Corey's post suggested that literature itself is a vehicle for moral agency, with which minorities can express their perspectives and experiences. I agree with this; when members of a minority group write, they increase the knowledge, sympathy, or even empathy a reader has of this group. This change in knowledge and emotion is very likely to change (for the better) how readers act toward this group.
I would caution, though, about the work of minority writers being defined by the author's status as a minority. When, for example, an Asian-American female becomes a distinguished author, critics always bring attention her status as a female and as an Asian-American, and seem to segregate her work into its own category and to place it only among other literature of Asian-American females.
I do not think that society should define members of minority groups by their minority status. A good work of literature should be (excuse the tautology) a good work of literature; not merely a good work of Asian-American, female literature.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Degrees of Correctness
Readers, I'd like you to write down a one-thousand digit number. Then, we'll see if your number matches up with my, the author's, number.
Sound difficult? What if I give you some clues? There are no 9s in this number. Every 7th number is a 7, it begins with a 3, and ends with an 8.
Still not enough? Fine. Let's compare numbers anyway. Jacob, you got 310 numbers correct out of 1000. Tom, you got 230. Are either of you correct? No. Is Jacob more correct than Tom, in this case? Yes.
When reading literature, there is one, absolutely correct, interpretation, and that is to discover exactly what the author meant. Some interpretations are better than others, yes, in that some interpretations will have a higher percentage of correct material. These interpretations, however, are still not correct, and there is still only one correct interpretation of this work of literature.
Sound difficult? What if I give you some clues? There are no 9s in this number. Every 7th number is a 7, it begins with a 3, and ends with an 8.
Still not enough? Fine. Let's compare numbers anyway. Jacob, you got 310 numbers correct out of 1000. Tom, you got 230. Are either of you correct? No. Is Jacob more correct than Tom, in this case? Yes.
When reading literature, there is one, absolutely correct, interpretation, and that is to discover exactly what the author meant. Some interpretations are better than others, yes, in that some interpretations will have a higher percentage of correct material. These interpretations, however, are still not correct, and there is still only one correct interpretation of this work of literature.
Etymology
"The effect of etymological retracing is not to ground the word solidly but to render it unstable, equivocal, wavering, abysmal. All etymology is false etymology, both in the sense that there is always some bend or discontinuity in the etymological line, and in the sense that etymology always fails to find an etymon, a true literal meaning at the origin." - J. Hillis Miller
This is what Nehamas is getting at by quoting Valéry's "Il n'y a pas une parole qu'on puisse comprendre, si l'on va au fond": "There is not one word that you can understand, if you go deep enough." As a person who loves etymology and philology, these are frightening notions to me. I love discovering how words began, evolved, gained meaning, lost meaning. Looking up "ἔτυμον" and "etymon" in Liddell & Scott's Greek Lexicon and the Oxford English Dictionary, though, I see no mention of "literal" meaning, as Miller suggests. Both sources simply mention the "true meaning of a word," and I think it's a mistake to conflate the "literal" and "true" meanings of words.
Even so, I do not take Miller's statement about etymology to mean that texts are unreadable, as Nehamas suggests. When the author specifically and purposefully chose which word to use, she also chose a specific usage from that word's vast array of meanings. Though there are many possible meanings and nuances of each word, there is only one meaning the author intends, and this guards against a pluralistic view.
This is what Nehamas is getting at by quoting Valéry's "Il n'y a pas une parole qu'on puisse comprendre, si l'on va au fond": "There is not one word that you can understand, if you go deep enough." As a person who loves etymology and philology, these are frightening notions to me. I love discovering how words began, evolved, gained meaning, lost meaning. Looking up "ἔτυμον" and "etymon" in Liddell & Scott's Greek Lexicon and the Oxford English Dictionary, though, I see no mention of "literal" meaning, as Miller suggests. Both sources simply mention the "true meaning of a word," and I think it's a mistake to conflate the "literal" and "true" meanings of words.
Even so, I do not take Miller's statement about etymology to mean that texts are unreadable, as Nehamas suggests. When the author specifically and purposefully chose which word to use, she also chose a specific usage from that word's vast array of meanings. Though there are many possible meanings and nuances of each word, there is only one meaning the author intends, and this guards against a pluralistic view.
Re: A Preference for Pluralism
Andy's post (love the title) and Bryan's response discuss the impracticality of monism. They believe that, if a work did indeed have one sole interpretation, it would be impossible to know for sure what that one interpretation is.
In response, I suggest that the impossibility of being able to know a thing is not the same as that thing not existing. Knowledge of a thing does not correlate with its existence. It may be near impossible, given our current level of technology, to know that there is a never-before-seen fossil buried deep under silt and sand at the bottom of the Mariana Trench, but our ignorance of this fact has no impact on whether or not that fossil is actually there. Similarly, the near-impossibility of discovering and verifying the one true meaning of a text would not alter the fact that there is one true meaning of a text.
