http://www.bu.edu/agni/essays/print/2006/63-birkerts.html
Explain why or why not you think Didion's piece meets Birkerts' definition of "traction." Please respond by 4 p.m., Wednesday, Feb. 20.
Please be advised that late responses receive an F.
18 comments:
From what I've researched about Birkert's definition of "traction," it can be defined as a story that hits the ground running. In my opinion, there are certain parts of Los Angeles Notebook that hit the ground running, and other parts that slowly crawl toward their destination. The first part of the story, which explains the Santa Ana in detail, has a clear beginning, middle and end. It even goes into detail about the history of the Santa Ana, what it provokes, and how people react to it. The narrative moves slowly and concisely, and there is hardly any room for a reader to wonder what's going on. All the details are finely laid out to read.
The next four parts of the story, however, contain a lot of traction. They all begin in the middle and hit the ground running so quickly that the reader has no choice but to travel just as fast as the narrative is moving or risk not keeping up with it. A story with traction is not necessarily bad; I actually found myself being more engaged in the last four parts of the story than the first part, simply because I had to pay attention to the story in order to understand it--and even then, I didn't completely piece it together.
I really enjoyed reading Joan Didion’s piece from “Slouching Towards Bethlehem” entitled Los Angeles Notebook. I do think it fits in with the idea of “traction” introduced by the literary editor Sven Birkerts in his article. Birkerts describes traction as the thing that convinces him a story is worth reading and is uniquely newsworthy. Firstly, Didion puts you right into her story. She begins by describing a weather phenomenon that affects Los Angeles and some other places, consequently and strangely bringing about periods of irrationality, irritability, and madness in society; and she continues by describing some of her own experiences at the time, bringing light and meaning to the unfortunate behavior, and indeed showing us “how close we are to the edge.” She is not writing about any John Maloney. Didion does, with sincere intention and a poignant purpose, what I, at least, as a writer desire to do: tell the truth, and clothe it in meaning, sophistication, and excitement. What I mean by excitement is that she is excited to tell the story on some level, despite its theme of “things fall apart.” She finds traction, and she rides it all the way through.
According to Birkerts’ definition of traction, that being his “code for the way that a sentence or a paragraph or a page of prose lands, how it does or does not anticipate and then address the resistance of the open attention” would meet Dideon’s piece sucessfully. Birkert goes further to address that a story cannot begin, or unfold, in a way that assumes a basic condition of business as usual. Dideon does just that; she begins her story by giving the readers a “prologue” into what occurs after such an event, such as the Santa Ana. Birkert’s definition of traction addresses a way of finding a different or new way to tell a story, not the “ordinary” way. By telling a story this way it is more enticing for the reader and grabs their attention more directly. It allows them to wonder what will happen next and how each part relates to the other. The only way that the reader can come to that conclusion though is by reading the whole story, which is what every author wants to accomplish. By using the method of traction, Dideon achieves this goal and grabs the reader head on. While I was reading her story I was confused at first, but intrigued and interested by each small story she told. I wanted to read each one to figure out how they related in the end. As a result, the “old way” of telling a story cannot accommodate the new way of reality, which is people’s lack of focus.
Though this may not be exactly what he said, I believe that what Birkerts means by finding traction in a piece of literary writing is finding the voice. Writing does not have a voice like the people who write about John Maloney hunching over think it does; The voice belongs to the writer. The voice is conveyed through the words that the writer puts on paper. If a piece of written fits the mould of what a lot of people think writing sounds like, then it has no traction. So yes, I do believe that Didion's piece has traction in that it is original, has a very unique and sophisticate voice, and it literally written in her voice. Her random scattering of events confused me until today's class. I tried to see a connection between them but I couldn't until I realized I was looking for a connection in the words and that isn't where it was found. The connection, the very theme of the whole piece, is found in the structural layout of the piece. Its like art. It is not traditional writing. There is a type of poetry (that I particularly enjoy writing) that is based on how it looks and is presented rather than what is said. Sometimes, the poem is a picture and if you squished all the words together to look like this blog post, you would lose the whole entire meaning. Sometimes we as readers need to look past the words in the story to find a voice and I think that's what Didion puts on the table. I think Birkerts's definition of traction wasn't quite getting at that, but more in a literary rather than visual sense, but I think both are important. Writing is an art form and art is aesthetically pleasing. That includes visually pleasing as well. I think they are equally important.
