Marginalia

This Doodling Life

If you’re at all like me you love to write in the margins of books, or doodle there, or both. (And what’s the difference?) And if you are really, really like me, the marginal writing and/or doodling may or may not have anything to do with the text printed on that particular page, or in the book generally. Our mad jottings may be provoked by what the author has written, but in many cases—especially when it comes to the visual doodles—the connection, if any, will be all but undetectable. While reading the fascinating essays in The Writing Life, pictured here (click for a larger view), in addition to the usual underlinings and asterisk-starring, I found myself in some sort of creative zone and doing an instant doodle on five different pages. These quick images, thematically connected, will lead off the series in which I’ll present full pages of text on which I’ve sketched and/or written something, plus I’ll add speculative comments about what I think the image may or may not mean. I’ll also include comments on, and quotes from, the essay I was reading; a sort of short essay about the essay. And of course, as always, you’ll be encouraged to comment and make of it all what you will. The first Marginalia begins below.

The Dance Story

The ecstatic cartoon guy above may visually represent the feeling a man has while he’s in the “dance zone” at a wedding reception, fully in that happy moment and in sync with his partner and the music—or it may simply show him home alone and transported by rock and roll on the radio. If either situation is true, though, you may ask what it has to do with Jonathan Raban’s essay “Notes From The Road,” on the final page of which we find the image? Why did the essay reader (me) choose to doodle that particular figure in that particular spot? Or was it a conscious choice at all?

The Raban essay, collected in The Writing Life: Writers On How They Think and Work, has not one word to say about dance, dancers or dancing. The essay is, for the most part, simply about making notes. Specifically, it’s about the obsessive note-taking done by many “serious” writers. For example, here is Raban on the writer as he dines alone: “So it’s scribble, scribble, scribble all through dinner. Into the notebook go long descriptions of landscape and character; some fuzzy intellection; scraps of conversation; diagrammatic drawings; paras from the local paper; weather notes; shopping lists; inventories of interiors (the sad cafe gets grimly itemized); skeletal anecdotes; names of birds, trees and plants, culled from the wonderfully useful Peterson guides; phone numbers of people whom I’ll never call; the daily target-practice of a dozen or so experimental similes.”

That last bit is so good it deserves repeating: ” . . . the daily target-practice of a dozen or so experimental similes.” Any of us who write know how true that is, how we struggle to find just the right word or phrase, and how it just comes to us sometimes from we know not where. So of course the essay is also very much about the act of writing, which often feeds off, if not directly from, those random notes. Later in his text Raban ties the note-taking habit in with writing a particular book, but comes at that issue from an interesting angle. He says: ” . . . the act of writing itself unlocks the memory-bank, and discovers things that are neither in the notebooks nor to be found in the writer’s conscious memory.” Then he goes on, quoting the painter Jean Francois Millet: “‘One man may paint a picture from a careful drawing made on the spot, and another may paint the same scene from memory, from a brief but strong impression; and the last may succeed better in giving the character, the physiognomy of the place, though all the details may be inexact.'”

In his essay Jonathan Raban appears to be saying that the best writing, or at least the best parts of a writer’s output—especially its most creative aspect—is free-form, intuitive and impressionistic. If that is what he means, I agree. And with my small impressionistic doodle above, I claim that it’s exactly the same for a guy (or gal) on a dance floor.

Copyright © 2008 Jim Sizemore.

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6 Responses to Marginalia

  1. Jacquie Roland says:

    AAARRRGGGHH!!! OH NO!! – JIm… I LOVE the little doodle guy… he’s drawn with wit and verve and joy,even! But you wrote in a BOOK!!! Maybe it’s because I didn’t have books as a child… but I CAN’T write in one… even work books… even now that I own hundreds… pant, pant, pant… I need a headache powder. Someone fetch me a chair.

  2. Jim says:

    Hi Jacquie: I LOVE your reaction to the Marginalia post and how you express it (the Charlie Brown (AAAAAAAGGGHH!!!, etc.). But I have to remind you that I, too, grew up in a house without books. Actually, there was one, the bible, and since it was illustrated I must have figured that gave me all the license I needed to scribble . So I have doodled away happily ever since, and without a sliver of guilt.

  3. Jacquie Roland says:

    Puhleeeze don’t tell me you scribbled in a bible… Oh no! How COULD you… PHILISTINE!! SACRILEGE!!!… NO GUILT!!! How could you… you could go to HELL for THINKING about scribbling in a bible… ooops! Wait a minute… I’m an atheist… I think. Wait… maybe you HAD books as a child and your parents threw them out in an unselfish act of “tough love” to help cure your addiction?!!! … I’ll pray for you. … uh…oh… um… OTHERS will pray for you… Operators are standing by.

  4. Jim says:

    No, I never scribbled in the bible, if you don’t count the family stats section where I did write snide comments about my three brothers (all of whom I hated at the time), and altered a few birth dates, including my own. I also did a pretty good caricature of my maternal grandmother as the Wicked Witch of the East.

  5. Jacquie Roland says:

    Oh no… you did it…you’re going to hell … Festering little ball of scribbling hate… caricaturing sainted little grannies in bibles, no less… I bet if I looked you up on youtube there would be videos of you doodling on helpless little puppies. Call PETA… alert the media… (sound of thunder in the background ) Oh no! Too late …it’s THEM! The flying monkeys! ( a flutter of wings… a spilled cup of coffee) …. TO BE CONTINUED

  6. Jim says:

    I am at a loss. I give up. Uncle! I need help. Anyone out there want to join in?

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