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All is Forgotten, Nothing is Lost
At the renowned writing school in Bonneville, every student is simultaneously terrified of and attracted to the charismatic and mysterious poet and professor Miranda Sturgis, whose high standards for art are both intimidating and inspiring. As two students, Roman and Bernard, strive to win her admiration, the lines between mentorship, friendship, and love are blurred.
Roman's star rises early, and his first book wins a prestigious prize. Meanwhile, Bernard labors for years over a single poem. Secrets of the past begin to surface, friendships are broken, and Miranda continues to cast a shadow over their lives. What is the hidden burden of early promise? What are the personal costs of a life devoted to the pursuit of art? All Is Forgotten, Nothing Is Lost is a brilliant evocation of the demands of ambition and vocation, personal loyalty and poetic truth.
Roman's star rises early, and his first book wins a prestigious prize. Meanwhile, Bernard labors for years over a single poem. Secrets of the past begin to surface, friendships are broken, and Miranda continues to cast a shadow over their lives. What is the hidden burden of early promise? What are the personal costs of a life devoted to the pursuit of art? All Is Forgotten, Nothing Is Lost is a brilliant evocation of the demands of ambition and vocation, personal loyalty and poetic truth.
208 pages, Hardcover
First published September 27, 2010
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About the author
Lan Samantha Chang
21Ìýbooks340ÌýfollowersLan Samantha Chang was born in Appleton, Wisconsin and attended college at Yale where she earned her bachelor's degree in East Asian Studies. She worked in publishing in New York City briefly before getting her MPA from the Kennedy School of Government at Harvard University. She is a graduate of the Iowa Writers' Workshop and was a Wallace E. Stegner Fellow in Fiction at Stanford. She is currently the Elizabeth M. Stanley Professor in the Arts at the University of Iowa and the Director of the Iowa Writers' Workshop. She is the first woman, and the first Asian American, to hold that position.
Chang's first book is a novella and short stories, titled Hunger (1998). The stories are set in the US and China, and they explore home, family, and loss. The New York Times Book Review called it "Elegant.� A delicately calculated balance sheet of the losses and gains of immigrants whose lives are stretched between two radically different cultures." The Washington Post called it "A work of gorgeous, enduring prose." Her first novel, Inheritance (2004), is about a family torn apart by the Japanese invasion during World War II. The Boston Globe said: "The story…is foreign in its historical sweep and social detail but universal in its emotional truth." Chang's latest novel, All Is Forgotten, Nothing is Lost (2011), follows two poets and their friendship as they explore the depths and costs of making art. The book received a starred review from Booklist and praise: "Among the many threads Chang elegantly pursues—the fraught relationships between mentors and students, the value of poetry, the price of ambition—it is her indelible portrait of the loneliness of artistic endeavor that will haunt readers the most in this exquisitely written novel about the poet’s lot." Chang's fourth book and third novel, The Family Chao, is forthcoming in 2022.
Chang has received fellowships from MacDowell, the American Library in Paris, the Guggenheim Foundation, the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study, and the National Endowment for the Arts.
As the fifth director of the Iowa Writers' Workshop, Chang has been fundamental to the increase of racial, cultural, and aesthetic diversity within the program, and has mentored a number of emerging writers. In 2019, she received the Michael J. Brody Award and the Regents' Award for Excellence from the University of Iowa.
Website:
Chang's first book is a novella and short stories, titled Hunger (1998). The stories are set in the US and China, and they explore home, family, and loss. The New York Times Book Review called it "Elegant.� A delicately calculated balance sheet of the losses and gains of immigrants whose lives are stretched between two radically different cultures." The Washington Post called it "A work of gorgeous, enduring prose." Her first novel, Inheritance (2004), is about a family torn apart by the Japanese invasion during World War II. The Boston Globe said: "The story…is foreign in its historical sweep and social detail but universal in its emotional truth." Chang's latest novel, All Is Forgotten, Nothing is Lost (2011), follows two poets and their friendship as they explore the depths and costs of making art. The book received a starred review from Booklist and praise: "Among the many threads Chang elegantly pursues—the fraught relationships between mentors and students, the value of poetry, the price of ambition—it is her indelible portrait of the loneliness of artistic endeavor that will haunt readers the most in this exquisitely written novel about the poet’s lot." Chang's fourth book and third novel, The Family Chao, is forthcoming in 2022.
Chang has received fellowships from MacDowell, the American Library in Paris, the Guggenheim Foundation, the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study, and the National Endowment for the Arts.
As the fifth director of the Iowa Writers' Workshop, Chang has been fundamental to the increase of racial, cultural, and aesthetic diversity within the program, and has mentored a number of emerging writers. In 2019, she received the Michael J. Brody Award and the Regents' Award for Excellence from the University of Iowa.
Website:
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 226 reviews
January 26, 2024
All is Forgotten, Nothing is Lost is not a book lost in a title's paradox. It is the opening salvo in a war of letters - a book that needed to be penned, asking the questions about what makes a writer write, can art be taught and what is the standard by which we call a written work good?
Yes, it may look like an oxymoron, this "All forgotten, nothing lost" - but that's looking at it from the perspective of human memory and not from the writing itself. Once committed to paper that memory becomes a fossil for archaeologists - the reader - to unearth and to judge relative worth, one person at a time. Chang guides us through this theme via the characters of Roman Morris and Bernard Sauvet, two poets that travel very different paths in their life long endeavors to create worthwhile art. The author points to all of the signposts along the way to make the reader ask: Does commercial success equate to art? What about the enduring relationship between the potter and the clay - and why are humans so interested in the person responsible for the work of art? Must anyone read a poem, a manuscript for it to be considered beautiful, considered art?
There's this lovely scene in the middle of the book where Roman looks to comfort from his wife Lucy and she tells him, "You will forget what you forget, whether you impress it upon your memory or not." Because this is all going away at some point whether we want it to or not. We won't be able to hold it for all time, but that doesn't mean that it didn't happen, it wasn't beautiful or that it is lost.