In response, I suggest that the impossibility of being able to know a thing is not the same as that thing not existing. Knowledge of a thing does not correlate with its existence. It may be near impossible, given our current level of technology, to know that there is a never-before-seen fossil buried deep under silt and sand at the bottom of the Mariana Trench, but our ignorance of this fact has no impact on whether or not that fossil is actually there. Similarly, the near-impossibility of discovering and verifying the one true meaning of a text would not alter the fact that there is one true meaning of a text.
Sarcasm
Is sarcasm, as a stylistic flourish in writing, appropriate for philosophy and other academic writing?
It's late Tuesday night. My housemate, Liz, and I are sitting in my room, doing homework. Liz is typing furiously, hit by a sudden moment of inspiration, when she stops, looks up, ponders for a moment, then asks, "Is it okay for me to use sarcasm in a paper?"
I shrug and say, "Depends on what you're writing about, and who you're writing for. Why, what do you want to say?"
"I want to say that this guy was a great poet, and then follow it up with lines of his terrible poetry," she responded.
"Yeah," I said, "that'll go over well..."
----
On Friday, the class was a bit confused by one of Stolnitz' lines. Was this line meant to be tongue-in-cheek? Was he being sarcastic? We couldn't really tell. This is the problem with sarcasm; if you don't know the speaker well enough, it is tremendously difficult to discern whether or not he is being sarcastic. Liz's professor might not have been able to tell if Liz was being sarcastic, or if she really did just think she was quoting the lines of a great poet.
While I greatly enjoy using sarcasm in face-to-face communication (intonation and body language make sarcasm far more easy to detect), and typically delight when I come across sarcasm in fiction, I think sarcasm is inappropriate in academic writing. The benefits of sarcastic writing in academic work would be to make the reader laugh or to poke fun at another person or idea. Writers can make their readers laugh in other ways besides sarcasm, and poking fun at people or ideas in academic work betrays the intellectual virtues of charity and respect.
It's late Tuesday night. My housemate, Liz, and I are sitting in my room, doing homework. Liz is typing furiously, hit by a sudden moment of inspiration, when she stops, looks up, ponders for a moment, then asks, "Is it okay for me to use sarcasm in a paper?"
I shrug and say, "Depends on what you're writing about, and who you're writing for. Why, what do you want to say?"
"I want to say that this guy was a great poet, and then follow it up with lines of his terrible poetry," she responded.
"Yeah," I said, "that'll go over well..."
----
On Friday, the class was a bit confused by one of Stolnitz' lines. Was this line meant to be tongue-in-cheek? Was he being sarcastic? We couldn't really tell. This is the problem with sarcasm; if you don't know the speaker well enough, it is tremendously difficult to discern whether or not he is being sarcastic. Liz's professor might not have been able to tell if Liz was being sarcastic, or if she really did just think she was quoting the lines of a great poet.
While I greatly enjoy using sarcasm in face-to-face communication (intonation and body language make sarcasm far more easy to detect), and typically delight when I come across sarcasm in fiction, I think sarcasm is inappropriate in academic writing. The benefits of sarcastic writing in academic work would be to make the reader laugh or to poke fun at another person or idea. Writers can make their readers laugh in other ways besides sarcasm, and poking fun at people or ideas in academic work betrays the intellectual virtues of charity and respect.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Canon
Avery's blog post about style and great literature got me thinking about why we rarely recognize contemporary literature as great. While people do tend to write in less formal English now, as Avery suggests, I think we consider these works to be great works of literature because they have been subjected to such rigorous study and criticism. Because this literature is older, people have had more time to interpret and debate it.
I think that what gets chosen, for one reason or another, as canon in literature greatly impacts how we see that literature in society. In the past, the canon of English literature was largely made up of white males. It was only recently that students began reading the works of African-American, Japanese-American, female, openly homosexual, etc., authors in school. Still, the greatness of much literature has been suppressed because it has not been allowed to flourish as other literature has. I think this suppression has little to do with style, and more to do with what sorts of authors our society has thought were worth reading.
I think that what gets chosen, for one reason or another, as canon in literature greatly impacts how we see that literature in society. In the past, the canon of English literature was largely made up of white males. It was only recently that students began reading the works of African-American, Japanese-American, female, openly homosexual, etc., authors in school. Still, the greatness of much literature has been suppressed because it has not been allowed to flourish as other literature has. I think this suppression has little to do with style, and more to do with what sorts of authors our society has thought were worth reading.
Dialogue with an Author?
Wayne C. Booth writes that, in order to be a responsible reader, I must "enter into serious dialogue with the author about how his or her values join or conflict with mine" (252). Since this is the conclusion of Booth's essay, I am perplexed that he did not include more information on how a reader should engage in this dialogue with an author.
Perhaps Booth meant that a reader should engage the author in a spoken or written dialogue. The logistics of this might prove difficult; though the use of email might facilitate this process, maintaining email correspondence with an entire readership would be exhausting. This is also an option only available to authors who are still alive.
