Gornick’s The Situation and the Story felt too invested in the primacy of the individual – as if writing doesn’t have much use for its medium other than its subservience to insight. Language, overflowing in connotative as well as denotative resonances, can be composed semiotically, affording the distance needed to compose the persona Gornick repeatedly emphasizes. And while I do think she is, in a way, striking a proximity to this point, Gornick, in betrayal of her own fidelity to demystification, repeatedly defaults to the subjective. Take her on page one: “Expressiveness deepened association. At last, a dramatic buildup occurred…this buildup is called texture. It was the texture that had stirred me; caused me to feel, with powerful immediacy, not only the actuality of the woman being remembered but—even more vividly—the presence of the one doing the remembering.” But what of the more obvious texture? The one contrived at the surface of the page and not the depth of memory? Later, Gornick seems to emphasize this use, almost identifying it as the catalyst to the more nuanced content she hopes to inspire.

On Didion: “…elaborate syntax and elegant vocabulary demonstrate an intelligence that encourages the idea of self-command.”

On Crews: “…aggression lies in its rhythm (powerful and prolonged), an in-your-face description of appetite that announces.”

And on Hoagland: “…rich, sure speed of its language; language that is riding the fast-forward movement of American idiom.”

Syntax. Rhythm. Speed. Not the self, but the texture it can inspire through language. For Gornick, the story separates from the situation when the act of memory is probed for a “greater freedom of association”, fostering a persona to engender “sufficient command” – an ability “to control the material.” Forfeiting command and control, I say embrace it, prioritizing the material for spontaneity. Simultaneity. The rupturing, triangulating effect of language when writing.