Yes, it may look like an oxymoron, this "All forgotten, nothing lost" - but that's looking at it from the perspective of human memory and not from the writing itself. Once committed to paper that memory becomes a fossil for archaeologists - the reader - to unearth and to judge relative worth, one person at a time. Chang guides us through this theme via the characters of Roman Morris and Bernard Sauvet, two poets that travel very different paths in their life long endeavors to create worthwhile art. The author points to all of the signposts along the way to make the reader ask: Does commercial success equate to art? What about the enduring relationship between the potter and the clay - and why are humans so interested in the person responsible for the work of art? Must anyone read a poem, a manuscript for it to be considered beautiful, considered art?
There's this lovely scene in the middle of the book where Roman looks to comfort from his wife Lucy and she tells him, "You will forget what you forget, whether you impress it upon your memory or not." Because this is all going away at some point whether we want it to or not. We won't be able to hold it for all time, but that doesn't mean that it didn't happen, it wasn't beautiful or that it is lost.
August 18, 2010
I had an interesting experience reading this book. In the beginning I had doubts, as it seemed to be set up as a modern romance, and I wasn't sure if there would be anything else to the story. But that was just part one. Even in the beginning, the way Chang uses words caught me off guard at times. Words are strung together in charming ways, and I found myself re-reading sentences and smiling. This is a story of people whose lives revolve around poetry, told in delicate prose.
As the story progresses, it becomes a tale of heartbreak. These characters have big dreams, sometimes undefined, mostly unfulfilled. Their work seems fantastical and dreamy, but they are always pulled into reality. Friendships die, and people struggle against themselves to resurrect them. The book reminds us of the tenuous balance between relationships with people and careers. More specifically, careers in poetry or literature, working to compose something beautiful and immortal while letting other people and priorities fade into the background.
There's much more to this book, though I don't want to spoil it for anyone, and am trying to think of a way to describe it so that someone else can have the same experience I did reading it. As a first taste of Lan Samantha Chang, this story left a deep impression, and I'll definitely be reading more of her work.
As the story progresses, it becomes a tale of heartbreak. These characters have big dreams, sometimes undefined, mostly unfulfilled. Their work seems fantastical and dreamy, but they are always pulled into reality. Friendships die, and people struggle against themselves to resurrect them. The book reminds us of the tenuous balance between relationships with people and careers. More specifically, careers in poetry or literature, working to compose something beautiful and immortal while letting other people and priorities fade into the background.
There's much more to this book, though I don't want to spoil it for anyone, and am trying to think of a way to describe it so that someone else can have the same experience I did reading it. As a first taste of Lan Samantha Chang, this story left a deep impression, and I'll definitely be reading more of her work.
November 30, 2010
This book really idealizes/sentimentalizes writing programs, almost to the point of being an advertisement. Everyone ends up as successful as they want to be, basically, and nothing interesting happens after the protagonist beds his ice-queen teacher. (He seduces her by screaming "O lovely Pussy!" below her window.)
The book is devoid of (intentional) humor and all the characters have slightly annoying weird names: Roman, Bernard, Miranda, Phebe. I kept wanting someone to eat a Hot Pocket or fart or something.
The book is devoid of (intentional) humor and all the characters have slightly annoying weird names: Roman, Bernard, Miranda, Phebe. I kept wanting someone to eat a Hot Pocket or fart or something.
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September 24, 2019“…We were brought up on the poetry of human experience, and we turned to poets when we sought truth…Along with this education came respect for the poetic form. We understood that forms were pattern of human consciousness. Forms of beauty and restraint. Forms that freed our minds to reach toward the sublime.�
°Ú…]
Roman lived in a shabby back apartment. To save money, he never left the light on for himself, and he had to feel his way up the outdoor stairs in order to keep from stepping between the wooden slats. He would not take comfort in the banality of the present, but would instead continue striving, with all of the energy and confidence he could muster, for the as yet unseen magnificence of the future. The inside of his apartment was almost bare� On the writing table, he had taped a note the size of a fortune cookie message. The note read. ‘All that matters is the work�
°Ú…]
Roman lived in a shabby back apartment. To save money, he never left the light on for himself, and he had to feel his way up the outdoor stairs in order to keep from stepping between the wooden slats. He would not take comfort in the banality of the present, but would instead continue striving, with all of the energy and confidence he could muster, for the as yet unseen magnificence of the future. The inside of his apartment was almost bare� On the writing table, he had taped a note the size of a fortune cookie message. The note read. ‘All that matters is the work�
May 27, 2015
Soggy, sentimental, overwrought tale of literary jealousy. There were some nice early scenes in a writers' workshop at a place called The School (but that sounds a lot like Chang's Iowa Writers' Workshop). After that it just dripped. (And [page 192]: if a batter hits a ball straight back at the pitcher and it strikes the pitcher "above the right wrist" then it won't result in a broken tibia. Oops.)
September 16, 2010
UGH.
Characters are all over-privileged self-important douchebags with a heavy dose of misogyny thrown in for the main character. Story is supposed to be heavy and about love and betrayal, but I just didn't see it. Blech. Also: novels about writers? Over it.
I'm so done with fiction for a while now. Back to my regular diet of non-fiction!
Characters are all over-privileged self-important douchebags with a heavy dose of misogyny thrown in for the main character. Story is supposed to be heavy and about love and betrayal, but I just didn't see it. Blech. Also: novels about writers? Over it.
I'm so done with fiction for a while now. Back to my regular diet of non-fiction!
December 28, 2015
I confess I came to this book with high expectations and hoping to enjoy it. But I found it cheesy, hence the low rating. :-(
So, like, maybe in the alternate universe of Iowa, poets and poetry and grad school programs are like this. Not in my experience.
Instead, this book honestly came off as a bunch of cliches about the writing life, rehashed in symbolic character types - The Ambitious Careerist, The Thwarted Woman Writer, The Reclusive Genius Who Sacrifices All For Art.
Also, the main character is supremely self-absorbed. Not that that's unrealistic at all, but my annoyance with the main character made me feel annoyed the whole time I was reading the book. This does not make it a bad novel at all, but I wanted to slap every character in the book at least once.