Perhaps, instead, Booth meant that a reader should engage in a simulated, pretend dialogue with the author. The reader should read an author's interviews, biographies, letters, and journals in order to be able to have enough information to role-play a real life conversation with the author. Realistically, this is quite a lot of work, perhaps too much work to go through with every author whose work one intends to read.
The way I choose to interpret Booth's suggestion is, simply, to read carefully and charitably. A reader should not approach a work hostilely, looking for inconsistencies or blunders, but should suspend her disbelief and trust in the author's intentions and capabilities, at least for the first time through a work.
Perhaps Booth meant that a reader should engage the author in a spoken or written dialogue. The logistics of this might prove difficult; though the use of email might facilitate this process, maintaining email correspondence with an entire readership would be exhausting. This is also an option only available to authors who are still alive.
Perhaps, instead, Booth meant that a reader should engage in a simulated, pretend dialogue with the author. The reader should read an author's interviews, biographies, letters, and journals in order to be able to have enough information to role-play a real life conversation with the author. Realistically, this is quite a lot of work, perhaps too much work to go through with every author whose work one intends to read.
The way I choose to interpret Booth's suggestion is, simply, to read carefully and charitably. A reader should not approach a work hostilely, looking for inconsistencies or blunders, but should suspend her disbelief and trust in the author's intentions and capabilities, at least for the first time through a work.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Metaphors in Philosophy
Q&A Question #2: Should metaphor have a place in philosophical writing?
The introduction to the metaphor section lists three common types of questions about metaphors, which I will paraphrase as 1) What are they? 2) How do we interpret them? 3) What is their purpose? I think that once these three questions have been explored, we must ask a follow-up question: 4) Ought writers to use metaphors?
I think that only the harshest opponent of metaphor would object to their use in fiction. Yes, perhaps metaphors run the risk of being vague or misleading, but no harm comes from their use in fiction.
The use of metaphor in philosophy, however, is a more contentious subject. Some thinkers, like Thomas Hobbes, condemned the use of metaphor in philosophy because metaphors are merely ornamental. Some think that philosophers should aspire for their writing to be as clear and straightforward as possible. While I agree with this sentiment, I also think that metaphors can help to illuminate ideas and facilitate abstract thinking. I also think that philosophical writing should aspire to be literary, and therefore even if metaphors are strictly ornamental, these ornaments are still a boon to philosophical writing.
The introduction to the metaphor section lists three common types of questions about metaphors, which I will paraphrase as 1) What are they? 2) How do we interpret them? 3) What is their purpose? I think that once these three questions have been explored, we must ask a follow-up question: 4) Ought writers to use metaphors?
I think that only the harshest opponent of metaphor would object to their use in fiction. Yes, perhaps metaphors run the risk of being vague or misleading, but no harm comes from their use in fiction.
The use of metaphor in philosophy, however, is a more contentious subject. Some thinkers, like Thomas Hobbes, condemned the use of metaphor in philosophy because metaphors are merely ornamental. Some think that philosophers should aspire for their writing to be as clear and straightforward as possible. While I agree with this sentiment, I also think that metaphors can help to illuminate ideas and facilitate abstract thinking. I also think that philosophical writing should aspire to be literary, and therefore even if metaphors are strictly ornamental, these ornaments are still a boon to philosophical writing.
Hey Juliet, Throw Me Down Some SPF 40
Q&A Question #1: Do metaphors damage or bolster meaning?
I think that metaphors do have the ability to damage and to bolster meaning in a text. As Jacob mentioned in class, it is a question of whether the benefit from the literary potency of the metaphor outweighs the vagueness of the metaphor.
When an author uses a metaphor, she runs the risk of that metaphor skewing her intended meaning. When Shakespeare wrote that "Juliet is the sun", he left that line within the context of play, rather than interfering with a footnote to say, "In that she is bright, Romeo needs her to live, etc., and NOT in that she is a giant ball of gas, or that Romeo's skin will start to burn if he stays in her presence too long, etc." This lack of explicit explanation leaves room for various interpretations, but does not, in my opinion, detract from the potency of the metaphor.
Perhaps not every emotion or phenomenon is possible to or meant to be explained literally. In the same way that explaining why a joke is funny makes the joke lose its humor, explaining why a metaphor is potent cheapens the meaning of a metaphor. Metaphors can bolster meaning and emotion in ways that literal prose cannot, and having profound meaning and eliciting strong emotions from readers are often boons in the world of literature. Metaphor, therefore, is indispensable.
I think that metaphors do have the ability to damage and to bolster meaning in a text. As Jacob mentioned in class, it is a question of whether the benefit from the literary potency of the metaphor outweighs the vagueness of the metaphor.
When an author uses a metaphor, she runs the risk of that metaphor skewing her intended meaning. When Shakespeare wrote that "Juliet is the sun", he left that line within the context of play, rather than interfering with a footnote to say, "In that she is bright, Romeo needs her to live, etc., and NOT in that she is a giant ball of gas, or that Romeo's skin will start to burn if he stays in her presence too long, etc." This lack of explicit explanation leaves room for various interpretations, but does not, in my opinion, detract from the potency of the metaphor.
