This semester, my class read John D’Agata and David Shields–and we discussed the differences between strict journalism and creative approaches to nonfiction. Several wanted to know where the line between fiction and memoir is–and when authors are permitted to get creative with their own nonfiction writing.
I tend to be flexible in these matters (and anyways have a genetic aversion to dogma). After nearly two decades of schooling under Dominican nuns and Jesuit priests, I still break out in hives at the first whiff of the doctrinaire.
But I remember, too, doing a rather shoddy job of explaining the tangled threads–Lee Gutkind, Gonzo Journalism, Lauren Slater, &c.–to my students. Alas, had I seen this brilliant post from Dave Gessner (from Bill & Dave’s Cocktail Hour), I might have avoided the whole mess. I hope this helps clear up some of the confusion I probably created.
Perilous Curiosity 
I love the notion that CNFW “can be true, if not factual. ” Thank you for sharing these. And for the record, I don’t think you made a mess of it at all. I’m interested in reading more about your school years; sounds fascinating. -Anna
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Thanks, Anna. I also think the ambiguity is part of the fun. Much more fun than my parochial school history, anyways (;)).
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A lot of Dave’s post has to do with the art of remembering, and the faults that arise naturally in that effort. Do you feel as though remembering events is a practice that becomes easier over time? In effect, by constantly delving into memory, can you improve your ability to further do so?
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Great question! Yes, I suspect people can strengthen their capacity for memory–but I’m not certain that doing so is absolutely necessary for writing memoir. In this case, I’m much more in the Jonathan (rather than Julian) Barnes camp (though I enjoy Julian’s writing quite a bit more). Barnes argues that memory is infinitely flexible–affected minute to minute by mood, bias, taste–and this makes it an epistemological house of mirrors. Though it often presents itself to us as solid (an objective truth, clearly recalled)–and many memoirists choose to present it this same way to their readers–memory is rather vaprous. Thankfully, securing an accurate account is only part of the task that the memoirist undertakes; and because memory is (even in the best of cases) subjective, shooting for a more accurate recollection is probably a bit of ’tilting at windmills.’
On the other hand, I do believe that writers get better at crafting memory into prose the more that they write–but, of course, that’s quite a different thing than accurately remembering. There is a great deal more to say about the matter (re: memory & memoir), but maybe that’s better suited for another post (or series of posts). I’d also love to hear your take, Alex (and others, if they care to contribute). Thanks for the great question.
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