Alternate title suggestions for this book:
Things I wish had happened in this book:
Anyway, this book is like an anti-ad for graduate study in creative writing. Which maybe serves a purpose - I suppose it's possible that the Iowa Writer's Workshop wants to decrease the number of applicants?
Oh yes, the sentence-level writing is good (when not containing howlers of dialogue about "poetic education."). And the descriptions of food and such are very nice.
So, like, maybe in the alternate universe of Iowa, poets and poetry and grad school programs are like this. Not in my experience.
Instead, this book honestly came off as a bunch of cliches about the writing life, rehashed in symbolic character types - The Ambitious Careerist, The Thwarted Woman Writer, The Reclusive Genius Who Sacrifices All For Art.
Also, the main character is supremely self-absorbed. Not that that's unrealistic at all, but my annoyance with the main character made me feel annoyed the whole time I was reading the book. This does not make it a bad novel at all, but I wanted to slap every character in the book at least once.
Alternate title suggestions for this book:
Things I wish had happened in this book:
Anyway, this book is like an anti-ad for graduate study in creative writing. Which maybe serves a purpose - I suppose it's possible that the Iowa Writer's Workshop wants to decrease the number of applicants?
Oh yes, the sentence-level writing is good (when not containing howlers of dialogue about "poetic education."). And the descriptions of food and such are very nice.
November 10, 2010
I admired the language, technique, and spare elegance of this book more than I enjoyed reading it. I think it's important that we have a different narrative of poetry (and how it's written) - one that isn't steeped in our cultural fascination with extreme personalities (Bukowski, Plath, etc). And yet... I found the characters to be underdeveloped somehow. Maybe just familiar academic types?: the difficult, elusive professor that everyone wants to impress, the blocked, self-absorbed wunderkind, the purist unconcerned with anything but his slavish, religious devotion to words and ideas. I was more surprised by the writerly techniques (e.g. the "zoom-lens" POV that's able to pick up the microscopic details in a shaft of light, and then in the next sentence pull back, skip years and cross continents) than I was by any dramatic revelation. I think it's a worthy book, an epic in miniature, perhaps really a love story between Roman and Bernard. But not ever blood-stirring or passionate or tingly, in the way that great poetry can be.
September 21, 2015
Chang's writing is lucid and gorgeous, full of the small details of human interaction that make writers like William Maxwell and Flannery O'Connor so intriguing. The story centers on a poet named Roman who becomes absorbed in a passionate relationship with his writing instructor, Miranda, a woman whose exquisite boredom with life, love and writing makes her all the more alluring. The novel shifts between tones of satire and elegy. When we eavesdrop on the writing workshops, the conversations are full of the pomp and self-importance writers thrive on. Yet this is not a comic novel, it is a moving bitter-sweet tale of love and loss, and a paean to the creative soul. Roman's friend and rival Bernard is the heart of this story: "If my habit of correspondence has taught me anything," Bernard says, "it is that all of us keep secrets, even those of us whose literary habits oblige us to write down what we know." An intriguing and moving book of secrets.
December 31, 2010
Chang set herself a delicate task in this short novel - to make us care considerably about the angst of a poet who, for all his alleged talent and commitment, is a shit. Her characters were all a bit too retentive for my tastes; their emotional lives are an abject series of abortions and amputations. But she definitely captures the cost of excellence for a genuine writer. "There could be no higher privilege and its price was sadness." She convinced me on that score.
April 22, 2020
This is a quiet throwback of a novel. Although it was published in 2010 and the story begins in 1986, it has the feel of something taking place a half century earlier. Although the main characters are very different, this reminded me of [Stoner], with its tight focus on one man's adulthood spent in academia.
Roman attends a prestigious MFA writing program in the midwest, where he attends a seminar led by a prominent poet, Miranda Sturgis. He doesn't participate in class and only turns in work before the final meeting. He's critical of Sturgis and her air of detachment as well as her often cutting remarks about his fellow students' work. Nonetheless, he shows up at her house late one night demanding more and to his surprise, she invites him in.
Later, his joy in winning a writing prize that leads to his getting a tenure-track teaching job is marred by discovering that she was on the selection committee. He marries, has a child, settles down to teach, but also to write, to produce something that will out-shine his one published collection in a way so decisive as to lay to rest his own insecurities, as well as taking him back into the limelight.
He dug a trench into the process and stayed inside of it, waist-deep, sweating out the individual monologues, piecing them together. From inside the trench, there was no way to think of anything else: not marriage, not fatherhood. There was only the strength of voice, of words.
This novel is a look at the life of a man whose insecurities and arrogance shaped his life. It looks at his marriage to a fellow MFA graduate, his long friendship with another member of that program and at his own blindness in seeing how his own behavior affects those around him. It's beautifully written, with a melancholic edge.
Roman attends a prestigious MFA writing program in the midwest, where he attends a seminar led by a prominent poet, Miranda Sturgis. He doesn't participate in class and only turns in work before the final meeting. He's critical of Sturgis and her air of detachment as well as her often cutting remarks about his fellow students' work. Nonetheless, he shows up at her house late one night demanding more and to his surprise, she invites him in.
Later, his joy in winning a writing prize that leads to his getting a tenure-track teaching job is marred by discovering that she was on the selection committee. He marries, has a child, settles down to teach, but also to write, to produce something that will out-shine his one published collection in a way so decisive as to lay to rest his own insecurities, as well as taking him back into the limelight.
He dug a trench into the process and stayed inside of it, waist-deep, sweating out the individual monologues, piecing them together. From inside the trench, there was no way to think of anything else: not marriage, not fatherhood. There was only the strength of voice, of words.
This novel is a look at the life of a man whose insecurities and arrogance shaped his life. It looks at his marriage to a fellow MFA graduate, his long friendship with another member of that program and at his own blindness in seeing how his own behavior affects those around him. It's beautifully written, with a melancholic edge.
March 29, 2020
A thoughtful, well-written, and slightly claustrophobic story that makes me wonder about the culture of graduate writing programs. Or maybe confirms that all poets aren't built to pursue poetry academically.