Perhaps not every emotion or phenomenon is possible to or meant to be explained literally. In the same way that explaining why a joke is funny makes the joke lose its humor, explaining why a metaphor is potent cheapens the meaning of a metaphor. Metaphors can bolster meaning and emotion in ways that literal prose cannot, and having profound meaning and eliciting strong emotions from readers are often boons in the world of literature. Metaphor, therefore, is indispensable.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Dorian Gray & Moral Realism
"There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book.
Books are well written, or badly written. That is all."
-Preface to The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
As we discussed in class on Friday, books can have content that discusses characters performing moral or immoral actions, but cannot be in themselves moral or immoral. Nicole mentioned that books cannot be moral or immoral because they are not conscious beings; that is, books are not moral agents capable of being moral or immoral. I agree with these two points.
We also discussed how the morality or immorality came from the reader's interpretation of the content of the book. Stacy mentioned moral relativism, and decided that books could not be moral or immoral because they could always be interpreted in different ways, by different cultures. As a moral realist, I feared that Wilde's theory led to moral relativism, but I am now confident that it does not.
I retract my statement that the (im)morality lies in the reader's interpretation; instead, I think it lies in the actions of the characters in the work. When a character performs an action, that action falls on the spectrum of morality (or, it is perhaps amoral, if there is such an action), or at least it would if that action were occurring in the real world, rather than in a work of fiction. The reader can decide whether or not an action is moral, but that one person's decision is not the ultimate marker of morality.
Books are well written, or badly written. That is all."
-Preface to The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
As we discussed in class on Friday, books can have content that discusses characters performing moral or immoral actions, but cannot be in themselves moral or immoral. Nicole mentioned that books cannot be moral or immoral because they are not conscious beings; that is, books are not moral agents capable of being moral or immoral. I agree with these two points.
We also discussed how the morality or immorality came from the reader's interpretation of the content of the book. Stacy mentioned moral relativism, and decided that books could not be moral or immoral because they could always be interpreted in different ways, by different cultures. As a moral realist, I feared that Wilde's theory led to moral relativism, but I am now confident that it does not.
I retract my statement that the (im)morality lies in the reader's interpretation; instead, I think it lies in the actions of the characters in the work. When a character performs an action, that action falls on the spectrum of morality (or, it is perhaps amoral, if there is such an action), or at least it would if that action were occurring in the real world, rather than in a work of fiction. The reader can decide whether or not an action is moral, but that one person's decision is not the ultimate marker of morality.
Which Pronouns?
Q&A Question #2: Is it appropriate to use “he”, “she”, and “who” to describe characters? Ought we instead to use “it” and “that”?
The words we use to describe something can alter our perceptions of that thing. The example with which I am most familiar is in which words we use to describe animals; if I give my cat a name (Stormy) and say things about her like "she went outside" and "Stormy is a cat who likes to sleep", then these pronouns bolster my seeing her as an animal with personhood status. I am therefore more likely to treat her with the respect she deserves. If, however, I do not give my cat a name, say that "it went outside" etc., my perception will be altered so that I do not see my cat as a person, but rather as a thing to be treated however I like (as a side note, saying "my cat" does not necessarily imply ownership, any more than I own my grandmother or my boyfriend).
Let us now apply this phenomenon to characters in a literary work. I noticed that in "Fictional Characters as Abstract Artifacts," Amie Thomasson writes "a fictional character can go on existing without its author..." (145). Thomasson describes a character as an "it" rather than a "he" or "she". Since characters do not exist in the real world, do not suffer, do not have rights, etc., ought we to use "it" when describing them? I think that we indeed ought to whenever we are not trying to suspend our disbelief to become engrossed in a story. This will anchor our occasional perceptions of characters as real beings into a perception of characters as imaginary. Using "it" is not intuitive; we will naturally want to say "she" when describing Anna Karenina and "he" when describing Captain Ahab. I think, however, that purposefully saying "it" instead (especially during classroom discussions about characters) will remind us that we are not discussing real people.
The words we use to describe something can alter our perceptions of that thing. The example with which I am most familiar is in which words we use to describe animals; if I give my cat a name (Stormy) and say things about her like "she went outside" and "Stormy is a cat who likes to sleep", then these pronouns bolster my seeing her as an animal with personhood status. I am therefore more likely to treat her with the respect she deserves. If, however, I do not give my cat a name, say that "it went outside" etc., my perception will be altered so that I do not see my cat as a person, but rather as a thing to be treated however I like (as a side note, saying "my cat" does not necessarily imply ownership, any more than I own my grandmother or my boyfriend).
