The tape recorder would seem to be God’s gift to writers, an invaluable tool for keeping accurate records of dialogues and interviews. Obviously, tape-recording affords the writer a certain amount of protection; a subject can’t legitimately claim that he never said something if his words are committed to tape and can be played back as proof of the writer’s accuracy. (Note that it’s important, and in some cases required by law, to make sure subjects know they are being recorded.)
During the writing process, having tape recordings or transcripts at hand can be invaluable. And while cassette tapes can be somewhat unwieldy, annoying to rewind and fast-forward, prone to malfunctioning or exploding into ribbons of cellophane, such technological developments as digital recorders have made accessing recordings easier than ever by allowing writers to tab certain interesting spots of interviews, to download audio files directly into their computers, and even to make transcriptions using voice recognition software (instead of typing everything out or paying a transcription service or strapped-for-cash grad student).
Having access to tape recordings can “give texture” to a story, allowing writers to consider pauses, hesitations, tone, and other details that don’t generally translate to a transcription or handwritten notes, says Ted Anthony, a veteran reporter and editor for the Associated Press and the author of Chasing the Rising Sun. “As writers we’re given a tool kit that varies from generation to generation,” Anthony says. “I’ve always thought the mark of a culture’s competence is its ability to use the tools it has. If we’re given digital recorders … why shouldn’t we incorporate them into our work if they can give us things other tools can’t?”
On the other hand, the process of procuring recordings may outweigh their benefits; some creative nonfiction writers believe that tape-recording actually hinders research.
“Taping makes me a lazy interviewer,” says Alex Kotlowitz. “When you’re taking notes, it forces you to concentrate on what you’re hearing, to think of the next question,” he told Robert S. Boynton in an interview.
Richard Preston, author of the true horror story of the possible outbreak of the Ebola virus, The Hot Zone, echoes Kotlowitz: “A tape recorder cannot capture a scene. A scene is kinesthetic.” He claims it is simply unrealistic for him to tote a tape recorder everywhere he goes. He’d rather focus on the scene and the character and not worry over sentences that have to be arduously transcribed later. Recording can lull the writer into accepting a false, superficial sense of the truth and can intimidate subjects rather than relax them. Most important, according to Preston and other writers of his mind-set, a transcript does not tell a story (the interactions, the reactions, the facial expressions) while a narrative does.
Not that making do without a recording is easy. Writers who don’t record generally take shorthand notes at a manic pace, run straight home, and type up their notes, adding details about scene and character that they noticed during the interview. But some writers, including Ted Conover, take no notes at all. “Taking notes alienates the very people I need to get close to,” he says. (Conover’s subjects are often hoboes, immigrants, and others who distrust reporters.) Instead he comes home and frequently writes “six to eight pages of exhaustive, single-spaced notes.” He believes the presence of a tape recorder or a notepad would compromise the truth of the story he is trying to collect.
Other writers, including Jon Krakauer, champion using recordings. “Sure, there are situations where you can’t record—like when you’re in the backcountry for weeks and have to use batteries sparingly—but it is always better to tape if you can,” Krakauer insists. “Do an interview in which you simultaneously use a tape recorder, and compare this to the handwritten record. I bet you’ll find that you got many of the quotes wrong in your handwritten notes. Often you get the intent or the meaning right, but you miss the idiosyncratic phrasing, the precise inflections, the unique qualities that make a quote ring true. Quotes not based on a taped interview often sound more like the writer than the interview subject.”
A subject’s words tell only part of the story. The creative nonfiction writer asks: What is real? Does a recording rob reality of its color? How can you best discover the story beneath the story? Writers must ultimately find their own answers to these questions. Undoubtedly, the answer will depend, at least in part, on a writer’s ability to recall what was said, on her style of interacting with subjects, and—perhaps most important—on what will work for each subject, in each story, carefully considered, case by case.