Plum Island Wildlife Refuge
I recently interviewed the poet Gregory Orr for a book of interviews with poets on the topic of religious faith. The book will be published by Tupelo Press in the fall of 2011. Orr is the author of ten books of poetry and the haunting memoir The Blessing, in which he writes about the accidental death of his brother in a hunting accident when Orr was 12. Orr was the one who fired the gun. Now in his sixties, Orr said that he realized a few years ago that he had spent his whole life writing about death. Why, he asked himself, was he writing about death when he loved life so much?
I thought of his words when I was walking across the snow-covered dunes at the Plum Island wildlife refuge this weekend. The stark plains of gray and white, captured in this photo, were so beautiful. I have always been drawn to monochromes. Though this photo was shot in color, it looks like black-and-white. I love that absence of color. The eye and mind are focused in a minimal landscape. The scene is reduced to its essence.
I have sometimes been accused of writing stories that are too sad. When my first book was published, readers wrote to complain about the ending. Why did I choose such a sad ending? My standard answer has always been that more is at stake in this kind of story, for the characters and for me as a writer. A serious story stays in the mind in ways a piece of writing that is more entertaining may not. I lost a good friend to cancer when we were both 21. This early loss shaped me and gave me, perhaps, a more tragic sensibility, as the terrible event of Orr’s childhood did for him. But now, Orr says, he only wants to write about life.
My favorite books remain the great tragic novels of the 19th century. Gregory Orr has made me think about the kind of stories I’m drawn to, and the kind of stories I want to write, though. Drama for the sake of drama alone is meaningless. It’s only when an exploration of the tough situations we all face is linked to a larger canvas – the basic stuff of human life – that it resonates. If you look carefully in that monochrome, you’ll see a hint of color.
“Now in his sixties, Orr said that he realized a few years ago that he had spent his whole life writing about death. Why, he asked himself, was he writing about death when he loved life so much?” I too am often drawn to stories and poetry that face death and all the complexities we feel as we face it. Your comment rings most true to me: “Drama for the sake of drama alone is meaningless. It’s only when an exploration of the tough situations we all face is linked to a larger canvas – the basic stuff of human life – that it resonates. If you look carefully in that monochrome, you’ll see a hint of color. ” It was your lovely photo that drew to me to your blog and I’m very glad I found it. Many thanks.
Thanks, Pam. Being drawn to writing about death is understandable. I’ve been prompted to think, as I indicated, about how and why I write about death -about the context. I appreciate your comments.
Wonderful post! Thank you.
Thanks, Caryn!