Let us now apply this phenomenon to characters in a literary work. I noticed that in "Fictional Characters as Abstract Artifacts," Amie Thomasson writes "a fictional character can go on existing without its author..." (145). Thomasson describes a character as an "it" rather than a "he" or "she". Since characters do not exist in the real world, do not suffer, do not have rights, etc., ought we to use "it" when describing them? I think that we indeed ought to whenever we are not trying to suspend our disbelief to become engrossed in a story. This will anchor our occasional perceptions of characters as real beings into a perception of characters as imaginary. Using "it" is not intuitive; we will naturally want to say "she" when describing Anna Karenina and "he" when describing Captain Ahab. I think, however, that purposefully saying "it" instead (especially during classroom discussions about characters) will remind us that we are not discussing real people.
Emotional Responses to Fiction
I like Ralph Clark’s view (paraphrased by Susan Feagin) that “Emotional responses to art are the result of entertaining various counterfactual conditionals” (186). In other words, our emotional responses to literature come from imagining that same set of circumstances happening to yourself or to someone you know. This is a possible explanation for why fictional characters who are in a situation you have once found yourself in, or perhaps remind you of your father, are so much more emotionally potent.
Radford’s fifth solution objects this idea. He says that when we weep for Anna Karenina, “we weep for her” (174), not for the situation applied to any person. Since Anna Karenina does not exist, this is not an adequate solution to the problem of emotional response to literature. However, I disagree; I do not think the reader weeps for Anna Karenina. The reader knows she does not exist, can not suffer, and is therefore weeping out of empathy and an active imagination.
Radford’s fifth solution objects this idea. He says that when we weep for Anna Karenina, “we weep for her” (174), not for the situation applied to any person. Since Anna Karenina does not exist, this is not an adequate solution to the problem of emotional response to literature. However, I disagree; I do not think the reader weeps for Anna Karenina. The reader knows she does not exist, can not suffer, and is therefore weeping out of empathy and an active imagination.
Emotions in Role-Playing
Q&A Question #1: 1. What is the nature of emotion in role playing?
People sometimes assume a pretend role (e.g. in acting, role-playing games, etc.). How real the person feels in that pretend role depends on a few factors, including the verisimilitude of the situation, how well the person researches and develops that pretend role, how well the person can identify with the role, etc. Some people become very attached to their roles, will genuinely cry during emotional moments, or feel real anger when their character has been betrayed.
People who role play (as with authors) will speak about their characters as a separate person; e.g., when recounting an event in a role-playing game, one will say, "Darius went into the tavern..." rather than "I went into the tavern..." There is a distinction between the real person and the character they are portraying.
These roles, like characters in a work of fiction, do not exist in the real world.
Are there elements of role-playing when we read a work of fiction? Does the reader imagine herself as the protagonist, and get so caught up in the protagonist's life that their two lives become momentarily indistinguishable?
People sometimes assume a pretend role (e.g. in acting, role-playing games, etc.). How real the person feels in that pretend role depends on a few factors, including the verisimilitude of the situation, how well the person researches and develops that pretend role, how well the person can identify with the role, etc. Some people become very attached to their roles, will genuinely cry during emotional moments, or feel real anger when their character has been betrayed.
People who role play (as with authors) will speak about their characters as a separate person; e.g., when recounting an event in a role-playing game, one will say, "Darius went into the tavern..." rather than "I went into the tavern..." There is a distinction between the real person and the character they are portraying.
These roles, like characters in a work of fiction, do not exist in the real world.
Are there elements of role-playing when we read a work of fiction? Does the reader imagine herself as the protagonist, and get so caught up in the protagonist's life that their two lives become momentarily indistinguishable?
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Copy Cat
Amie Thomasson contends that two different writers who create the same work, word for word, have not created the same piece of literature. This is because "a literary work is best conceived not as an abstract sequence of words but as an artifact that had to be created in those original circumstances in which it was created" (Thomasson 146). This seems to rely too heavily on the theory of New Historicism, which contends that one must understand the historical context and zeitgeist of when a work was written in order to understand the work. While this may be more important for some books than for others (it is, as Thomasson says, crucial to understand that Animal Farm is a satire), I think this does not leave room for modern readings of a text. While it is important to understand the age a work was written in, it is also important to understand the context and zeitgeist of the age in which the modern reader is reading.
Standards of Non-Fiction
Must non-fiction meet standards of literary value?
Our introduction to the "Fiction" section says that "Although works of nonfiction are readily accepted and taught as literature, they are more of a rarity...it is not clear why nonfiction has a more marginal status, but it does. Fiction, on the other hand, takes in much more than works of literature, because fiction can be nonverbal in form...and because it need not meet even minimal standards for literary value..." (109)
It seems to me that non-fiction can have both of these components, as well. Non-fiction can certainly be nonverbal; the same way seeing shapes in clouds can be fiction, me placing my hands across my throat to indicate that I'm choking can be non-fictional, non-verbal communication. Non-fiction also need not meet any standards for literary value; just as there is fiction that isn't literature (like some comic books), there is non-fiction that isn't literature (like my shopping list). While these elements are important, they are not useful distinctions between fiction and non-fiction.
