Another lesson on writing from Calvino, and his method is one of showing, then hinting, then telling in case you didn’t get it:
A glance into the refrigerator allows other valuable date to be gathered: in the egg slots only one egg remains; of lemons there is only a half and that half-dried; in other words, in basic supplies a certain neglect is noted. On the other hand, there is chestnut puree, black olives, a little jar of salsify or horseradish: it is clear that when shopping you succumb to the lure of the goods on display and don’t bear in mind what is lacking at home. (p. 143)
And here it is, the lesson spelled out for us:
Observing your kitchen, therefore, can create a picture of you as an extroverted, clearsighted woman, sensual and methodical; you make your practical sense serve your imagination.
Calvino is making these words serve double duty. Even as he tells us how an author might make a story full and rich, he is doing so. Up to this point we’ve had little to go on to imagine Ludmilla; we each, however, have formed some sort of image of her. Here, in the defined Second Person of ‘you’, is some detail that he controls.
He controls. Think about it.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
I’ve been “off the grid” and buried in work for a few days and wow — lots to catch up on. I’ve just gone back and read all of your posts since I last checked in. I just love your analysis of this book. You make me want to read it all over again.
I do know that this book is one that I would save as a ‘read-again’ too!