“We have a habit of turning sentimental about celebrities who are struck down — Muhammad Ali, Christopher Reeve — transforming them into mystics; still, it’s almost impossible to sit beside Roger Ebert, lifting blue Post-it notes from his silk fingertips, and not feel as though he’s become something more than he was. He has those hands. And his wide and expressive eyes, despite everything, are almost always smiling.”
— Chris Jones, Esquire
I’ve been a professional scribe for nearly 16 years. I’ve had many ups and many downs, and enough success to be asked—more than once—what I consider to be great writing.
This story, which you must read, is great writing.
The author is Chris Jones, and if you haven’t heard of him, it means you’ve been missing out on some of the elite magazine work of the past decade. I urge anyone who wants to enter this field to read the profile first for pleasure, then to go back and take it word by word, or at least paragraph by paragraph. To begin with, the story is impeccably reported. Absolutely impeccably. Jones clearly did his research on Ebert’s career; on cancer; on Chicago. You don’t think about that while reading, because the guy is a great enough writer to smooth over any lumps. But look again—facts aplenty.
Second, Jones is a great writer without screaming “I’m a great writer!” No jump-off-the-page analogies (which, I hate to say, my first book is filled with). No forced transitions or stylish words for the sake of dazzle. Jones allows the narrative to unfold on its own; allows Ebert’s voice (even when, technically, he doesn’t have one) to carry the piece. That said, what Jones does best—and the part of magazine/book writer that flummoxes the most writers—is he inserts his own voice throughout; serves as the narrator without ever actually writing “I” or “me” or “Chris Jones.” The quote leading off this post displays that perfectly: “We have a habit of turning sentimental about celebrities who are struck down — Muhammad Ali, Christopher Reeve — transforming them into mystics; still, it’s almost impossible to sit beside Roger Ebert, lifting blue Post-it notes from his silk fingertips, and not feel as though he’s become something more than he was. He has those hands. And his wide and expressive eyes, despite everything, are almost always smiling.” Jones is talking; telling you what he thinks; sort of explaining the soul of Roger Ebert with his own perspective. But you, the reader, would never consciously think of it in those terms.
And that’s why this is brilliant.
PS: Speaking of Roger Ebert and brilliant, I dare you to read Ebert’s blog post on death. In a word: Amazing.
