Writer as a Listening Body

I was talking with a friend of mine a few weeks ago about writing about place. We’re both new(-ish) to Alaska, and we both try to engage the place we’re living—the idea of the place, the reality of the place, the deep history, the non-human… So many aspects. But Alaska is making us mute. Not literally mute, or even figuratively. And yet, we’re having a hard time with the words.

When I lived in Nebraska, writing about the place came a little easier. Though I wasn’t born there, the interest I had in the place felt like I was pouring water into a channel that was subtle—more so because it was ignored. The energy of the water moved smoothly; the water itself was welcome. In flyover country, you’re just happy to be noticed. Beats the hell out of being ignored and taken for granted.   

But Alaska… Alaska’s a tourist destination. It’s a state that conjures images of gold, oil, wilderness—Romance. People from all over the world want to travel to Alaska. And the stakes are much higher when a writer engages that energy.

The reverse of that energy is the protective feeling that the people who live there year-round harbor. If you’ve ever lived in a tourist area, you know what I’m writing about. And you’re immediately suspicious of anyone who drops in for a week or so, takes notes, and then zips away to write their “insights” into the place. I grew up in the Southern Appalachian region, and history of people coming down to tell us our errors and how to save ourselves is long. And hated.

 So what’s a writer and scholar interested in place supposed to do? In a word: Listen. To people. To history. To land. To the non-humans living in the place with you. Listen for complication, for confusion, for the awkward spaces where issues and populations overlap. I’m frequently not very good at it. But I’m trying. And this is a great place in which to be listening.

 

 

Comments

[Daryl Farmer]

Thanks for this, James. I greatly relate, having been an outsider in a variety of places for most of my adult life, but also hailing from a place that is often misrepresented by those who write about it. Or, at least it feels that way. I like what you say about listening, too. Reminds me of one of my favorite quotes:
"I like to listen. I have learned a great deal from listening carefully. Most people never listen." --Ernest Hemingway

Most people, maybe. But those of us writers still Cheechakos up here in this North better.
Peace!

[Karen]

What a great way to think about learning a new place. I also find that reading--both types of writing you identify--is a huge part of my learning process too.

On a separate note, I posted this post on my own blog (hope that's okay)--it's my blog for my place-conscious teaching. http://minnesotababine.blogspot.com/2011/09/while-writing-lecture-on-setting-for.html

Glad to hear you're doing well!

-k

[Erin]

Hey James, hang in there. I've been in Alaska almost twelve years now and am just beginning to feel "at home." I write poetry and other things down here in Homer. If you guys are up for a road trip, come down to see us. Fairbanks is a great town, lots of fabulous writers and plenty of great people on staff at UAF. Looking forward to hearing more from you.

take care!