I have only skimmed this, but it discusses the Hitler Diaries which I remember learning about via another ficticious diary as a kid- The Diary of Adrian Mole. Metroactive Features | Forged Diaries
There have been some interesting comments about Fictious Diaries and why it seems to rankle us so. It seems to be a two part dilemma. Firstly, it is clearly very annoying when the fictious diary is innacurate, despite what Taylor says about it happening in Hollywood or that it being fiction excuses it from being accurate. The general consensus seems to be that this is sloppy work, and inexcusable.
Le Docteur emailed me about his experience of reading Cloudstreet. He came a paragraph where a character finds a New Yorker from 1945 that seemed to be entirely dedicated to Hiroshima. This is a famous edition of New Yorker. And it was published a year after the war finished. 1946. As Le Docteur pointed out, this kind of poor editing inevitably affects the way in which you read something.
Secondly, there is the element of being "lied to" and while, of course, ficiton in general sets about to tell stories and to "manipulate" the reader into feeling the way the writer wants them to feel it becomes something quite different if you think that real lives are involved. Claire sent me this link about the Kaylee Nicole blog hoax of 2001. This is obviously an extreme example of why creating a fiction and passing it off as fact is a bad thing, but I think it also indicates how easy it would be to get caught up in your own story and characters. It also shows you just how convincing that first person narrative is- we tend to believe it, which is the whole point, for instance, of ghost stories and urban legends. They work because the person telling you "knew the person this happened to".
Of course, the other thing is that I really dislike the other extreme- the overly researched historical fiction where the author's discoveries are set like gleaming jewels in the narrative. You can imagine the author finding out some fabulous piece of trivia that really adds nothing to the narrative but they simply cannot bear to leave it out. So the characters will make some reference to these new-fangled pens that you don't need to refill or comment on a new type of vegetable that has been brought back from a voyage to the Americas. Very irritating, I find.
Kate Taylor has written a novel about Proust- a work of fiction. It includes an imaginary diary written by Proust's mother. This article looks at the problems she encountered as a result of doing this. It reminds me of the negative feedback Drusilla Modjeska received when she included a fictious diary by her own mother in Poppy. People seem to react strongly to the notion of invented diaries. I wonder why?
A 35th Birthday saw us drinking Caipriroshkas and eating smoked salmon pizzas on a Tuesday night, normally such a dull evening. R told me about her experiences in Cambodia, years ago. She was there during the Lunar Festival and watched the rituals of giving presents to the monks. "The presents were so strange" R said. "An apple, batteries, a handful of sticky-rice, money, all thrown into the same begging bowl. When the bowl was full, the monks would tip the whole lot into a big garbage bag sitting behind them- sticky rice, money, the lot." "Really?" I said "How weird." "Yes, it was. Then later we were at the market and all the monks were there with the money, buying a karaoke machine."
What kind of songs would Buddhist monks perform as karaoke, we wondered. All I could think of was "Just a Touch of Paradise."
R's household has an annual party on Valentines Day and it is a very plush affair. Last year they had a kissing booth. "Are you having the kissing booth again this year?" we asked. "Yes. And this year it is being video-streamed into the loungeroom." We look horror-struck. Would anyone really subject themselves to this? "I have also managed to track down a life-size cardboard cut out of Aragon." "Son of Arathon?" "The one and the same. I had to have him sent over from The States. It's costing me 110 dollars but it's worth it." "Maybe he could be in the kissing booth" someone suggests, hopefully. "Maybe." says R. "After the party I'm going to hire Aragon out so that people can take him to dinner or whatever."
Marcus sent me this link yesterday:Influences [dive into mark]. Mark Pilgrim looks at the notion of blogs as conversation. saying "it is most definitely people talking at people and not with people. That they occasionally happen to talk back at you.... does not make it a conversation in any traditional sense."
Hmm. Interesting. I'm not entirely sure if I agree although I do agree that there is a lot of ranting that goes on within blogs (but not, I must say, on the ones I read.). It's definitely not a traditional conversation but I do think that people converse through blogs and not just via comments or emails. It's something about the way one writer will pick up on a topic and write about it. Information and ideas are passed around from blog to blog and I suppose I see this as a conversation.
