Paterniti's Echo-Effect

Two other sources:
"TALK; The Money Trail", 11/21/10, New York Times via Byliner
"Travis the Chimp: The Wild One" 12/23/09, New York Times via Byliner

Michael Paterniti's stylistic strength seems to come from his haunting double-take of particular scenes of importance. The quaint, fog enveloped shoreline near the plane crash featured in "The Long Fall of One-Eleven Heavy"pulsates with the green, electrical surge of the lighthouse eye and presumptuous dread in the opening; by the end of the work, it is a place more imbued by mystery and sixth sense than before.

In Paterniti's brief summation of the tragedy of Travis the Chimp, the incident of bloodshed is rushed through, head-long (and no pun intended, but just like the plane crash of the aforementioned article), a torrent of action after which the real reflection and impossible task of reckoning may begin. Paterniti writes "Afterward, the ghost of Travis appeared everywhere", much like the billowing white clothes on the line where the souls of the crash survivors still seemed to hover. The inescapable scene that seeps into witnesses consciousness and refuses to leave here is inside the home of Travis and his "mother": "The silence was like a primal thrum, the eerie frangibility of everything -- the window curtains, the reflection in the mirror -- hung in the balance."

Paterniti's "chosen" voices, or voices of his choice, are authoritative, formal, fringe elements who are at once distant from the story, and gradually become saturated by it. The degree and rate of saturation seems to progress with the reader's level of continued immersion and involvement with the story. In the esquire piece, these characters continue straining through emotional torment, as the story sums them up in tiny, incomplete blurbs; "The Father", "The Medical Examiner", and even "A Split-Boulder Monument." This ending emphasizes, without melodrama, that the stories of broken people are unresolved, and no reporter can bandage them together. Travis is described by the chief detective as a criminal, whose motives and reactions could climax in unfathomable possibilities.

The author is inclined structurally towards lists, altered and amended to fit the mood of the particular piece. In "TALK; The Money Trail", lists of ski-trail types, luxury car models, and celebrity names outline a resort in the French Alps. A hilarious aside of listed "douche" options Paterniti imagines are whisperingly recommended to him by God herself  shows a delightful sense of humor (and that Paterniti is not merely a philosophical ghost hunter). These lists are in sharp contrast to the quickly unraveling and unnerving affect the mental checklists of the plane pilots have as they dissolve, a last grappling, before impact.

Paterniti's reporting is based on keen sensory observation. Objects are found within objects; bones are forced into coins; personal articles become artifacts, even if their retrieval is denied by family members. Things exist, even if they are not present at this moment. The sense of the fleeting is permanent for Paterniti.

Sentence Re-writes

The Kopchak family had lived in this same spot for many years; the road was named after them. This Kopchak, a retired grade-school science teacher, admitted that his knowledge of lion behavior was limited to warnings: don't look them in the eye, don't run from them. He considered the quick step that he and Red assumed as his only compromise. When he turned to look back, the lion was standing statuesque along the fence, frozen with potential threat.

The five of them were then called to the southern edge of the property, where more cats prowled. Their first target was an african lion crouched in Terry's junkyard of rusted vehicles. Riding high from the trucks vantage point, they fired multiple shots upon another group of big cats slinking down a hillside. Kanavel's target was always the head, and when this did not bring immediate results, his scope stretched on along the length of each animal's body. "I was sick, shooting these animals, because they didn't ask to be there," he says. "And, you know, I'm a cat person."

"Dolores"

Mrs. Kopchak answered the 991 operator with trepidation, realizing that the seriousness of the situation did not call for her oft used nickname, "Dolly." She thought of her son, who just then stood peering out of the barn window, watching wild animals loping across his field of vision.

Marquez's Tight-Lipped Sentences

Marquez took advantage of what he calls Luis Alejandro Velasco’s “exceptional instinct for the art of narrative”, along with his inherent humility, lending him the unembellished voice and tone of the anti-hero.

