I learned something new. It should be obvious. Realizing this feels like a Homer moment (meaning "Doh!", not epic poetry, though the Odyssey has some nice ah-ha moments).
Setting in books is more than the place where the story occurs. Setting is a mindset.
You’d think this would be more apparent, especially to someone who studied ethnomusicology in undergrad and cultural anthropology in grad school.
I came to the realization simply: I gravitate toward certain books and certain authors. And almost all of these certain books and certain authors are set in (and are from) north of D.C. (and on the east coast). Makes sense. I’m from New Jersey, and though I’ve lived in Texas for longer than I’d care to admit, my mind works like a Jersey girl’s mind.
(My sub-realization that my mind is that of a Jersey girl’s: when I visit Jersey every year, the people there, granted, mostly family, but not all, get me in a way that Texans never will. Andy Crouch said in Culture Making, "Most of us have experienced being in a context where our jokes were funny, our ideas provoked interest and excitement, and we felt light and quick on our feet, able to realize our vision with little sense of friction–and then being in another context where the same jokes and ideas fell completely flat and we found ourselves tongue-tied and embarrassed." I’m funnier in NJ than I am in Dallas.)
Recently, I’ve read several Southern fiction books. I admire these books. They’re well-written, but I don’t go gaga over them like other people do. I can’t relate to how these people think.
Let me quote a review of South of Broad by Pat Conroy. I have not read this book, but this line from a review captures why I feel estranged from Southern fiction.
It’s possible that the sobbing and sniveling occasionally felt
inauthentic to me because I am a priggish New Englander who is
uncomfortable with what may be a Southern penchant for drama. (From The Washington Post’s Book World/washingtonpost.com. Reviewed by Chris Bohjalian.)
In the end, Southern fiction veers on the sentimental. Odd coming from a drama-queen like myself. But as my dad always told me, "Walk it off." I’m drawn to the more subtle and no-nonsense like Russo or Tyler or Olive Kitteridge. I come from a world where sarcasm is a love language. On the east coast, we prefer neuroticism to wallowing. Think Woody Allen v. Rebecca Wells, When Harry Met Sally v. Steel Magnolias.
This explains why I can’t seem to set my stories in any place but New Jersey. I’ve tried, but the characters don’t work anywhere else. Call me a regionalist, but I’m just saying. I am what I am. When you say "the ocean," I think Atlantic (and, more specifically, picture my own Ocean City, NJ). When you ask for a Coke, I will give you the actual brand. When you call me "ma’am," I will be insulted.
So tell me: do you prefer Southern charm, west coast hang-ten, midwest helping hand, or east coast sarcasm?
who you callin’ neurotic???
there are a few popular authors I won’t read due to that sticky-sweet stuff. I won’t name names to protect the innocent.
Did I say neurotic? I meant the greatest people on the face of the earth, of course.
Great post, Heather. My problem? I’m a West Coaster. Orange County. So Cal. And anything I’ve ever read that’s based here makes me want to hurl. Maybe I have not read enough books based here? I’m open to suggestions. Really! But I don’t feel at home here. Even though it was home until my mid-twenties.
Oddly enough, I recently realized that the books I cherished the most growing up (besides Anne of Green Gable books) were about the South. When I was a little girl and would go to Disneyland, I wanted to live in the French Quarter section of the park. And the Pirates of the Caribbean? Well, I though the restaurant inside the ride and the opening part with the gnarly Cypress trees, Spanish Moss and lightening bugs was my kind of place. And that goes waaaay back to when I was a wee thing.
And now? I simply love the south and southern fiction. So far, everything I’ve ever written is based there. I’ve got the sarcastic, neurotic thing down too though. So who knows?
Maybe I can chalk that up to my time in DC? Anyway, it’s funny you wrote this because I have been thinking a lot about this lately.
I’m not sure where I fit. Or belong. But I do know one thing for certain…I’ve been drawn to the south and southern fiction my entire life and didn’t even realize it until recently.
You’re a southern belle all the way, Elaina!
I vividly remember when I first moved to Philly saying something intended to be funny and everyone in the room just looked at me like I had two heads. Or like I should be kept with other mentally handicapped people. Now I go “home” to Indiana and find that no one can understand what I say ’cause I talk too fast and I can’t understand what they say ’cause I’m too bored.
I guess all this is why I enjoy fish out of water books. I love reading about country girls who make it in the big city and city girls who fall in love with the country. I love books that authentically show how uncomfortable and silly people can be while trying to appear “normal” in a culture or situation that is not their own.
Sarcasm as a love language? I think I could handle that! :p
This is an excellent post. You often hear people talking about how a good setting is a character (or at least a personality) all of its own. But I don’t know that I’ve heard anyone discuss how our *own* settings can affect our perception of fiction – and yet, of course, when you think about it, it’s blatantly obvious! Thought-provoking, to say the least.
Suddenly I picture you in the part of Mona Lisa Vito, in My Cousin Vinny –
Um . . .
Made me smile.