Tag Archives: writing

How art changes us

Posted on April 15, 2013 by Kestrel Slocombe

I began to understand art as a kind of black box the reader enters. He enters in one state of mind and exits in another. The writer gets no points just because what’s inside the box bears some linear resemblance … Continue reading →

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This Unknown World

Posted on February 11, 2013 by Kestrel Slocombe

It’s about time that everyone who writes—especially genuine literary artists—admitted that “in this world you can’t figure things out.” . . . The crowd thinks it knows and understands everything; the stupider it is, the broader it imagines its outlook. … Continue reading →

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Trauma Fiction

Posted on February 11, 2013 by Kestrel Slocombe

“Beyond stating the bare facts, trauma cannot speak of itself. If it could, it wouldn’t be trauma. The odd purity of true suffering, in this case, is that it demonstrates nothing.” – Burning Down the House: Essays on Fiction (Charles … Continue reading →

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The Godliness of Objects

Posted on February 10, 2013 by Kestrel Slocombe

I recently re-read “Talking Forks: Fiction and the Inner Life of Objects,” an essay from Charles Baxter’s book Burning Down The House: Essays on Fiction. To me, the most interesting parts of the essay were when Baxter touched on the religious … Continue reading →

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Why Chekhov Wrote

Posted on January 21, 2013 by Kestrel Slocombe

I still do not have a firm political, religious, and philosophical outlook: I change it monthly, and therefore I’m compelled to limit myself to the description of how heroes love, marry, produce children, die, and how they speak. – Chekhov

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ANIMAL RIDENS: Striving for the Natural in Augie March

Posted on September 28, 2012 by Kestrel Slocombe

Note: ©2010 Kestrel Slocombe. Written in my junior year at Bennington College, in the Malamud, Bellow, & Roth class taught by Professor Doug Bauer. From beginning to end, The Adventures of Augie March continually returns to the idea of the … Continue reading →

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My Great Weakness

Posted on June 25, 2012 by Kestrel Slocombe

Once in a while, I give in: I buy books. When I do, I limit myself with the following parameters: the book must be either 1) extremely unusual; 2) so long that if I got it from the library I … Continue reading →

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