Tag Archives: story arc

Instead of Climaxing, Novels Should ‘Meander Spiral Explode’

I’m reading this one now. . . .

Chicago Review of Books

When you think of a
novel’s narrative arc, what immediately comes to mind? Perhaps a dusty old memory
from high school English class, of the teacher drawing an inverted ‘V’ on the
chalkboard to show the exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, and
then the resolution of a book?

As Jane Alison writes in her latest book, Meander Spiral Explode: “Bit masculo-sexual, no?”

Alison’s book is like
a cold shower to ward off the standard narrative arc and rewire our mental
circuitry to see the patterns of nature in the structure of novels. As she
quotes from Sukenick, “Instead of reproducing the form of previous fiction, the
form of the novel should seek to approximate the shape of our experience.”

Alison has an
enthusiastic and wandering mind, which starts with a book club in Germany where
she taught herself German just so she could read W.G. Sebald’s The Emigrants

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The Irish Firebrands Story Arc. | IRISH FIREBRANDS: A Novel ~ and Other Works by Christine Plouvier, Indie Author

Inviting all Indie Authors to stroll with me down memory lane….

The Irish Firebrands Story Arc. | IRISH FIREBRANDS: A Novel ~ and Other Works by Christine Plouvier, Indie Author

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Gesamtkunstwerk.

Now with music! Visit the post and turn up the volume to 100%! 

IRISH FIREBRANDS: A Novel ~ and Other Works by Christine Plouvier, Indie Author

RichardWagner Richard Wagner, 1813-1883

I listen to instrumental music when I write. It’s mostly classical music, varied with ethnic music from the area I’m writing about, and motion-picture soundtracks. My all-time favorite composer is Richard Wagner.

Our relationship started out rocky, as many do. I was entering my early teens when my mother borrowed an LP of the first act of DieWalküre from the public library. It was an ancient recording that featured Lauritz Melchior as Siegmund and Lotte Lehman as Sieglinde.

It was also summertime, we didn’t have air-conditioning, and my mother liked to play music LOUD.

I was horrified. This was not the kind of music I wanted to have emanating from a house that other people knew I lived in.

I dressed up as a protesting Flower Child, and posed for a Polaroid photo, holding a sign that said, “Help Stamp Out Opera.” But it was a fruitless gesture…

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