Midrash: the Old, the New and the Sacred.

Midrash is the act of re-writing a religious/mythological story so that it either applies to contemporary times or reveals a secret that was not told in the original version. A Jewish tradition, midrash can be done by telling the story from a new perspective, disclosing events that were “left out” of the original telling, or by using contemporary characters/ setting to retell the story. Unfortunately, midrash isn’t very widely known outside of the Jewish culture, but it is a fantastic writing exercise and a great way to experiment with characters and story. It’s also a good (and fun!) way to study the act of story-telling and discovery – by re-telling a story in different terms (be it the timeline or what have you), the writer has the ability to model after the original telling using their own characters or take familiar characters and events in radical new directions. Not only that, it’s an awesome genre to use in the exploration of meaning and belief (both the suspension of and the holding onto) – what does it mean, after all, when someone changes the basic threads of our most sacred beliefs?

Below is a piece of midrash I wrote earlier this year. This type of narration isn’t the only way to do it, though. Midrash is – in my opinion – the most fun genre to play in because there are no boundaries on what you can do. Experiment, have fun, re-work your most (or least!) favorite religious story and see where it leads you. Not only might you learn something about your writing, you may just learn something about what you believe (and/or, depending on whom you show, the beliefs of those around you – which is often far more interesting). If you do write some midrash and want a place to post it, either use or create your own blog and let me know (wordpress is free and I’ll want to see!) – I’m always looking for people to discuss the implications of midrash.

Midrash ( March, 2008 )

“Smell of Rain”

Noah crouches at the water’s edge – in the lush little place sculpted by the river’s steady hands – filling the last gritty ceramic jar to follow his laden sons home. A woman he does not know approaches and kneels in the grass beside him, her jar – glazed intricately in purple, even lines spelling the laws of God – catching the wild rush of water.

Noah hefts, stands – thick hemp cuts into his shoulder, the jar swings and thumps against his rib – and she turns to him, her knees bent against the soil as she speaks, “Noah.” Pausing, he focuses on her voice, watching the river’s thin waves as he listens, “You are needed.” The jar under Noah’s arm shifts – he grips the dusty clay as he begins walking toward the path, veins running like wide scars across his hands.

The woman’s dark features grow soft in silver light – the expansive, blinding light of stars – and she moans in a thousand tiny voices – “Cain.” He feels something like ice spread just under his skin, and the muscles of his feet and legs become infantile – unsure of footing, balance. Noah drops his jar to the ground – rupturing the brittle sides – as he turns back to her, and his vision centers on the vessel held out on her fingertips, the script now aflame.

The angel’s voice again fills the green, shadowed space – “You may wander till the End, but you will not find Death until your debt is repaid.” He steadies his legs by flexing each muscle in turn and spits on the dirt ground. She again sighs like splintering glass – “Your task is at hand,” and it echoes, flooding the trees and pushing the leaves into waves. Noah slowly nods, turning back to the broken walls of clay and rivulets of water slowly muddying a path toward the source.

Welcome.

I am as new to blogging as you are to this page, so I hope we can enjoy this journey together. First of all, I am a master’s candidate at Longwood University, pursuing a degree in Fiction Writing. My creative work tends to lean toward experimental and gay fiction, though those are by no means limitations to my work. I also have done critical writing, book design, editing of a small university press (www.brierycreekpress.org) and am currently in the process of designing the book of the latest winner of the Liam Rector First Book Prize for Poetry, awarded by Longwood University in Farmville, Virginia. Now, onto something a bit more interesting:

Example of Creative Work:

Flash Fiction ( May, 2008 )

“Shore Leave”

Across the airstrip, the soldiers’ feet applaud against the pavement while Sari runs toward them, her children’s hands in hers, to welcome her husband back from the ruined land of her ancestors. She almost laughs, picturing Grandmother’s reaction to Emma in a skirt and cowboy boots at age 9, how Jack cackled for days. She hasn’t answered the phone or opened mail for weeks, too preoccupied with making sure that Jack’s arrival will be perfect. Her right knee aches each time her foot strikes the ground, but her legs will not slow and she doesn’t try to stop. The rock in Sari’s stomach tells her he’s there somewhere, and she pictures Jack’s grin so she can match it to his face, but features blur together among the camouflage and buzz-cuts. Adair runs ahead of Sari, his yells of “Papa” so excited and sharp that he sounds scared.

The men keep striding and Sari is the only woman – only civilian – as the stomping men surround her and move on. The first coffin is unloaded from the plane and Sari feels the blood leave her face and settle wetly in her gut. She tells herself that Jack is one of the men – same height, same build – carrying the plain wooden box, an American flag placed delicately overtop. Sari feels a tight pinch on her clammy palm and she jerks away from her daughter’s hand as if Emma’s tight grip carries the same penetrating burn as boiling water. Emma looks up, not smiling anymore, asks where Papa is and Sari says she doesn’t know; Sari scans the crowd for her son’s ever-present smile and finds Adair halted beside her, searching for a quick wink on the face of every passing man.

Example of Critical Writing:

Book Review ( July, 2008 )

Lewis Nordan. Sugar Among the Freaks. 1996. $10.95.

