Biyernes, Marso 30, 2012

Creative Spontaneity


Creative Spontaneity

Emile Zola
It has become my interest whether to engage in this topic or not. Nevertheless, the need for me to explicate with delicate detail the position in which I took regarding the concept of literature.
            The question remains in our minds on how we should appreciate a piece of writing in any form (excluding poetry). The teachers of our institute relay to us that the most sublime is the most simple and what tickles the common interest of the general public. Indeed, the way books are devoured by dozens of people indicate that each has his own taste yet a few have came out of the fore to be enjoyed by many and have survived the test of time thus making it sublime. Longinus indeed was writing about this same thing. Time tests the immortality of a writer. The survival of Dante’s Inferno gave us the proof that Longinus might be right in some sense. I shall explicate in this short treatise that in every way Longinus and our teacher is wrong.

The Bane of Simplicity
            Less is more this is a community favourite and indeed how many artists have engaged n less expression and less output of product. The unfolding of being indeed follows a rhythmic step of showing and hiding itself again in the crepes dwelling on the show where the darkness of anonymity hides us from the majestic entourage of being. Yet, in our life the expression of a person is more important than the language. Although, it points us as if in a vehicle to the meaning yet the meaning indicated by the use itself brings us to the confusion and thus we have made methods to bring it out of the open and this method I will tell you is more than having a critical mind.
            The teacher told us to keep it simple and expurgate any form of complicacy of thought or any other form of eloquence. Eloquence is simplicity and we can converse the two as much as we want. The logic stays the same. In Longinus, the use of language is supposed to be limited to what is needed and apt for the situation. Indeed, he calls us to use only the apt words in prose.

Since then, even in tragedy where the natural dignity of the subject makes a swelling diction allowable we cannot pardon a tasteless grandiloquence.[1]


When he meant swelling diction, he suggests that the writer should pick the right words in a piece of writing. Diction indeed, is an issue among writers themselves. The use of language is confusing and oftentimes what triumphs are the conventional and not the obscure and the queer. Longinus advices the writers to avoid the use of such an overblown style, in contemporary terms and especially in our institute, we are advised to go for the simple.
            In Strunk’s Elements of Style, the writer is advised to keep it simple and cut down the unessential. Omit needless words. These are the words that would stick your mind as the book progresses and the teacher incessantly insists upon these concepts. The simplicity of a particular writing can be subjective. In a sense, the simple can be complicated and the complicated can be simple. It is reciprocal in its essence. Yet, the judgement of whether this writing is simple and complicated lies deeply in the distant rooms of the human person reading.
            When I read a particular piece, what do I experience? This might be the apt question for now as we dissect the reading subject and bring into the fore the phenomenon of reading and its connection with understanding itself and the judgement of its simplicity. The reading subject sits on the chair and focuses his eyes on the jumble of words and paragraphs called a book. He reads the meaning of the words as they generate a meaning to his mind. Whether Werther was a pervert or a love obsessed person does not matter in its truth in the mind. The existence of Werther’s perversity or his obsession is not the issue rather the conscious reader finds in the text the behaviour of Werther. In this sense, even Freud knew that Oedipus married his mother unknown to him that she was his mother. Since Freud had already made an interpretation of this work in lieu of his Oedipus complex it is necessary for us now to indicate that Freud interprets Sophocles in lieu of his psycho-analysis. Thus, the psycho-analyst who interprets with the spectacles of a psycho-analyst gets a piece of writing that is psycho-analytic (in the case of Freud). The use of words does not contribute to this meaning generation rather it is the spontaneity of thought that generates this phenomenon. Freud read Sophocles whether the question he read it better than I do is not important rather the interpretation itself sheds a light of thought in the generation of meaning itself. So, is there an objective standard in indicating that there is an ideal deducible metaphysical principle to which we can grant to a piece of writing that it is simple? Definitely not, rather it is the affective side of the reader that generates meaning. In this sense the generation of complicated interpretations summons the profundity of the text. If on the other hand we have interpreted Inferno as something theological and everyone attunes to this interpretation is it sublime? If literature simply possesses a synchronic existence and there is no place for duality then it is no piece of literature rather it descends into a hodgepodge of ideological mumbo jumbo. What then is its difference with propaganda?
            Returning to Longinus, common appreciation is the key to the sublime.

