“If a writer of prose knows enough of what he is writing
about he may omit the things that he knows and the reader, if the writer is
writing truly enough, will have a feeling of those things as strongly as though
the writer had stated them. The dignity of movement of an iceberg is due to
only one-eighth of it being above water. A writer who omits things because he
does not know them only makes hollow places in his writing.”
His theory of omission kicked off an era of
minimalism that was a mixed blessing because achieving what he’s talking about
takes a level of mastery that few writers attain – not that we shouldn’t try. His
instinct to have the heart of the meaning express itself in the unwritten warp
and weft of a story has without a doubt enriched modern literature.
Hemingway didn’t say that it was impossible to render the
entire iceberg, only that it was better not to. Implicit in this quote is the
idea that it’s a writer’s job to take in the whole iceberg. I agree we must try
to embrace the entire experience of what we are attempting to write about. In
fantasy and science fiction this may mean hours spent building alien worlds,
cultures, politics, or magic systems from the ground up before writing. Always,
it means being alive to everything and everyone around us.
Despite our best efforts, we are all doomed to failure. We
never grasp the entirety of any experience, the layers of nuance, the shades of
meaning, the unknown histories. Worse, there is no way to hold onto the
fragility of a fleeting moment without etherizing it like a butterfly and
pinning it to a display case. A dead butterfly is still a butterfly, but it’s
not the same thing that fluttered over the sun-splashed meadow.
Some things are omitted because there is just no way to articulate
them. Karen Russell acknowledges this in this gorgeous quote from her
wonderful novella * about a strange plague of insomnia so severe that sufferers
eventually die:
"Then I wish for whatever is flowing between us to
remain unnamed, formless, unmeted into story or ever "experienced" in
the past tense, and so concluded; I don't want to say it, I don't even want to
try to understand it, and so begin to mistake it for something else, and
something else after that, paling shadows of this original feeling, something
inaudibly delicate that would not survive the passage into speech."
Writing is a way to plumb the depths of the unfathomable
experience of our existence, and in the end, though we dive deep, it is
impossible to know every contour of the submerged iceberg. And as Russell says,
some things you can bring back from your journey of exploration and others you
cannot.
