The essays from the “Essayists on the Essay” augmented the characteristics that we discussed in our previous class. Smith reminds us that life experience spawns the essay in those who are meditative and have “an eye to discover the suggestiveness of common things.”  Benson observes that the essayist should bring an order and beauty into the “simple stuff” of life “evoked by our passage through the world.” Murdoch catalogs admirable essayists and describes each as a “kindly observer of life.” As you can see, all realize that the essay is a form filled with personal reflection and is inspired by subjective experiences.
They all also give caution to the voice and ego of the essayist, by suggesting that the essayist must create a companionship with the reader, must not be too formal, and cannot be seen as preaching. As Murdoch describes, it is important that the essayist is “talking to the reader and not instructing him.” To me, this is delineating a line between what deserves to be classified as an essay and what these authors believe fails to be labeled as art. According to these essayists, the essay is an art form that transforms life on the page, that shares a reflective thought process, and that offers a new perspective of the world (or of the self) through personal meditation.

Although I think there are some key differences between what Benson, Smith and Murdoch see as the purpose of the essay, I instead want to shift focus to “Total Eclipse” and “Ticket to the Fair.” Both essays were descriptive of their locale and were travel essays of sorts. They each immersed the reader in the setting by paying close attention to detail and by transcribing dialogue that brought us into the scene.  Both were based on subjective (also stimulating and sometimes frightening) experiences of a journey that inspired many thoughts and emotions, but with extremely different mood and tone (one more cynical, one I found more melodramatic) shaping the essays.
However, I think both essays are great examples of what Benson describes as the essayist being an “interpreter of life, critic of life.” Although we discussed that there is some self-absorption involved in essay writing and that there is a “perpetual reference to the self,” I think it is important to note that essays are always observations of relationships, events, and all things in the larger world around us! This means that essays are not alienating internal, self-centered experiences (i.e. some strange, mysterious diary entry), but have a desire (or structural need) to connect with a broader concern or observation about humanity.
Annie Dillard describes seeing a major astronomical event, but it was her personal fear and the larger realization that humans are quite microscopic against an immense unexplainable universe that pulses through the story. David Foster Wallace chronicles his days at the Illinois Fair, but often makes us feel uncomfortable with the heartless selling and commodifying of our culture, points out interesting dichotomies between the coast and midwest culture/ rural and city life, and has us realize that humans are in fact the spectacle. Although personal emotion and thought flood these essays, I think it is important to note that each is still conscious of its audience, and creates a digestible and relatable scene or concept for the reader.

Which brings me to Joan Didion. I adore this piece, but I do think there are major differences between keeping a notebook for personal exploration and writing an essay.  Keeping a notebook would certainly spark ideas and thoughts that might formulate an essay or even a short story,  but I think the major difference is the concern for (or conversation with) the reader. It is the performance of the essay, that even she is making for her reader in this piece. However, the bending of reality and hard facts for the sake of meaning and emotion are definitely highlights of Didion’s piece, and I would imagine are tools used often in essay writing. I already overran 400 words but can’t wait to discuss all this more in class!

“…and maybe no one else felt the ground hardening and summer already dead even as we pretended to bask in it, but that was how it felt to me…” – Joan Didion