March 23, 2022
I appreciated Chang's talent for telling a compelling story with very few characters. The characters have room to develop without interruption or filler. I also always enjoy peeks (fictionalized or otherwise) into the Iowa Writer's Workshop. Didn't hurt that the main characters subsequently moved to Nebraska where I live now.
November 6, 2010
Elegant, poignant, restrained. I have what I suspect is an obnoxious mild distaste for writers from writing programs - MFA or Iowa Writers Workshop, my mild distaste makes no distinction. It's not that I don't think writing is a craft, or that it can be taught, or that it's worthy of study. It's just that ... well, it seems from the outside like it's a conduit to the publishing industry, and I abhor networking and "connections." I guess my Platonic ideal of a writer is one who has all of the talent and is willing to just write the book that they want to write, take their chances with the manuscript, and hope for discovery. What makes that obnoxious is that 1) there's no reason to believe that "trained" writers don't fit these criteria, and 2) training is not a fast-track to publishing; plenty of people graduate from MFA programs and writing workshops and go on to toil in obscurity with just as pure a devotion to their art as I could ever demand from a stranger. This is all background so that I can say that books like these - methodical, well-paced, but still emotionally deep - make me realize that there's nothing wrong with being a good writer who is also well-trained. ETA: I just realized that the thing I find most irritating about writing programs is that people keep "writing what [they] know" and as more and more published authors are the product of writing classes and several years spent surrounded by other writers, I am trapped as a reader in this ever-shrinking pool of novel topics. A solid third of the novels I've read in the last year have been about writing a novel, a writer's life, or even writing school. This is boring.
The premise of this book � an affair between a poetry teacher and graduate student � wasn’t particularly appealing to me. And sure enough, I found the first third of the book, which focused on the affair, to be the least interesting. But through the rest of the book I found myself increasingly invested in the characters, and very impressed by the writing. The story sets a fast pace � 204 pages to cover 20 some-odd years � but each sentence is so measured and thoughtful that the tone feels almost elegiac and the years slip by with unexpected swiftness.
From near the end:
He understood that he had, mysteriously and without consenting, reached a point in his life where such newness was gone from it; and he understood that it would not return. For no matter how many trips Roman made—to Berlin, to Rome, to Mexico City—he did not escape a life in which a world had ended, a life which he had survived alone, and from which he was now excluded. Something he had been waiting for, some powerful transcendence for which he had held his breath, would not take place. When had this opportunity for transcendence passed? Had he even paid attention?
The premise of this book � an affair between a poetry teacher and graduate student � wasn’t particularly appealing to me. And sure enough, I found the first third of the book, which focused on the affair, to be the least interesting. But through the rest of the book I found myself increasingly invested in the characters, and very impressed by the writing. The story sets a fast pace � 204 pages to cover 20 some-odd years � but each sentence is so measured and thoughtful that the tone feels almost elegiac and the years slip by with unexpected swiftness.
From near the end:
He understood that he had, mysteriously and without consenting, reached a point in his life where such newness was gone from it; and he understood that it would not return. For no matter how many trips Roman made—to Berlin, to Rome, to Mexico City—he did not escape a life in which a world had ended, a life which he had survived alone, and from which he was now excluded. Something he had been waiting for, some powerful transcendence for which he had held his breath, would not take place. When had this opportunity for transcendence passed? Had he even paid attention?
May 18, 2011
At one point in this novel, set at the renowned writing school in Bonneville, Miranda � the inscrutable and aloof poet and professor � assesses the poetry of her star student Roman in this way: “If you want me to be honest, you’re quite talented. There’s a great deal of power in your work. But there’s something hidden about the poems. They draw attention and give nothing back.�
By the end of All Is Forgotten, Nothing Is Lost, I felt the same way about Lan Samantha Chang’s novel.
In many ways, it reads like a fable. There is, at its core a triangle. There’s Miranda (no accident, I think, that Miranda’s name is the same as Duke Prospero’s daughter in The Tempest � a sheltered and beautiful woman who becomes emotionally entwined with the fates of the seekers). There’s Roman, a handsome, charismatic, talented student and lastly, there’s Bernard � his introspective, socially crippled friend who worships Miranda from an emotional distance.
The book succeeds when it explores the attractiveness and destructive power of art. Roman’s star peaks early; Bernard laboriously pursues his own perhaps brighter star, yet ultimately, there are personal costs that must be borne by both. Ms. Chang is in her element as she turns her novelist’s eye on the rewards and costs of this pursuit of literary excellence and literary fame.
Where she doesn’t succeed � in my opinion � is to develop fully fleshed characters. She has us believe that Miranda � a talented and married poet who wields absolute power in her classroom and goes to great lengths to remain elusive � suddenly is willing to throw over her career and her carefully-wrought stability for Roman. And why? Roman is portrayed as a handsome, callow, talented student who is, at the very least, careless with his emotional conquests and at the very most, unnecessarily cruel. He is her student and half her age. While things like that happen all the time, nothing in Miranda’s background seems to suggest she would be susceptible to a love affair with Roman.
Roman is, ultimately, unlikeable. And while I have a high tolerance for unlikeable characters, I need to understand why I don’t like him. Why are so many attracted to him? His great looks only go so far. There has to be something more � some charisma, some inherent charm � that I can’t glean in him. Why would he attract such loyalty in Miranda, who falls quickly from a self-sufficient woman to a moth around his flame, and Bernard, to whom he is less than kind.
In the end, I felt attracted to the themes of All Is Forgotten, but I suspect it will be quickly forgotten. I wanted more dimension.
By the end of All Is Forgotten, Nothing Is Lost, I felt the same way about Lan Samantha Chang’s novel.
In many ways, it reads like a fable. There is, at its core a triangle. There’s Miranda (no accident, I think, that Miranda’s name is the same as Duke Prospero’s daughter in The Tempest � a sheltered and beautiful woman who becomes emotionally entwined with the fates of the seekers). There’s Roman, a handsome, charismatic, talented student and lastly, there’s Bernard � his introspective, socially crippled friend who worships Miranda from an emotional distance.
