As a child of the 70s, my Google search engine came in the form of the World Book Encyclopedia. That encyclopedia set, I knew, was a big investment for my family: twenty-two blue, faux-leather volumes with majestic gold lettering, that sat on the bottom shelf of my parents’ clunky, 1970s-style bookcase. The 70s were a clunky time! Macrame. Pottery. Famolare shoes. Clunkety-clunk-clunk. But I didn’t care. These books, sure, were heavy and awkward. They also held answers, secrets, and information.
In this century, the nimble Internet, specifically Google, has done a marvelous job filling World Book’s sturdy, inflexible blue-leatherish wingtips. Whatever information I need to know, I must only pull out my phone and ask Google a question. Et voila! As long as I am willing to sit in that uncomfortable state of wondering for more than .013 seconds, I will receive my answer. Thousands and thousands of answers.
A glimpse into my recent Google search adventures:
- what year cyndi lauper time after time
- george w george h w friction
- buttermilk substitution
No knowledge of alphabetical order necessary! No need even to capitalize proper nouns! Certainly no need to use complete sentences or punctuation!
But while the speedily-delivered answers to these burning questions seem satisfying, how does the information afforded to me via Google enhance my life? I’m not sure it does.
Was my family’s set of the Word Book Encyclopedia any more satisfying? I think so. Although maybe it satisfied me because I loved anything book-related. Maybe it seemed more objective and factual than the Internet.* Maybe I liked pulling a volume from that clunky bookcase, then lying on my stomach on that scratchy carpet, and thumbing through those shiny pages.
I was a curious kid, and now I’m a curious adult. I’d bet one thousand Theo chocolate bars you are also a curious person, that you are fascinated by people, that you wonder about the world. I bet when you were a child, you laid belly down on some scratchy carpet to read and learn and explore. I bet you like to eavesdrop at restaurants or on public transportation. I bet you make up stories about strangers. Writers are inherently curious human beings.
Still, I worry Google has made me lazy. With so many answers so quickly at my fingertips, have my wondering muscles atrophied? Have I become so focused on the questions with quick answers that I have forgotten how to ask deep and beautiful questions.
In September I returned to the classroom as a 7th grade English teacher. (Seventh graders are like puppies with chaotic hormones and awkward peach-fuzz mustachios. And I love them.) At a recent professional development meeting we heard from Tony Wagner, an educator obsessed with how schools and teachers are preparing (or not preparing) students for life after college. Wagner explained that we no longer have a “knowledge economy,” meaning we no longer value someone because she knows a lot of stuff about a lot of stuff. Why? With Google, everyone has access to knowledge. And if everyone can have something, then having that thing is no longer very impressive or valuable.
Tony Wagner has spent a million hours interviewing dozens of leaders from dozens of companies–from Facebook to Bank of America–and Wagner has garnered some interesting feedback: while graduates of the most prestigious universities once were the most sought after new-hires, companies are now noticing that these graduates simply aren’t working out very well. In general, they aren’t great creative problem solvers.
I wonder if that’s because too many exceptionally bright graduates of prestigious universities have mastered the art of jumping through hoops. I wonder if these bright students have been so focused on (and gotten too comfortable with) finding right answers that they don’t have the will or the stamina to wrestle with messy questions. I wonder whether too many students lack the willingness to ponder questions that are not going to be on the test (who has time to ponder when pondering is inefficient and potentially unproductive?). I wonder if too many bright students have forgotten that it’s the question that often matters even more than the answer.
It’s not the students’ fault. We just have an education system that values answers more than it values good questions.
But Tony Wagner says we should value the art of asking meaningful questions, the answers to which require that we spend considerable time gnawing, exploring, discussing, grappling, and honing; gerunds that are slow, inefficient and inconvenient; gerunds that require intellectual humility, team work, creativity, curiosity, and stamina.
It’s overwhelming to consider ways we can overhaul our current education system, our entire speed-loving society. But! Is it possible that in the meantime, our fiction can be of service? Yes. I believe so.
