March 22, 10 (Order of a Story)

I've been thinking about the progression of McPhee's articles more than anything else. The exercise we did had me thinking of the different motives a writer could have for deviating from a standard chronological narrative of a story.

The first thing that came to my mind was the way seemingly unrelated stories can still create similar atmospheres. You can create a feeling without following a logical story or argument, or even making any sense at all, that's the danger of language. The sound of a word alone can almost create a relatively predictable effect on someone, and there certainly is value to trying to cultivate certain moods in readers before presenting certain things to them. It's really in line with creating propaganda, but you can set people up so that they fall in a certain direction. Like, some sort of sad story about some cute sea creature suffocating in ocean trash just before laying out the plan for a recycling program that you need funding for. All those NGO's like Greenpeace and Amnesty are masters at this. As well as pretty well all salesmen. I'm not saying it's good or bad, just effective, and kind of scary.

I had thought that McPhee was presenting us with stories that progressed in the intensity of human harshness. The detachment of each section would have people sort of off centered and a little confused/curious about the little sections, and therefore just taking in the atmosphere more than anything else. All while telling a chopped up story of people trying to hunt down a "monster." So he doesn't have to draw the conclusions explicitly, but he still consciously puts you in moods that will likely have you drawing the conclusions that he wanted.

It was a pretty sneaky idea, but I'm certain that it's done quite often, because I do think it would be effective. I really do like the playfulness of interrupting the expectations of readers. I'm sure there's a bunch of different ways that it can be useful. I've only thought of this one so far.

-Adam