When the effect is not sustained beyond the mere act of perusal but, when a passage is pregnant in suggestion, when it is hard nay impossible to distract the attention from it and when it takes hold on the memory then we may be sure that we have lighted on the true sublime.[2]


The inference to memory is important in the cultural impact of a piece of literature. Before the invention of printing, memory is placed as a valuable tool in the art of oration. The way in which an orator can bring into the living world the memory of the past is a measure of his skill in oratory.[3]  Collective consciousness plays an important role in the appreciation and immortality of a literary piece. How often have I entered into polemics that this is wrong! The want of many versus the want of micro collectives places us into a parallel position in the existence of literature in a social dimension.
            Addressing this particular topic, It would be important infer to what Sartre does in his essay Why write. A writer writes as much as a painter paints the world in front of him. Both the painter and the writer produce an image. While the painter made a picture for the eyes, the writer paints a picture in the mind. The artist paints a hovel yet the hovel stays as a hovel and no significance is ever there to tickle the reader.[4] The writer can generate symbols out of a simple picture or a simple concept and unleash a bombardment of meanings. Let us take an example from Emile Zola’s Nana chapter 14:

Venus was decomposing: the germs which she had picked up from the carrion people allowed to moulder in the gutter, the ferment which had infected a whole society, seemed to have come to the surface of her face and rotted it. The room was empty. From the boulevard below there came a great desperate gasp, making the curtains billow. ‘On to Berlin! On to Berlin! On to Berlin![5]’ 


Here, Zola paints the death of Nana. Should the ending be tragic or is it a transition? The question remains. The reader might infer to the proposition that the words ‘on to Berlin’ footnotes one of Zola’s other works most obviously The Debacle. Will the death of an anti-heroine be a tragedy? We can have multiple interpretations of this particular verse which can range from the freewheeling to the most critical.
            What is our point of emphasis here? Simplicity is a sin against literature. To aim for simplicity is to aim for mediocrity. What then is the difference of me writing and me speaking in front of you; the voice of my lips, the movements of my body? In writing the writer is in praxis, the intention behind every word is hidden from plain view. The reader seeks this very meaning in which the writer hides in his novel or short story. If simplicity is to be followed then literature would descend into the level of gossip. Should it be like gossiping that to be literary is to be like the seller of fish? Indeed not!  

Words and Diction
            Here we shall address again the second issue to which our concern takes us i.e. on diction and how we should pick the right words. I have said above that Longinus advises the writer to avoid the useless eloquence of speech. This is ambiguous because in another passage he says

I shall now proceed to enumerate the five principal sources as we may call them from which almost all sublimity is derived assuming of course the preliminary gift on which all these five sources depend, namely command of language. The first and the most important is grandeur of thought...The third is a certain artifice in the employment of figures which are of two kinds, figures of thought and figures of speech. The fourth is dignified expression which is subdivided into two parts the proper choice of words and the use of metaphors and other ornaments of diction.[6]