Our introduction to the "Fiction" section says that "Although works of nonfiction are readily accepted and taught as literature, they are more of a rarity...it is not clear why nonfiction has a more marginal status, but it does. Fiction, on the other hand, takes in much more than works of literature, because fiction can be nonverbal in form...and because it need not meet even minimal standards for literary value..." (109)
It seems to me that non-fiction can have both of these components, as well. Non-fiction can certainly be nonverbal; the same way seeing shapes in clouds can be fiction, me placing my hands across my throat to indicate that I'm choking can be non-fictional, non-verbal communication. Non-fiction also need not meet any standards for literary value; just as there is fiction that isn't literature (like some comic books), there is non-fiction that isn't literature (like my shopping list). While these elements are important, they are not useful distinctions between fiction and non-fiction.
Truth in Non-Fiction
Q&A Question #2: Does an element of fiction taint a work of non-fiction? That is, if a work is almost entirely non-fictional, but has one fictional element, should we call the work fiction or non-fiction?
This certainly does not work in the reverse; elements of non-fiction do not taint works of fiction.
It seems, though, that a work claiming to be non-fictional should strive not to have any fictional elements. It also seems relevant whether or not the author intended the elements to be fictional, which is to say whether or not he knew they were fictional. Perhaps, as a lie needs intent to deceive, fiction must be intended to be fiction.
It does, however, seem next to impossible not to include elements of writing which stray from the absolute truth of what really happened. In putting the event into writing, the author puts her own style into the piece; she chooses what to include and what not to include. We never can see a perfectly full recollection of past events.
I think that an author should strive not to include fictional elements in a work of non-fiction, as that further skews the reality of the story, and is somewhat of a lie to the readers.
This certainly does not work in the reverse; elements of non-fiction do not taint works of fiction.
It seems, though, that a work claiming to be non-fictional should strive not to have any fictional elements. It also seems relevant whether or not the author intended the elements to be fictional, which is to say whether or not he knew they were fictional. Perhaps, as a lie needs intent to deceive, fiction must be intended to be fiction.
It does, however, seem next to impossible not to include elements of writing which stray from the absolute truth of what really happened. In putting the event into writing, the author puts her own style into the piece; she chooses what to include and what not to include. We never can see a perfectly full recollection of past events.
I think that an author should strive not to include fictional elements in a work of non-fiction, as that further skews the reality of the story, and is somewhat of a lie to the readers.
Fiction & Coherence
Q&A Question #1: Does fiction adhere to a coherence theory of truth?
Truth as coherence is when a statement coheres with other statements (word-word). Truth as correspondence is when a statement corresponds with the way the world works (word-world).
In a work of fiction, a statement does not need to correspond with the world (and often doesn't, like with works of science fiction), but does need to cohere with other statements within the work. This is similar to what Nicole mentioned in class about when an author writes an inconsistency. An author sets down statements or rules that govern the world of her work of fiction, and then must take care to have the rest of her statements cohere with those rules.
In class, DKJ said that with fiction there is "lots of stuff going on, but none of it is in the world." All of the goings-on occur in the mind of the reader. However, once the signs on the page enter the reader's mind, and plants an idea there, those signs can create a behavior change. In some small way, then, I think the reality of a book can transfer over to the reality of our world.
Truth as coherence is when a statement coheres with other statements (word-word). Truth as correspondence is when a statement corresponds with the way the world works (word-world).
In a work of fiction, a statement does not need to correspond with the world (and often doesn't, like with works of science fiction), but does need to cohere with other statements within the work. This is similar to what Nicole mentioned in class about when an author writes an inconsistency. An author sets down statements or rules that govern the world of her work of fiction, and then must take care to have the rest of her statements cohere with those rules.
In class, DKJ said that with fiction there is "lots of stuff going on, but none of it is in the world." All of the goings-on occur in the mind of the reader. However, once the signs on the page enter the reader's mind, and plants an idea there, those signs can create a behavior change. In some small way, then, I think the reality of a book can transfer over to the reality of our world.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Hirsch
Hirsch hesitantly stipulates that "literature includes any text worthy to be taught to students by teachers of literature, when these texts are not being taught to students in other departments of a school or university" (50). I understand that Hirsch is attempting to provide a definition that does not "confine and constrict the subject [of literature] in a way that makes the teaching and study of literature more narrow and one-sided" (48) (as he thinks all other definitions of literature have done), but I find this definition aggravatingly vague and unhelpful.
My first problem with this definition is that it discourages departmental overlap of subject matter. Because the Philosophy department teaches Plato's "Republic", it is unworthy for a literature professor to teach. This element of Hirsch's definition seems to be causing the very sort of constricting definition he's trying so hard to avoid. Literature is not confined to the English classroom.
