I read “Son of Mr. Green Jones” and wondered about Moore’s method.
Here, he strings together 26 bits of loosely related motifs about fatherhood, with each piece leading to the next and linking back to the last effortlessly. The result is a substantial, interlocking matrix of observations on the subject of fathers and, often times, their failures.
I want to learn to write like this. Every nonfiction writer seems to have a method, and I’m still reaching for mine. When reading, sometimes my highlighter becomes a convenient tool, imbuing delicately powerful phrases with color and therefore elevating to the status of remembrance. Other times, I stop what I’m reading and lunge for a pen and my journal, copying down an interesting fact or poetic line with an eye for exactitude. Sometimes, I store these bits and pieces digitally, e-mailing myself or using Microsoft Word to record a jewel of a sentence as I stumble upon it.
It seems like Moore spent years researching this piece, so varied are his facts on fatherhood — from the ecstasy of new fatherhood for a penguin to the effects of television’s Leave it to Beaver to the behavior of the Y chromosome. I wonder how he prepared for this piece.
There are people today who watch recordings of Michael Jackson’s last dress rehearsal with almost a religious fervor. They seek meaning in Jackson’s every glance — he way he engages with the mirror, how he drops his dead down for a particular dance move, his method of preparing for the concert stage. They are looking for the genius in his practice. In this way, I would love a glimpse of Moore’s notes for this piece — every rejected sentence, every motif that didn’t make it to the printed page. Maybe this transparency wouldn’t ruin the allure of good writing. But as a fellow writer, I long to know what went on behind the scenes.
