Hey guys! I was looking through the "All in the Family" mss. one last time and it occurred to me that the advertisements inside that article were really interesting as well. We didn't even touch on this in class but I thought it would've been a super cool addition to my project.
Anyway the ads kind of speak for themselves. Take a look!

The Other Factor in Great Writing; More Reflections From Eng-L 460

This may seem a little odd, but one discussion that stuck with me during our class was when we viewed the Kurt Vonnegut manuscripts that consisted of his old class notes and its various doodles. I know it’s cool to get a glimpse into the working mind of a great writer, but one thing I couldn’t help but notice was the similarity between Vonnegut’s doodles and my own writings in my class notes. I too am an Anthropology major, and I love to write in my free time- that’s why I decided to tack on an English major just last year- and out of boredom I often find myself jotting story lines and ideas right next to my notes on gracile australopithecines and the difference between etic and emic perspectives. Seeing how familiar Vonnegut’s notes seemed to my own made me realize that Vonnegut, as well as other writers we’ve studied, did not start off all that differently from some of us in terms of writing. In other words, a lot of the writers we've lanalyzed at the Lilly didn’t start out great; they became great by cultivating their writing and through sheer luck in their success. Am I trying to suggest that I could write the next Slaughterhouse Five? Of course not- but I think this realization does put things in perspective. That along with great writing and talent, comes about 5, 10, or 20 percent that is made up of condition: the time, the place, working with the right people, targeting the right audience, and finding that initial inspiration that sparks the backbone idea of a great work itself. Upon some reflection, I think this class exposes the ‘luck’ aspect that has gone into these works that I don’t think we consider in reading for our English classes and reading for fun. In other words, I think looking at original manuscripts takes the author and the work itself off this pedestal of greatness we so often create and makes them more relatable- reminding that these talented people were just- well, people with a talent who were in the right place at the right time. I think this realization unsettles people in that it takes the “greats” and makes seem not so perfect after all. This may rattle some, but I like to be reminded that with the right amount of talent and a little luck, the idea of creating something worthy of the Lilly doesn’t seem so impossible after all. 

Hey we can dream can't we?

On Feeling ‘Unsettled’ After Viewing Original Manuscripts

         Was thinking the other day about the collective ‘unsettledness’  that emerged from our past discussions concerning the manuscripts we have looked over in class. I’m specifically thinking of the idea stated in our last meeting which goes-  “this class has taught me one thing- and that is never trust anything you read.” I found this such an interesting element that emerged from our class discussion, and I’ve found myself considering why we are so unsettled by the discoveries these works have revealed to us in their original form. I think that as English majors (and also for the non-majors in the class who simply love literature), we always find ourselves being taught to question text and the things we read. We dissect the characters, mull over the plot, recreate setting, and apply theoretical ideas to the motives and themes that drive the novels we read. We do so much of this, that typically by the end of a class lecture, paper, or discussion, we feel we have a good grasp and a very ‘deep’ understanding of the text and its ‘true’ themes.

Then you take Eng-l 460-

        And find that masterpieces, classics, and authors and artists whose works we hold on such stable pedestals of ‘greatness’ were in fact in constant flux in their creation, had hidden contributors and agendas, and in general may not have been the work of genius in its original form that we recognize today.  I’m specifically thinking of our discussions we had after viewing the Wizard of Oz script drafts, and Carver’s edited stories by Lithe.

     In the case of the Wizard of Oz we found that something we consider such a stable classic in American pop culture was in fact extremely unstable in its creation. Despite its humble themes, lovable characters, and lifelong lessons- everything that made the Wizard of Oz a classic was created, in large part, entirely by chance. And in the case of Carver, we found that his brilliant minimalist and menacing-like writing style that is so often praised in the study of short fiction may not even have been his original style after all.  

     As unsettling as these realizations are, I think that’s one of the most valuable lessons from the class. Not necessarily the message that you can’t trust anything you read, but the message that with every story comes a back story in its creation, and I think that’s an element that gets left out in the majority of English classes. Knowing this hidden element I feel will help to understand and consider future texts in a more holistic perspective, then maybe our “unsettledness” won’t be such a shock to us in the future.