What if it is our job–our duty–to give readers safe places to wonder? To build characters and plunk these characters into unwinnable situations that require them to change, grow, explore, and mature? To write stories that pose questions that get stuck in the readers’ teeth. What if?
An American Marriage by Tayari Jones makes me ask: if my husband were wrongly accused of a crime and thrown in jail, how would I fill the lonely void? A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles, makes me consider how rich and fulfilling a life can be when one is imprisoned in a hotel? Philip K. Dick’s The Man in the High Castle presses me to contemplate what the U.S. would look like if September 11th hadn’t happened, if Barack Obama had been a white man, if Lincoln had not believed so passionately in a unified country. Animal Farm, the novel my 7th graders and I are reading and studying, pushes me to wonder why humans are putty in the hands of charismatic propagandists and what this puttyness reveals about human nature.
The books we WU-ers are writing cannot neutralize the influence of our out-of-date educational system or our frenetic, tech-obsessed society. But, I believe, our fiction stimulates our readers’ curiosity. It challenges a willing reader to consider What if…? To wonder whether another valid point of view might exist. To question our world and explore why it is the way it is. To ponder the status quo.
We know the act of reading fiction increases a reader’s empathy. What if fiction can also encourage intellectual humility? What if our stories build readers’ question-asking muscle mass?
I think our stories can do that. I know they can.
Think about your Work in Progress. What question or questions do you hope the story asks the reader to consider, either directly or indirectly? Is there a messy, juicy question that has driven you to write this story? What novel have you read recently that inspired you to ask and struggle over big questions?
Thanks for reading, dear WU’ers. Happy Holidays!
* factual from the perspective of the white people collecting, culling, and arranging the information.
Photo compliments of Flickr’s Veronique Debord-Lazaro.
About Sarah Callender
Sarah Callender lives in Seattle with her husband, son and daughter. A crummy house-cleaner and terrible at responding to emails in a timely fashion, Sarah chooses instead to focus on her fondness for chocolate and Abe Lincoln. She is working on her third novel while her fab agent pitches the first two to publishers.
Vaughn Roycroft says
December 12, 2018 at 9:20 amI’m with you, Sarah. On the encyclopedias, and on the lost art of google-less wondering. We do a weekly dinner with another couple, and we make it a phone-free evening for a number of reasons. But one of the great things that’s come of it is simply wondering about stuff. Even simple stuff like, “Who was in that movie?” or “What year did that song come out?” or, “Who was his secretary of state?” No phones allowed.
We’re always surprised by the twists and turns wondering as a group produces in a conversation. And the enhanced depth of those conversations. Even if you get side-tracked, who cares? It’s something we’ve lost, so recapturing it, even for an evening a week, has become a lovely thing.
Thanks for prodding us to ask the big questions. Merry Christmas to you and yours, Sarah!
sarah callender says
December 12, 2018 at 4:22 pmYes, Vaughn! I am a little horrified by how often my dinner or coffee companions and I will pull out our phones to look something up (the Brady Bill year; Michelle Obama’s age; Mollie Ringwald’s character in The Breakfast Club … ). It all relates to the conversation, but still!
Thank you, Vaughn! Merry Christmas and Happy 2019!
Benjamin Brinks says
December 12, 2018 at 10:17 amThe Christian thriller writer Ted Dekker said in a keynote that he writes to *answer* his own questions.
That struck me. In my WIP, I set out to do that. The question? Why do the ones we love sometimes have to leave us? The wonder is personal, but maybe also a bit religious. My MC is in love with a young woman who may be–or so some believe–an angel.
Why can’t he keep her? The novel is a long way of posing and answering that question. I do believe I have the answer, but I wouldn’t unless it had been preceded by the question–and the belief that the answer is best expressed in a story.
