Levi encourages his reader to reflect on the writing process by reminding us just who is in control of the writing process: ourselves. Throughout this chapter, Levi explains the story and history of carbon in meticulous, excruciating detail that can be challenging to follow. This analysis dwells on for pages, and at least for me, Levi loses clear meaning and impact. However, the end of the chapter draws the audience back in. Levi seems to acknowledge that he understands the reader may be a bit behind and that his writing is not completely accessible. He in fact theorizes that he could go on about carbon for much longer, writing that “I could recount an endless number of stories about carbon atoms that become colors or perfumes in flowers; of others which, from tiny algae to small crustaceans to fish, gradually return as carbon dioxide to the waters of the sea, in a perpetual, frightening round-dance of life and death,” (Levi 240). Instead, he concludes with a short and simple story about swallowing milk, and how that simple act creates the energy needed for his brain to write this chapter. This is twofold: Levi first, and almost humorously, highlights how complicated the entire chapter minus the conclusion is. This encourages the audience to remember that complex and nuanced topics can still be written in an accessible manner. The impact of this is obvious: I was able to understand the entire chapter only in the last paragraph. The first 11 pages, at least personally, become a wash and lose their significance. Overcomplicating valid ideas are dangerous. Second, Levi tells the audience on the most basic level possible that we have complete and total power over our writing. I believe this message to be extremely powerful, as my self-doubt and anxieties over writing often lead to writer’s block and procrastination. Levi cuts through this with his pen and hands it the reader, reminding them who is in control.
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