Out of Sheer Rage: Wrestling With D.H. Lawrence

Geoff Dyer loves jazz. I know that because I first discovered his writing through his book BUT BEAUTIFUL, one of my favorite books of the past couple years, which I urge upon any musician or music-lover. I mention this because OUT OF SHEER RAGE reminded me of a lengthy solo jazz improvisation. I'll explain why shortly.

As a jazz lover, I was deeply moved by BUT BEAUTIFUL. As a writer, I expected to love even more Dyer's book about not writing a book about D.H. Lawrence. As one, long, chapterless, meandering memoir of procrastination, it hit home painfully in many places. But ultimately the book only irritated me.

The entire first half reminds me of one of those endless, noodling fusion jazz guitar or saxophone solos, with tens of thousands of notes played exquisitely but never quite catching a tune. It's an endless repetition of a two-note theme: "When I prepare to write, I don't feel like writing" and "When I decide not to write, then I feel like writing." I got the joke the first 25 or so times. Afterwards, the notes just blend together into a catty whine.

But, consistent with Dyer's theme throughout the book, halfway through, just as I considered throwing it across the room for the cockroaches to make a meal of, at that moment it (sort of) became interesting. The tune changed and moments of brilliance began to appear. Unfortunately, those moments of brilliance are excerpts from Lawrence's (and Rilke's and others') letters. So, to belabor the musical theme, the best parts of the book are the sampled bits.

The second half of the book meanders from tune to tune, theme to theme, from travel to having the flu to nude beaches, seamlessly segueing from one to the next, sometimes using a Lawrence quote as a hook, sometimes not.

I'll give five stars to Dyer for his daring chutzpah in writing a memoir about procrastination. It's a noble experiment. I also admire, for example, the later works of John Coltrane for their daring experimentation. I also find them mainly unlistenable.

I'll give Dyer another chance. He's an exceptional writer. Maybe I'll like everything else of his except this book. ( )

Whiny and repetitive.

Okay--Two years later, I realize I am guilty of most of the things he does. It obviously hit too close to home, and that's why I was so mean. And Christmas was coming which always pisses me off. ( )

I, again, am very grateful to goodreads.com for leading me to this fine writer, Geoff Dyer. I am also now interested in John Berger and D.H. Lawrence because of it. I wrote my review here:

http://mewlhouse.hubpages.com/hub/Wrestling-With-Rage ( )

http://wineandabook.com/2011/11/10/review-out-of-sheer-rage-wrestling-with-d-h-l...

So, I may have a small intellectual crush on Geoff Dyer.

Hear me out.

Out of Sheer Rage is a memoir of sorts as Dyer writes a book about his attempt to write a book on D.H. Lawrence, and it’s far less a study of Lawrence and far more an analysis of the author himself. Unexpectedly though, as I read, I felt myself regressing to a deluded, giggly school girl, gushing every few pages “it’s, like, he TOTALLY gets me!” There were times as I read where I wondered where Dyer obtained the transcript of my inner monologue (though his way with words is far more eloquent than my silent ramblings). Check out some of Dyer’s eerily accurate brilliance:

On getting in our own way/the lies we tell ourselves:

“The perfect life, the perfect lie…is one which prevents you from doing that which you would ideally have done (painted, say, or written unpublishable poetry) but which, in fact, you have no wish to do. People need to feel that they have been thwarted by circumstances from pursuing the life which, had they led it, they would not have wanted; whereas the life they really want is precisely a compound of all those thwarting circumstances. It is a very elaborate, extremely simple procedure, arranging this web of self-deceit: contriving to convince yourself that you were prevented from doing what you wanted. Most people don’t want what they want: people want to be prevented, restricted….That’s why children are so convenient: you have children because you’re struggling to get by as an artist- what is actually what being an artist means- or failing to get on with your career. Then you can persuade yourself that your children prevented you from having this career that had never looked like working out. So it goes on: things are always forsaken in the name of an obligation to someone else, never as a failing, a falling short of yourself.” (page 126-127)

On freedom:

“Unless, like Thelma and Louise, you plunge off the side of a canyon, there is no escaping the everyday. What Lawrence’s life demonstrates so powerfully is that it actually takes a daily effort to be free. To be free is not the result of a moment’s decisive action but a project to be constantly renewed. More than anything else, freedom requires tenaciousness.” (page 138)

On personal credo:

“You’ll regret it: there are worse mottoes to live by. Successful people say that it is stupid to regret things but the futility of regret only increases its power…Looking back through my diary is like reading a vast anthology of regret and squandered opportunity. Oh well, I find myself thinking, life is there to be wasted.” (page 169)

Just the tip of the iceberg. Funny, personal yet universal, clever, intelligent, challenging: I couldn’t put this book down and, given the massive fine I’ve incurred with the NYPL, I’ll probably have spent the equivalent of two copies by the time I return it. I regret nothing.

With its focus on process, this memoir serves as almost a pseudo-AA meeting of sorts for the aspiring author: by reading Dyer’s account of his struggles with writing made me, at least, feel as if I wasn’t the only one having the same day to day issues just trying to write, and to be the version of myself I want to be.

Rubric rating: 8. I’ve already scoured the library for everything Dyer’s written. So excited to start The Ongoing Moment, where Dyer tackles photography and photographers. ( )

I read this over five days when I was already reading something else (Anna Karenina actually!) I enjoyed it enormously. It purports to be a study of D H Lawrence, but its focus is Dyer himself. I liked the pace of the prose, the humour and the fact that it doesn't fall into any particular genre. I never quite knew where the writer would take me next, but I was always happy to follow the various twists in the book's territory. Highly recommended. ( )