For me, Birkert's concept of literary "traction" can best be described as the ways in which a piece not only grabs and keeps the attention of its reader, but also manages to get that reader's mind away from their preconceived notions about the story--and gets them to focus on the ACTUAL story. I believe that stories with traction have anticipated that the attention of their readers is fickle and flickering, something they need to grab and hold down--in fact, I believe stories with literary traction even expect their readers to resist even reading the story. Not only that, but Birkert seems to define traction as the WAY in which a story not only acknowledges that resistance, but conquers it within the story. In this sense, I absolutely think that Joan Didion's Los Angeles Notebook has literary traction; her style is definitely intriguing enough to grasp the reader's attention immediately. She does not conform to the "expected" or "linear" idea of a story or a narrative, making the ending and point of her piece impossible to predict. This in turn forces the reader to overcome their resistance in order to know what happens. The reader is forced to actually THINK about the work, which is the entire point of writing.
Birkert defined "traction" as his "code for the way that a sentence or a paragraph or a page of prose lands, how it does or does not anticipate and then address the resistance of the open attention." This style of writing, as well as Birkert's belief that a work of prose can no longer assume continuity, is clearly shown in Didion's "Los Angeles Notebook." The story begins with the background information-that the storm affects California's citizens so drastically and causes their actions to change-and then each vignette is entirely separate and different from the next. One would normally assume that each part of the story flows into the next one, but it's not the case in Didion's piece. While there is no clear continuity, each vignette is connected by the background introduction. The reader can predict that people will not act as they normally would, but the reader cannot predict what is going to happen next.
What i got out of Birkerts’s ideas of traction were that it is when a writer relays on old expressions and ideas to put their writing in context. They represent filler words, which are used to create false emotions for the readers. It seems very complicated, but when a literary journalist or writer uses this illusion pretexts, it is based on old fabrications from older writings and cannot properly define the world we live in now.
I am not sure how to properly recognized traction but i would imagine, The heat was surreal would fit the qualifications of traction. This is not a real description but is something people use asa filler, instead of eloborating the context of the heat. Although Didion is an accomplished writer, viewing her work now she sometimes has a tendency to fall into traction. I believe it is because most of these chapters were pulled from her persoanl journal. When a writer writes for someone and writes for them selves it can be dramatically different. I believe these emotions could have been genuine, but they lack originality in presentation.
In Sven Birkets’ essay, he defines traction as “his code for the way that a sentence or a paragraph or a page of prose lands, how it does or does not anticipate and then address the resistance of the open attention.” He goes on to explain that through certain specific ways of writing, the author can capture or convey a cultural message in their work. He uses his job of editing submissions for AGNI online to get this point across. I think that the excerpt from Didion’s “Slouching Towards Bethlehem” matches up quite well with Birkets’ definition of traction. As we talked about in class, she used a lengthy introduction to set up for the slightly chaotic vignettes that take place in Los Angeles as the Santa Ana winds sweep across the land. She ends the beginning passage by saying, “the wind shows us how close to the edge we are.” Each separate vignette includes slightly unusual details and an edgy ending that leads the reader back to Didion’s introduction. I think that Didion’s writing meets Birkets’ definition of traction because she develops an idea and with each vignette, brings new details to support this idea. She is trying to convey a chaos that takes over Los Angeles as this malevolent wind takes over it’s population. Her point is clear because of her introduction. If we were only given the vignettes, we would not know the context of these separate stories and they would not mesh so well together.