 

Appointment schedule as of 4/22

Conferences in the Lilly,

 It’s possible that on rare occasions I might be a few minutes late for a scheduled meeting, although I will try to do everything I can to avoid it and will email you if I am running late.  If none of these times works, I am also available during some evenings—just let me know.

Friday, April 19

10:00-11:00   Alicia Scott

11:00-12:00  Jessica George

12:00-1:00     Ava Dickerson

Monday, April 22

9:00-10:00

10:00-11:00

3:00-4:00  Anjona Ghosh

4:00-5:00

Tuesday. April 23

11:30-12:30  Morgan Burris

2:30-3:30  Audrey Snider

3:30-4:30  Deborra Sanders

4:30-5:30  Elizabeth Pappas

Wednesday, April 24

9:30-10:30 Bernadette Patino

10:30-11:30  Aaron Denton

11:30-12:30
12:30-1:25 Travis Shaw

3:00-4:00  Erika Jenns

4:00-5:00  Ly Nguyen

5:00-5:45

Thursday, April 25

9:00-10:00

10:00-11:00   Michelle Gottschlich

1:00-2:00   Mary Bowden
12:30-1:00  Ly (2)

2:00-2:30  Becky Ferber

4:00-5:00  Steven Whyte

5:00-5:45  Hiromi Yoshida

Friday, April 26

9:00-10:00

10:00-11:00  Megan Jones

11:00-12:00  Brooke Opel

12:00-1:00    Ariel Hunt

More conference times will be made available during the final week.

A few notes on Carver edits

Details regarding characters and customers are all thinned out, deleted, or in some cases rewritten from scratch. Particularly the "way" they said, reacted, or did something, which might have revealed a character trait-- empathetic, insensitive, selfish, etc.

Introspection edited into into an unpacked reaction--
Original: "Who's your fat friend? He's really a fatty. // I definitely resented her making such a remark."
Edited: "Who's your fat friend? He's a fatty. // Wow that's part of it. I think that's really part of it."

(This also effectively revamps the character of the speaker-- one who has a moral ground and sizes and it against less sensitive characters', one who has recognized her empathy for the fat customer. Changed to what? What was this remark "part of"? What is being recognized in this moment and what does that (half-) failure of naming it say about the speaker? She has trouble identifying what strikes her as significant.)


(Partly) reasoned responses to automatic responses--
-Facilitated by switching past tense to present, and consolidating sentences into single continuous (unconscious?) motions.

Original: "Enjoy your dinner, I said. I had the urge to linger around his table and I raised the lid of his sugar bowl and looked in."
Edited: "Enjoy your dinner I say. I raise the lid of his sugar bowl and looked in."

Why the speaker is drawn to the fat customer becomes more complex and unsettling with these edits. While the original text clearly designates empathy (though the reason for empathy is still wonderfully quixotic  even given the sexual relationship between the speaker and Rudy), the empathy in the edits is never designated by signalled as a strange kind of subconscious pull the speaker feels toward the fat man. The gravity of a body that knows and controls its boundaries, who fills itself willingly and with pleasure (unlike the speaker in the unsettling sex scene.)




I've taken several more notes I'll save for class if they seem appropriate to bring up. In general, I was shocked to see the difference between Carver's creative work and Lish's (which is most certainly creative work and not simple dry editing.) Maybe some will vary on their responses-- Carver wrote the plot, the characters, and the submerged conflict; therefore it is his authorial content. But the tonal style, the way of communicating, isn't Carver's enough for me to feel comfortable with this piece anymore. All of the despondency (part and parcel of the tension and the conflict) (the very style of minimalism, I believe) is Lish's contribution.

The prescriptive additions (does the term prescriptive even work here?) without a doubt overstep the editor/author line. I (and I'm sure other creative writers) would testify that the extent and frequency of new or rewritten sentences would never ever fly in a workshop setting or the like.

Aggressively beating a dying horse here

In response to Sander's visit--

I don't think there is a question about the creative value of Sander's work. Certainly he is gifted, well-liked, and extremely developed as a writer (as we can see by his concise note-taking/pre-planning on the trip discussed in class.) He writes admirably and with clear purpose. His work is accessible and communicative-- a quality that has been critically applauded since the Modernists went out of style. I mostly read poetry anymore, but my favorite writers favor this approach as well. Lucille Clifton, for example. In short, Sander's is clearly skilled and no one needs me to affirm that-- his book sales and reputation do that well enough.

