John McPhee - Draft No. 4

John McPhee - Draft No. 4

I just read Sam Anderson’s article on John McPhee in last Sunday’s New York Times magazine. In it, we are reminded of how obsessed McPhee is with structure in his writing. His new book Draft No. 4 emphasizes the primacy of structure and its great pay-off. McPhee tells Anderson, “Structure has preoccupied me in every project.” Anderson says that “Structure, in McPhee’s writing carries as much meaning as the words themselves.” It used to be that structure was a key piece of any writing instruction. It certainly still is in McPhee’s writing course at Princeton. In fact, Draft No. 4 is essentially McPhee’s writing course, which he has been teaching since 1975.  Unlike McPhee’s course, many writing courses today give up structure to free writing or self-expression, asserting that obsession over structure can limit the imagination or squelch creativity. McPhee attributes his obsession with structure to his high school English teacher who made him outline all his papers before he wrote them. When I started teaching, my mentor and the chair of the English department emphasized the essential value of outlining to free students to express themselves, pinning down the structure so that meanings could flow smoothly and organization and clear expression could be givens. I am so grateful for that instruction. It certainly made me a better writing teacher and a clearer writer.

Living With Contradiction

In her book Living With Contradiction, an Introduction to Benedictine Spirituality, Esther de Waal reminds us that “We all stand in need of healing. We are all seeking wholeness.” She asserts that “We all know that unless we attend to our inner conflicts and contradictions, not only will we find ourselves torn apart by our inner divisions but also we shall very likely inflict wounds on those around us.” The good news is that “Our God, the God of love, does not want a broken and divided self. He created us for fullness of life.” There is not an ah-ha moment when wholeness comes or our brokenness disappears. It is the search of a life-time, and we cannot make the journey without God’s help; he is the potter to form and transform the clay that we are, to make the old give way to the new.

Poems by Mary Oliver and Naomi Nye

“Little Dog’s Rhapsody in the Night" by Mary Oliver 

I am lucky enough to have a dog and also lucky enough to know Mary Oliver’s collection Dog Songs. Those poems remind us that our dogs teach us philosophical lessons about how to live a good and full life and about what matters most in our lives. What matters most, they tell us continually, is love. They love us unconditionally and in so doing teach us the purity of loving. What could be a sweeter arrangement, indeed, than giving and receiving love? To do so enriches our lives and the lives of those we love. Oliver’s poem, “Little Dog’s Rhapsody in the Night,” ends with a reminder of the magic of that reciprocal giving and receiving. “… He puts his cheek against mine/and makes small, expressive sounds./…/“Tell me you love me,” he says./“Tell me again.”/Could there be a sweeter arrangement? Over and over/he gets to ask./I get to tell.”

"Kindness" by Naomi Nye

In Naomi Nye’s poem “Kindness,” sorrow and kindness figure as two sides of one coin – or perhaps more accurately, as a cause and effect relationship: “Before you know kindness as the deepest thing/you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.” Your own sorrow connects you to the pains and griefs of others and bulks up your empathic muscle. You come to know sorrow, the poem says, by losing the things you once counted on, by “feeling the future dissolve in your hand.” Once you know that desolation, you are in a better position to understand the “tender gravity of kindness” and how much it matters. Henry James, when asked about the important things in life, responded, “Three things in human life are important: the first is to be kind; the second is to be kind; the third is to be kind.” We would be wise to follow his counsel.