Tuesday, February 24, 2009
The Wednesday Sisters
The Wednesday Sisters by Meg Waite Clayton
You could see the Linda who'd settled herself on a tree branch where no one could see her and tried to spin for herself a web of imaginary friendships, a world of Charlottes and Ferns and Wilburs. The child who built I-don't-care-if-I-offend-you walls, who decided she didn't want friends other than the ones she found in books.
"This is preposterous, "Brett said. "We're supposed to boil four hundred manuscript pages down to a single paragraph?"
"Like churning sweet milk," Kath said. "How about this, y'all? How about you start with a question to draw in the reader, then give them a little peek at the story but don't tell the ending? Show them a little ankle, maybe some calf, but don't go sleeping with the boy before the wedding day."
That discussion did leave me wondering, though: Why are we drawn to sad stories? Why did we all read the book, knowing we were in for the dying-girl ending? Why did we go to the movie that December-Ali MacGraw and Ryan O'Neal-having already read the whole tearjerker book? No one wants to be sad in real life. You want the sad life behind door number one, Monty, or the happy ending behind curtain number two? And yet sad plays well in literature. Romance and tragedy. Romeo and Juliet, Anna Karenina, Madame Bovary. Why is that?
Posted by Staci at 6:45 PM