Now, that isn't to say I can't take issue with this literature that is accessible. I do, and lots of it. Concision of the word is a skill I believe only truly seasoned writers do well with. The imperative to simply communicate, using one's pen to "stamp" the thought in the brain onto paper legibly is not the same thing to me. Sander's said the subject of Virginia Woolf, the Modernists, and the Post-Modernists is language. (Sander's, he said, was family and the environment.) I disagree entirely. I value writers that use language to not only communicate but also exercise/demonstrate the content. Reading Woolf takes effort, certainly, but there is a way that working through a passage of Mrs. Dalloway unlaces our expectations, our belief that language can ever really bear the intentions and conflicts that dwell inside a speaker (given that the speaker is any way developed or complex.) Clarissa says that Richard Dalloway was the only real choice for her, but working through the content we know this isn't true. Our expectation of gender roles come unlaced, our expectations of desire and trauma and recovery, all unlaced and refilled. Writing "Clarissa married Richard because she felt she had to, but knew at some deeper level she loved Peter or Sally even more. This is a source of her daily and painful disorientation" in no way exercises confusion. It's a stamp that tells us gender roles, desire, and trauma are not what they seem-- but a stamp proves nothing.

To be critical in the most respectful way possible (and I entirely value Elizabeth's point that we have barely read Sanders' work-- I might compare his approach to family and complicated social issues to Harper Lee, and no one undervalues Harper Lee)--creating public sympathy and devotedness to the environment is a complex issue. Some of you may have read Slow Violence: Environmentalism of the Poor in classes before, which tackles this from a critical angle.
I think of it this way-- for the sake of functioning smoothly in daily life, I keep all my ideological attitudes in neat folders. I sympathise enough with the environment to be bothered by oil spills, deforestation, and the like, and I make the minimal effort of recycling, buying organic products if reasonably priced, and buying/selling thrift more often than not. The environment comes after issues ("folders" in this tacky allegory) that concern class warfare and gender inequality for me-- bad environmental news is not going to stick a stake into my day (like bad news of the class and gender would and do almost weekly, to which I have had to adapt to curb my aggression.) I don't care enough about the environment, I know it, and feel its fine even though it's not.

To care more takes unlacing, it takes disorder, it takes making one feel uncomfortable with one's tidiness. Does a book that delivers a tidy message in tidy language do this? No, not in my opinion, I file it in the environment folder in the back of my brain where I forget about it later.

Some more All in the Family stuff!

Hey everyone so I found some stuff relating to my project that showed more

When I was talking I referenced a video in which Amy Poehler interviews a writer who used to write for All in the Family. Here's that video!
Amy Poehler Interviews Irma Kalish
I really like this video because it's an example of how television and "All in the Family" in particular advanced women's place in television and tackled issues that no other medium would engage at the time. Both Amy Poehler and Irma Kalish acknowledge the fact that Irma was a trailblazer in her field and paved the way for others who came after.

The next video is the second part of the episode available on youtube. While the one we watched isn't available legally you can see the next part which is really all you need. You read the script for the first one anyway.
Edith's 50th Birthday, Part 2

Next is the Director Paul Bogart talking about how he chose to direct this episode. Watching it I came up with a couple ideas as to why this way was necessary, especially in a comedy format. What do you guys think?
Paul Bogart directs an episode!

Note on envelope

I had originally planned to transcribe the entire letter, but I then realized that my favorite part was not in the letter itself, but on the envelope.

The note reads as follows, written in blue ink on the back of the envelope:

Our two little granddaughters went into post office to mail this letter, while I double-parked with motor running. Despite my instructions, they didn't put postage on letter correctly and it came back to me after Ray's death.

Throughout our discussions this semester, the concern of losing handwritten manuscripts and letters to the advent of word-processed documents has come up frequently. I think this letter and its fabulous little note illustrate just what we miss by sending emails rather than physical post mail.

Sorry this post was so short!

Hello everyone!

