Don’t hate, imitate

“Originality is nothing but judicious imitation. The most original writers borrowed one from another.” - Voltaire

Nikolai Gogol

For literature students across Victoria, Australia, the Outcome 2 of Area of Study 2 is a creative response to a text in which you are required to “choose from the text stylistically appropriate features including characterisation, setting, narrative, tone and style” to incorporate into your own piece of creative writing.

To quote from the VCE Literature Study Design, the purpose of this assessment is to “learn how writers develop images of people and places” and to “develop an understanding of language, voice, form and structure.” In addition to analysing and imitating the techniques used by this particular writer, you are also encouraged to explore the concerns and attitudes of the writer, “draw inferences from the original text and speculate about the writer’s purpose.”

Before we discuss how to go about this task, let us talk for a moment about its grander purpose. Having authored the Literature Study Design for 2016-2020, my teacher understood the importance of modelling and imitation in the mastery of any craft or skill, whether it be painting, music, writing, or even sport. People who wanted to learn pottery-making, for example, would learn by copying the techniques and styles of master potters, until they were able to develop their own unique techniques and styles. Likewise, the path to becoming a better writer begins by emulating pre-eminent writers which you admire. My favourites during Year 12 were Terry Eagleton and Herbert Tucker - Mr Eagleton for his lucid yet lively analysis and prose and Mr. Tucker for his convoluted but also lively analysis and prose. As I read their work, I would internalise their voice, borrow their vocabulary and sometimes steal a golden phrase or two. Far from being “original", many of the ideas I explore in my writing are a mixed concoction of the ideas I picked up from reading journal articles, books, literary criticisms etc. which I processed and made my own. This task taught me that creativity flourishes best when it is grounded in a solid mastery of the craft in the question. Now, let’s jump right in!

This task typically consists of two parts, the short story and the commentary which serves to unveil and explain the decisions behind the creation of the story as well as highlight the stylistic similarities between your writing and that of the artist you are seeking to emulate. Or, as the Study Design puts it, the commentary “reflects critically upon their own responses as they relate to the text and discusses the purpose and context of their creations.”

Naturally, the first step is to analyse the genre and stylistic features of the text. For Nikolai Gogol, these include

• Magic realism

• Comic exaggeration

• Satire & irony

• Lengthy, detailed descriptions of character

• Lack of resolution or happy ending

• Stories usually centred around mundane, monotonous St. Petersburg life

• Colloquial language

• Explores issues of class in Russia

From here, I begin to find examples of each feature which I will dissect, analyse and produce my own version of as an exercise. I might ask why the author chose to write about everyday life in the genre of magic realism which distorts reality and renders it absurd – so absurd, in fact, that it rings awfully true. This may then lead me to ponder upon how Gogol achieves this feat, and how his various techniques – how the fragmented, incongruous nature of his story contributes to the irony in which they are steeped in. I might wonder about how, despite its humourous overtones and comic exaggerations, the stories savour strangely of satire. Or perhaps it is precisely the hyperbole that allows Gogol to effectively satirise and critique the state of Russian society during his time: we laugh because it’s true, our laughter is an acknowledgement of both its accuracy and absurdity.

Below are a few excerpts from my own short story, which I wrote for my assessment, along with my commentary, for your edification and enjoyment. I based mine upon two of Gogol’s short stories, “The Nose” and “The Overcoat”.

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I must confess, my dear Reader, that I am a little embarrassed about the story you are soon about to hear. I do not think it particularly interesting, nor particularly strange, but seeing as you are quite eager to be entertained, I shall think it my humble duty to oblige you.

The devastating incident (as I’ve heard it described) took place on the most mundane of Monday mornings. I cannot remember exactly the date, but it was a Monday, I am sure. The fickle Melbourne weather had not yet recovered from its foul mood the night before, and a grey fog still hung sulkily over the slumbering city. At this particular time of day, the Central Business District was remarkably at peace – save, of course, the band of runners that are seen daily pounding the streets in flamboyantly fluorescent active wear. Of all the kinds of people I know, I must say runners are the strangest of them all. They seem to belong to a whole different species of man. […]

Here, at the heart of Melbourne, strange things were beginning to unfold. The clocks at Flinders Street Stations, previously regarded as purely ornamental, suddenly began to tick. On the corner of Kings Way and Albert Road, an unpleasant smell permeated the air. Upon further investigation, it was discovered that the sewage had leaked in the Mac.Robertson Girls’ High School and the entire area was forced to evacuate. The principal of Melbourne Grammar declared no school for the sake of his students’ health and wellbeing, while the girls of the renowned high school were required to board a boat at Stop 20 and row their way to school, for it was said that nothing could get in the way of their education. The younger students wore gas masks, while the senior students – apparently accustomed to such an event occurring - seemed completely unfazed by the smell.