Lewis Nordan makes clear his ability to create striking images and startling characters in this collection. Centered around the town of Arrow Catcher, Mississippi, and its strange inhabitants, these stories explore the psychology of not fitting in. Each story is filled with people – indeed, they appear as real people, with flawed and self-questioning natures, like Sugar, Molly and Sally – who seem unhappy with who they are and their view of the world and town that they live in. We watch as the characters move closer to something like contentment, closer to an understanding of their inner selves that allows them to communicate to us the humanity that all misfits possess.

The conversational, decidedly Southern tone of the stories aids the reader in falling headfirst into the prose, and the uniqueness of each character makes them stark and endearing – like the ornery Golden Rondelle and her brother Arrow Catcher. Nordan writes about a large variety of subject matter, though it always comes back to a notion of coming-of-age, no matter the age of the characters. A subtle sense of intense emotion and humor makes this collection unique, and Nordan’s realistic portrayal of the fleeting nature of human notions solidifies each character. At times – though they are few and far between – the overlapping story lines prove to remind the reader of the writer at his desk rather than unify the collection, but the deft handling of characterization proves to immerse the reader again as soon as they have been removed from the story.

This collection shows Nordan’s ability to make a successful plot, as he steers us through characters’ lives until the moment of realization comes to the reader and the character. Nordan’s skill at breaking the traditional rules of grammar and punctuation only prove to help move the reader through the stories rather than distract from them, as we see in dialogue of “Wild Dog.” The setting, at times sparsely described and at others embellished, is always introduced with a sense of each individual character’s voice and the tone of the piece in mind. However it is being described, the setting is always clearly seen and works with the characters, as if they truly are a part of it and are used to moving through it.

Part Three of the collection centers around Sugar Mecklin and his experiences as he grows up in the small town of Arrow Catcher. In these last five stories, the reader comes to know what it is like to grow up as Sugar – a boy named after his grandmother who tries to catch chickens from his front porch with a fishing pole – always searching for a place to fit in. In “The All-Girl Football Team,” Sugar tries to figure out his own budding sexuality with the help of his father as he dresses in drag for a charity event and discovers that his father’s love of drag goes deeper than his own and is rooted in far different reasons. Sugar describes the feeling of essentially becoming a woman and the joy and terror of finally feeling beautiful, especially when in the guise of someone else. Sugar illustrates the despair of being forgotten by those closest to him in “The Talker at the Freak-Show,” when his father abandons him in front of the freak show to fulfill his own love of show business. Sugar is unique and playful and toys with the reader as he tells us his life in retrospect, admittedly exaggerating fine details while plotting out the emotional journeys of childhood. Part Three is organized so that it seems that the reader experiences Sugar’s emotional journeys consecutively as he ages, though “Sugar Among the Freaks” and “The All-Girl Football team” are the only two stories in Part Three that reveal the passing of time in relation to the other stories.

“John Thomas Bird,” one of the few stories in the collection that does not connect to other storylines, is about Molly, a young woman dissatisfied with her appearance – especially when she is around her Aunt Louise, a lithe woman who embodies everything that Molly is not. Molly goes on a date with John Thomas Bird, an Air Force pilot and baseball player that her aunt introduces her to, and one of the most physically perfect men that Molly has ever met. After their date, which goes rather smoothly considering the only words John seems to hear are his own, they go to a lake for a swim. After stripping nude to stretch, John dives in the water with Molly in tow and promptly passes out after being bitten by a lamprey. Molly rescues the boy with the skills she learned at life guarding classes and while he cries on the shore, broken despite his physical perfection, Molly reveals her body for the first time without any self-consciousness as her aunt looks on. There is a sense of inevitability at the end of the story that is heightened because the outcome is unpredictable before the conclusion – this speaks to Nordan’s talent as a storyteller, and his ability to communicate meaning through experiences that seem almost true-to-life.

In another story that does not connect to the others, “Wild Dog,” Sally and her husband – a failed farmer, but not for lack of trying – are leaving their farm for the city, but must continue the upkeep until they go, one part of which is killing the wild dogs that threaten the livestock. Sally and “the farmer” – a testament to Nordan’s writing ability that the reader does not question the man’s lack of a name – wrestle with the fact that they must execute these animals. The reader sees how it affects their intimacy with one another in sparse bedroom scenes, as they deliberately touch or don’t touch one another while they fall asleep. After a wild bitch has given birth beneath the house and the farmer has found himself unable to kill the dogs until the last moment, the farmer lies in bed holding his wife and wondering about the final two dogs – one puppy and the mother – as the bed beneath them feels “as cool as the moist earth.” Nordan’s skill at crafting emotional responses that cannot be put into words is felt in this story especially, though that vein also works to unify the collection.

Some of the stories do not impress the way “Wild Dog,” “John Thomas Bird” and “The All-Girl Football team” do, much of the time because of a lack (however purposeful) of balance between scene and summary, but the collection as a whole is an impressive illustration of life in a small Southern town. Peopled with personalities that the reader can easily see, relate to and come to know intimately, this collection both warms and breaks the readers heart as it moves through stories that we have all been a part of.

These are just two examples of the creative and critical work that I do on a regular basis in the master’s program at Longwood University. If you are interested in my writing, please leave a comment and I will be more than happy to provide more examples of either writing style. Thank you for visiting my blog and please come again!

Best,

Austin