For my project I have been working on the amazing Wizard of Oz Manuscript available at the Lilly. The manuscript documents the entire evolution of the screen play from 1938 to the film’s release in 1939. There are SO many directions I could have taken in looking at this project and the material offered, but I have decided to illustrate the process of a scene being revised over time, and the influences on a particular scene’s revision. The scene we will be looking at that demonstrates this evolution from draft to draft is the scene towards the end of the film where Dorothy, the scarecrow, the tin man, and the lion discover the Wizard of Oz is really a fraud. The Wizard is confronted, and he presents the company with their desired gifts- a brain for the scarecrow, a heart for the Tin Man, courage for the Cowardly Lion, and a chance for Dorothy to go home. The text attached in a google doc is the final script version of the scene featured in the film. Before looking at the early drafts and revision suggestions for this scene at the Lilly, it would be helpful to take a look at the final version so you know what differences to note when reading the originals drafts. Also attached is a YouTube clip of the majority of the scripted scene so that you may have a better idea of what is going on. I hope to show this clip in class as well if there is enough time.

*Please note that the materials will not be available at the Lilly until this afternoon (Tuesday), after our class as I was unable to gather the materials in time before the Lilly closed on Monday. I realize this might press some of you for time, and I will try and make a few photos of the text available here on the blog so you can still participate if unable to see the materials in person.

See you all tomorrow!  

-          Audrey

Raymond Carver, 4/18 (Thursday)

Hey.  What's up?

     I'm presenting Thursday on the work of Raymond Carver, an author who has been on my brain for the better part of a year now (his work was the subject of a thesis I had been writing up until about two weeks ago).  I think it'll be nice to discuss him in a less idiosyncratic way for a change, perhaps trying to see some broader problems his work brings up.
     Carver is best known for his short fiction (although he wrote fine poetry and essays as well).  He published a few (3) collections of short stories in a span of about a decade (~1975-1985), collections which became critically and somewhat commercially successful.  I guess you could argue about the validity of his success, but one thing I think you could say with some surety is that Carver became a key figure in the historiography of the short story and is, therefore, worthy of our time and attention.  People have called him a minimalist, a blue-collar writer, a k-mart fictionist, along with a lot of other names, pejorative or otherwise.  He's controversial for a number of reasons but I'll give you a more thorough going-over of his work and life in class if it seems necessary or you feel like being talked at.  I don't think it's too important to get all this extra stuff right now...everything you need to come up with what I think would be a valid and constructed view of his work is provided here (at least enough to get going).
     I've spent a good chunk of time in my research going through the Lilly's Carver-related documents, of which there is plenty.  Out of all this stuff (letters, drafts, etc.) I've found these two to be (maybe) the most striking/heart-wrenching/interesting out of the bunch.  They're always what I think of when I have in my head the Carver material.  Moreover, they get at some key aspects and questions related to Carver's writing and the process of documentation in general...this idea of the ethical bounds involved with a deceased author is interesting to me and is certainly in there, so is a hearty discussion of editorship, authorial intent, and how the writing market affects all this (I think).  We could go a couple of ways with it of course, and probably will.
     I hope you'll go over "Fat" closely and get the chance to read both the edited version and the published one.   Something which is often overlooked in Carver's work is the intensity which he puts into every line, every word.  This nuancing gets lost sometimes by the sheer objectivity of his characters and plots (the dread one might feel, the menace of the situation, etc.).  There are of course many differences between the draft and the final version.  It should be noted the edited draft is marked up by Gordon Lish who we have discussed in class before. Also on reserve is the box which that draft came from, full of others, interesting on their own right.  Maybe some of you have read Carver's "Cathedral," an often anthologized story.  You can find the edited versions of that in there as well.  This is, of course, going beyond what's asked: I simply would like you to read the tagged sections from two folders on reserve but if you find yourself curious, I have read over everything in there and could sum things up for the rest of the class.  Extra work wouldn't go unappreciated is what I'm saying.  I'd love to have someone to talk to about this stuff.
     As for the other document...Maryann Burk-Carver was Ray's first wife.The letter you are to read was her last to him.  Carver, a notorious and ferocious smoker, died of lung cancer in 1988.  Although their relationship was often nothing but turmoil, this letter says a lot about Carver and does so in what I think is a haunting, interesting way.

See you all tomorrow.

