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The Killer Inside Me

2/22/2017

Hello and welcome as we take a journey into Another Year of Fiction. I decided to kick off this year’s experiment with a novel that was recommended to me by several people last year: Jim Thompson’s incredible 1952 crime novel The Killer Inside Me. Having received accolades from such luminaries as Stanley Kubrick and Stephen King, Thompson’s most famous book is a terrifying dive into the psyche of a normalized serial killer. The notion that depravity lies just below the surface of a small-town demeanor is one crucial theme of this novel, but there are some very important writing lessons to take away from it as well.

The unreliable narrator. Thompson takes this about as far as it can possibly, or humanely, go. Lou Ford is about the most untrustworthy narrator one could create for a crime novel, as it’s written from his perspective. We see him commit the first crimes, and for a long while he (and the reader) thinks he’s going to get away with it. It’s only later that we can see the mental breakdown of the deputy sheriff and how events and evidence conspire against him, leading to his understanding that there will be no escape. This would have looked a lot different from a more omniscient perspective, and that is why the first-person narration works so well for this book. Not only that, but Thompson does a monumental job building this character and showing how well he blends in with the other residents of Central City - a truly horrific portrait.
Not having to reveal everything. There were a few contributors to Lou Ford’s “sickness” during his life, but as readers we are only privy to a handful of scenes that illustrate what he’s been through. There are mentions of his father, brother, and the family housekeeper, but Thompson deftly keeps these things to a minimum so the reader has to fill in the holes of what happened that turned the main character into such a monster. While initially this disappointed me, I came to understand why Thompson made that decision (along with a major reveal at the very end): it’s much scarier to imagine what all happened to this guy to turn him into a killer.

This was in my estimation a phenomenal book, and one of the creepiest I’ve read in some time. While I would recommend it, I’d direct that more toward people inclined to read crime/mystery or horror novels. But if you can stomach the dark vision of humanity and what lurks underneath, it would be hard to do better than this novel.

Next up: I decided a good antidote to the bizarre, misogynistic churn of our culture would be that most classic of feminist novels, Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. (But mostly it’s because my wife has been asking me to read this one for years.)

Stay tuned for the next essay in Another Year of Fiction. And thanks for reading.

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Bird by Bird

2/10/2017

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Hello once again readers and welcome as I wrap up the final title from My Year of Living (Actually Reading) Fiction. As with Reading Like a Writer, I wanted to bookend last year’s list with another tome on writing. I decided on Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird, which had been recommended to me by a few people. The book itself was decent, but had some glaring issues I couldn’t overlook. Lamott is much less funny on the page than she seems to think she is, and I found myself stunned that her editor didn’t try to correct this irregularity. Despite this there were a few portions that did make me laugh, and there are many excellent ideas through the entire book. I want to turn to some of the main lessons I took away from this work:

Writing exercises. Lamott stresses the idea of leaving yourself short assignments, which could be as simple as writing down what you see around you or trying to recall as much as you can from childhood events. Another way to look at life from a writer’s perspective is to see it through a one-inch postcard, which forces you to keep only the details that are relevant to that small space. Lamott also relishes the idea of a Polaroid picture, in which the writing gives way to a completely original idea or notion you may not have seen initially, but after enough composing comes through as clear as day. I found that analogy to be particularly inspiring, and hope to be able to set up my own short assignments this year.
Shitty first drafts. Lamott uses this crude phrase quite well, the overall point being that everything you write will indeed begin as a piece of crap. We as writers shouldn’t fear this happening because nobody is ever going to read it. We need to get over the fact that most of our beginning work is going to be pretty worthless; it is through such work that we can get to what we mean to actually say. I found this section particularly inspiring as I continue to struggle with the first draft of my current manuscript.
Index cards. This is another idea that, while I struggle to see much of its use in the age of the Internet, is still worth trying. Lamott says she writes down basic, everyday experiences or conversations on index cards and scatters them everywhere. The notion is that we never really know what in our lives may be useful to our writing, and while a lot of it ends up going nowhere, we may yet find the nugget of a story in there someplace.
Writing groups/having someone read your work. This was a major takeaway for me, and I hope to be able to locate some other writers to form a group at some point in the future. Lamott claims it’s a great way to get to know people and to create a safe zone for work to be exhibited. More granularly, finding just one separate person to read and consider your work can be invaluable for a writer. I have been lucky enough to encounter a few of these kinds of people over the years, and many of their insights were important and helpful.

While there are many excellent pieces of advice throughout this work, I am not going to give it my full recommendation to other writers out there. Lamott really could have used a stronger editor as the book weaves in and out of her rambling considerations of her own talent, her internal feelings, and how nerve-wracking the writer’s life can become. While I don’t doubt many of us have experienced these things, it’s equally if not important to find ways to break through the self-doubt. All of this being said, there is a reason why this book has been a massive bestseller for years and is routinely included among lists of “books on writing.” There is absolutely a lot to gain from reading it, so I certainly would say take a look if you enjoy her previous writing (and I must confess this is the first book of hers I’ve ever read).

This wraps up my first year experiment in reading nothing but fiction (and two books on process). Up next, I begin my foray into Another Year of Fiction. I have decided my first book will be Jim Thompson’s 1952 novel The Killer Inside Me. Stay tuned for an essay on that book in the coming weeks, and as always thanks for reading!

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The Killer Inside Me

Bird by Bird

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