The book succeeds when it explores the attractiveness and destructive power of art. Roman’s star peaks early; Bernard laboriously pursues his own perhaps brighter star, yet ultimately, there are personal costs that must be borne by both. Ms. Chang is in her element as she turns her novelist’s eye on the rewards and costs of this pursuit of literary excellence and literary fame.
Where she doesn’t succeed � in my opinion � is to develop fully fleshed characters. She has us believe that Miranda � a talented and married poet who wields absolute power in her classroom and goes to great lengths to remain elusive � suddenly is willing to throw over her career and her carefully-wrought stability for Roman. And why? Roman is portrayed as a handsome, callow, talented student who is, at the very least, careless with his emotional conquests and at the very most, unnecessarily cruel. He is her student and half her age. While things like that happen all the time, nothing in Miranda’s background seems to suggest she would be susceptible to a love affair with Roman.
Roman is, ultimately, unlikeable. And while I have a high tolerance for unlikeable characters, I need to understand why I don’t like him. Why are so many attracted to him? His great looks only go so far. There has to be something more � some charisma, some inherent charm � that I can’t glean in him. Why would he attract such loyalty in Miranda, who falls quickly from a self-sufficient woman to a moth around his flame, and Bernard, to whom he is less than kind.
In the end, I felt attracted to the themes of All Is Forgotten, but I suspect it will be quickly forgotten. I wanted more dimension.
June 20, 2011
Definitely not the oomph I was hoping for from the Director of the Iowa Writers' Workshop, especially given the irony of her subject matter! I almost wonder if her 0 degrees of separation held her back in this regard. The emotional tenor of the book felt very forced, with too many of the characters' internal struggles spelled out in expository rather than active scenes. So intent she was to make the characters archetypical, the characters didn't feel 'real.'
The book is short, barely over 200 pages and organized into three parts, yet tries to span 30+ years in life of the main character, Roman. Within each part, the book seems to explore the 3 relationships that have shaped Roman's career, most notably with his writing professor from grad school with whom he had a brief romantic relationship but also his failed relationship with his wife and another with a friend, whom he also met in grad school. But again, this is attempted in too few pages to bring any real emotion or insight onto the page, especially considering that the life of these relationships had to share real estate with the author's vague musings about the trade-offs of personal sacrifices made in the name of art.
In other words, the book bit off more than it could chew and left a metallic, self-important book in its wake.
The book is short, barely over 200 pages and organized into three parts, yet tries to span 30+ years in life of the main character, Roman. Within each part, the book seems to explore the 3 relationships that have shaped Roman's career, most notably with his writing professor from grad school with whom he had a brief romantic relationship but also his failed relationship with his wife and another with a friend, whom he also met in grad school. But again, this is attempted in too few pages to bring any real emotion or insight onto the page, especially considering that the life of these relationships had to share real estate with the author's vague musings about the trade-offs of personal sacrifices made in the name of art.
In other words, the book bit off more than it could chew and left a metallic, self-important book in its wake.
September 11, 2010
The cover led this book into my hands several times in the bookstore. Then a book club I belong to announced it as their September selection with a discussion with Lan Samantha Chang later in the month. Not wanting to be left behind, I quickly picked up my copy and began.
At first, it appeared to be a somewhat short, quick read. As i turned the first few pages, I soon realized it was much much more. Short in pages? maybe. Short on character, life commonalities and shared philosophical questions? definitely NOT.
I found myself thinking of the characters - Roman, Lucy, Bernard and Miranda - long after I put it down. The similar questions, the possible symbolism, and the pure subjectivity of writing.
Lan Samantha Chang briefly says she is not a poet, but a prose writer. After reading this, I might disagree with her. Her writing is poetic. Her questions are those (I believe) poets ask. She appears to have captured the "heads" of poets - or at least the struggles they face - in life and academia.
Pick it up, delve into the worlds of academia and poets. You'll be glad you did.
At first, it appeared to be a somewhat short, quick read. As i turned the first few pages, I soon realized it was much much more. Short in pages? maybe. Short on character, life commonalities and shared philosophical questions? definitely NOT.
I found myself thinking of the characters - Roman, Lucy, Bernard and Miranda - long after I put it down. The similar questions, the possible symbolism, and the pure subjectivity of writing.
Lan Samantha Chang briefly says she is not a poet, but a prose writer. After reading this, I might disagree with her. Her writing is poetic. Her questions are those (I believe) poets ask. She appears to have captured the "heads" of poets - or at least the struggles they face - in life and academia.
Pick it up, delve into the worlds of academia and poets. You'll be glad you did.
February 7, 2011
What I liked most was the view inside the poet's mind and process, through Roman (who is also the supreme asshole) and indirectly (through the eyes of Roman and Bernard), Miranda, and what we can know without seeing the actual work. The atmospheric details were also great. How well I remember the haze of cigarette smoke over the workshop table and the subsequent retreat to "the bar." Of course it is very tempting to speculate about the possible real-life equivalents of these poet prototypes.
The downside is that the dialogue often felt canned to me, the quotes and mini-recitations too obvious. I never quite believed in Bernard.
It made me happy to see the study of poetry writing through the phenomenon of the MFA poetry workshop taken seriously without the usual knee-jerk reverse snobbery of the anti-academic practitioners.
The downside is that the dialogue often felt canned to me, the quotes and mini-recitations too obvious. I never quite believed in Bernard.
It made me happy to see the study of poetry writing through the phenomenon of the MFA poetry workshop taken seriously without the usual knee-jerk reverse snobbery of the anti-academic practitioners.
April 24, 2011
Patrice, this review's for you. Reading books like this is always self-indulgent, because as a grad student I like to know that fictional others are suffering through very particular experiences I'm familiar with - sitting in seminar with grad students, the trepidation of visiting and holding office hours, the dull pressure of knowing that your work's never quite finished, the relief of always finding something beautiful to read. As boring as it sounds, for me it's the pleasure of recognition. I've enjoyed Chang's other books, and this one carries one of my favorite characters, a retiring, reclusive poet who's so gently in love, and who sends missives knowing he might never get one in return. It's a mostly quiet book, and I kept thinking about it even when I wasn't able to read it.