-a

(hope those links work...)

From Scott Russell Sanders, "Buckeye"

Afamily move carried me away from Ohio 30 years ago; my schooling and marriage and job have kept me away ever since, except for visits in memory and in flesh. I returned to the site of our farm one cold November day, when the trees were skeletons and the ground shone with the yellow of fallen leaves. From a previous trip I knew that our house had been bulldozed, our yard and pasture had grown up in thickets, and the reservoir had flooded the woods. On my earlier visit I had merely gazed from the car, too numb with loss to climb out. But on this November day, I parked the car, drew on my hat and gloves, opened the door, and walked.

I was looking for some sign that we had lived there, some token of our affection for the place. All that I recognized, aside from the contours of the land, were two weeping willows that my father and I had planted near the road. They had been slips the length of my forearm when we set them out, and now their crowns rose higher than the telephone poles. When I touched them last, their trunks had been smooth and supple, as thin as my wrist, and now they were furrowed and stout. I took off my gloves and laid my hands against the rough bark. Immediately I felt the wince of tears. Without knowing why, I said hello to my father, quietly at first, then louder and louder, as if only shouts could reach him through the bark and miles and years.

Surprised by sobs, I turned from the willows and stumbled away toward the drowned woods, calling to my father. I sensed that he was nearby. Even as I called, I was wary of grief’s deceptions. I had never seen his body after he died. By the time I reached the place of his death, a furnace had reduced him to ashes. The need to see him, to let go of him, to let go of this land and time, was powerful enough to summon mirages; I knew that. But I also knew, stumbling toward the woods, that my father was here.

At the bottom of a slope where the creek used to run, I came to an expanse of gray stumps and withered grass. It was a bay of the reservoir from which the water had retreated, the level drawn down by engineers or drought. I stood at the edge of this desolate ground, willing it back to life, trying to recall the woods where my father had taught me the names of trees. No green shoots rose. I walked out among the stumps. The grass crackled under my boots, breath rasped in my throat, but otherwise the world was silent.

Then a cry broke overhead and I looked up to see a red-tailed hawk launching out from the top of an oak. I recognized the bird from its band of dark feathers across the creamy breast and the tail splayed like rosy fingers against the sun. It was a red-tailed hawk for sure; and it was also my father. Not a symbol of my father, not a reminder, not a ghost, but the man himself, right there, circling in the air above me. I knew this as clearly as I knew the sun burned in the sky. A calm poured through me. My chest quit heaving. My eyes dried.

Hawk and father wheeled above me, circle upon circle, wings barely moving, head still. My own head was still, looking up, knowing and being known. Time scattered like fog. At length, father and hawk stroked the air with those powerful wings, three beats, then vanished over a ridge.

The voice of my education told me then and tells me now that I did not meet my father, that I merely projected my longing onto a bird. My education may well be right; yet nothing I heard in school, nothing I’ve read, no lesson reached by logic has ever convinced me as utterly or stirred me as deeply as did that red-tailed hawk. Nothing in my education prepared me to love a piece of the earth, least of all a humble, battered country like northeastern Ohio; I learned from the land itself.

Before leaving the drowned woods, I looked around at the ashen stumps, the wilted grass, and for the first time since moving from this place I was able to let it go. This ground was lost; the flood would reclaim it. But other ground could be saved, must be saved, in every watershed, every neighborhood. For each home ground we need new maps, living maps, stories and poems, photographs and paintings, essays and songs. We need to know where we are, so that we may dwell in our place with a full heart.

Read the full essay at this site. 

Today's Discussion

Hey everyone!  I had some thoughts about today’s discussion that I didn't really get the chance to share in class, so I thought I’d post them here. 

I had some issues with the way we were talking about Scott Russell Sanders’s work – correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems like the majority of us haven’t actually read more than the few pages of his journal that we looked  at  for class today, so how can we be making judgments about the literary value of his work?  It’s a bit unfair to say that his writing isn't sufficiently literary if you haven’t even read the writing in question.

The judgment that Sanders’s work is ‘commercial’ rather than ‘literary’ also bothered me in general.  What’s wrong with that?  What’s wrong with wanting to reach a wider audience – not just English majors, but people who read for leisure as well?  And really, there isn't anything wrong with wanting to make money off of your writing either.  I think someone made this comment in class too, but just about everyone who has published a book was hoping to make some money off of it, even authors from past eras that we tend to romanticize. 

