The Weekly Atticus (09/29/2018)

Listen to the Music in that Prose | The Weekly Atticus

A recap of the week at Atticus Review, along with some extras.

Dear ,

One of my favorite things about being a parent is the nightly ritual of reading aloud to my son before bed. The story itself matters greatly, of course, but reading aloud is a gift of music as much as it is story. Reading aloud to my child before bed makes me think sometimes of Pa playing his fiddle in the Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder, which I read with my son several years ago. Literary prose is every bit as moving as any other beautiful music.Or at least it is if the writer’s prose is masterful. When the prose is not so deft, the story is like a limp balloon that won’t ascend. Maybe there’s a compelling story being told, but I’m distracted by the clumsiness of the words on my tongue. I stumble. Sometimes I revise the sentences as I read. Occasionally a book we’ve begun reading together has been so unsatisfying—if not downright painful—to read that I have refused to continue. Luckily, my son understands. In fact, I can measure the beauty of a book’s prose by the raptness of my son’s attention when I read. The effect of the music on both of us is palpable. When the prose is gorgeous, reading aloud is so pleasurable it overrides my exhaustion and the nagging to-do list in my head. Beautiful prose elevates a story. One might even say it makes the story, for I can’t think of a single book I’ve loved deeply that wasn’t also a delight aurally. I will follow great prose anywhere. As a reader, it can make me interested in a subject I had presumed would be dry and boring. As a writer, it can lead me to tell a very different story than what I had imagined I’d set out to write. I’m reminded of one of my all-time favorite passages about the writing process. This is from Don DeLillo in The Paris Review’s "The Art of Fiction" series:"...the basic work is built around the sentence. This is what I mean when I call myself a writer. I construct sentences. There's a rhythm I hear that drives me through a sentence. And the words typed on the white page have a sculptural quality. They form odd correspondences. They match up not just through meaning but through sound and look. The rhythm of a sentence will accommodate a certain number of syllables. One syllable too many, I look for another word. There's always another word that means nearly the same thing, and if it doesn't then I'll consider altering the meaning of a sentence to keep the rhythm, the syllable beat. I'm completely willing to let language press meaning upon me. Watching the way in which words match up, keeping the balance in a sentence--these are sensuous pleasures."Writers are no doubt familiar with the advice to read their work-in-progress aloud. Reading aloud helps you catch awkward turns of phrase, spot boring or embarrassing passages, as well as identify unnecessary words and sentences. More than just a tool for spotting rough spots, reading aloud helps you gauge how honest your writing is. Just try to read dishonest writing with conviction.But one need not be reading writing-in-progress to learn something from reading aloud. And one need not be a parent to indulge in the pure pleasure reading aloud offers. Just open up a good book, or hey, open up Atticus Review on your computer or cellphone, and read aloud to yourself.  Thanks for reading. We’re glad you’re here.Michelle RossFiction Editor

ATTICUS NEWS

ARE YOU WORKING ON THAT FLASH FOR THE CONTEST???GET ON IT! First Prize: $500. Deadline: 10.29.2018

SEPTEMBER ATTICUS AUTHOR NEWSCongratulations to our Atticus Review authors!

THIS WEEK AT ATTICUS

FERAL TOWN by Adam Gustavson

BOOK REVIEW: SEEKING NATURAL BEAUTY IN A MAN MADE WORLDA Review of SONGS FROM THE BACK WOODS OF THE MIND by Peter KirnFrom Get Fresh Books, LLC (@getfreshbooksll)Review By Stephanie Tobia"When I flip through the pages I smell electricity in the movement of air, blending ordinary things such as automobiles, baseballs and birdcages; yet long after finishing Kirn’s book I still want to touch down and gather Earth in my palms."READ ON

FICTION: TWO STORIES by Ben Slotky"There were other signs in that Walmart, too. They said things like Bread and Milk. They said Shoes and Women’s and Electronics. Supplies and Asian Foods and Cereal/Hot Snacks. A sign for Eggs. This one said Lice. A whole aisle."READ ON

POETRY: NUDEby Annie Kantar"–as if their laughterweren’t partof my question,as if my questionwere a dolphinrising frombelow, friendly,miraculous—"READ ON

CNF: EPHEMERAby Casie Cook"We had not yet learned to swim. We had not yet learned the two of us centered in that canoe were the only threads holding our parents together—my mother’s end of the rope soaked in liquor, my father’s end holding matches and lighting them one by one."READ ON

VIDEOPOETRY: SHIVERS OF LIGHTA videopoem by Hanna Ojala"Sitting on a foreign bed,imaginary wine, soaring eaglesstaring at the past, silly and content"READ ON

FILM REVIEW: CREEPING TENSION AND SERIOUS TALENTA review of LIZZIE from director Craig William Macneill and writer Bryce KassReview by Alison Lanier"Sevigny’s performance is raw, intimate, and subtly endearing…a complicated performance that does justice to a deeply complex character."READ ON

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