Waterland by Graham Swift made me want to go to the fens, the flattest parts of East Anglia in England. The book didn’t make them sound particularly uplifting or physically beautiful, but it did make them sound magical. I read this book my senior year of high school and my English teacher told us that there was a famous writing program there, and that there was speculation that the flatness of the land (see also The Iowa Writers Workshop) had a role in producing so many novels. Fact-checking: I don’t even know if Iowa is really so flat–I’ve heard a lot of references to the hills of Iowa; there’s probably nothing scientific about it, but I do like the idea that a barren landscape with little variety drives people to create, to build virtual towers to break up the monotony.
I actually applied and was accepted to the University of East Anglia’s MA in Creative Writing program, but went to New York instead. I finally got to see the fens a few years ago: flat, magical.
