The Leaping Rabbit

Today I stumbled upon a blog whose author describes himself as a “recovering English major.” I relate to that. I have no regrets about studying English – I loved it, and I learned a lot. But sometimes higher education breeds snobbery. As an English major, I got the feeling I was supposed to make a distinction between literary fiction and genre fiction. But I’m learning to let that go. I’m letting myself enjoy a good mystery novel from time to time. I no longer try to hide my love of fantasy stories.

I got my English degree at a liberal arts university. Now, I am enrolling in the Tom Petty School of Fine Arts. I mean this figuratively, of course. As far as I know, there’s no college by this name. (But if there is, I’m interested.) The Tom Petty School of Fine Arts is my term for the school of thought that values music, art, and stories that are engaging and accessible. I am a big fan of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers for this reason: they write catchy songs – three-chord rock songs that make me feel good, written with the understanding that great composition does not have to be mind-bendingly complex.

I am not a musician; I am a writer, so what I aim for is the literary equivalent of a Tom Petty song. For me, as a writer, the Tom Petty School of Fine Arts involves reading and studying stories that catch my attention and make me care about the characters. Stories that keep me asking, “What’s going to happen?” These are the kind of stories I want to write.

The best book I’ve read so far this year is The World According to Garp* by John Irving. It’s a story about a writer, T.S. Garp. At one point in the book, he submits a manuscript to his editor, John Wolf. John Wolf passes the manuscript on to his cleaning lady, Jillsy Sloper. Jillsy is John Wolf’s secret weapon. She dislikes most books, but if a manuscript manages to hold her interest, it is sure to be a bestseller. Jillsy reads Garp’s manuscript very quickly, all the way to the end. She doesn’t like the how the story turns out (It’s a rather morbid story), but she can’t put it down. After she finishes it, Jillsy and John Wolf have the following discussion:

“If you hated it, why’d you read it, Jillsy?” John Wolf asked her.

“Same reason I read anythin’ for,’” Jillsy said. “To find out what happens.”

John Wolf stared at her.

“Most books you know nothin’s gonna happen,” Jillsy said. “Lawd, you know that. Other books,” she said, “you know just what’s gonna happen, so you don’t have to read them, either. But this book,” Jillsy said, “this book’s so sick you know somethin’s gonna happen, but you can’t imagine what. You got to be sick yourself to imagine what happens in this book,” Jillsy said.

“So you read it to find out?” John Wolf said.

“There surely ain’t no other reason to read a book, is there?” Jillsy Sloper said.

I quote this not because I think a story has to be sick in order for people to care about it, but because I agree with Jillsy on this point: The only reason to read a book is to find out what happens. When I am really into a book, when I can barely put it down, I go about the house asking (out loud, oftentimes), “What’s going to happen?” That is why I love to read.

I am an English major, and I love beautiful diction; I love symbolism; I love all the literary devices an author can employ. But just like Jillsy, the main reason I read a book is to find out what happens. The reason I like art is that it strikes an emotional chord with me. The reason I love music is that it’s catchy or emotive or beautiful.

I want this to inform the way I write. I want to worry less about making high art and more about crafting well-composed stories that make people care what happens. This is the Tom Petty School of Fine Arts.

(My apologies for the look of this video. It is the song I want to share, not the graphics.)

* A quick note: I liked this book a lot, but I have to say that I don’t recommend it for everybody. As with any book that showcases human nature, it can get fairly gruesome at times. … Not for the faint of heart.