My wife and daughter and I made a special trip to Borders in Elk Grove since it will be closing its doors forever in the next few weeks. I browsed fiction for a few minutes and began to think about how much I've enjoyed reading Stephen King's "On Writing." Yes, I thought, I might want to try to find another book by another author on writing. I happened upon Pat Conroy's book, and at first look wondered if something with a cover this atrocious could be all that good. It was all that good and more.
Though I'd heard of a couple of his titles, I'd never read anything by Conroy. 'The Prince of Tides' has apparently been made into a movie along with one or two more, but I hadn't seen any of the movies, either. Now I've read what has to be one of the best books in this genre that I've ever had the pleasure of experiencing.
Conroy uses chapter titles as clues to his experiences as a reader. In the first two chapters, he writes about his youth, focusing particularly on his mother who had such a huge and unique impact on his life. His father also impacted him immensely, but in the opposite way. He was a fighter pilot during the Korean War, and his heroism in all things military was counterbalanced by his utter failure to communicate love to anyone of family. Conroy's first book, The Great Santini, was his experiment in understanding his father, primarily, and other members of his immediate and extended family. I lost myself in a world of Pat Conroy the child as I read with complete mesmerizing excitement and found by chapter three that my commitment to reading and writing would cement itself in my psyche by the time I'd finished this work of art.
Conroy gives the reader three chapters entitled, the teacher, the librarian, and the book rep. In these he discusses his experiences in learning from individuals who believed in him. What's nice is that even as a young person, Conroy believed in his abilities to write and believed that he would one day be a successful writer, this thanks to his mother and his sheer obsession and lustful devouring of literature of all kinds. These individuals supported his love of literature in many ways. Conroy describes, for example, his Beaufort High School English teacher as "...the exceptional and scrupulous man I had been searching for my whole life." Mr. Norris (the teacher) was exceptional, indeed! His influence on Conroy lasted for decades, and not just in the heart of the would-be writer, but in life. Conroy and Norris developed a friendship that would last until the day Norris died, and Conroy's account of the experiences that changed him as a person and a reader and writer were moving. One can only hope that the influence of such a human being will gift him or her in life.
In the chapters, "The Old New York Book Shop" and "My First Writers Conference," Conroy effectively tells of one of the first places for writing that became his haven as he worked on and completed one of his first novels. His relationship with the bookstore owner is revealed in only the wonderful way that Conroy could reveal it. And I was pleasantly surprised at his reaction to the first writers conference that he attended. Let's just say that it wasn't exactly what he'd expected. But that's what Conroy does in this book. He writes the truth. The reader can feel it coming through the words, the sentences that flow so freely and like poetry. It's as if you are there with him as he walks through the crowds of writers; like you have been invited to the event and have been given the privilege of hearing his thoughts.
Conroy writes about authors at length. I found myself keeping notes and ordering books as a result. Three that I'll start with are Report to Greco by Nikos Kazantzaki, Look Homeward, Angel by Thomas Wolfe, and The Great Santini by Pat Conroy. In one of his chapters, Conroy writes of Thomas Wolfe and the effect of his works on his life. After I read this chapter, I sat and looked out at the sky, trying to fixate my glance on nothing so as to take in the words that I'd just read. It's as if Conroy wants his reader to find an author that has this kind of effect upon them. He wants the reader to indulge him or herself in something greater that mere words, for as Conroy states, perfection and eveything from a book are to be expected.
I could go on, but suffice it to say, this book is a must read for readers, and as close to a necessity for writers that I can imagine. As I stated to my wife and daughter, and many times to myself as I read, "How does a person do this; write this well!" I'll be reading this book again and again, and each time I'll enjoy it more. Please read this. Please do.
10/10
Oh, the joy,
Steve