Why write unless to discover what we don’t know–but also what we do? Terrific post, thanks.
sarah callender says
December 12, 2018 at 4:31 pmHi Benjamin,
I realize I have done the same (write a whole novel to attempt to understand something in a deeper way). Sometimes it’s a question I don’t even realize I have. Isn’t it amazing how our brains work?
Even from your comment, I get such a sense of heartache and longing from your question. Keep going!
Happy December, Benjamin. And thanks for sharing your noodling and mulling. :)
Floria lena says
December 12, 2018 at 10:51 amIt’s a fact that your blog posts are so unique and interesting and I enjoys a lot while reading your posts because you explained your post very deeply in a very easy and clear language.
sarah callender says
December 12, 2018 at 4:33 pmOh, thank you, Floria! I am never certain if the weird things I think about will make sense (or resonate) with anyone else. I really appreciate your comment.
Have a wonderful holiday season! I’m glad you are part of the WU community.
:)
Vijaya says
December 12, 2018 at 11:10 amSarah, like Benjamin above, I also write to understand what I’m trying to understand. My novel came out of the question about whether you are your brother’s keeper? In my story, my MC is adopted so it was even more vexing.
And as a scientist in my past life, I can honestly tell you that asking the right question makes all the difference in the world, in keeping you on the path to truth. Because all of us are in that pursuit, whether we know it or not.
Wonderful essay, Sarah, and I can’t help but think how blessed your students are to have you teach them about story. Merry Christmas!
Sarah Callender says
December 13, 2018 at 2:01 pmWow, Vijaya. Thank you for these words. I love thinking about the questions that have changed the world. And Mr. Toyoda (at Toyota) believed in asking “Why?” at least five times. I think we used to do that as kids, but where does that relentless curiosity go as we age?
I love your question: When are we our brother’s keeper. And yes, the fact that it’s an adopted sibling! Brilliant. I think about that a lot … how we are called to love and care for our family, our neighbors, etc. But what does that look like? I struggle with that question often, and it’s so tricky; after all, some people are a heck of a lot easier to love and care for. :)
I wish you a very happy holiday season! And thank you for your scientist’s POV.
xo!
Susan Setteducato says
December 12, 2018 at 11:29 amOh, Sarah, you brought back memories of sitting in my father’s recliner next to that clunky bookcase, reading about Scotland or Persia or Queen Elizabeth or Zoroaster. I recently let that bookcase go when I cleaned out my parents’ house. My heart broke, and now I wonder whether I should’ve kept it (husband says no). The joy of learning and discovering is something we are losing in our data-soaked age, but then I wonder if we aren’t in another Guttenberg Printing Press moment, thrown for a loop by so much sudden change. I have faith that we will find our new balance as a species, but not without the help of the storytellers, teachers, parents, and friends, who will remind us to question EVERYTHING!
In my WIP, the messy juicy question (s) all have to do with confronting power, ignorance, status-quo misconceptions and the nature of reality itself. I was feeling tired until I read your wonderful post!! Blessings and much light to you and yours for the Season. .
Sarah Callender says
December 13, 2018 at 2:05 pmOh Susan. I love this whole comment, and this in particular: I” have faith that we will find our new balance as a species, but not without the help of the storytellers, teachers, parents, and friends, who will remind us to question EVERYTHING!”
Thank you for the inspiration and encouragement you bring. And the empathy! I wonder … has you passion for the questions you ponder in your WIP changed in recent years? They are certainly age-old questions, but I think the past few years has made me wonder more aggressively about truth, power, ignorance, propaganda, etc. :)
Thank you for the light! We need it on this dreary, drizzling Seattle day. YOU are a light!
Barry Knister says
December 12, 2018 at 11:52 amSarah: your post challenges me to ask good questions about what I’m up to in my current project.
One piece of conventional wisdom is to “be yourself.” We all agree it’s important to be natural and “authentic.” But what I think marks truly successful storytelling is work that guides or seduces the reader into not being herself. You say much the same thing in your post. Such writing–for a time–makes the reader experience the world as selves other than her own (and congratulations on teaching Animal Farm, a great work that does just that).