Finding traction is not easy, or so says Birkert's. I believe finding traction is finding the voice of your story. You need to attract the reader and make them believe in your story. The reader needs to accept the action that is going on in the story, not what they think will happen or want to happen. This is hard to do, but Didion does just it very well. Besides the Santa Anna part of "Los Angeles Notebook", Didion makes the reader jump into numerous instances in her life. She doesn't really describe where she is, she doesn't give you any background information. Didion just tells you what is going on. It's a beautiful way of writing.
The introduction to Didion's piece in the anthology tells the reader that Didon's eschewing all conventional literary forms is meant to show that there's no longer any room for such conventions--that, in the real world as well as in Yeats' vision, "Things fall apart; the center cannot hold." Birkerts makes this point as well, by arguing that we cannot take the world we live in or the supposed commonalities of its experiences for granted. Everyone perceives the world differently, just as the Night Owls calling in to the radio show Didion flips on late at night all perceive sexuality differently. If ever there was once one standard way of viewing the world, or any standard way of constructing literature, it has collapsed, and Didion's piece is a testament to that collapse. There is no linear narrative, none of the usual trappings of nonfiction like backstory or times or dates or specific places. There is only one place, Los Angeles, but it might be any night in Los Angeles; surely there are always Hollywood parties and piano bars, though there might never be a specific reason for going to them ("why not?"). Didion's piece may not be bound by any conventional parameters, but that is what Birkerts believes interesting, attention-grabbing literature should be. It doesn't have to reinvent the wheel, but maybe it can give a new perspective on why the wheel might've broken--and just what can be done with it.
I enjoyed reading Joan Didion's piece, "Los Angeles Notebook". While researching Birkert's definition of traction, although i am not sure I understand it correctly, my guess is that, in order for a story to have traction it is what grabs the readers attention and forces them along the rest of the story. It is what makes a story unconventional, to agree with the reality of readers in the present day and not some John Maloney character.
Didion's story although it confused me at first, it still was about to grab my attention in wanting to see where the story went. The descriptions of the Santa Ana is what makes you react to the story and really brings the reader into the setting. As the story goes on piece by piece you slowly see how everything comes together, but it is not just sitting there in front of your face, you have to pay attention.
After reading Joan Didion's "Los Angeles Notebook" and Sven Birkert's essay "Finding Traction," I can say that Didion's essay does find traction. Birkert defines traction as
"the way that a sentence or a paragraph or a page of prose lands, how it does or does not anticipate and then address the resistance of the open attention." In a lot of ways, I see similarities between Birkert's definition of traction and narrative fidelity, or storytelling that falls on stereotypes and previously conceived story lines. Traction is when we can find ground to stand on in this increasingly-contextless world.
The opening sentence reads "There is something uneasy in the Los Angeles air this afternoon, some unnatural stillness, some tension" (480). Immediately Didion intrigues us and pulls us into her piece by starting in media res. In that secction, we are given sensory details, interpretations, history, and even the voices of other writers, like Raymond Chandler. We are not just told why there's tension and stillness in the air; Didion gives us the context and the importance of the Santa Ana winds.
The longest of all the vignettes, the first piece spoils you a bit. You get all the information you need plus more. However, as "Los Angeles Notebook" moves on, the pieces get shorter but do not lose traction. For example, the fourth vignette about the English actor's wife is complete despite being less than half a page long. We start in media res again and we also end in a quasi-middle, but the story does exactly what it needs to do. It pull us in, roots us in the scene, and then pulls the gut-wrenching punch line, "'He...is...also...a...fag...,' she says pleasantly."
Didion, as a writer, finds traction in her unique voice, style, and awareness of the reader. She's a careful writer who does not choose her words or construct her pieces flippantly. I highly doubt she would ever start a story with, never mind write, “John Maloney hunched his shoulders against the bitter wind coming off the lake.”
