The writing of a book is like the bearing of a child. But every birth-pang of the former lasts for hours; and it is months before the labor is done.
It is not merely the vision, the hour of exultation; that is but the setting of the task. Now you will take that ecstasy, and hold on to it, hold on with soul and body; you will keep yourself at that height, you will hold that flaming glory before your eyes, and you will hammer it into words. Yes, that is the terror--into words--into words that leap the hilltops, that bring the ends of existence together in a lightning flash. You will take them as they come, white-hot, in wild tumult, and you will forge them, and force them. You will seize them in your naked hands and wrestle with them, and bend them to your will--all that is the making of a poem. And last and worst of all, you will hold them in your memory, the long, long surge of them; the torrent of whirling thought--you will hold it in your memory! You are dazed with excitement, exhausted with you
The Journal of Arthur Stirling (The Valley of the Shadow) is very (for it's time) unique and very well written piece of literature. It seems at times, a somewhat dark and melancholy story; the story of a failing writer as he riddles himself into oblivion.
Upton Sinclair, the faithful writer and introductory speaker, delivers a full range of thoughts and imaginations; all the time delivering a somewhat brief story and imagination with commenting on the side. The writing is very good; very Sinclair.
However, the downer side to this review would have to be the predictability of the "initial-plot", which never seems to satisfies you in the end. "Characters" are self-referencing at times and the story goes into unrealistic phases throughout.
Lastly, I most say, The Journal of Arthur Stirling (The Valley of the Shadow) is a must read at any pace; (sometimes) brilliant writing and a lightly underlined socialist narration throughout.
this novel i found quite interesting. the story line was okay but what really caught my attention was how the novel was so closley related to Upton Sinclair's (the authur) own personal life.