In my current project, I start with a man who is himself. He’s pretty hard to take, but that’s just him, and people like him anyway. Through no fault of his own, he has become alienated from everyone he knows. We’ve all unintentionally alienated others, so this is an exaggerated treatment of a universal experience.
The central question goes like this: if I deny my POV character all the conventional things you speak of that bring about life-recovering change–growth, exploration, maturity–how does he recover his life?
He can’t. But what if he displays behavior–even inadvertently–that causes others to see him differently? I think of what happens in my novel as the positive, comic equivalent to what happens in Camus’ The Stranger. The central character Meursault is found guilty of murder, not because he committed the crime, but because he failed to cry at his mother’s funeral. You could say my character is forgiven, or found innocent for a similar reason.
Thanks for your post. It was helpful to me. I used to teach college students, but I early on came to understand that teachers of the very young are the ones who do the most serious work there is.
Sarah Callender says
December 13, 2018 at 2:11 pmOh, thank you for the kind and wise words, Barry!
This is fascinatingL “[I]f I deny my POV character all the conventional things you speak of that bring about life-recovering change–growth, exploration, maturity–how does he recover his life? That’s beautiful. And how does he? How CAN he? I assume he has helpers in his life?
Have you read A Man Called Ove by Fredrick Backman. I love everything that Backman has read, and Ove is a fabulous character who finds himself in a heartbreaking situation similar, perhaps, to your protagonist.
Your college kids were fortunate to have you. For all of the talk of college being “the best years of your life,” I found them to be complex and confusing. Granted, I went through college with undiagnosed bipolar/depression so that might have had an impact. :)
Happy holidays to you, Barry. Thanks for inspiring me with your protagonist’s adventure.
Erin Bartels says
December 12, 2018 at 12:31 pmSarah, I too was a World Book Encyclopedia comber. It made me virtually unstoppable at Trivial Pursuit Genus IV.
I love this post because it reminds me of the value of what I’m doing in a way I hadn’t thought of it. Fiction and the study of literature has done more to shape my understanding of the world than almost anything else. Not just because of the contents of the books but because of the teachers and professors who challenged me to think longer, deeper, and with a more open mind than I otherwise might have.
On occasion, I fall into the trap of thinking, “If only I had gotten a ‘useful’ degree…” This post reminds me that my English degree and my lifelong love affair with books is not just useful but essential to me.
Thank you.
Sarah Callender says
December 13, 2018 at 2:19 pmOh yes, Erin. Useful indeed. My school deployed all of the teachers a few weeks back, sending us out into a wide range of businesses and professional worlds to ask the employees this question: what do we need to be doing as teachers NOW to prepare the students to be productive and “successful” twenty years from now.
In every realm, one answer was consistent: good communicators and great writers will never go out of style. No matter how advanced technology becomes, we still need to be good communicators. For those of us English majors, that’s good news.
And, I never trust someone who doesn’t like reading fiction. Except my husband. I trust him 100% even though he lied to me when we were dating … or at least led me to believe that he was much more of a reader than he is. That said, I led him to believe that I am much more of a skiing enthusiast than I am. ;)
Happy, happy holidays to you! Thank you for being here.
David Corbett says
December 12, 2018 at 1:02 pmHI, Sarah:
First, on the issue of education. I come from an era where we weren’t test-obsessed but we weren’t challenged to think outside the box that much, either, at least not until I got to college.
There, I happened to fall under the tutelage of a circle of math professors to whom I owe more than I can say. They taught me that all creative work is problem solving, and all truly meaningful problems start with a question you have no idea how to answer.
Novels are complex problems that the writer begins by realizing he or she has no real plan as yet how to start, just an idea. And as you rightly point out, that idea often takes the form of a question — if it doesn’t, it’s often wise to frame it that way.
