To me, influential writers are those I return to again and again. Interestingly, there appear to be two types: those that I return to only in my mind, and those I venture additionally to reread from time to time. These latter ones are those who give me so much pleasure that rereading them only serves to enhance the effect, like listening to a favourite song.
No doubt the particular writers who qualify in my case is largely a personal matter, even though some or indeed many are likely to coincide with the choices of other readers. Nevertheless, what I find interesting is that such a distinction exists. So we can say that there are three categories under discussion: the two above, and then that category of writers whom I have read but who simply did not stick in my mind, for whatever reason, even though I may have enjoyed them at the time. They may even be "important" writers by other people's standards, but somehow they've slipped through my net.
Brief reflection suggests that the category of writers whom I would read again are the best predictors of my overall taste, and influences on my thinking. In other words, there is a compulsive aspect both in action and thought. The list, in my case, is not overly long. The important thing is that a rereading should enhance my pleasure, rather than dull the effect of the work. A good example is Poe, if only I can reflect on and compare most of his output. Stories such as The Masque of the Red Death and The Fall of the House of Usher give repeated pleasure. I know the plots inside out, there are no surprises, certain passages seem known to me even before I read them. But the overall evocation leaves my thrilled. They are favourites. With Poe, I feel I am being treated to archetypal good writing. No single piece really disappoints, because all derive from the same wellspring. Such is my experience, and I don't speak for anyone else.
This being the case, the mood of his stories, the baroque descriptions heavily laden with adjectives and adverbs, the underlying melancholy, the mysterious reality of the stories that appear complete and yet are always suggestive; these are readily available to my mind. Moreover they come in so many forms that there is a whole vocabulary for my soul to work with. And so it influences my thought. Another example is Nietzsche. No work of Nietzsche's is without surprise and delight, insight and inspiration. He is never less than exciting, and I only need to reread him to access that same space in my mind. As if this is not enough, he influences so many other modes of thought too - from scientific method through to philosophy and cinema, psychology and religion. I return to him again and again, and as a traveler drinks from an oasis I feel refreshed.
In slight contrast, the first group includes a writer like George Eliot whose Middlemarch I am unlikely to read again, perhaps on account of its length and that I know the story, but whose description of a social world has left an indelible impression on me. If not for my English degree, would I ever have read it? I can't say for sure, but I am glad I did. The destinies of Dorothea Brooke, Casaubon, Lydgate, Ladislaw, Rosamund (interesting how the women invite to be remembered by their first names, whereas the men's last names seem to suffice ...) are compelling and speak far beyond their era.
Henry James' Portrait of a Lady is perhaps a similar case. I might read it again one day, for the intrigues of Madame Merle and Gilbert Osmond, Isabel Archer et al make vast and important cultural statements that seem almost as true today as it must have been a hundred years ago. There is a lineage, and I feel an affection for George Eliot, for Henry James. I feel an admiration for their piercing abilities and vast comprehension, and extraordinary capacity to bring it all alive on the page.
Finally, the third category belongs to writers who did not impress even though they came highly recommended. If to impress means also to leave a lasting influence, then they failed. Their influence may be palpable to others, but are less so to me. Colum McCann was such a case. The eulogies flowed for "Let the Great World Spin", but, with the exception of the rich wife who'd lost her son, I saw mainly cardboard characters who left me unsatisfied and perplexed at what the fuss was about. Works like these, to my critical mind, provide examples of the type of mistakes not to make in my own writing. For instance misplaced earnestness, such as confusing the stereotype of "the prostitute with a heart of gold" with a real character, and thereby perpetuating the stereotype. What they don't do is make me want to return to that work. The compulsion, other than the critical one, is lacking.
As a creative person these influential writers are important to me. After I've read a Poe story, I suddenly sound a little more like Poe when writing. After reading Bret Easton Ellis, I suddenly sound a little more like Ellis. Their influence is palpable, they form accessible threads in my mind. It is with this in mind that the obvious perhaps needs to be said and said again: the most influential writers are those I go back to for repeat visits. They are part of my eternal recurrence.
It is this mental compulsion, more than anything else, that signals the magnitude of their influence. They each have a distinct style, mood, perspective that is so definitive that - like memes - they tend to be self-replicating through the filter of another writer or commentator. Some writers never outgrow their influences, and so do not always become more than second-rate, but at the other end of the spectrum, those who forge their own archetypal style are few and far between.
The process I am talking about on a personal level, happens also at a societal level. The most influential writers in society tend to be those who have produced classics. Of course, not all the classics are to my personal taste, nor are all the classics as accessible as they used to be (Charles Dickens used to be very popular, but is now more famous than read, perhaps on account of the length of his novels). Nevertheless, at one stage each had an important influence, and so secured his or her place in the chain.
But it is more than a matter of consumption. Repetition of such a pleasure enhances creativity. As John Gardner reminds us, we have to read the highest exemplars to understand what literature is capable of. We also need, in some way, to be able to immitate our favourite great authors in order to master their style before eventually moving beyond them. Like a dancer who must learn the basic dance steps before adding the necessary flair on her way to becoming a great dancer.
To a writer, this mastery does not start with the act of writing. It starts with reading. And our reading is most exemplified by reading those who influence us most. They provide us with a mental compulsion that must eventually be given form, shape and an outlet on the page. They have the power to take us further, as a wave moves a bottle out to sea and to a far shore.
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