story, always a few poems, lots of cartoons, and often important non-fiction pieces.  Check out their website here.