Wajahat Ali in McSweeney’s “Panorama”: The American financial collapse as sitcom

When literary magazine McSweeney’s Quarterly jumped into the newspaper business for their winter issue, much of the buzz was about the concept. A literary quarterly does a newspaper? Layout was debated, along with cost and replicability. But inside “Panorama” lurked a delightful, messy nonfiction narrative by Wajahat Ali.

Wells Fargo, You Never Knew What Hit You” stars Ali, if use of such a deliberately awkward voice counts as starring. Other characters include a California couple (“the Lipkins”) and Wells Fargo Bank, which threatens foreclosure on  the Lipkins’ house.  

Ali’s tale, which has the tone and pacing of an improbable sitcom, relates his first effort as a solo practitioner of California law. He makes us squirm in fear along with him as worries about failing clients whose trust he has inexplicably gained.

Invoking icons from American pop culture in his crusade (Rocky, Bigfoot, a Jedi Knight), Ali portays Wells Fargo as a “feces-covered bear” with whom he has a protracted wrestling match. The story depicts Ali’s struggle to find the right person to talk to and the right thing to say to the disembodied telephone voices controlling the Lipkins’ future.

It’s a comic piece, but the tragedy of millions of all-too-real homeowners in foreclosure around the country undergirds the humor with substance. The dozens of unreturned phone calls and Ali’s random discovery of the magic words that get Wells Fargo to respond make it clear just how steeply the system is stacked against the Lipkins in a way that a non-narrative piece never could.

Ali bears watching, as he’s more than a lawyer who has written an interesting first-person story. He blogs and referees submissions at Goatmilk, writes regularly on Muslim communities and issues for The Guardian, and scripted a play about Muslims in post 9/11 America.

Walk on the wild side: animal stories that don’t stand up

When it comes to wildlife narratives, writer Bryan Christy wants more accountability from reporters.

Christy wrote us in response to our Friday issue of the Narrative Digest, which featured coverage of a zoo, a history of animal experimentation, and an essay on a vet in Sierra Leone, among other articles. He added another a item to the list of issues raised by animal narratives, expressing his frustration that when it comes to stories about humans’ illegal interaction with wildlife, a “focus on animals (and their suffering) tends to give the criminals a bye.”

Brian Christy as a high school student, holding pet snake Socrates.

A high school-era Bryan Christy with pet Socrates

While most of the stories we featured didn’t involve illegal trafficking, it’s an interesting storytelling issue. In a January Huffington Post essay (“Wildlife Smuggling: Why Does Wildlife Crime Reporting Suck?”) Christy argues that “too often wildlife crime stories are little more than eco-tourism pieces with sad endings” and claims that that sloppy reporting for these kinds of narratives has real costs.

He notes a 2007 report from the Secretariat of the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species, which suggests that widespread “gross exaggeration” from the media (along with other groups) doesn’t help the cause of getting more attention to and support for protecting wild animals. (And in fact, the inflated and inexact numbers Christy points to do show up in some major news outlets via Google search.)

But Christy isn’t arguing against a narrative approach to trafficking stories. In “The Kingpin,” from January’s National Geographic, he presents Anson Wong, one of the world’s major smugglers of endangered animals. While there are plenty of gripping details about victimized creatures in Christy’s story, the tale unfolds more as an expose of one man’s willingness to deliver any animal for money and a global system hard pressed to keep him from doing it.

While the lure of safari-style visuals might be hard to editors to resist, shifting coverage to the bigger picture could make for a more accurate story. Christy suggests that treating the issue with the same kind of rigorous reporting applied to other criminal enterprises might be the answer: “More time should be spent on paper and money trails, less on jungle adventures.”

Aminatta Forna’s “The Last Vet”: a dog’s life

Our latest Notable Narrative traces relations between humans and animals in the poorest country on earth. In “The Last Vet,” which appeared in the winter 2009 issue of Granta, writer Aminatta Forna follows Dr. Gudush Jalloh, the last veterinarian in private practice in Sierra Leone, as he treats and sterilizes dogs at his Freetown clinic.

last-vetbLiving in London after having grown up in Sierra Leone, Forna is in many ways perfectly placed to tell Jalloh’s story, although it is also her story and the story of the dogs of this small West African country. She gives us charming images, such as newly neutered patients sleeping off anesthesia (“the paw of one lies across another, strange babies sharing a bed”), but she challenges the reader’s expectations time and again.

