The novel: A Human Project

Today marks one full month as a graduate student. The ride has been thrilling, generative, and productive.  Which is why this is my first blog since returning from England. Since I last wrote: I’ve had the privilege to attend a faculty reading at my university, attend a Master Lecture taught by Jill McCorckle on The Heart is a Lonely Hunter and attend a reading and author talk of The Fraud with Zadie Smith. My literary loving heart is overflowing, my personal life is simmering on the back burner, and for the first time in a long time, I feel proud of myself. I didn’t even realize that until I just typed it right now, but I suppose, if I typed it…it must be true. 

As Joan Didion said, I write to know what I think. Percival Everett, in his most recent masterpiece James took it one step further: “With my pencil I wrote myself into being. I wrote myself here.” This, friends, is how I feel these days. Alive. Writing myself into being one painstaking word at a time. (If you’re interested, my book review of James by Percival Everett is linked here).

I have been dreaming in scenes and poetry again and writing poetry for the first time in a long time. And most importantly, I have reconnected with old friends and met new ones. It is interesting living in a new city. I can understand now why my father wanted to stay in California, even in not so ideal circumstances. To live in a new city is to try on a new persona, to recreate yourself in all the best ways. Paying homage to who you are and conjuring anew who you would like to be. 

A few weeks ago, Zadie Smith said to me, (and by me, I mean an auditorium full of people, but I was in the second row!), that “the purest form of the novel is creating a series of human beings.” That novel writing at its core is “a human project.” This completely blew my mind. When you think about it, though, it makes sense. Was Gatsby great? Yes! What are the plot points of the novel? Not many people remember. Trust me. Just try casually discussing Gatsby at a bar. Take James, for example: shifting the POV of Huckleberry Finn to James changed a few plot points, but what makes that novel transformative is the human being Everett created: James. He’s not a caricature. Everett endowed James with the dignity of flaws, wants, conflicting desires, scruples, rage, and kindness. 

Speaking of Characters as People:

Recently, Barrett and I have been etching away at the tv show Dave. I don’t really know what happens in each episode. What I know is that the character Lil Dicky created by David Burd is extraordinary. Even on his most mundane day. I could watch his character put together a set of legos in real time. He is so absurd, and I love him. 

Speaking of characters, on Saturday, I was walking into The Center for Fiction and this Park Slope looking dad was pushing his stroller through the doors. I stepped aside to hold the door, and it was none other than Michael Cera. I looked at him and the first words that came to mind were “Well hello.” He looked at me and replied curtly, “Hi.”

I walked away with my mouth open. Even though Michael Cera lives in the area, the bookseller behind the counter looked surprised as well. My favorite part of the interaction is how normal he was, how rude, and miffed by my mere presence. He tends to play sweet, endearing characters. Plus, he’s Canadian. I love it when people are drastically different from the characters they play. It makes me feel at home.

Things I should have said to Michael Cera:

At first, I cursed myself for not having a line up my sleeve. I grew up in the LA Metro area after all. This isn’t my first celebrity sighting. I was, at that moment, a Butabi brother, waiting outside the Roxbury, The Center for Fiction, and I didn’t have the gumption to yell that Breakfast Clubber’s name: “Emillliooooooo.”

I walked upstairs and begin compiling a list of what I should have said to Michael Cera organized by movie and tv show:

1. Arrested Development: “George Michael, remember, there’s always money in the Banana Stand” and then begin clucking like a chicken.

2. Superbad: “Oh, my god, hi. I actually think Spermicidal Lube is a sweet gesture.”

3. Barbie: “Allan, you truly are one of a kind.”

4. Scott Pilgrim: “When I’m around you, I kind of feel like I’m on drugs. Not that I do drugs. Unless you do do drugs, which case I do them all the time.”

5. Nick and Nora’s Infinite Playlist: “I hear the Jerk Offs playing a set in the Bowery tonight?”

   
   

   

   
   

By the end of my writing exercise, I began to think differently about the whole interaction. How does Michael Cera not know who I am? Did he not recognize that I am Rachel Isaacs Allen, endowed with literary prowess and delusions of grandeur? 

At any rate, this human project is still evolving and misses you all. If you made it to the end of this unhinged blog post, welcome to the bizarre recesses of my mind on my favorite drug: creative writing.  You are a true friend. 

This week’s Champagne Toast is to my cousin Sheyna who is flying in on this gorgeous Champagne Thursday to come visit me!