Thursday, April 4, 2013

Rex's Bio and Response


Hi! My name is Rex, and I'm a sophomore majoring in Physics. I'm not an English major, but I am an avid reader/listener. In particular, I'm interested in storytelling because of how little I know about it— good storytelling has a magic about it that I want to debunk and, eventually, use in my own writing. I'm originally from Los Angeles, where I learned how to listen to/play jazz and love the outdoors among a few other things, but Stanford's campus has felt like home since the start of this school year. My freshman year was a blur, marred by much confusion and frustration, but this year I created a small comfort zone when I decided to forget about what happens right after college and just enjoy the classes I want to enjoy. I haven't regretted it yet. Sure, I've got long term goals, but I think this year is an appropriate time to slow down my life and make room for budding interests. After college, I have no idea what I will do with a degree in physics, but I know that my ideal job will be one in which human care is a daily priority. If it weren't for my love of math and an unending admiration for its place in nature, I'd probably be premed, but that's just not my jam.

I do believe in new stories, but I believe every new story reveals something old about oneself. For me, new stories are "new" because they elicit new perspectives on my own experience. When I read a story that strikes me as "new," it's usually because it takes me by surprise: at first I'm shocked by the strangeness of it all, but then I am amazed by how strange my own life is. New stories put my own experiences in a different light and reveal undiscovered meanings, but these personal experiences are themselves a story I've retold many times to myself and my friends. My own narrative is a messy and often misinterpreted tale, and a new story will add some sense of direction that I might not have foreseen. For example, Don Quixote was a powerful, "new" story for me. I never thought I would compare myself to the delusional-but-chivalrous protagonist himself, or to his squire, Sancho, but I did, and I would not have seen myself in this new light (for good or for bad) if it weren't for that story. When broken down into its most fundamental literary elements, this story has been told before: sure, I've certainly never had a personal squire, but often times Don Quixote is strangely familiar to me, and I have memories of when my own actions mimicked those of his.

I think new stories seem "new" because of this phenomenon: we hear or read a story and our natural self-obsession forces our minds to bring the story into personal context. The newness that a story creates is simply a matter of craft: how does a storyteller craft the story (by setting, characters, conflict, development, architecture, etc.) to be impressively inventive yet eerily familiar to the reader. Only then can the reader be captivated by a story whose narrative challenges the reader's perspective on his or her own life.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.