I've suffered repeated crashes of my CPU today, which worries me, and unfortunately lost one good essay. Into the ether, never to return. You know what they say: Oh well.
Whether you read what I'm about to recommend this weekend or not, have a good weekend!
When you write a blog intended for entertainment or pleasant diversion, you get used to the fact that not every post is for everyone. Some are. Some might interest 80%, others 40%. Some might interest only 5%, but that's okay because everyone's important.
The fewer people a given item might interest, the more it ought to reward them, however. I have to admit that this is probably going to interest maybe only half of 5%. Call it 2.5% of all of you, as a wild guesstimate.
Still, this is something remarkable.
When I was young I wanted to teach, and one thing I wanted to teach was expository writing. "Expository writing is writing that seeks to explain, illuminate or 'expose' (which is where the word 'expository' comes from)," says writing instructor Andrew Cedillo. "This type of writing can include essays, newspaper and magazine articles, instruction manuals, textbooks, encyclopedia articles and other forms of writing, so long as they seek to explain. Expository writing differs from other forms of writing, such as fiction and poetry."
One of my running fantasies as the years have gone by was that one day I would edit, or compile, a book of short examples of great expository and nonfiction writing. So, naturally, over the years I've been on the lookout for these, and have noted them as they've flitted past. They've included everything from great magazine articles, to letters, to online writing, to sections of books. Examples of the latter might include David Stafford's description of Hitler's death in Endgame: 1945, Jon Krakauer's account of climbing Devil's Thumb, or Susan Jacoby's "Middlebrow Culture from Noon to Twilight," which is Chapter Five of her book The Age of American Unreason. I even had in mind including a few examples of "nonfiction within fiction," for example in David Copperfield where David tells about his time working as a bottle washer at Murdstone and Grinby's. Dickens worked as a bottlewasher when he was 11, and that section has a detectable veracity that makes it resemble reporting.
In other words, this is something I care about and pay attention to. I mean that to amplify what I'm going to say next.
I recently ran across a long essay which I honestly think is one of the best essays I've ever read. Possibly, if this isn't fantastical to say, the best—and I've been seeking out great essays since I read Dryden and Hazlitt standing in the dim stacks of Baker Library at Dartmouth. A moving and nuanced nutshell history of World War II, it tries to both illuminate the enormity of the cataclysm yet also to burrow into the hidden experiences of individual soldiers. It's also a useful rumination on the nature of memory and the transience, even the unknowability, of history.
It's called "Losing the War" and it was written by Chicago author Lee Sandlin, who died just a few years ago at the age of 58. I had never heard of him a week ago. Here's a sample, even though any sample will only give you the merest taste of the magisterial whole:
Hitler loved architecture. He'd been an architecture student when he was young; his few surviving paintings from those years are studies of the classic buildings of Vienna. He sometimes seemed to get more pleasure out of architectural tours of his conquered territories than he did from all their looted wealth. When he went to France after it fell to his armies in 1940 he didn't give a damn about lording it over his abased enemies. All he wanted was a private visit to the Paris opera house, with a knowledgeable guide to show him the fine points of its design. That's why to this day the only book that conveys any sense of the personality behind his tirades is Albert Speer's Inside the Third Reich—the memoirs of Hitler's architect.
Hitler and Speer talked endlessly about theories of architecture and urban planning. They grew particularly fascinated by a concept they called "ruin value." They'd both been impressed by how imposing and beautiful the monumental constructions of the Roman empire still looked after so many centuries of catastrophe and vandalism, of storm and earthquake and the slow incessant gnawing of the wind; and they wondered how the great works they were planning would hold up a couple of thousand years down the road, when the Reich itself was half forgotten and new empires were contending for the world. Maybe it was possible to factor a certain decay mode into their designs, to ensure that some picturesque element of each structure would survive. Arches or pediments or rows of pillars could be reinforced far beyond the requirements of the load they would carry, so that they would still be standing after the rest of the structure was dust—ensuring that even the wreckage of the Reich would inspire awe.
Speer's memoirs reproduce some of the sketches he did to illustrate the idea of ruin value. They show the immense public works projects he'd been designing—the titanic capitol dome, the new ministerial buildings, the 300-foot-tall triumphal arch—in a state of picturesque decay, half-crumbled and overrun by weeds. Hitler adored them. The members of his inner circle loathed them. They were uncomfortable with the idea that the Reich would ever fall, then or in a thousand years, and they darkly wondered if Speer was some kind of subversive troublemaker, playing to the fuhrer's mysterious and disturbing fondness for images of twilight, decay, and tragedy.
For those few of you who have the patience for the equivalent of 40 pages of reading this weekend, I believe you'll end up feeling that you were amply and deeply rewarded for your trouble. Hope so. Don't feel obligated, of course—I do know this will appeal to only a few!
Either way, see you on Monday. Have a nice weekend.