However, nothing that morning could have served as sufficient warning for the disaster that was about to strike Mr. Buckazerg that day. His alarm clock ticked patiently by, waiting for its brief moment of stardom. The time came, and it buzzed to life, vibrating violently on the bedside table before Mr. Buckazerg’s chubby hands came down on it with a smack, silencing it. Today, Mr. Buckazerg did not even need to press snooze. He was eager to begin his morning ritual of thoroughly perusing each of his social media accounts and taking the time to appreciate each ‘like’, each ‘love react’, each genuine, heartfelt comment. This routine was absolutely essential to Mr. Buckazerg’s wellbeing. If, for some unavoidable reason, he was prevented from engaging in this important task (such as that tragic time he cracked his screen and had to send it off to the repair store), he would tuck himself into the foetal position and groan feebly, as if in some sort of unspeakable pain. […]

It comes as no surprise, therefore, that when his phone, which was lying safely under his pillows the night before, completely disappeared the next morning, Mr. Buckazerg positively flipped. In a burst of rage, Mr. Buckazerg roared, ripped the doona from the mattress onto the floor, felt around every square inch of the bed and then, upon finding nothing, fainted onto the bed which bounced underneath him.

Meanwhile, the phone was busy asking for directions to The Mac.Robertson Girls’ High School. According to recent reports, it is hungry for a world-class education and hopes to graduate as an iPhone 8 early next year. (So far, the country has been nothing but supportive of its ambitions. We wish it the best of luck and all the success in the world.

When Mr. Buckazerg finally awoke, life seemed to stand before him like a solid black canvas, devoid of all colour and meaning. What became of him after this point, nobody knows for sure. Some say he’s still in hospital, others say he stays in his apartment all day, waiting for his beloved to return. Rumours these days are quite untrustworthy and we must always be on our guard. Of course, it would be quite abrupt of me to end the story here, but for the sake of my authorial integrity, I cannot publish what I do not know to be accurate and true. […]

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Commentary:

"Perhaps one of the most salient features of Gogol’s short stories is the conspicuous presence of an idiosyncratic narrator. Historically, the narrator in literature is not so much a device as a natural phenomenon: the inevitable link between the spoken word of the ancient oral tradition and the written word of the literary forms which replaced it. However, the narrator in Gogol’s stories not only relays the plot which is usually the focus of any short story; rather, the narration itself is the plot, in the same way that a painting may be of an object but the painting is also an object that is observed. Gogol’s stories abound in digressions and diversions – abrupt shifts in focus that bring a temporary halt to the story. Just when we are about to hear of Kovalyov’s mad dash to the Head of Police, we are held up by a prolix description of “the kind of collegiate assessor this man was”: “His shirt collar was always immaculately clean and well-starched. His whiskers were the kind you find among…anyone who has full rosy cheeks and plays a good hand at whist.” This pattern can also be found earlier in the story, as the barber Ivan Yakovlevich makes his way to St. Isaacs bridge. The narrator suddenly dives into a discussion about the barber’s fashion and shaving habits as if it were an afterthought. In my adaption, I employ the same technique of diverging of the main road when, for example, I start elaborating on “the band of runners” halfway through a description of a city scene. Time continues, then halts again, when I break off into a synopsis of Mr. Buckazerg’s character. The fragmented nature of both Gogol’s stories and mine can be seen as representative of life itself: a perpetual series of tangents that lead you from one moment to the next. As Pisakarev puts it, it is as if “some demon had chopped up the whole world into thousands of pieces and then mixed them all together indiscriminately.” This jarring disjunction is also mimicked in the mismatched patches. Twice in “The Nose”, the “whole incident becomes completely enveloped in mist” to the point where “it is really impossible to say what happened afterwards.” The two stories which make up “The Nose” are also deeply incongruous despite them being two versions o the supposed same event (in one account a nose disappears, in the other, a nose appears.) Although this leads one to assume that this nose is one and the same, in the barber’s tale, the nose is thrice dead: it is first cut from a living face, baked in an oven and then drowned in a river. However, the nose in Kovalyov’s tale is very much alive, riding about in a carriage and praying in church, as if it were truly a “person in its own right”. This striking incongruity is never explained, for the foundational faults in the story reflect the flawed texture of life itself. Absurdity and inconsistency exists in our everyday world, as the narrator of “The Nose” writes, in closing: “…well then you won’t find much that isn’t on the absurd side somewhere, will you?”

