Comments on: Literariness: How Novels Work http://blog.oup.com/2007/07/literariness/ Introducing brilliant authors to the blogosphere. Sat, 21 Nov 2009 22:43:07 -0600 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.8.4 hourly 1 By: Vance Maverick http://blog.oup.com/2007/07/literariness/comment-page-1/#comment-16924 Vance Maverick Fri, 13 Jul 2007 18:39:54 +0000 http://blog.oup.com/2007/07/literariness/#comment-16924 In Scott's defense, this: <i>...why don’t you see how many references you can find in your holiday reading?</i> does make finding them seem like an end in itself. But it didn't occur to me to take it literally -- it's formulaic, a reflexive gesture echoing a familiar mode of encouragement, no more embarrassing or significant in a squib like this than a dead metaphor. My point is that we're recognizing and responding to references all the time, in literally every kind of text. And to Helen's point (speaking of which: distinguished company we find ourselves in!), I would add that understanding references in more considered and complex writing can do more than make one appreciate the "audacity of the enterprise" -- it can make the enterprise do more for us, including giving pleasure. In Scott’s defense, this:

…why don’t you see how many references you can find in your holiday reading?

does make finding them seem like an end in itself. But it didn’t occur to me to take it literally — it’s formulaic, a reflexive gesture echoing a familiar mode of encouragement, no more embarrassing or significant in a squib like this than a dead metaphor.

My point is that we’re recognizing and responding to references all the time, in literally every kind of text. And to Helen’s point (speaking of which: distinguished company we find ourselves in!), I would add that understanding references in more considered and complex writing can do more than make one appreciate the “audacity of the enterprise” — it can make the enterprise do more for us, including giving pleasure.

]]> By: Scott Belyea http://blog.oup.com/2007/07/literariness/comment-page-1/#comment-16916 Scott Belyea Fri, 13 Jul 2007 18:13:47 +0000 http://blog.oup.com/2007/07/literariness/#comment-16916 "Sorry, Scott, you are being anti-intellectual. People like Kirsty (and advocates of Schoenberg) are saying “these works have interesting features, which it’s rewarding to notice.” Instead, you pretend they’re saying “in order to appreciate these works, you must apprehend these essential features.” There’s a big difference, and your misinterpretation suggests you’re arguing in bad faith." Ah, well ... since you can detect exactly what I and others are actually thinking and what we mean deep down, I guess I'll just have to bow to your arrogance ... “Sorry, Scott, you are being anti-intellectual. People like Kirsty (and advocates of Schoenberg) are saying “these works have interesting features, which it’s rewarding to notice.” Instead, you pretend they’re saying “in order to appreciate these works, you must apprehend these essential features.” There’s a big difference, and your misinterpretation suggests you’re arguing in bad faith.”

Ah, well … since you can detect exactly what I and others are actually thinking and what we mean deep down, I guess I’ll just have to bow to your arrogance …

]]> By: Helen DeWitt http://blog.oup.com/2007/07/literariness/comment-page-1/#comment-16897 Helen DeWitt Fri, 13 Jul 2007 17:18:37 +0000 http://blog.oup.com/2007/07/literariness/#comment-16897 I think when works of art help themselves to other works of art there is always something quixotic about it -- that is, the new writer sees a skinny nag as Rosinante, a windmill as a giant, or sees herself seeing the skinny nag as Rosinante. It is possible to read Don Quixote without having read any of the romances of chivalry that inspired the Knight of the Mournful Countenance, but awareness of context does often add understanding of the audacity of the enterprise. The idea that one sometimes finds, that this is all rather esoteric, falls apart as soon as one thinks of Kurt Cobain or Eminem. I think when works of art help themselves to other works of art there is always something quixotic about it — that is, the new writer sees a skinny nag as Rosinante, a windmill as a giant, or sees herself seeing the skinny nag as Rosinante. It is possible to read Don Quixote without having read any of the romances of chivalry that inspired the Knight of the Mournful Countenance, but awareness of context does often add understanding of the audacity of the enterprise. The idea that one sometimes finds, that this is all rather esoteric, falls apart as soon as one thinks of Kurt Cobain or Eminem.

]]> By: Vance Maverick http://blog.oup.com/2007/07/literariness/comment-page-1/#comment-16893 Vance Maverick Fri, 13 Jul 2007 17:10:55 +0000 http://blog.oup.com/2007/07/literariness/#comment-16893 Sorry, Scott, you are being anti-intellectual. People like Kirsty (and advocates of Schoenberg) are saying "these works have interesting features, which it's rewarding to notice." Instead, you pretend they're saying "in order to appreciate these works, you must apprehend these essential features." There's a big difference, and your misinterpretation suggests you're arguing in bad faith. Sorry, Scott, you are being anti-intellectual. People like Kirsty (and advocates of Schoenberg) are saying “these works have interesting features, which it’s rewarding to notice.” Instead, you pretend they’re saying “in order to appreciate these works, you must apprehend these essential features.” There’s a big difference, and your misinterpretation suggests you’re arguing in bad faith.

]]> By: Scott Belyea http://blog.oup.com/2007/07/literariness/comment-page-1/#comment-16819 Scott Belyea Fri, 13 Jul 2007 13:08:21 +0000 http://blog.oup.com/2007/07/literariness/#comment-16819 "So while you’re lounging in the sun this year, why don’t you see how many references you can find in your holiday reading?" An interesting notion. I wonder if it will have much appeal for more than a small fraction of readers. It strikes me as similar to this musical question - while you're listening to Schoenberg's piano music, why not see how many tone rows in retrograde inversion you can find? In either case, the activity would interest some, but I suspect many would resist. "I'm there to read (listen), not analyze." Further, I suggest that while analysis would increase your admiration/respect for the technique of the author (composer), it should not be necessary in order to enjoy the artistic product. I'll admit that my reaction is as much due to impatience with some reviews of both books and music as it is to your post. I'm sure you know the type - much admiring comment about the ingenuity or intellect or technique of the writer/composer, but by the end, you want to shake the reviewer and say, "But did you enjoy it??" I don't want to appear anti-intellectual, but I sometimes think that if a writer (composer) has to explain things beforehand, then they've failed in one aspect of their art. The book (composition) may well inspire the curious reader to poke around under the covers to find out more about what makes the thing tick, but that will always be a minority activity. Mind you, it's one I'm frequently guilty of, so I'm hardly in a position to criticize! :-) “So while you’re lounging in the sun this year, why don’t you see how many references you can find in your holiday reading?”

An interesting notion. I wonder if it will have much appeal for more than a small fraction of readers.

It strikes me as similar to this musical question – while you’re listening to Schoenberg’s piano music, why not see how many tone rows in retrograde inversion you can find?

In either case, the activity would interest some, but I suspect many would resist. “I’m there to read (listen), not analyze.” Further, I suggest that while analysis would increase your admiration/respect for the technique of the author (composer), it should not be necessary in order to enjoy the artistic product.

I’ll admit that my reaction is as much due to impatience with some reviews of both books and music as it is to your post. I’m sure you know the type – much admiring comment about the ingenuity or intellect or technique of the writer/composer, but by the end, you want to shake the reviewer and say, “But did you enjoy it??”

I don’t want to appear anti-intellectual, but I sometimes think that if a writer (composer) has to explain things beforehand, then they’ve failed in one aspect of their art. The book (composition) may well inspire the curious reader to poke around under the covers to find out more about what makes the thing tick, but that will always be a minority activity.

Mind you, it’s one I’m frequently guilty of, so I’m hardly in a position to criticize! :-)

]]>