January 8, 2016
The top-shelf writing is worth the four stars all on its own. The language is beautiful and intelligent and the author writes with a controlled self-possession that makes me feel rather jealous.
It isn't a book peopled with lovable characters; it is largely about the sacrifices and discontents that accompany the decision to follow a calling. I particularly liked the foil of Bernard the martyr and Roman the egotist. Bernard is one of those characters that seems lifted from Dostoevsky; he's hopeless and otherworldly and you feel such a combination of pity and respect for him that you can't keep your head on straight.
I admit I did feel the need to switch to something light and fun after this one, but it was a very good read.
It isn't a book peopled with lovable characters; it is largely about the sacrifices and discontents that accompany the decision to follow a calling. I particularly liked the foil of Bernard the martyr and Roman the egotist. Bernard is one of those characters that seems lifted from Dostoevsky; he's hopeless and otherworldly and you feel such a combination of pity and respect for him that you can't keep your head on straight.
I admit I did feel the need to switch to something light and fun after this one, but it was a very good read.
October 17, 2023
I'm going to have to buy a new copy of this book.Ìý
Because I've underlined mine into unreadability.
Never before have I finished a novel and wanted to restart it again.
At 200 pages 'All is Forgotten, Nothing is Lost'Ìý
is short enough to be the perfect book to get back into (or start with) literature.
Whilst at the same time maintaining a quality of language that is extraordinarily delicious.Ìý
I know I am biased here.
The themes of this novel closely cater to my interests.Ìý
Roman Morris is an insecure, vain, but capable poet attending a graduate program.
Over there he falls into a secret relationship with his esteemed mentor - Miranda Sturgis.
And that, as someone who was abandoned by his own mother, sends his whole life through a wormhole.
This book has everything I yearn for.
An exploration of art, learning, teaching, and the writers' life.
A cautionary tale of genius and what a bane it can be for the selfish artist's loved ones.
If you're familiar with the band 'The XX' this book reads like their greatest hits.Ìý
Shelter. Infinity. Chained. Angels.
I'm borrowing musical references here to evoke mood becauseÌý
not even the impassioned best of my language can do the taste of this story any justice.Ìý
It is spectacular. Without encumbering the common reader's desire for narrative.Ìý
If I had to nitpick - there are no guns or explosions.Ìý
The plot doesn't grant any high octane action.Ìý
But, there is a good plot.
Full of dramatic scenes where our hearts and guts are pulled like rubber with the tragedies of the characters.Ìý
The best movies, the best games, the best works of art,Ìý
make the viewer's mental life more vivid,Ìý
more uniquely singular,Ìý
for having synthesized its contents.
'All is forgotten, Nothing is Lost' has become a permanent part of my literary conscience.Ìý
A place of precision beauty and lush description.Ìý
And all this power in just 200 pages.
Because I've underlined mine into unreadability.
Never before have I finished a novel and wanted to restart it again.
At 200 pages 'All is Forgotten, Nothing is Lost'Ìý
is short enough to be the perfect book to get back into (or start with) literature.
Whilst at the same time maintaining a quality of language that is extraordinarily delicious.Ìý
I know I am biased here.
The themes of this novel closely cater to my interests.Ìý
Roman Morris is an insecure, vain, but capable poet attending a graduate program.
Over there he falls into a secret relationship with his esteemed mentor - Miranda Sturgis.
And that, as someone who was abandoned by his own mother, sends his whole life through a wormhole.
This book has everything I yearn for.
An exploration of art, learning, teaching, and the writers' life.
A cautionary tale of genius and what a bane it can be for the selfish artist's loved ones.
If you're familiar with the band 'The XX' this book reads like their greatest hits.Ìý
Shelter. Infinity. Chained. Angels.
I'm borrowing musical references here to evoke mood becauseÌý
not even the impassioned best of my language can do the taste of this story any justice.Ìý
It is spectacular. Without encumbering the common reader's desire for narrative.Ìý
If I had to nitpick - there are no guns or explosions.Ìý
The plot doesn't grant any high octane action.Ìý
But, there is a good plot.
Full of dramatic scenes where our hearts and guts are pulled like rubber with the tragedies of the characters.Ìý
The best movies, the best games, the best works of art,Ìý
make the viewer's mental life more vivid,Ìý
more uniquely singular,Ìý
for having synthesized its contents.
'All is forgotten, Nothing is Lost' has become a permanent part of my literary conscience.Ìý
A place of precision beauty and lush description.Ìý
And all this power in just 200 pages.
November 7, 2022
bring back cigs inside MFA programs NOW
November 17, 2015
This book raises a lot of questions: Is it possible to love a book in spite of the total uselessness of the protagonist? Is it possible to be totally enchanted by a story that so closely follows a man you can't stand? Generally, I'd so no, but specifically, when it comes to , it turns outÌýthat both are entirely possible.
Other questions the book touches on remain unanswered. Like, can creative writing be taught? It's an interesting question on its own, butÌýespecially soÌýwhen the novel in which it's being asked and unanswered is written by the current director of the Iowa Writers' Workshop, widely considered to be the best graduate creative writing program in the country.
You'd think that as a current student of writing at the University of Iowa (yes, theÌýsame school of the Iowa Writers' Workshop, no I'm not in that program) I'd feel strongly that creative writing can be taught, but I don't. I also don't feel strongly that it *can't* be taught, and, if Chang's book is indicative of her feelings on the matter, she falls into a similar boat. I do think it's a good question and I do think this book navigates that question in an interesting, thought provoking way.
Like I said, the protagonist is a totally useless, aggravating, self-centered prick. I did not like him and I did not sympathize with him, but I did believeÌýinÌýhim as a character. Though through the first two-thirds of this book he came off as a totally pompous ass, I appreciated eventually getting a glimpse into his insecurities and realizing that a lot of that bravado was in fact possibly false. It's true that it was slightly annoying to watch this guy fumble through life, totally unaware that he wasn't the only person in the world, but I appreciated the trust Chang put in her readers, that we could move past this, see that she was working to emphasize his flaws, and realize that he really was a well-rounded character - that in fact being a well-rounded character does not mean balancing great and terrible. In this case, the task she created for herself was balancing various shades of shitty. I think part of what made it so great was that it was in such contrast with the writing. Chang writes delicately and beautifully, and it was interesting to see this style used to portray someone who was so definitely neither delicate nor beautiful.