Mike
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(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:
Kurt Shoens: "Oh, my heavens! I found that essay on Lee Sandlin's site years ago, copied it, formatted it nicely, and now have read it dozens of times. I have a version on my Kindle and on Google Docs. If I chance to read just a little bit of it, I will re-read the entire thing again. Sadly, I have recommended it to several friends and I'm pretty sure none of them have read more than a few pages. Until I read this recommendation, I thought I was the only one who finds it spellbinding."
Mike replies: I'm with you. I just discovered it, but I am really looking forward to reading it for the second time. And I doubt the second time will be the last time.
Speed: "I'm just now reading John McPhee's Draft No. 4: On the Writing Process. A fine and entertaining piece of expository writing. Alas, (and for me thankfully) it is likely not short enough to fit inside Mike's book."
Mike replies: I adore McPhee, and corresponded with him for a while many years ago. There are many bits of him here, there and yonder that would serve, but I think I'd go with his amazing collection of bear stories from Alaska, in Coming Into the Country.
Keith Haithwaite: "Out of curiosity I download the essay and formatted it for reading having read the first page (I hate on-screen reading)...I hit the close button some three hours later having been emotionally stirred more than I have been in many, many years. Thanks Mike."
Frank Grygier: "Thank you for posting the essay. After reading this...
They soon invented a ritual to be performed as soon as they were fitted with their new uniforms. They'd rush out to photographers' studios and document the occasion for their proud families. The mantels and nightstands of America were strewn with these relics—soldiers posed with quiet dignity against a studio backdrop, half turning to face the camera with an expression both grave and proud. Some guys couldn't help clowning and left photos that baffle people to this day: foreheads furrowed, jaws clenched, eyes fixed and furious—tinted by the studio not ordinary pink, but a belligerent orange rose, like a Halloween mask.
"...This portrait of my father took on a whole new meaning for me."
[Ed. note: Frank tells me his father survived the war. "He is gone now but lived a good life."]
"[Y]ou get used to the fact that not every post is for everyone. Some are. Some might interest 80%, others 40%. Some might interest only 5%, but that's okay because everyone's important."
You could be writing about photographs.
Posted by: Joe | Friday, 01 December 2017 at 08:50 PM
I am proud to be part of the 2 1/2 %.
I've saved this article and the Sandlin article to read when I have time.
I don't know whether I will agree with you about how great it is, but I know that I agree with you that clear expository reading is one of the things that makes life worth living.
You've read Baker's _The Peregrine_? Too long to be an article probably, but short and brilliant.
Werner Herzog describes it better than I can : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YzYyxY7NksM
Posted by: TE | Friday, 01 December 2017 at 10:55 PM
Windows 10. Doesn't crash.
Posted by: Barry Prager | Friday, 01 December 2017 at 11:18 PM
Going off-topic, but are you not using a text editor that auto-saves periodically to the cloud service of your choice? Ever since I started doing that I haven't lost whole pieces of work, maybe just 5 minutes of writing.
[Well, I do, sort of. It requires that I remember to do the first save, though. Then the TypePad compositor does an autosave every so often. You'd think I'd do the first save after the first word or the title or something, but I'm not always good about it. At least I didn't lose the post about the new Leica 50mm. --Mike]
Posted by: YS | Saturday, 02 December 2017 at 12:55 AM
I read this, with great interest. I think this off topic stuff is great; it makes the blog more personal and interesting.
I do appreciate the way you avoid the common setup for blog posts, which is title, barely relevant photo, text, repeat. That bores me silly; it's a bit like those posters people make (not so common now) which are like this:
Food! (Clipart of sandwich)
Hot drinks! (Clipart of hot drink)
Pets! (Clipart of....)
While you make posts on a photography blog which work very well with no photos at all.
Posted by: Roger Bradbury | Saturday, 02 December 2017 at 07:33 AM
Strange. Have to read it later and complete. The short sample you present here offers - at least to me - rather strange explanations. y
English not being my mother tongue, I might have missed something, but I do not think that Germans and Japanese were that dumb and superficial. Anyway, could you explain, why do you value that essay so highly? I might be in those 98.5% who just do not see anything like real explanation in there ;-) Is it the writing style, is it the historical content (ehm), or is it something completely different? If I right now proved that I do not understand a joke, well, please excuse me.
Take care
[Hi Robert. I changed the sample for you. Really, no sample does the essay justice—its profundity builds, from its modest beginning until the end.
And in any event, I don't want to get stuck in the position of hectoring anyone to read this. I don't mind what anyone does. All I'm saying is that I think this is a rare find. Please, though, suit yourself, and I mean that with perfect sincerity and no animosity whatsoever. --Mike]
Posted by: Robert | Saturday, 02 December 2017 at 07:48 AM
I haven't had the chance to read it fully but it looks exceedingly good - thank you for posting about it here. Skimming through it, it raises interesting points in relation to Brexit.
Posted by: Patrick Dodds | Saturday, 02 December 2017 at 08:40 AM
A classic example of expository writing within fiction (that I am sure you are aware of) is Melville’s description of the rendering of a whale in “Moby Dick”.
Posted by: R. Edelman | Saturday, 02 December 2017 at 10:26 AM
Hitler was never an architecture student. He applied to the art academy in Vienna and was rejected, but they told him that he would be a great architect and offered him admission to the school of architecture, which he declined.
