It was really helpful to read these four incredible long form pieces and see what they shared (and didn\u2019t) in structure. The first three pieces that I read, \u201cThe Mother Who Changed: A Story of Dementia\u201d by Katie Engelhart, \u201cAnger and heartbreak on Bus No. 15\u201d by Eli Saslow, and \u201cWhen can we really rest\u201d by Nadja Drost, to my eye, were all structured similarly despite the very different stories they were telling. Each started with a vivid scene and used its characters to illustrate the story of a larger issue, weaving back and forth between the story and historical and, at times almost scholarly, context.
I found \u201cThe Mother Who Changed\u201d particularly interesting structurally. Englehart didn\u2019t just weave between the story of her characters and the broader context, but had to tell almost two versions of the story as told by Diane\u2019s daughters and by Denzil \u2013 the very basis of the piece was in the \u201cthen-self\u201d v.s. the \u201cnow-self\u201d of dementia, and in the ways that the people in dementia patients\u2019 lives understand them differently.
Engelhart\u2019s two sets of sources had diametrically opposed understandings of what had happened in the battle over Diane\u2019s care, and yet Englehart managed to present them both respectfully without seeming to choose a side \u2013 this is the power and importance of the third party observer. Englehart would switch every few paragraphs from telling the story through the eyes of Diane\u2019s daughters and from those of Denzil, consistently showing two different versions of the same moments.
When Englehart did throw in her own voice, however, was in the large sections of the piece that went through the history of the frameworks for assessing capacity. These sections felt almost more like academic writing \u2013 she would write for many paragraphs using scholarly sources and quotes from academics, and even include her own analysis and claims. One moment that stuck out to me was when she wrote that,
\u201cIn our own lives, we insist on the right to make our own choices, even bad ones \u2014 what is sometimes called \u201cthe right to folly.\u201d As independent agents, we are free to be unreasonable and unwise and to act against our own best interests: maybe because of flawed reasoning, or just because we want to. But with older relatives, we often insist on prudence over passion.\u201d
I read this as her own analysis, not as coming from a source \u2013 it\u2019s cool how with long form at this level, journalists can play with the rules.
The Darien Gap and bus pieces similarly used a specific set of characters as a framework for telling a larger story, gliding between anecdote and context. The final piece I read though, \u201cWhat Bobby Mcilvaine Left Behind,\u201d felt different. Senior told the story from a personal perspective \u2013 her relationship to Bobby and his family was a key part of the story. The piece read almost as a profile of Bobby and of his family, rather than using it as an illustration for a bigger phenomenon.<\/p>\r\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
It was really helpful to read these four incredible long form pieces and see what they shared (and didn\u2019t) in structure. The first three pieces that I read, \u201cThe Mother Who Changed: A Story of Dementia\u201d by Katie Engelhart, \u201cAnger and heartbreak on Bus No. 15\u201d by Eli Saslow, and \u201cWhen can we really rest\u201d<\/p>\n