No
one draws a garden in the mind's eye as Elizabeth von Arnim does.
No
one writes about Cornwall like Daphne du Maurier, or about India like
Rumer Godden, or China like Pearl S. Buck.
No
one makes use of the autobiographical 'I' quite as Christopher
Isherwood does.
No
one builds suspense into their novels like Patricia Highsmith, and
holds you there, in thrall.
No
one invents and inserts twists into popular fairy tales quite like
Angela Carter.
And
no one writes as sparingly, as simplistically as Hemingway.
Though
some try.
Because
we are all triers, and naturally want to emulate those who found
success or those we admire. Yet no one can produce a better body of
work, in our opinion, than they have already. They have set the bar
and set it high, almost beyond reach.
We
will never tire of them, of their novels, though some of them have
long grown tired and disappeared into the ground or been scattered on
the wind.
Still,
anyone that comes after and expressly tries to take up their pen will
seem a poor Jane Austen, a second-rate Virginia Woolf. It cannot be
done; it would be all wrong.
Why
do we compare? Why can't a newly published author or a newly
published novel be like no one, like nothing before? Do favourable
comparisons bring sales? Attract readers? It's not about Self, it's
about who you're like.
Has
everything been done? Everything including the many ways in which to
write and create a novel: describe a landscape, sketch characters,
tell a story. Maybe it has, but surely how words are used will always
be different...
No
one means subtle differences. No one can be the same. If one tries,
one will fail. One can master a craft that way, but success, if based
on this, will be short-lived once the fuss dies down. No new readers
will be won, and the old may fade away, because you are not that
one, their shining star. Their beacon of good authorship. One will,
at some stage, disappoint; or be unable to break from the act of
imitation. One then cannot become what one wants to be.
Agatha
Christie has gone; let her be. Kafka does not need to be improved
upon.
A
silent or a little known character does not need to have his or her
story told.
A
good story does not need to be revised or extended; narrated from a
different perspective. A story should be left where the author left
it, as intended, and more especially if it's an unfinished piece of
work. It's enough to wonder...or be satisfied.
Public
demand should not be given into by the original author or by another
writing in the name of. One does not have to obey what the agents,
what the readers want. Not if one bows to it from pressure, gradually
yields to it with no inner conviction. If the creative urge can't be
wakened it should be not forced. Explored, but never forced. Ideas
are sometimes that, just ideas: to be played with but not acted upon.
A
novel that's great can't be made greater; an author once (and still)
considered great can't be made greater still. Revision is the death
of greatness. Revision by others dilutes talent; elaboration kills
it.
And
yet it will be done. Based on. Loosely. Adapted. Abridged. The
'classic' brought to more people through these methods. And on each
occasion the main voices will be different; the story will change.
The opinions of listeners, readers, viewers too will shift. It will
be done again. And again.
One
is alike; no one is alike.
No
one will write about inappropriate infatuation like Nabokov. Lolita
was a bad girl.
No
one will, like C. S. Lewis, create a world quite like Narnia, and if
they do it will merely seem Narnia-like or Tolkienesque.
No
One is the name some artists use, to hide.
Picture credit: Captain Nemo, N C Wyeth (source: WikiArt).
This post was written in 2019.