A childhood dog returns after a disappearance with “his hind quarters split open to the bone by an axe wound”—a wound that turns out to be less a result of malice than a reader might think. Forna elegantly shows how deeply material circumstances and history have affected the lives of Jalloh, his country and his charges.

By incorporating her debates with Jalloh on the treatment of animals in Sierra Leone and in England, Forna considers an idea they both reject: that helping animals in the midst of human suffering is somehow frivolous. As she weaves the presence of international activists and the staff of the British High Commission into her story, her essay becomes a meditation on empire and colony and an argument that what seems like sentimentality in Jalloh and his compatriots may be something else altogether.

Chris Jones, Roger Ebert and the possibilities of online narrative (or “does this story ever end?”)

When it comes to writing profiles, Esquire’s Chris Jones is used to getting the last word. But a few weeks ago, when Jones worked his storytelling mojo on Roger Ebert, he took on someone who had his own platform and his own audience.

jones-c“I knew Roger was writing about the story,” Jones told us via email, confessing his hands had trembled when he clicked on the link to see what Ebert had written about his piece. “I mean, he’s a critic, right? And I really enjoyed spending time with him, and I hope he enjoyed spending time with me. I didn’t want him to feel regret for having let me in.

“So, when I read what he posted, I felt like 1,000 pounds had been lifted off my shoulders. I could have received a million letters from other people saying they liked the story, but if Roger Ebert had hated it, I would have felt bad about that, literally for the rest of my life.”

Jones’ moving profile of the film critic drew praise from Ebert, and also garnered a mention by Jim Romenesko and a post from the Cronkite School’s Tim McGuire, who portrayed the article as a call to the journalistic ramparts. And it’s true that the Ebert article is beautifully written, and that Jones is a national continental treasure (it turns out that the Canadians get credit for him, along with Sidney Crosby and Celine Dion).

Frontline and the International Center of Photography look at news narratives for a digital era

How will digital opportunities change the way we tell stories? Earlier this month in New York City, a roundtable of journalists from major media outlets and community-oriented news organizations met to consider new narrative possibilities. Funded by Shell, the afternoon symposium was hosted by the International Center of Photography and co-sponsored by Frontline.

frontlineThe discussion wasn’t aimed at forming a consensus on the future of story. Instead, participants highlighted a number of narratives that made the most of new technologies or represented novel approaches.

We’ll cover more of the roundtable in March, but for now, I’ll highlight a few of the projects that were discussed.

Thirst in the Mojave,” from Zach Wise, ran in the Las Vegas Sun (Wise is now at The New York Times). At the top of the homepage, a panic-inducing counter runs off the remaining days until Lake Mead will (possibly) run dry–which is only one small part of a dazzling array of information available for visitors to the site. The video follows a traditional, linear approach, but additional elements supply context in unusual ways. To read an explanation of each feature, see this post at digitalartwork.net.

Paul Raeburn, Ira Glass, and just some of the ways a story can go wrong

Yesterday, Paul Raeburn at the Knight Science Journalism Tracker took the stuffing out of a New York Times medical piece. The story, by Gardiner Harris, reveals a secret recording of a 2007 meeting between a cardiologist and executives at a pharmaceutical company. Raeburn dinged it for both structure and content, writing that “sometimes a poorly organized story is a reflection of reporting that doesn’t have much to tell.”

Looking a little more at the article, it seems like Raeburn’s critique about organization has a point. The story moves back and forth between 2007, 2004, the present, last week, and the future in a way that makes it hard to know where to stand to get a view of events. Which, in turn makes it harder to understand what the news, or even the story, is.