Secondly, I wonder which literature is "worthy to be taught." I am unclear as to who decides the worthiness of the literature. I suppose that Hirsch is suggesting that "teachers of literature" decide worthiness, but do they each decide individually, or is there an annual meeting of the literature teachers where they collectively decide which literature is or is not worthy? (Perhaps this conference of literature teachers could be the same weekend as an educated native speakers conference, wherein all ENS decide on a set of grammar rules. Majority vote rules.) It seems far too subjective to allow literature to be whatever one teacher declares it to be. Also, why are the literature teachers the go-to authority here? What about writers, scholars, copy editors?
My first problem with this definition is that it discourages departmental overlap of subject matter. Because the Philosophy department teaches Plato's "Republic", it is unworthy for a literature professor to teach. This element of Hirsch's definition seems to be causing the very sort of constricting definition he's trying so hard to avoid. Literature is not confined to the English classroom.
Secondly, I wonder which literature is "worthy to be taught." I am unclear as to who decides the worthiness of the literature. I suppose that Hirsch is suggesting that "teachers of literature" decide worthiness, but do they each decide individually, or is there an annual meeting of the literature teachers where they collectively decide which literature is or is not worthy? (Perhaps this conference of literature teachers could be the same weekend as an educated native speakers conference, wherein all ENS decide on a set of grammar rules. Majority vote rules.) It seems far too subjective to allow literature to be whatever one teacher declares it to be. Also, why are the literature teachers the go-to authority here? What about writers, scholars, copy editors?
Grammar
Hirsch contends that "All sophisticated linguists know that their job is to formulate explicit rules for what is implicitly known by every native speaker. The native speaker is the court of last resort; he can never be wrong; only the grammarian can be" (47). With this as a basic premise, he decides that "every attempt to make [a single definition of literature], without exception, has ended up being a stipulative definition...which stipulates how the world literature ought to be used, but entirely fails to define how it actually is used by great numbers of educated native speakers" (49).
I love grammar and think it's invaluable to conveying a message through language, but I also understand that part of the beauty of language is the way native speakers bend the rules and evolve the language. I think, however, that Hirsch places too much emphasis on how much sway educated native speakers ought to have on a language (Side note -- Why are they educated native speakers? It seems to me that undereducated native speakers may have even more ability to change a language). Hirsch leaves unanswered what percentage of educated native speakers have to use grammar in a certain way. Since a native speaker "can never be wrong," it seems that a problem would arise when two native speakers disagreed about language usage. Do we need/ought we to have separate sets of language/grammar? Do we already have these multiple sets?
I love grammar and think it's invaluable to conveying a message through language, but I also understand that part of the beauty of language is the way native speakers bend the rules and evolve the language. I think, however, that Hirsch places too much emphasis on how much sway educated native speakers ought to have on a language (Side note -- Why are they educated native speakers? It seems to me that undereducated native speakers may have even more ability to change a language). Hirsch leaves unanswered what percentage of educated native speakers have to use grammar in a certain way. Since a native speaker "can never be wrong," it seems that a problem would arise when two native speakers disagreed about language usage. Do we need/ought we to have separate sets of language/grammar? Do we already have these multiple sets?
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Social Literature
In class on Wednesday, DKJ said, "ethics begins by taking seriously the harm that may befall someone besides yourself. It is a social undertaking." I think, then, that it might be fruitful for learning about ethics also to be a social undertaking. Though we've decided that greatness and popularity are not the same thing, I think having certain works of literature that a large number of people know well is useful for learning about ethics. If one person can reference a scenario or character from a work of literature to exemplify an ethical idea, it will resonate well with anyone else who has read that particular work of literature. That's one of the ways studying together in a class is so beneficial; every student in the room has read (or at least, should have read) the same text. Though the initial act of reading literature is quite solitary, I think it's important for readers to then make literature a social experience by discussing it with others.
Passionate Philosophy
I'm currently reading "The Consolation of Philosophy" by Boethius. The book begins with Boethius, imprisoned and awaiting his execution, writing poetry in bed. His old friend, Lady Philosophy, then descends from on high to visit and comfort him. Because Boethius had been writing poetry, the Muses of Poetry were surrounding his bedside. Upon seeing these muses, Lady Philosophy screams, "Who...has allowed these hysterical sluts (scenicas meretriculas) to approach this sick man's bedside? ...These are the very creatures who slay the rich and fruitful harvest of Reason with the barren thorns of Passion."
This idea that poetry fuels the passions and dampens reason is an echo of that "old quarrel" we've been reading about in Nussbaum's essay. Interestingly enough, the entirety of "The Consolation of Philosophy" alternates between sections of verse and sections of prose. It seems that perhaps Boethius disagrees with Lady Philosophy about the value of literary form.
In his introduction to the book, Victor Watts writes that the Boethius' poems are "integral and their purpose varied. They act as a relief from the concentration of the argument while the patient is still weak...sometimes they are used to summarize or even advance the discussion." It seems to me that the very philosophical ideas Boethius writes in verse would not have been as potent in prose.