Longinus expresses with strong insistence on the use of words as the true constituent of a sublime piece of literature. Indeed, we might agree on him on the use of metaphors and the use of eloquent speech. However, if interpreted with an eye for simplicity it is simplicity that he might be insisting. The way in which information is disseminated is part of the ideological utilization of language. Indeed, if we propose that a particular word point us to an idea x and not to an idea y. Then the idea x gets much attention and y descends into freewheelingness and arbitrariness. How then should it be interpreted? The question of interpretation is within the grounds of language and the use of language is supposed to signify us to somewhere and point to a reality as Augustine emphasized then everything is to be direct. The straight discourse of the modern literary theory places emphasis on straight direct to the point discussion and places no outlet for different paths of interpretation.      
            The choice of words then is placed as the point of debate. What words were to be chosen? Rather should we ask how should words be chosen? Here the question of utilization comes out of the dark recesses of the writer’s mind. If Zola altered the words in the final paragraph of Nana will the effect be the same so as to indicate the death of a social germ? Definitely not, here the words create the mental images that emboss pictures in the mind. As much as the painter generates a visual picture with his palate and his brush, the writer generates a picture within the mind yet that picture is not void of meaning. Sartre emphasizes the muteness of painting and visual arts the image is an image yet the tumult in the subject is not summoned unlike the words of the writer. If we read the words of Marx: “A spectre is haunting Europe.[7]” Does the picture of a man holding a rifle or a worker wearing a red scarf change my conception of it? Does the armed man raise my hearts into a fit of rage? No, the words of Marx unleashed the person into a fit of rage that he would have a 180 degree turn and thus remove himself away from the corrupt society of his period.
            Marx’s choice of words is indeed useful for us here. The utilization of the words spectre is utilized in such a way that the importance of the small thing that haunts Europe is elevated as the great event that would soon unleash the praxis of the working class. The word spectre brought us into the idea of revolution. If Marx used the word: “a small thing haunts Europe would the effect be still the same that it would introduce us into the most important document of political writing? Definitely not, for the word of Marx is as perfect as it can be showing the meaning that he wanted to convey.
            This proves my theory is right. Writing is a relative skill as much as a blacksmith would utilize different techniques to produce the same product is the writer with his words. When I mean x will I use a literal meaning y? The interplay of words would mean nothing if the writing activity itself follows a linear movement. If to say x is to bring me to y, then what is the difference between literature and gossip? What is the difference between a novel and a hodgepodge of words written on paper? Here the rhetorical device of the writer is utilized up to its biggest potential. Meaning x can be meant without telling a literal narrative y. Longinus then in his concept of diction swelling is completely and utterly absurd, so much is Strunkian writing sense. Words do not necessarily mean the same as applied into literature. The use of words in a particular writing implies that the word itself undergoes a metamorphosis. The dictionary meaning loses its sense and is juxtaposed somewhere. The word loses its original meaning and assumes a different meaning and symbolizes another thing that would in some sense be different to what the word originally meant in the first place. Fr. Mike’s lectures on the concept of sapere[8] indicate that knowledge possesses a certain taste in the knower. If the words of Marx were to be changed as I have mentioned above would be changed the impact and the affective relation of the sentence to the reader loses its sense.
            Thus, diction simply exists in relativity. No one has the power to omit needless words and the question remains is it needless? The use of a word indicates the writer or the enunciator’s claim. Thus, as Frege says:

In writing, the words are in this case enclosed in quotation marks. Accordingly, a word standing between quotation marks must not be taken in its original meaning.[9] 


Regardless, of the conventions of writing, diction will always remain as the sole property of the writer.

