I’ll Give You The Sun: Writing with Music

A book worthy of a tearful sigh and a long hug to the chest when you finish it at 3 AM.

Coming from someone with a creative writing degree who created her own DIY MFA program, this statement carries some weight: Jandy Nelson’s I’ll Give You The Sun is my favorite book.

I’ve read it probably seven or eight times at this point, gifted it to more than one person, suggested it to every book club I’ve ever eavesdropped on, and thought about it approximately seven million times.

It came out in 2015, so I must have read it for the first time at some point during undergrad.

I included it in the first month of The Highway MFA for the same reason I added On Writing and The Heart is a Lonely Hunter. I wanted to reread books that are important to me and remind myself why I want to be a writer in the first place.

I’ll Give You The Sun is a crystal-clear example of why I want to write. Jandy Nelson’s storytelling is stunning, the plot is complicated and captivating, and the characters are wonderful, unique, and lively. But in a rare turn, the writing really makes this novel.

General thoughts: Vibrant characters need vibrant writing

The story is told from two perspectives: Noah and Jude, twin brother and sister. Noah tells the story of ages 13 and 14, and Jude tells the story of age 16. The two plotlines eventually come to a head and connect, all the while unraveling the mystery surrounding the twins’ mother’s death.

It’s a great story, but the magic for me is in Nelson’s writing.

She writes with music, with poetry, with art.

Much of I’ll Give You The Sun is about art: central to the plotline is The California School of the Arts, which both twins apply into, Noah in painting and Jude in fashion and pottery. This central theme of fine art comes into play in the ways the twins talk and the characterizations of each of them at various points in the overlapping timelines.

Noah and Jude each have fascinating ways of telling their own stories. Noah is what he calls a “blow-in”, practically an alien, unprepared for the actualities of social life. We hear his chaotic thoughts through his vibrant descriptions, dripping with color and otherworldly energy. In frequent asides, we hear Noah “mind painting” as he names unfinished portraits and self-portraits.

On the flip side, Jude — who is cocky and confident in Noah’s side of the story, but closed off in her own — has a slightly more realistic interpretation of the world, but her life is dominated by her grandmother’s “Bible” of traditions, beliefs, sayings, and good luck charms. Her “asides” are Bible entries, like holding an onion in your pocket to ward off illness.

Here’s an example from one of Noah’s chapters, when Noah and his new friend Brian are scouring the woods for fallen meteorites:

Hours later, however, we haven’t found one meteorite, not one piece of sky litter, but I so don’t care. Instead of classifying, whatever that means, I’ve spent most of the morning in a belly flop, using the magnifying glass to look at slugs and beetles, all the time getting my head stuffed with intergalactic gobbledygook by Brian, who traipsed around me scouring the forest floor with his magnet rake—yes, a magnet rake, which he made. He’s the coolest person ever.

He’s a blow-in too, no question. Not from another realm like Mom, but probably from some exoplanet (I just learned this word) with six suns. It explains everything: the telescope, this mad search for pieces of his homeland, the Einstein talk about Red Giants and Yellow Dwarfs (!!!!), which I immediately started drawing, not to mention the hypnotizing eyes and the way he keeps cracking me up like I’m some skin-fitting someone who has tons of friends and knows the perfect place in every sentence to say dude or bro. Also: The Realm of Calm is real. Hummingbirds laze around him. Fruit falls out of trees right into his open palms. Not to mention the drooping redwoods, I think, looking up. And me. I’ve never felt this relaxed in my life. I keep forgetting my body and then have to go back and get it.

(PORTRAIT, SELF-PORTRAIT: The Boy Who Watched the Boy Hypnotize the World)

Stunning, right?

The whole book is like that.

I adore the asides — everything in parentheses, showing Noah’s own commentary on his own commentary, as well as the absolutely drool-worthy imagery.

I’ve tried to emulate this in some smaller pieces and it actually led to my first publication credit, a flash fiction piece in my college’s literary journal called COMING UP.

So, thanks for that, Jandy!

Other than that one piece, however, I haven’t been able to nail Nelson’s artistic/musical prose style, but I do find it slipping into my writing sometimes when I feel like waxing poetic.

Both Noah and Jude are these crystal clear characters, mirror images of each other as “NoahandJude” but also separate and vibrant people with their own stories and struggles. I really can’t love this book enough.

Nitpicking: No 13-year-old is that smart

My ONLY complaint about the book is that I think Nelson made the characters too young.

13 (and then 14)-year-old Noah sounds like no 13-year-old I’ve ever met. And for that matter, neither do any of the “Hornets” (Noah’s term for the popular girls Jude pals around with in those years).

All the characters seem far older than their years, especially when it comes to romance and strong emotional attachments and the “L” word.

My experience of being 13 and “in love” with someone was writing them a sappy love letter and then having the rest of the middle school boys rip it apart and make fun of me for several months. (True story.)

I felt like the world was ending, but I didn’t describe it the way Noah does.

Nelson gets around this issue by showcasing how obviously gifted Noah is, so you can chalk his worldliness up to being a “revolutionary” (his term). However, I don’t think the story would have lost any of its impact if the characters were going from high school to college rather than middle school to high school, or even a specialized secondary school that they’d transfer into as sophomores or juniors.

But seriously, I’m being nitpicky here. That’s my only complaint.

Closing thoughts: Still my favorite book, may never be dethroned

I freaking love this book.

I gave away my last copy as a Christmas present a year or two ago, so it’s been a while since I’ve owned this book. I’m so happy to have it back on my shelf.

This is a book that means a lot to me, and I’m delighted I included it in this first month of The Highway MFA so that I got to experience its magic all over again.

Up next: I’ve started Annie Dillard’s The Writing Life, but I’m enjoying it so much that I’m trying to stretch out that tiny book into little magical chunks I get to sink into at bedtime.

In the meantime, I’m thinking about starting Twyla Tharp’s The Creative Habit, since I’m craving a craft book, but I might also dive into The Argonauts by Maggie Nelson (any relation to Jandy? Hmm…) so I don’t get bogged down in writing exercises.

Life is good!

Til next time,
Maggie