I loved everything about the writing of this book. It was sly, smart, and the pacing was perfect. One of the most difficult things for me as a writer is figuring out how to handle the passing of time. This book covers several decades, which can be a tricky thing to handle. When done poorly, it's jarring and takes you out of the book. Chang handled it perfectly, and in fact I believe the ways in which the passing of time distort our perceptions to be a central theme to this book. The first third of the book takes place during a specific period of time in the protagonist's life, and then follows him through his career. In the last few pages he's looking back at a snapshot of himself and his friends from the first period of time we followed him through, and he can't remember the names of most of the people. It was such a subtle and effective way to get across that feeling of letting go of things that were once so important, and getting some distance and perspective on the way time warps the mind.
Other questions the book touches on remain unanswered. Like, can creative writing be taught? It's an interesting question on its own, butÌýespecially soÌýwhen the novel in which it's being asked and unanswered is written by the current director of the Iowa Writers' Workshop, widely considered to be the best graduate creative writing program in the country.
You'd think that as a current student of writing at the University of Iowa (yes, theÌýsame school of the Iowa Writers' Workshop, no I'm not in that program) I'd feel strongly that creative writing can be taught, but I don't. I also don't feel strongly that it *can't* be taught, and, if Chang's book is indicative of her feelings on the matter, she falls into a similar boat. I do think it's a good question and I do think this book navigates that question in an interesting, thought provoking way.
Like I said, the protagonist is a totally useless, aggravating, self-centered prick. I did not like him and I did not sympathize with him, but I did believeÌýinÌýhim as a character. Though through the first two-thirds of this book he came off as a totally pompous ass, I appreciated eventually getting a glimpse into his insecurities and realizing that a lot of that bravado was in fact possibly false. It's true that it was slightly annoying to watch this guy fumble through life, totally unaware that he wasn't the only person in the world, but I appreciated the trust Chang put in her readers, that we could move past this, see that she was working to emphasize his flaws, and realize that he really was a well-rounded character - that in fact being a well-rounded character does not mean balancing great and terrible. In this case, the task she created for herself was balancing various shades of shitty. I think part of what made it so great was that it was in such contrast with the writing. Chang writes delicately and beautifully, and it was interesting to see this style used to portray someone who was so definitely neither delicate nor beautiful.
I loved everything about the writing of this book. It was sly, smart, and the pacing was perfect. One of the most difficult things for me as a writer is figuring out how to handle the passing of time. This book covers several decades, which can be a tricky thing to handle. When done poorly, it's jarring and takes you out of the book. Chang handled it perfectly, and in fact I believe the ways in which the passing of time distort our perceptions to be a central theme to this book. The first third of the book takes place during a specific period of time in the protagonist's life, and then follows him through his career. In the last few pages he's looking back at a snapshot of himself and his friends from the first period of time we followed him through, and he can't remember the names of most of the people. It was such a subtle and effective way to get across that feeling of letting go of things that were once so important, and getting some distance and perspective on the way time warps the mind.
August 11, 2016
A long novella filled with radiant light, very serious poet men, and women whose hair often spools from its braids. The queer repetition (4x, at least) of the adjective "queer" either subtly or heavy-handedly (not sure which) suggested something about these two dudes -- maybe something about how, per Miranda, all memorable relationships in lit are unconventional? Some beautiful lines, resplendant in time and dying golden light, all of it trapped in amber and/or soap bubbles, etc. Definitely not about blood-and-gut poets or holy fool/ecstatic poets. One's an ambitious careerist worried that he's sort of soul-less. The other's humorously pure, an ascetic correspondent, an unembittered humble idealist till the end. The workshops seemed like romanticized caricatures attended by pomo vampire poets: late-fall dusk, candlelight, quasi-sacramental paper cups of red wine, glowing cigarette embers, over-the-top overpacked responses from students, everything at stake! Really found it interesting as an exploration of worries re: unquantifiable artistic achievement. Very readable, short, clear, with few characters to muss up the clarity. Sometimes felt like a sort of chaste poet porn intended for serious literary publication (I'd've loved for a Dean Young-type minor character, a Russell Edson, instead of the semi-stereotypical older gay male predator poet.) Ultimately, I was pleasantly surprised and enjoyed the few hours I spent with it. Something that seemed missing was the spark talked about in Dean Young's , but maybe that's also something that makes this one kind of interesting: a book about poets very much unlike "The Dead Poets Society" or "Howl" etc. Not so much about inspiration or wine-drunk wildness or even struggles with the work -- more so, it's about the relationships that act on and react to the work?
February 13, 2011
This was an absorbing read for me, completed in a couple of sittings. And more than anything else, I admired the prose. Maybe it's because I've been reading a lot of long cram-in-all-the-#$%ing-wonder-of-life sentence writers lately, but the spare elegantly-crafted lines came as a refreshing surprise. I really felt like I was disappearing into the text, and emerging only when each section was finished.
The story, on the other hand, seemed a touch too refined for my taste. I appreciated the subtle touch in moments, but in other moments, I yearned to know more about what was beyond the page. In an ideal version of this book, for me, we would have gotten to know Bernard just as well as Roman. Perhaps it seemed like there was less to mine there, mired as B. was in his daily solitude. But I found myself wondering how anyone could really live a life that monastic, and how he really existed on a daily basis. What did he do? How did he "suffer"? It was a shame never to see him outside of Roman's orbit.
I felt similarly about Miranda. True, she was enigmatic, and there was excitement in that initially, but once this surface layer had been pulled away, I wanted more. Who was she? Sometimes she felt just like the mysterious seductress in a bodice-ripper for poets.