While the Times piece is only quasi-narrative, knowing what your story is and how to organize it go to the heart of narrative nonfiction. Randy Olson, a scientist turned filmmaker who writes at TheBenshi.com, had an interesting post on this idea this week. He interviewed Tom Hollihan of the USC Annenberg School for Communication about science and storytelling. While the interview focuses on scientists rather than journalists, Hollihan’s thoughts are universally applicable.

glass-iWhen it comes to your audience, says Hollihan, “You want to pique their interest, and you want to satisfy that interest that you’ve piqued. And if you fail in either regard, you haven’t had an effective message.” He goes on to say that without a coherent story to knit them together, facts sometimes have a hard time conveying an argument.

Ira Glass’ YouTube storytelling segments address some of the same issues more directly for journalists. In his first video, Glass introduces two building blocks of story: anecdotes and moments of reflection. He demonstrates how even boring events can gain momentum through anecdotal storytelling and explains the need to offer insight on why the story matters.

“Often, it’s your job to be kind of ruthless and to understand that either you don’t have a sequence of actions—you don’t have the story part that works—or you don’t have a moment of reflection that works,” says Glass. “You’re going to need both. And in a good story, you’re going to flip back and forth between the two.”

Even veteran storytellers have to keep these issues in mind. It’s easy to get so carried away with the narrative in your head, the one you know backward and forward, that you forget to leave a path for the reader to get through the story.

[*To be fair to the Times, we should note that Science Tracker gave kudos to two other health stories from the paper this week, including a interesting multi-part narrative by Amy Harmon on an experimental cancer drug.]

Narrative nonfiction events and conferences–is there something here for you?

While tracking digital narrative experiments, we at Storyboard also aim to keep readers informed about the world of traditional print narratives. Today we’ve compiled a list of upcoming events for fans who want to hear from classic storytellers or learn elements of craft. Here are just a few of the opportunities available, in chronological order:

The Society of Professional Journalists is hosting one-day workshops with Tom Hallman, who will address not just long-form narrative but also how to “apply narrative techniques to your daily reporting.” (For a sample of his thinking on story, check out our Storyboard post by Hallman.) He’ll be at the University of Maryland, just outside Washington, D.C., on April 3 and at Santa Clara University in Santa Clara, Calif., on May 8.

muse-marketplaceBoston will host two events in close succession. “The Power of Narrative: Timeless Art in an Urgent Age,” will take place April 23 – 24 at the Boston University Photonics Center and will include veteran storytellers Gay Talese, Adam Hochschild, Buzz Bissinger and Isabel Wilkerson, among many others. As of this morning, online registration was not yet in place, but a list of presenters and conference fees is available.

Grub Street will host “The Muse and the Marketplace 2010” conference May 1-2 at the Boston Park Plaza Hotel. Listed sessions embrace a mixed group of writing styles and genres but will offer writers Jennifer 8. Lee, Michael Downing, and Pablo Medina, as well as a discussion of the current nonfiction market.

Lastly, this summer, you can head south for the Mayborn Literary Nonfiction Conference taking place July 23 – 25 in Grapevine, Texas. Conference keynoters include memoirist Mary Karr, sports writer Gary Smith and journalist Mark Bowden. See this year’s conference schedule, and read our wrapup of last year’s sessions. Registration will open later this month.

All of the above, excepting the Boston University event, list participatory sessions and opportunities to get feedback on your work as part of their schedules. So if you’re interested in classic storytelling, have a look.

Rick Moody’s “Amazing Tale” invites readers to step right up

Our latest Notable Narrative plays a wonderful game of fulfilling expectations in surprising ways. In the January 2010 issue of Details, Rick Moody’s “The Amazing Tale of the High School Quarterback Turned Lesbian Filmmaker” uses a bait-and-switch approach to write about a transgendered person on the verge of attending her 20th high school reunion.

The McKerrow Brothers

The McKerrow Brothers

The title evokes a tradition in which sideshow oddities and wonders are used to titillate readers and draw them in, a tradition not entirely unfamiliar to journalists. Novelist and blogger Moody slides elegantly into his story, using “us” in the first paragraph to join the crowd of readers watching what will happen as Kimberly Reed meets up with Paul McKerrow, her high school identity.

Moody later cuts to the first person (“let me pause to observe”) when recording his personal reaction to Reed’s beauty. This clever move offers a hint that we might want to check our own responses.