My current WIP asks the question: what would an immortal being with no powers beyond the average human’s — just the fact he does not age, and upon his death (call him “serially mortal”) will once again return to life on earth — what would he honestly think of human beings, given thousands of years of experience? Who would he love, if anyone? Who would he not love? Who would he help — or would helping seem pointless? It’s forcing me to be honest about life and death and hope and acceptance in ways I’d not contemplated when I set out.
Wonderful post. Good luck with those peach-fuzz puppies.)
Sarah Callender says
December 13, 2018 at 10:07 pmDavid. Your WIP questions gave me goosebumps! The question of falling in love, that especially made me wonder … as you know so well, there’s great pain in losing someone you love. And, as you also know, there’s great joy in being in love again. But goodness, that pain! My husband has never had his heart broken, and I think he’s missing out on an important life lesson … but goodness, that pain!
I love the connection you point out between math and fiction. That’s brilliant (and it also explains why it’s so hard for me to put this current WIP together). I should never have dropped out of Algebra 2 Trig in high school!
Thanks, as always, for the sharing and the encouraging. And unrelated: The 2019-20 49’ers are going to rock.
S.K. Rizzolo says
December 12, 2018 at 1:08 pmI loved this essay, Sarah! This bit is my favorite: “What if it is our job–our duty–to give readers safe places to wonder? To build characters and plunk these characters into unwinnable situations that require them to change, grow, explore, and mature? To write stories that pose questions that get stuck in the readers’ teeth. What if?”
You remind me that our stories are even MORE important in our technologically driven age. A Google search cannot cough up personal growth, wisdom, or transcendence. The route to those is much slower and more human.
Julie says
December 12, 2018 at 4:43 pmMe too! What a fabulous passage.
It’s always good to read a call to arms for the importance of fiction.
I don’t always start out with a burning question, but my current wip is a fairly frothy, hopefully fun mystery, but the central question turns on ‘which lives matter?’, which is hardly a frothy topic at all.
S.K. Rizzolo says
December 12, 2018 at 9:32 pm“Which lives matter” is a question that ought to consume our culture. I think all stories have deeper questions embedded in them. Nothing frothy about that. Your book sounds wonderful, Julie!
Sarah Callender says
December 13, 2018 at 10:13 pmHello, S.K! Thanks for the comment … and I agree that technology and search engines do nothing to build our empathy or our wisdom. We writers have immense and eternal job security! :)
And yes ,,, slower and more human. Amen to that!
Thank you for your wise and thoughtful comments, S.K. You are a peach!
Beth Havey says
December 12, 2018 at 7:21 pmHi Sarah, so good to see you here and I’m in awe that you are teaching. When I taught high school, I know I learned more than my students, about people, about questioning life, about how to inspire oneself and discover that inspiration can be contagious. I too had the bookcase of encyclopedias that I and then my children used. And I can spell the word because of Jiminy Cricket! Though Google makes it too easy, I think searching for information will always be the purview of writers. Yes, we ask questions and when unable to find a “google-type” answer, we write, finding that looking back and ahead helps form our answers–and knowing that even if we still had that bookcase, the answers might elude us, as writing provides that magical pathway.
Deborah Makarios says
December 12, 2018 at 7:26 pmI still have an encyclopedia! A little 12-volume Everyman’s Encyclopedia from the early 1930s.
Google can tell me a lot about what people thought about Hitler pre-WWII, but it just isn’t the same as seeing a mere couple of paragraphs on this “Ger. politician”.
Lynn Bechdolt says
December 13, 2018 at 8:27 amWonderful piece. I wish I’d had someone like you when I was a “7th grader” as we called ourselves then. I hadn’t thought about the having-the-right-answer thing then, but if you don’t ask the hard questions, they never get answers. And hard answers get us a lot further than the ones we already think we know.
I like Wikipedia a whole lot better because many people (not just white Brits) are allowed to contribute. Some of them contribute WAY more than I can understand, but then I realize how little I understand about the subject I’m looking at.