Mark also looks at blog fame and why it is that some people's blogs sky-rocket while most languish in obscurity. And should this matter? Or should us non-famous bloggers take heart in Dave Weinberger's Warholian observation that all blogs are famous to 15 people? More later, I think.
Yes. You're interested in "voice" and all of that stuff. I thought it would be interesting to see what it's like having another voice writing on your blog.
What kind of stuff are you going to write about?
Oh, you know- the usual stuff. Commentary, links, observations, my MA research.
I didn't know you were doing an MA.
I've just started. It's on why humans blog and if there could have any use for bloggging in the ant community. I've got a grant.
Well, it might be interesting, I guess.
I thought it would be useful for when we go to Cambodia, too.
I went to see the recently returned Frontier Librarians last night as I probably won't get a chance to see them before heading off to Cambodia on Friday. We talked a bit about how they had found the blogging experience while they were in Borneo and I really should record some of their reactions before I forget it.
The interesting thing from a reader's perspective was noticing how the voice(s) of their travelblog changed. When I set it up for them I really imagined Petite and I would be the only ones reading it. However, the 'Rents both told a couple of people at their workplaces in Australia about the blog and before they knew it they had a readership. (I think librarians like new technology.)
There was a definite change in tone once they realised that people they didn't really know were reading their blog- not surprising, of course, but interesting to observe. They both mentioned also how the application influenced the way they wrote. Left Foot had that horrible experience of writing a lengthy post and then having it disappear into the ether on attempting to post it which made her write much shorter posts. Right Foot found that his style of writing was somewhat restricted and restrained by the blog layout, and that he found it difficult to muster up the enthusiasm.
But I really loved their blog and it was great to be able to keep up to date with the small details of daily life in Borneo. And they received a lot of praise from other loyal readers, many of whom urged them to "publish". Ah yes, publish...
The sky on my walk to work this morning was weirdly white from the bushfires at Mt Beauty. You could even smell the smoke. I remember the sky during the Ash Wednesday bushfires in 1982(?)- orange and menacing.
As I walked passed the Fitzroy Gardens I saw a group of guys all dressed in khaki shorts, camouflage t-shirts and caps, standing near a 4-wheel drive. They all looked slightly embarrassed. Painted on the side was "Corporate Combat Personal Training. We'll get your privates into shape."
On Saturday I buy a new backpack. I've had my old one for 12 years and it was never a great example of backpack engineering even when it was new. We now refer to it as 'The Fridge' because of its dimensions and shape.
I went into the backpack shop sternly saying to myself "Do not look at your reflection in the mirror with the backpack on. This is not a fashion accessory. This is a piece of luggage. It's not meant to look good. You want the backpack people to take you seriously. They will not take you seriously if you flounce about in front of the mirror wondering if the backpack makes you look cool."
The guy who comes over to help me is someone I went to art school with. When you meet up with someone from art school the first question you always ask is "So, are you still making art?" I say no, and he says no, me either, but he is now making kyaks.
I say "I remember you made a boat at art school and you wore it around like a suit." He looks at me strangely. "That wasn't a boat" he says "That was a house. I wore it on my back like a snail shell." Oh yes. I remember now.
The other thing I remember about him was that he did a project with gold leaf and if you asked him nicely he would apply the scraps to your fingernails. It is a wonderful feeling to have gold extremities.
I basically know already which pack I want but I try a few on anyway while he tells me about them and why these ones are good. "They're made of canvas, not material with a plastic coating sprayed on" he says. "These ones are designed for women- they are broader at the waist and narrower at the shoulders." "They have adjustable straps here here and here. You can adjust them perfectly to fit." He looks at me. "Why don't you see how it looks in the mirror?" I hesitate but it's irresistable. I want to know what it looks like. The mirror is full length. The packback looks pretty good. Much better than The Fridge. I do a few twirls. "I like it" I say to him. "Does it come in any other colours?" "No." he says. "That's it." "That was a joke" I say "I don't care about the colours really." "Of course" he says.