My story begins with a cue – “you are soon about to hear…” – which is immediately followed by a digression. Instead of the “strange” anecdote that the reader anticipates, the reader is fed bits of seemingly irrelevant information so that their expectations are subverted. After enticing the reader with the delightful prospect of entertainment, the narrator denies them satisfaction. This small act of infidelity toward the conventions of narration plays a part in the story’s mission of critiquing society, namely, its growing addiction to the instant gratification provided by social media through their devices. The structure of my introduction is adapted from that of “The Overcoat” and “Nevsky Prospekt”. In “The Overcoat”, Gogol announces the story – “In one of our government departments…” – then pulls back, retreats, and embarks on a lengthy disclaimer instead. Similarly, in “Nevsky Prospekt”, Gogol begins by establishing the enchanted aura that Nevsky Prospekt seems to possess. It is portrayed as a place that appears to have spiralled out of the imagination and refuses to be pinned down to the real. Everything is constantly on the move; carriages “fly past”, people are “carried away” and street urchins “race down…like lightning.” Although initially glorified as the brilliant “crowning beauty of our capital”, by the end of the story, it is revealed to be nothing more that “noise and glitter”. Here, Gogol deliberately misdirects the reader and creates in them false expectations. Interestingly, this deception ties in with Gogol’s final conclusion, that “all is deception, all is a dream, all is not what it seems.” In my creative response, the description of the Melbourne city almost realistic to lure the reader into believing that the story is set in the world we know. Afterwards, the reader realises this is not the case for not only is it highly unlikely for a phone to run away, the elements of the real are also distorted and exaggerated, for example, Mr. Buckazerg’s dramatic reaction to the loss of his phone. In doing so, I encourage the reader to question their perception of reality and doubt their instincts so as to open up their mind to new ideas.

The rambling digressive nature “The Nose” also recreates the air of spontaneity that comes with oral storytelling. The Russian word skaz, which refers to a particular form of oral narrative and is derived from the word skazat (“to tell”), is also etymologically related to the word rasskaz, meaning “short story”. Much like Gogol’s short stories, skaz is characterised by a personal narrator, a simple man of the people with restricted intellectual horizons and linguistic competence, addressing his audience in a markedly conversational manner. Gogol utilises a middle-man, the narrator, to create distance between the storyteller and the story, and therefore the reader from the story, for the reader is observing the narrator observing the story, rather than the narrator moving within the story itself. In doing so, Gogol not only gives the narrator the liberty of judging the characters he describes; Gogol also invites the reader to do more than passively perceive. As we are not transported directly into the story, we more inclined think critically about the story. Rather than take the story at face value, Gogol, through his inadequate narrators, encourages the reader to decide for themselves what to believe and what not to believe. By discrediting the veracity of his own tale at the very end, Gogol acknowledges its fictional; yet because that is an already-realised fact, the reader is then prompted to consider the underlying message and purpose of the story. Similarly, in my adaption, I reate the illusion of second-hand storytelling through remarks such as “I cannot remember exactly the date” and “according to recent reports”, suggesting the possibility of the narrative being slightly askew and enhancing the sense that it is being told by a secondary source.

[…]"

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As autumn settles in and motivation drops with the leaves, don’t lose heart! Sport a cute beanie, head over to a café and write over a hot chocolate and overpriced croissant. The croissant might not be worth it, but your hard work will be :)

With love,

Dawnie

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