I believe Didion's piece meets Birkert's definition of traction because it hits the reader hard.
You cannot read that piece without being hit with the beauty of her narrative that is so unique. The way she describes the Santa Ana winds makes the anxiety palpable to her readers.
More than word choice, her style choices also show traction. She refuses to conform to standard literary style and it grabs the readers to be enamored by the piece.
Didion’s piece finds Birkerts’ definition of traction pretty well. Birkerts describes traction as “the way that a sentence or a paragraph or a page of prose lands, how it does or does not anticipate and then address the resistance of the open attention.” The way Didion sets up the rest of the vignettes with the first vignette gives you a means of knowing what to expect, but also a desire to see what will happen next. Didion describes the Santa Ana winds as an uneasy time that sets everything a little off balance, and that vignette serves as the opening to the other events in the story. Each of the scenarios are events that are perceived to be bizzare and out of the realm of reality. To us they may seem this way, but to Didion these events are the products of a Santa Ana, an event that sets everything off course.
Birkerts' definition of traction as a positive element in writing is present in Didion's piece, "Los Angeles Notebook."
She anticpiates "how the prose will land on the page" and does it in a way that leads the reader's mind to fill in space between vignettes with content -however brief. She's writing about simple things: people at a bar, a stop at the grocery store... but there is meaning behind the words. And she's not writing something that one would expect the reader to identify with, it's not "safe," it's not "hunched his shoulders against the wind."
Plus, as we discussed in class, she gives enough in the prologue for the reader to embrace the later content. She ledes into it by talking about impermanence and unreliability. It totally works and I think Birkerts would approve.
I loved how he said not to assume that a common world exists and a writer need only set their average characters free in it. ... "I don't mean for a moment that the world as we know it can't be invoked, or used, or dissected. Of course it can. But it cannot be taken simply on faith." -SB
I think Didion's piece, "Los Angeles Notebook," definitely meets Birkerts' definition of what "traction" is. Birkert writes that traction is ""the way that a sentence or a paragraph or a page of prose lands, how it does or does not anticipate and then address the resistance of the open attention." Birkerts' main point is that he must be convinced that something is newsworthy and new, that is doesn't fit into the conventional and traditional literary form, which is no longer applicable today. He also says that you cannot make the assumption of a "common world" and just drop a character or story into it. Didion contextualizes her vignettes with the prologue about the Santa Ana winds and the bizarre effects they have been known to have.
By setting up her vignettes with this introduction, the rest of her vignettes, which are seemingly disconnected, in fact make sense with the strange nature of the winds which she has already presented. While Didion starts in the middle, which draws the reader in and keeps you holding on, she sets and up and establishes the world and reality in which she is writing.
Joan Didion’s Traction is immediate in this segment from “Los Angeles Notebook”. At the start, she describes unsettling phenomena uniquely without assuming rational explanation or making kitschy general statements about it that would grossly understate or miss completely cultural/sociological significance. She merely sets scenes that convey important tangible physical and emotional effects. Her vignettes are diverse and revealing – engrossed by the Santa Anna Californians act on razor’s edge with a disturbing, sweaty discomposure. Most of her Characters seem agitated and abrasive, narcissistic, superficial and dumb, all in all just shitty people.
From reading Birket I see traction as some sort of anticipation or awareness of writing itself (along with the reader). The words fall on the page and it's up to the writer to create something with momentum. I think Didion does just this. As I was reading her piece, her sentences seemed to just roll right into one another. She creates motion with her writing and it's hard to look away. However, the irony comes in when you just know that Didion took her time and selected each word carefully, each vignette carefully. She gives the reader something to hold onto in the beginning and then continues to only give away just enough information for the reader to make their own conclusions based on this map of meaning she's constructed. She's neither complicated nor simple, but rather meaningful and sharp in her descriptions and I believe that creates the "traction" that Birket refers to.
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