ACETYLENE TORCH SONGS: WRITING TRUE STORIES TO IGNITE THE SOUL BY SUE WILLIAM SILVERMAN

University of Nebraska Press $23.95

Reviewed by Whitney (Walters) Jacobson

I’ve read a fair amount of creative nonfiction craft books, recommended many of them, and taught many of them, but none have felt so much like a craft class as Sue William Silverman’s Acetylene Torch Songs: Writing True Stories to Ignite the Soul.

Though she doesn’t frame them as such, each chapter feels like a class session in which Silverman presents core pieces of knowledge, illustrates those foundational concepts with examples from both her own writing as well as others’, and wraps up with writing prompts (i.e. class activities). While deconstructing the included samples, she also demonstrates her process, frequently in a manner that can be transferred into a writing exercise for readers to use themselves.

As a creative nonfiction writer myself, I appreciated her including rough drafts of her writing, because so often, craft books only include polished examples to illustrate the technique being discussed. Silverman states she crafted the personal essays specifically for the book: “to exemplify the concerns at hand. I wanted to ensure I could follow my own advice” (3).

The end matter in Silverman’s book, which includes appendicies with resources, a fully deconstructed essay, a model query letter, and additional prompts, is also valuable. Much like the rest of the book, Silverman fills the gaps of other craft texts, offering readers insights and information they may not be able to otherwise access. Possibly, this instinct arises from Silverman’s “long incubation period” (3) and indirect path to becoming a published writer.

Beyond the content, a big part of why Acetylene Torch Songs felt like being in a classroom with Silverman was her engaging, casual voice:

Certainly, the book has been edited and is well-structured, but it’s not a monologue. Silverman talks to readers as equals, as a familiar someone sitting next to her at the table.

I was initially dubious of Silverman’s assertion that “To fully engage a reader, we write our whole being onto the page—our bodies, minds, and souls” (9, my italics), as the idea of putting one’s soul on the page, for me, had the initial connotation of being a teenager baring their full volume emotions in a poem. However, Silverman clarifies that she’s “not referring to ‘soul’ in the sense of what happens to [her] essence after [she dies]. Rather, [she refers] to it as something living, breathing, creative, artistic. The soul is the voice of creativity. To write from it, we free ourselves from everyday restrictions and mores, illustrating the complexities of self, of matters of the heart” (10). Put another way, it’s a means of cultivating empathy with the reader, alongside the facts of what happened and one’s perspective, ultimately making meaning from the experience—a mission statement I can get behind.

Overall, Silverman takes on the role of generous mentor in Acetylene Torch Songs, adeptly modeling the techniques and tools presented, relaying well-earned practical advice, illuminating unfamiliar territory regarding the publication process, and providing the pep talk needed for writers to craft their own authentic writer masks.

Whitney (Walters) Jacobson holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Minnesota State University Moorhead. Her poetry and creative nonfiction have been published in Punctuate, Feminine Collective, Up North Lit, After the Pause, and In the Words of Womyn International, among other publications. She is currently working on a collection of essays exploring skills, objects, and traits passed on (or not) from generation to generation. She maintains a curiosity in memoir and the themes of feminism, water, inheritance, blue-collar work, and grief.