He did love architecture, though.
Posted by: Christopher Crawford | Saturday, 02 December 2017 at 10:41 AM
Count me as another fan of John McPhee. Among my favorites are his books on geology and geologists (Rising from the Plains, Assembling California, etc.). One day I went into Barnes & Noble looking for one of McPhee's books. Not knowing what section to look in, I asked an employee. "Oh, we have a special section for him," he said, and led me to it.
Posted by: Chuck Holst | Saturday, 02 December 2017 at 01:20 PM
Well I read the whole damn thing last evening and have been struggling ever since to figure out how to comment on it. The discussion of Hiroshima did bring back memories of my father who was glad it happened as it saved him from a very likely deployment to the western Pacific. Sandlin is correct that this is just one horror in a huge list that both sides amassed over the course of the war.
I also was reminded of an army buddy from the '60s that I have unfortunately lost track of. He was known in our battalion as a sort of hippy just waiting out his time before being discharged. One day we had a dress parade and he showed up with a whole pile of medals including a Silver Star. This caused quite a consternation among the lifers who accused him of wearing medals he was not authorized for. He referred them to his official 201 file and told them to go to hell. With the help of a fair amount of alcohol we managed to get the gist of the story from him. He was a medic and the medals were for multiple instances of pulling wounded soldiers from burning tanks, a true hero. A rare instance where the gap between combat life and peace life was at least partially breached. Sandlin is on point in exploring this important gap which causes much misunderstanding for both sides.
Posted by: Terry Letton | Saturday, 02 December 2017 at 01:31 PM
Just finished "War and Peace." Great recommendation, thanks! Re expository writing, might I return the favor and recommend any and every one of the anthologies by John McPhee: Annals of the Former World; Coming into the Country...
Posted by: Al C. | Saturday, 02 December 2017 at 09:09 PM
I read the Sandlin essay over this weekend, loved it. The detail on some of the battles, plus the descriptions of the mindset during the war of individuals,as well as large populations, is fascinating.
I was born in the fifties and grew up with uncles and aunts who had lived through the war, but I was listening through the mind of a child to their stories.
This piece made me revisit some memories of their characters, as well as the feelings evoked by their storytelling and reassess some of the recollections in a new light.
Posted by: Peter McKenzie | Sunday, 03 December 2017 at 05:42 AM
As a young man, Hitler mostly painted small pictures of Vienna's architectural wonders. Although the Academy of Fine Art in Vienna rejected his application, it recommended he pursue architecture. ... Being bohemian and living on the margins, Hitler lacked the discipline to pursue a degree in architecture. He continued to drift and eked out enough to survive from sales of his watercolor pictures-- mostly to tourists.
After rising to power, Hitler and Albert Speer, architect, developed a close friendship. Hitler's ideas on modern architecture were delusional, not visionary. His sensibility dovetailed with Speer's aesthetic: reductive bombastic neoclasical oversized buildings.
Hitler was not a licensed architect.
Posted by: Bob Rosinsky | Sunday, 03 December 2017 at 03:40 PM
Count me in for the 2.5%
As for 'expository' writing, this software might be of help for you?
https://youtu.be/Ethl7gu5Gzg
As for forgetting to save a file in time, you might check out Google Keep.
Maybe it helps.
PS I find you at your best when you are writing on non pgotographic issues.
Groetjes, Gerard from Vleuten, the Netherlands
Posted by: GJM Geradts | Sunday, 03 December 2017 at 04:20 PM
It read to me like Science Fantasy; somehow familiar, believable and unbelievable at the same time, a verity sustained by wonderful writing, touching old well-known bases well enough to validate new ones.
A fine read. Thank you.
Posted by: Michael Mejia | Sunday, 03 December 2017 at 09:37 PM
I found a new perspective on the time span of WWII
Ask a Chinese '31 to '45
Ask a Spaniard '36 to '45
Ask a Russian june 41 to may '45
Ask an American december '41 till august '45
Ask a Dutchman:
If he was living south of the rivers may '40 to September '44
If he was living north of the rivers may '40 to may '45
If he was living in the Dutch East Indies '41 to august '45
The compexity of history.
Posted by: GJM Geradts | Monday, 04 December 2017 at 05:40 AM
@HJM Geradts, maybe ask a Pole 1939-1991 or thereabouts :-)
Posted by: Richard Parkin | Monday, 04 December 2017 at 08:39 AM
GJM Geradts, some war memorials in England show WWI as 1914-1919, instead of the usual 1914-1918. I've heard that this refers to English forces fighting the Bolsheviks.
Posted by: Roger Bradbury | Tuesday, 05 December 2017 at 02:59 AM
I just read Lee Sandin's essay for the very first time. Thanks for drawing my attention to it.
Posted by: Søren Kristiansen | Tuesday, 05 December 2017 at 08:39 AM
Thank you for the recommendation. I will read it with interest.
Posted by: Dillan | Tuesday, 05 December 2017 at 09:37 AM