This idea that poetry fuels the passions and dampens reason is an echo of that "old quarrel" we've been reading about in Nussbaum's essay. Interestingly enough, the entirety of "The Consolation of Philosophy" alternates between sections of verse and sections of prose. It seems that perhaps Boethius disagrees with Lady Philosophy about the value of literary form.
In his introduction to the book, Victor Watts writes that the Boethius' poems are "integral and their purpose varied. They act as a relief from the concentration of the argument while the patient is still weak...sometimes they are used to summarize or even advance the discussion." It seems to me that the very philosophical ideas Boethius writes in verse would not have been as potent in prose.
Precision in Language
Q&A Question 2: "Does literary form lose the precision that "dogmatic abstract treatises" allow?"
In "Love's Knowledge", Nussbaum recounts James' take on metaphors. Rather than being "abstract essences and general forms" which "cannot perceive particulars," James believes they are "perceptional and expressional" and are the only things which "can adequately tell the reader what James believes to be true." (5)
However, I think that by presenting a reader with a metaphor (or, by extension, with more overtly literary form), one leaves the text open to a broader range of interpretation. For example, when James writes that language is "like alert winged creatures, perched on those diminished summits and aspired to a clearer air" (4), the reader is unsure of which winged creatures James references. Angels? Birds? Griffins? Dragons? The reader is left to decide.
This leads me to a further question: Is being precise in conveying an idea valuable, or is it laudable to leave a proposed idea open for subjective interpretation? Perhaps these are not mutually exclusive...
In "Love's Knowledge", Nussbaum recounts James' take on metaphors. Rather than being "abstract essences and general forms" which "cannot perceive particulars," James believes they are "perceptional and expressional" and are the only things which "can adequately tell the reader what James believes to be true." (5)
However, I think that by presenting a reader with a metaphor (or, by extension, with more overtly literary form), one leaves the text open to a broader range of interpretation. For example, when James writes that language is "like alert winged creatures, perched on those diminished summits and aspired to a clearer air" (4), the reader is unsure of which winged creatures James references. Angels? Birds? Griffins? Dragons? The reader is left to decide.
This leads me to a further question: Is being precise in conveying an idea valuable, or is it laudable to leave a proposed idea open for subjective interpretation? Perhaps these are not mutually exclusive...
Form & Content
Q&A Question 1: Jacob mentioned that in Philosophy & Music, the class decided that form and content were one and the same. Nussbaum contends that in regards to literature, form and content are organically linked, but distinguishable. Why is the relationship between form and content different in regards to music and to literature?
Since I didn't go through the Philosophy & Music seminar myself, I'm not exceptionally well prepared to answer this question, but I've talked it over with Jacob and I'll give it a shot. When you change the form of a certain literary content, the content may get altered slightly, but the same general content remains. However, since music is not representational, it has no content aside from its form. Therefore, if you change music's form, the content also completely changes; its form is its content.
I like Nussbaum's assertion that form and content are organically linked, but I am unsure as to how strong the link is. Certainly, different forms can alter how content is expressed and perceived, but I suspect that the general content remains the same.
Since I didn't go through the Philosophy & Music seminar myself, I'm not exceptionally well prepared to answer this question, but I've talked it over with Jacob and I'll give it a shot. When you change the form of a certain literary content, the content may get altered slightly, but the same general content remains. However, since music is not representational, it has no content aside from its form. Therefore, if you change music's form, the content also completely changes; its form is its content.
I like Nussbaum's assertion that form and content are organically linked, but I am unsure as to how strong the link is. Certainly, different forms can alter how content is expressed and perceived, but I suspect that the general content remains the same.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Philosophy Toolkit
I must admit that even though the majority of my interest in philosophy is in ethics and morality, I don't have a very good sense of the differences (or lack thereof) between the terms "ethics" and "morality". I tend to use them interchangeably, and typically choose one over the other simply because of which sounds best in the sentence I'm constructing. The toolkit mentions that some philosophers do use them interchangeably, and still others draw distinctions between the two. It goes on to say that "Where usage varies so much within a discipline, not to mention in everyday speech, it is especially important to pay close attention to how a particular writer or speaker is using these terms." I think it's fascinating how these two words can take on different connotative meanings, and thus mean different things to different people. For example, the word "moral" might be a little more familiar to someone than the word "ethics"; the terms "moral compass" and "moral support" can come up fairly frequently in everyday conversation, whereas the word "ethics" might not appear so easily. I think this shows how important word choice can be, which is certainly something we'll be discussing later on in the semester as we continue our discussion of literature and philosophy.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Welcome
Hello, my name is Shelby Giaccarini (jack-a-REE-nee) and I am a Philosophy and English (literature) double major. This is my ultimate undergraduate semester, and I mean that in both senses of the word. After commencement, I'll either be taking a year to work or volunteer or read or enjoy life or detest life (or some strange combination of the five), or I'll be heading over to the UK to enter a graduate program in Classics. Though the future is uncertain, I could not be more excited to be here in this class, which will provide the perfect keystone for my two majors.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)