Velasco’s chronological telling of his escapade directly launches into a structural and tonal pattern of persistence. Blunt, simple sentences often introduce or conclude a tightly bound paragraph, interspersed with several compound and complex sentences that add a reflective sense of depth. A sentence with one comma is followed by another with two, and then the pattern will repeat again, returning quickly to intense, bare-boned simplicity.

Marquez strictly avoids any impetus to philosophize (and unnecessarily distort) Velasco’s point of view. The plethora of shipmate personalities and common recreational pleasures of land and society are delivered up in immense detail compared to the lonely, single perspective that will follow after the shipwreck.

Marquez is faced with the challenge of drawing out Velasco’s mainly monotonous floating voyage in order to truly represent the agony of that long, isolated, death-defying entrapment, without losing the reader who may be rushing towards climactic relief. Short sections sum up days and nights in the patterns we come to expect; physical pain ebbs and flows, emotional stresses peak and decline, animals hover and lurk according to their routines, and the horizon shows unchanging resolve to be its ubiquitous self devoid of end points.

Marquez seems to employ the colon, and to a lesser degree the semicolon, to emphasize Velasco’s faltering capacities and general dumbfoundedness when he is constantly forced to consider his fate. In sentences like “If I found myself in the same predicament today, I would die of hopelessness: I now know that no ship travels the course on which my raft was bound”, and “For several reasons, that day was very different from the previous days: the sea was dark and calm; the sun, warm and tranquil, hugged by body; a gentle breeze guided the raft along; even my sunburn felt a bit better”, retrospection takes on elemental importance.

The colon is a forced pause and a gathering of strength as Velasco faces the most formidable subtleties of nature, including his own body. “Instantly I realized what was happening: the raft had overturned completely” makes moments of life and death hover, suspended in time as Velasco’s entire ordeal is. Raw, emotive revelations of dread and hopelessness are followed by the harsh validations of reality. This stylistic structure continuously re-leads the reader to the edge, propelled overboard once again.

In the end, that colon-induced propulsion into the sea becomes a heave towards land, and hope: “But ahead of the raft, in the half-light of dawn, I could make out a long, heavy shadow: against the bright sky I could see the outlines of coconut palms”. Something about the colon implies the conscious choice of holding one’s breath, and the weightiness of time.

Marquez achieves balance in his sentence and paragraph structure by sustaining a cyclical sense of routine amidst the reality of aimless drifting.

Falsity, on a Budget

Years ago, I befriended the owner of a small floral shop, named for the street corner it sprouted up on. I believe she part pitied, part envied my young, single life in a nearby basement apartment. When I visited, she would scrounge about the display cooler, and handpick a free “blown” bouquet for me (in florist’s-speak, that means flowers that have reached or surpassed their peak bloom, and are now on the downtick towards decay, but will look perfectly breathtaking for at least the next 12 hours). During those months, I had fresh clove-scented stems of carnations or the ubiquitous button chrysanthemum in every room of that apartment at all times. Okay, there were only three rooms, but still, it was resplendent luxury.

Times have changed, and for the time being, I’ve rationalized that there are a few advantages to faux ferns and fabric petaled sunflowers.

Hobby Lobby in Robinson Township is the newest pseudo craft superstore to hit this area in the past year. I say pseudo because the center of the humungous floor plan is jammed with tacky, varnished dressers and armoires and picture frames, something reminiscent of a Marshall’s, Supersized. The good news is, us serious crafters (or scrap bookers; a class totally separate from crafters, and don’t you forget it) can swoop to the left upon entry and tip-toe through wide, white, airy aisles of faux floral stems, kept obsessive-compulsively neat and sorted in a long system of white panels with equally spaced recesses from which the bunches stand at full attention. Realism is the overall theme here; you may even, occasionally, find a stem or leaf, purposely painted and manipulated to just barely mimic natural decomposition or “withering”.

Hobby Lobby even has a small section I would like to refer to, although it may be a little over exuberant, as the Enchanted Forest. Here you can route through brown wired branches, clutching them and comparing them as though you were about to kindle a bonfire of beauty. Tall faux tree branches, terminating in a wide array of fruit, flowers, catkins and cones are a bit rare; here, all seasons coexist.