And personally, I don’t think that literature – and by literature here I mean books in general, not just those written by long-dead people with sufficiently tragic lives – is necessarily about being obscure and complex.  I tend to look at books as vehicles to understand other people and other peoples’ experiences.  Even if they are written in a simpler style (and I don’t know if Sanders’s books actually are, because I haven’t read them).  I don’t think it’s really fair to condemn an author because the impression you have of their books is that they are not literary enough.   

Another Quick Transcription of Sanders Mss.

Pg 21

Mon Jun 12

Up at 6. Thought it rained in night – sound of brook next to camp ground, Woke up to utterly clear skies. The water is Fall River – bridge crosses it at campground – we went up to sit, liten to the roar.

            Coffeecake breakfast. Tension with Jesse almost from outset- rove to trailhead for walk up Cow Creek to Bridal Veil Falls. Had trouble finding trailhead, worrying (I was) if we could make hike + still get to raft rendezvous on time. Also nervous about

Pg 22

Rafting. Gorgeous hike across open meadows with aspen groves – greenish bark, brilliant lime-green new bursts of leaves – glowing in sunlight. All the way to falls, I felt good, strong, in touch, though of essay , about how Jesse + I experience land differently. For him it is test, physical challenge, pitting his juice against power of country. So he’s drawn to lan’s power – stone, mountain,

Pg 23

waterfalls, size/distance. I’m more interested in land’s texture, details – wildflowers, butterflies (tiny deep blue ones over much – several dozen), birds. He wants to move, push twd destination; I want to savor details. In harmony up to Bridal Veil Falls – we both thrummed to power of it. On way back, argued over whether we should camp alone tree-line, in snow. He truged ahead, cut off from me. We had furious, showboy

Pg 24

Argument in car on way to rafting – I scarcefly saw the gorgeous, rocky cavern of Big Thompson River. He insisted on my being out of touch with him – then, key complaint, my gloom, dark view of world. Gave me much thought.

Rafting --> see p. 29

            Elk chasing coyote at dusk – as we rove from ranger station to camp. Cooked supper after 8, much tension broken by rafting. Lost my jeans!

            Full moon- broken clouds. Gorgeous moon all night – tent flap open. Bed at 10.

Pg 29

Rafting (from p. 24).

Jesse reserved spaces for “Wild + Scenic” 12-mile (2-3 hour) trip down Poudre River (pronounced poo-der) with A-1 Wildwater Adventures, out of Estes Park. We rendezvoused n. of Estes Park. Drove in van to put-in and river we were passing looked murderous. I really wondered about wisdom of this – and, as in Boundary Waters, my strength. Guides played

Pg 30

Up dangers – but there had been two flipped rafts already this young season; and during journey – Jesse + I in front, one guide and a guide-in-training in middle, and young, new (it turned out to be his first trip with customers, after about two weeks of training!) small, very wiry (no fat when his T-shirt was off) Eric in rear guiding _ steering _ calling out orders:

Pg31

Forward Paddle, Back, Stop, Left, Right and Jum (toward object, to keep raft from capsizing). Put in – practiced commands. I was guide lead paddler (left front) first half; I switched to let Jesse do it second half, when we stopped for a break. Once in raft, after a few tense minutes, I relaxed – we seemed invulnerable, sliding over rocks + rocking through waves (some were at least 3’ tall). A number

Pg32

Of local people to whom we der described our plans though we were mad to ride 12-mile trip on Poudre in this high, tumultuous water. Guides enjoyed it. We were kept busy, aler with our paddling – but I glanced at the impressive stony banks, bluffs, cliffs; an I kept watching Jesse, who was glowing with pleasure. He really dug in hard on the

Pg33

Paddling, making as much of a struggle out of it as he could. But it was a struggle – the guide was worn out, and even the observer-guide + trainee looked ready to quit. It took us 2 ½ hours. Crossed through scene where they were shooting ep TV episode of Texas Ranger – we got to see Chuck Norris’s double glide across the river on a cable. Many trailers, contrivances + people spread along both

Pg34

Banks and even in river. One officious man with whistle waves us to hurry past – and all guides were indignant.

