Russian Novelist Ivan Turgenev, "My friend, return to literature!"

Last week I happened upon a copy of "Father's and Sons" by Ivan Turgenev, the 19th century novelist, playwright and short story writer. Here I thought Russian literature was all Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, and Chekhov, then this guy shows up!

As I read, slowly, deliciously, each morning, I traveled to rural Russia in the mid-1800s, into the lives of his exquisitely drawn characters. That's what stood out most: the characters. I had them so firmly imagined that I knew who was speaking each line of dialogue -- it was just that great. The descriptions were simple and detailed and so perfectly consistent that you felt them.

It's a story about a son who comes home from college with an older friend, almost a doctor, who was scientifically-oriented and questioned everything, absolutely everything, causing a stir wherever he went. The story essentially debates, "nihilism" and explores the differences between generations, the differences that are always there. It was fun and interesting, yet deeply philosophical, and Turgenev accomplishes this almost without the reader noticing, it is so deftly done.

It was pleasant reading -- not what everyone says about Russian writers having too many characters and convoluted plots.

I was putting myself there with them, riding in a carriage pulled by a troika of horses, sitting in the garden reading, or spending the afternoon listening to someone playing classical music on the piano. No TV, no radio, no Internet, hell -- no electricity! Up at sun up, lighting a lamp at dusk, asking for a woman's hand in marriage, announcing your arrival at an estate, this is how they lived. I thought of what steadiness and peace and tranquility that would be!

But I'm sure the less romantic side of their existence would make the reality perhaps unlikable for a Modern Man. I remember Henry Miller saying in "Tropic of Cancer" how absolutely frustrating it was to not be "at the machine" (typewriter) when some of the most brilliant thoughts hit. They didn't have laptops or voice recorders or portable HD video cameras, no, they had to remember, sift through it and write it down by hand.

They also defended honor with a duel (you know Tolstoy once challenged Turgenev to a duel?), with both men honestly following the ground rules (8 steps, or 10 steps? One or two shots? You load the guns or shall I? Until death or only wounding?)

So at first I had imagined how easy they had it -- no distractions, no buzzing electricity, no electronic music, no big screen TV. But then I thought of just how easy we have it: online dictionaries, thesauri, quick and easy reference searches on Google to find facts. There are no excuses. And we can always go off to the country and camp out, if we want to.

Back to Turgenev: he was such an influence in Russian literature -- world literature -- on his death bed he pleaded with Tolstoy: "My friend, return to literature!"

Which is what I, and all of us, need to do.

It's Tough Serving Two Masters

Chekhov started his career as a doctor. When he began to write, he was pulled in two directions until his short stories started selling and he was able to be a full-time writer. Later, when reflecting on that period, he wrote of how difficult it was to "serve two masters."

To keep things going economically, to provide capital and time to invest in my writing, I research and publish information technology reports. It's been my primary career for over 25 years, but I really wish I could devote all my efforts to my novels, plays, screenplays, essays and poetry. (yes, poetry, but I will not publish it until I'm dead and gone!).

I was complaining about how serving two masters scatters my mind, how it frazzles me and prevents me from going all out as a writer. But a friend of mine listed all of the horrific life situations many famous writers overcame, and as he went, I realized, really, I ain't got it so bad. I mean, I live by the Pacific Ocean and also have a place in the beautiful mountains of central Mexico. In the last year or so, I've been to three Cuban cities, seen plays on Broadway, went to Las Vegas, San Felipe, La Paz, Cancun, Puebla, Chouloula, Ensenada, and seen bullfights in Tijuana, Mexico. My compatriot writers had it pretty tough: John Fante went blind and dictated his last few books and screenplays; Thoreau and Walker Percy had tuberculosis, which weakened them, causing Percy to write mostly lying down, and sending Thoreau to an early grave; William Burroughs was a lifelong heroin addict; Carson McCullers spent her life in depression; Hemingway was most assuredly bi-polar and an alcoholic, as was Faulkner, Fitzgerald, Bukowski, Capote, Tennessee Williams, Kerouac and many others; Poe was a flat out nutcase; Wilde was sent to a cold, damp prison, even Shakespeare was a pothead.

So you just have to play the hand you're dealt, and do the best work you can. And the craziness, the strain, the strife and struggle can be a great influence on the art itself.

Technology and Writing

Technologies impact what is written, what gets published, and even impacts the characteristics and content of the writing. Novels used to be shorter, due primarily to the arduousness of writing and proofreading by hand, and the cost of typesetting the book. Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men is just over 100 little pages, and Fitzgerald's Gatsby isn't much longer.

Today, popular writers churn out books using pretty standard language. There's a lot of copy-pasting going on, a lot of formula writing that is pushed on the public. Basically, popular novels today are like watching TV. Pretty canned. I believe writers in the past created works that were more like watching live theatre where there is spontaneity and risk.

And I wonder if writers like Chekhov or Oscar Wilde would have made it today or if they would have labored in obscurity. I like the purity in their works, untainted by technology (although I know I am losing something with translations of Chekhov).

Technology of the times affected other writers. When portable typewriters became available, Hemingway had one, Tennessee Williams had one, and it changed their lifestyle and made writing just a little bit easier, and more portable. A laptop computer today provides amazing advantages.

But I wonder what is lost by not writing by hand and crossing things out. I don't usually do that, unless there isn't a computer available. But when I started my Katrina book, I wrote on the back of an envelope, then re-wrote that and continued writing in a journal. When I finally got to a computer, I was zooming out 3,000-4,000 words a day, and I was able to edit and improve the work on the fly. Of course, there were many edits after that, but they were rapid-fire, since I completed the book in less than a month.

Technology allowed me to publish my first book, and it is allowing me to post this from Mexico, while listening to the local New Orleans radio station.

But I still wonder what is lost with the rush of technology we have available. Certainly that combined with the oligarchic mass media cuts out many true artists, those who are on the fringe, are being muffled or trampled, depriving the world of, perhaps, some great works.