The most notable disappointment at Hobby Lobby is their lack of support systems; and by that I mean foam, dried vine, or wire wreath forms. There is an endless, transparent line of glass vases along the back wall, but who doesn’t already have sixteen of those?

Another Day in Houseplant Paradise

            It’s the gardener’s February fix; the tightly amassed collection of tropicals, stretching towards the sliding glass patio door languidly, stubborn green hues soaking up late winter’s toneless light.

            The palm bows out slightly at the back corner of the laminate table, dual thin dry trunks crooning over the edge as their ancestors must have on the sandbars of some island. Narrow ribbon-like spears radiate symmetrically from the scaly trunks halfway up, chartreuse ribbed in hot pink. Old, woody roots peek out of the potting soil, giving some sense of time, grip, and erosion. The pot is a bit too small, disproportionate to the palm’s crown; its cream colored, stucco texture smudges when wet, and it’s lip is scalloped, painted a glossy cocoa brown.

            A rescued zygote (aka Christmas cactus) cascades out of a tiny blue ceramic pot in the dappled shadow of the palm. Scooped up from the grocery store bargain bin in early January 2011, she bloomed once before Thanksgiving and has buds again now, a week before Valentine’s Day, caring not for our calendar. Strange fuchsia, tubular flowers peel back and flake like pastry dough, ending in golden pollen tips. Gorgeousness cost $0.99, and is much more sensually appealing than poinsettia tea-towels.

            Ah, on to the Amaryllis bulbs, the drama queens of the kitchen table. Five separate pots, five separate habits. The first flower stalk came from the largest bulb which filled out it’s ten-inch terracotta pot; it shot up taller than the palm before opening huge pelican beaks of floriferousness, sparkling white like five-petaled snowflakes, a neat square of four flowers back to back, each a good eight inches in diameter. It was an arresting sight each time you might enter to get a can of diet coke or crack open a can of cat food.

Nonfiction Writers Being Human

The first site that appears following a Google search of Rebecca Skloot is Rebecca Skloot.com. The site is geared towards being interactive; besides a standard bio and book reviews, the sidebar options encourage engagement that goes beyond blandly cruising her website. Additional PDFs are available for book club and academic situations; "bonus" photos not included in the book of the Lacks family and Skloot are easily browsed, as well as archival scientific photos. Video footage of interviews and other productions, such as a BBC documentary pertinent to Skloot's work, is also available. "The HeLa Forum" attempts to unite the perspectives of all participants, asking for input and opinion from reading groups, general readers, and the scientific community. Lastly, a prominent link will redirect interested readers to The Henrietta Lacks Foundation, expanding involvement and aid inspired by her work into real-time.

All of these components make Skloot seem very accessible as an author; the level of feedback encouragement is apparent at every turn. And, I would agree with a character in the book, that Skloot does exude a warm, humanistic aura in the many photos and videos of her on the site, signing books and answering questions. The last few tidbits of her bio page entry solidifies her as a real person; I won't soon forget that she is an avid knitter (as is her mother) and, best of all, she attracts and keeps stray animals.

Comparing Skloot to Tracy Kidder, author of Strength in What Remains, both authors have a humanistic bent, promoting the nonprofit organizations they have formed or helped to form on their websites. This initiative seems slightly stronger with Kidder; while some videos, a movie trailer, and one measly interview with the author are offered, they are more obscure within the structure of the website, tracykidder.com. Links to health organizations Partners in Health and Village Health Works are found under several headings. All of Kidder's books are neatly iconized under the heading "Books" with short reviews, but few additional links or multimedia feeds accompanying them. Unlike Skloot, Kidder's bio reads as a checklist form of accomplishments, mainly academic, and is cold and distant in comparison to the level of interaction and compassion found in his actual works. Lastly, Kidder seems oddly distant again in terms of reaching out to his readership when, upon clicking on the "Appearances" tab, we are only told to check back later for updates, and left with disappointing blank space.