It turns out that two McKerrow children graduated in the class of 1985—Paul (now Kimberly) and her brother, Marc, who was adopted. Adding another layer of tension to the upcoming reunion, Moody relates that early challenges and a later accident have made Marc’s life even more complicated than Kimberly’s. Combining surprise links to Hollywood royalty with Mark’s ongoing efforts to handle everyday life, Moody shows us how identity is both changing and fixed, and how the boundary between the very strange and the absolutely normal may not exist.

As the story turns back to the high school reunion, Moody manages to draw all his elements together and make each part relevant. The piece reveals a different kind of spectacle than readers might have tuned in for, yet more of a reunion in every sense of the word: a meeting, an encounter with the past, a family gathering, a making whole of the self.

[Prodigal Sons, Kimberly Reed's award-winning film about her family life, will be shown in a number of U.S. cities in the coming months.]

The Small Story: long live the community-minded newspaper narrative

Cara Solomon sweats the small stuff.

After a failed career as a television news intern and eight successful years as a print reporter, Solomon left her newspaper job on the West Coast to return home to Boston. Holding down a day job as an editor of a start-up Web site, she began to devote her free time to blogging at The Small Story.

solomon-cAs a reporter for The Seattle Times, Solomon wrote small-focus narratives about everything from displaced survivors of Hurricane Katrina to ”Flash Mob” kissing. The Small Story has a similar bent, centering on “the lives of everyday people in Massachusetts—the challenges they face, the celebrations they make, and the communities they like to call home.”

Solomon has found most of her subjects herself but notes that on occasion, someone will give her a tip, which is how she found our personal favorite on the site. “Low Price Lenny” recounts details of the 2009 Ms. Senior Sweetheart pageant and the kazoo-carrying businessman who founded it. Solomon told us via email that she found Lenny via by posing her favorite question:  “Who’s the most interesting, un-famous person you know?”

Only one or two narratives appear each month, and some months have been skipped altogether. “It’s my own labor of love,” Solomon says, noting she’s a Lone Ranger on the project for now (she hopes to involve other journalists and photographers in the future).

The site bills itself as “a slower-paced look at the everyday people who make up America.” And though the stories are created for digital consumption, there’s something nicely newspapery, even retro, about Solomon’s voice and her subjects. Perhaps it’s the narrow focus or the optimistic bent, but maybe it’s just the small story that likes to stay small.

Peggy Nelson on new media narratives: “Every Twitter account is a character”

We talked this week with Peggy Nelson, a new media artist who has spent the last several years doing digital and virtual storytelling. While Nelson’s work is rooted in conceptual art rather than journalism, she has created stories in nearly every medium, including some we hadn’t thought of (like PowerPoint and iPhone Apps). Nelson came to our attention when she presented in January at the Boston Bookfuturists Meetup. In these excerpts from our talk, she discusses Twitter novels, the core elements of story, and how journalists can most effectively use social media.

nelson-pHow would you describe what you do?

I do new media art with a focus on decentralized, episodic storytelling—I’m thinking of the things I’ve done very recently, which are the Twitter projects @adelehugo and @enoch_soames. And I’ve done some what I guess you would call walking tours with augmented reality that either involved sound pieces or 2D barcodes, where you take a picture with your phone and then it brings up a web page depending on where you are. It weaves itself together into a kind of a narrative. I’ve done that in Boston and Nevada and a couple of different places. So they’re all stories told in little bits at a time, with a lot of gaps.

You’ve worked on stories in just about every medium—even PowerPoint. How do you think about the idea of story?

I’ve always been a lover of anecdote and telling a good tale at a cocktail party or family Thanksgiving. I’m attentive to oral tradition, making that as good as it can be. But that feeds into the fact that I’m the kind of person who walks around, and in my head, I’m captioning things. I see a funny thing, and I come up with a one-liner to describe it.

If I had worked at a newspaper back in the day, my ideal job would have been to write the comments under the pictures. I don’t know if it even was a separate job, but I would have been a caption writer. So these two strains appear in my life and my personality: the raconteur/tale-teller and the captioning person. The reason I’m drawn to experimental storytelling is that it brings those two things together.