Because I am a writer, people often ask, “What is your favorite book?” And thus begins an If You Give a Mouse a Cookie situation: Because I am a writer, I love to read (or perhaps it is more accurate to say, because I love to read, I am writer), and because I love to read, I love a great many books. Because I love a great many books, I struggle to give a succinct answer to that question, and because I struggle with that question, people walk away from our conversation with a stew of titles from a vast majority of genres and probably very little idea what books have influenced me as a writer, and because they have very little idea of what books have influenced me, they probably have an unclear idea of what sort of writings I actually author. Therefore, I would like to begin sharing with you not only the books that have inspired me as a writer and an artist but also movies, music, and other forms of art that spark for me.

So, to kick it off, there are several books that I nearly always name, and the one that nearly always comes up first is Ken Kesey’s Sometimes a Great Notion. Though not as well-known as One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, this experimental, epic novel has inspired me more.

On the face of it, Notion is about the struggles that the Stampers, an Oregon logging family, face as they come under increasing pressure to change their operation and unionize. Against that broader external conflict, long-smoldering resentments and longings within the family come to a head. At the heart of these tensions is the rivalry between Leland Stamper and his older brother Hank. In the balance hangs the future of the logging operation, the love of Hank’s wife, Vivian, and the pride, independence, and internal fortitude of both men.

The first time I read the novel, I was in high school and had never encountered anything as experimental. Kesey weaves together strands of third-person narrative with direct streams-of-consciousness from multiple characters, switching between the main story and flashbacks and character perspectives without notice beyond shifts in font (from regular font to italics to parentheses and back, for example). Major characters and minor characters alike break into the main narrative to offer their thoughts and opinions, though we don’t always know who is speaking. If this sounds confusing, it is, at least at first. I came close to giving up on the book that first time through, but something pulled me along, a thrumming, urgent insistency though the story unfolds slowly. As I learned and have tried to explain to everyone to whom I have recommended Notion, it is a book that teaches you to read it, and by the end, I am always so swept up in the drama of the tale that I feel my way through those point of view and tense shifts without a hitch. In fact, the experimental nature of the book serves the story, making it more nuanced, sweeping, and specific all at the same time.

Each time I read the novel, I am struck by a deeper and deeper appreciation for the techniques Kesey used — the plot drives along, relentless, unyielding, until the reader is begging the characters to “Stop!” or “Just say something, anything, that is true and honest and meaningful right now!” The slippery perspective and timeline add layers upon layers of richness to that plot as we see how years of family history — generations of it — and myriad and often myopic individual experiences have brought everyone in the Stamper family to the brink. Further, the novel captures Oregon logging company with depth and breadth, taking the reader inside the landscapes and culture of the place like all great deep maps of place do.

Because the book requires more of its reader than passive consumption, it engages me on a profound level, leaving me feeling as if I have experienced not only Hank’s story or Leland’s or Viv’s, but all of them along with countless others. There is no doubt in my mind that Sometimes a Great Notion inspired me to write my own stories about family, belonging, and place. That my first book is deeply place-based in Wyoming’s Red Desert and focuses on the challenges faced by a long-time ranching family as the two grown brothers fall in love with the same woman comes as no surprise. That is not to say that my work is derivative of Kesey’s — our stories are different, and while my style owes homage to Notion, it is not an imitation of his but something of my own making. Our themes also differ, though I’ll leave it to readers to parse that out and see if they agree with me. But Kesey’s novel grabbed me when I fifteen and has never let me go entirely. It is a part of me now, one of the many shifting voices in my own head that pushes me to find my own true, authentic voice and to tell true, authentic stories with it. Only Ken Kesey could have written Sometimes a Great Notion, and I hope that my own work rises to that same great standard.