            Wonderful bucking, twisting of raft as it hit waves, rapids, cascades. I felt excited, but alo oddly serene in midst of tossing, bursts of spray renching me. We wore helmets, wet-suits over shorts + T-shirt (my ASLE

Pg35

 shirt, carrying my name downstream!), life preservers, I went barefoot wore my shoddy boat shoes w/out socks – they were instantly soaked. (They’re still wet clanorig? Tues. night as I write these notes – but my boots, after snow-shoeing are sodden). Not aware of cold, thanks to sun + wet suits. Woman driver – Shawna, in cut off jeans + white bra-top + deep tan – kept watching for us

Pg36

From various spots down on shore as we bucked + rocked + glided downriver. My joy was more than doubled by watching Jesse.

*

Thoughts for essay on walking/rafting/camping/snowshoeing in mtsn with Jesse:

1.     He’s testing himself; to see what he’s made of, what he’s capable of.

2.     All young men have need of test, feel

Pg 37

their juice. Where are older men to teach them, to channel this energy + will into socially – useful forms?

3.     We don’t need knowledge of land in order to survive. It’s not a life-or-death matter (in human short run) that we know land, be observant. Without life-or-death, how make the land-knowledge matter? How enforce behavior w/out taboos, rligious/spiritual

Pg38

4.     Recall my own teenage feeling of my juices – running in woods – trying it barefoot (my feet bleeding).

5.     Jesse wants to do what is physically hard – whitewater rafting, snowshoeing, backpacking, rock-climbing, mountaineering. I want to do what is intellectually, spiritually hard.

6.     Recount our dialogue: “Dad, what bothers me the most

Pg39

Is how you see the world – problems everywhere, angry at people for all their destruction + waste. It depresses me to see the world as ruined. I’m young. I want to believe there is hope.”

            So do I- for Jesse’s sake and for mine, for the world’s.

7.     Take off from Wallace Stegner’s view of the American West as “the geography of hope,” and why he later

Pg 40

Fri. June 9

To Jesse    40.00

Lunch           9.00

Recanted or modified that view.

8.     I can take the occasion of the hike as way of writing about need for hope, and where I find it in the land ,in human knowledge (skills that bring us here), in materially simpler life.

Pg 41

            (our time here savoring the minimal things) in hard-won community between Jesse and me, in comradeship with other journeyers. In other words, the Colorado trip becomes a frame on which I can hang the various sources of hope – and search for hope is impelled by Jesse’s condemnation of my dark view of the world. If at the same time,

Pg 42

I can make this a study in the Colorado Rockies, it could serve for American Landscape.

9.     Camping is a reminder of how little we truly need- Thoreau’s search for the essentials.

10. Layers in essay:

a.     Father-son

b.     Rocky Mtn journey

c.      Search for grounds of hope

d.     Young man’s initiation

- what world do I want to give him? (Problem of ecological despair.) 

Sanders Documents for Tuesday

Hi All!
My presentation is on Scott Russell Sanders, a former professor here at IU who has written novels, children's books, and countless essays ranging in topics from fatherhood to conservation to religion and faith. I have spent my project working with the Lilly's collection on Sanders' book Hunting for Hope, in which Sanders depicts how a hiking trip with his son helped him reevaluate his attitude towards life and find a more positive outlook on the world.

On reserve is a small, green notebook that Sanders took notes in during his hiking trip with in son, Jesse, in June of 1995. Sanders numbers his pages. Please look at pages 21-24 and then 29-42 (I know this sounds like a lot, but the pages are tiny and the handwriting is quite neat!) Feel free to transcribe these notes, but I'm more interested in you all simply getting a feel for the relationship that Sanders has with his son. In class I would like to discuss this relationship as well as talk about nature writing in general and how such concise field notes taken on a backpacking trip can inspire and lead to an entire book on subjects like hope, faith, and family.

If you have extra time, feel free to look through the rest of Sanders Box 9. There is a lot of really neat stuff compiled from his trip- brochures, maps, articles, other ideas for essays and novels that sprung from this trip- and they are all a testament to how much nature can inspire.

Happy reading!