I respect that these were choices made in service of writing a story mostly about Roman, but despite his many mistakes, he actually felt like the least interesting character in the book to me.
Still, I couldn't put this down. It cast a peculiar kind of spell on me, one made up of a pleasing mixture of nostalgia and regret. And I liked the idea of moving briskly along through these lives, skipping over the years of calm to get to the good stuff. If only the magnifying glass had moved away from Roman once in awhile.
The story, on the other hand, seemed a touch too refined for my taste. I appreciated the subtle touch in moments, but in other moments, I yearned to know more about what was beyond the page. In an ideal version of this book, for me, we would have gotten to know Bernard just as well as Roman. Perhaps it seemed like there was less to mine there, mired as B. was in his daily solitude. But I found myself wondering how anyone could really live a life that monastic, and how he really existed on a daily basis. What did he do? How did he "suffer"? It was a shame never to see him outside of Roman's orbit.
I felt similarly about Miranda. True, she was enigmatic, and there was excitement in that initially, but once this surface layer had been pulled away, I wanted more. Who was she? Sometimes she felt just like the mysterious seductress in a bodice-ripper for poets.
I respect that these were choices made in service of writing a story mostly about Roman, but despite his many mistakes, he actually felt like the least interesting character in the book to me.
Still, I couldn't put this down. It cast a peculiar kind of spell on me, one made up of a pleasing mixture of nostalgia and regret. And I liked the idea of moving briskly along through these lives, skipping over the years of calm to get to the good stuff. If only the magnifying glass had moved away from Roman once in awhile.
Read
February 5, 2021This is a book about poets in an MFA program. In a way it's like a novel that takes place in another country, with aspects of another culture observed: the culture of workshops, journals, readings, grants, prizes, interviews, the demands of teaching.
The characters ask each other some of the philosophical questions that poets ask: Why write poetry anyway? What kind of feedback is helpful? Do you have an ideal reader? Can writing be taught? Can poets become better poets?
The story that unfolds within that poet world is a sad little story. Roman wants to be a great poet so badly that it's all about him. Before she divorces him, his wife says, "Roman, you're a pig," and really, he is. He ends up estranged from all the people who cared for him. He has an affair with his teacher, and that relationship really seems, at least for a while, to mean something to him, but he turns on her when he learns that she has used her influence to try to help advance his career. He offends his one poet friend, a quiet, gentle, lonely soul. He smothers his wife's writing ambitions, denies her the second child she wants, and keeps secrets from her.
He comes to see it, by the end, the way he has hurt people, and his sadness is, if not quite a redemption, at least humanizing. Toward the end he meets another old classmate, a woman he had dated and dumped, and finds that with all the years that have passed, she isn't angry anymore. The rancor is gone, the connection remains. As friends. I guess that is how all gets forgotten, but nothing lost. The book is quietly narrated. Like poetry, some vivid images, some careful turns of phrase, and beautiful writing at times. But I never could really decide if I liked it. It mostly just made me sad.
The characters ask each other some of the philosophical questions that poets ask: Why write poetry anyway? What kind of feedback is helpful? Do you have an ideal reader? Can writing be taught? Can poets become better poets?
The story that unfolds within that poet world is a sad little story. Roman wants to be a great poet so badly that it's all about him. Before she divorces him, his wife says, "Roman, you're a pig," and really, he is. He ends up estranged from all the people who cared for him. He has an affair with his teacher, and that relationship really seems, at least for a while, to mean something to him, but he turns on her when he learns that she has used her influence to try to help advance his career. He offends his one poet friend, a quiet, gentle, lonely soul. He smothers his wife's writing ambitions, denies her the second child she wants, and keeps secrets from her.
He comes to see it, by the end, the way he has hurt people, and his sadness is, if not quite a redemption, at least humanizing. Toward the end he meets another old classmate, a woman he had dated and dumped, and finds that with all the years that have passed, she isn't angry anymore. The rancor is gone, the connection remains. As friends. I guess that is how all gets forgotten, but nothing lost. The book is quietly narrated. Like poetry, some vivid images, some careful turns of phrase, and beautiful writing at times. But I never could really decide if I liked it. It mostly just made me sad.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 14, 2016
I'm debating applying to MFA programs and I've been trying to read books by the facilitators and graduates of these programs. This book, written by the director of the Iowa Writer's Workshop, is an example of why I'm thinking of not going into the MFA world. It is the exact type of manuscript that MFA programs produce...over and over and over.
First of all, who is the audience for this book? Entitled tenured professors with English degrees that are suffering from existential ennui? Or people aspiring to be that? Literally, nothing in this book is relatable, interesting or new. The characters are flat at best and absolutely insufferable at worst. And I'm not talking fun insufferable the way Draco Malfoy is insufferable. It's more like, "shut up and enjoy your tenured job, you dickhead" insufferable.
Second, there's so little beauty in the writing itself that it genuinely makes me sad for the state of academic writing programs. There's that smug, wanna-be beauty—passages discussing the authenticity of the artist and all that—but there's nothing real to grab onto and love about this book.
I just wish I could buy into books like this. But I really, really can't. Give me Neil Gaiman or Stephen King any day over this pretentious pile of bullshit.
First of all, who is the audience for this book? Entitled tenured professors with English degrees that are suffering from existential ennui? Or people aspiring to be that? Literally, nothing in this book is relatable, interesting or new. The characters are flat at best and absolutely insufferable at worst. And I'm not talking fun insufferable the way Draco Malfoy is insufferable. It's more like, "shut up and enjoy your tenured job, you dickhead" insufferable.
Second, there's so little beauty in the writing itself that it genuinely makes me sad for the state of academic writing programs. There's that smug, wanna-be beauty—passages discussing the authenticity of the artist and all that—but there's nothing real to grab onto and love about this book.
I just wish I could buy into books like this. But I really, really can't. Give me Neil Gaiman or Stephen King any day over this pretentious pile of bullshit.
October 31, 2013
"He understood now, viscerally, something he had only suspected as a child: that he was his family's aftermath."
November 28, 2015
4.25 stars. Review to come.
October 9, 2018
Love campus novels, this one is zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
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