Creative Spontaneity
            This part leads us to the most important part of the article. Above, I have enumerated that there is no objective rule to which a writer can ascribe himself. There is no rule rather the writer is tasked of putting himself and only himself on paper. Here the fundamental question is the placement of the writer. Where is the writer? Is he simply a person who holds a pen or types in a computer? The question of personage indeed is the problem here. If a person writes a note on the floor saying SHIT does it indicate him as a writer? Is a writer focused on politics, philosophy, criticism et cetera? Indeed the question brings us to the problem of personage. Who is the writer? Again, we may ask a very stupid question here but who is the writer in reality? Suppose a picture of man holding a pen and another just sitting or maybe holding a bottle of beer, who is the writer? The one holding the pen or maybe the one sitting is the answer. Is it a question of distinction? What is the difference between Shakespeare and the tabloid article writer? Who is the greatest or is anyone the greatest at all? The inquiries we have in our mind should persist but as time progresses like a river and life slowly ebbs away from our grasp the question is the identity of the one who embossed a few letters into paper and made out of that meagre sign a literary piece. Suppose you see a handwritten manuscript by Tolstoy. Immediately you would worship the paper and yell at anyone that what you are holding is a Tolstoy note. Yet, if you see a person’s notebook undistinguished that he is and dismiss him as a fool would the effect be still the same?
            Again, who is the writer? Is to abide by a rule and by some conventions place you as a writer? Is to be easily understood a measure for your identity? What should writing constitute then?
            Homer’s poem speaks to us this day. For thousands of years, the verses of Homer are still alive. No one can easily grasp a certain passage and say that this is its meaning. We are still at awe at the way in which Homer characterized Achilles and the interplay of imagination and impressive wordplay is involved in the fascination of the mind. Franz Kafka, his novels and short stories captivate the reader because of his melancholic narrative. The struggle of K to enter the castle, what does it mean? Even the most impressive of critics cannot unlock what Kafka really meant yet we award persons who write like Kafka and we even have the word Kafkaesque. Even if we read Kafka in German appreciating it in its true vitality, it seems insufficient.
            Should these persons lose their identity because they have not been understood fully? Suppose that I have read a Meier novel in the twilight series. A single volume has more than 500 pages. Indeed each novel in the twilight series is a long novel. It gained popular notice and there is no doubt that Meier is already bathing in royalties from the books and the movies based on her novels. Nicholas Sparks is an ideal example of a love story writer. He has many novel and they have enjoyed familiarity among young teenagers in search of love. These persons are appreciated today. Meier is a modern storyteller of vampires and Werewolves and Humans. Sparks is a modern love bard. However, what separates a Meier novel from Stoker’s Dracula which started the whole vampire craze in the first place? What is the difference between Francesco Colonna’s Hypnerotomachia Poliphili[10] with Sparks’ novels, both are tragic? This leads us to the question I have already raised above, i.e. should familiarity be the measure?
            Here we have a guide to which we can again reposition the writer’s situation: 1. the use of narrative and 2. the writer’s telos.
            What is the difference between noise and music, literature from architecture, and sculpture from engineering? Stand by the hut and imagine the greatness of the surroundings. What do you see, the plants, flowers, trees, the person with a pen? All of these things are constituted in a great bowl that holds everything yet, who shows us this bowl, which is the question we are contemplating. What is this world? Even if I show it my film would not suffice. Even if I have colour film I cannot contain the whole world into reels of film containing the earth’s bounds. Simply it is black and white, without meaning and without sense there are simply mute images of the earth. It is mere parroting. When I read Kafka’s The Castle, what do I read about? Is it about the sinister unnamed chapters the number and the like or is it the meaning I relate with it. Objectively speaking, hermeneutics does whatever it can to unlock the objective meaning of a particular text. If to say word x in reference to meaning z and context y then it has a meaning in connection with z and y, should there be a synchrony first or a diachrony of meaning? This indeed is the problem and Ricoeur highlights this.

For the interpreter, it is the text which has multiple of meaning; the problem of multiple meaning is posed for him only if what is being considered is a whole in which events, persons, institutions and natural or historical realities are articulated. It is an entire economy an entire signifying rule, which lends itself to the transfer of meaning from the historical to the spiritual level......Today double meaning is no longer simply a problem of exegesis in the biblical or even the secular sense of the term rather it is an inter disciplinary problem.[11]


The problem of multiple interpretations and the establishment of an objective literary message indeed is a problem. In the interpretation of the bible, it is necessary indeed that one has to look for metaphors and allegories. Literal interpretation also is an alternative but it does not work always. Thus, authors of writing manuals stress the need for vigorous writing. Writing which is concise and straight. This makes writing the same with mathematics. If 1+1=2 then should writing follow the same paradigm? Word x should lead us to meaning y, the interplay of words following a linear diagram that when I want to go to the start to point a I can by just following the linear movement. If that were to be the case then writing and literature itself is as precise as mathematics. To say x is to mean y, the straight to the point discourse is what the modern pedagogues envisioned. Vigorous writing is concise says Strunk. However, should it be as straight and mathematical?
            To answer this question goes deep into the writer’s very substance. To answer this problem is to equalize the writer as a da-sein. Da-sein’s being-in-the-world brings it to the disclosedness with beings. Its relation with the world takes it under its yoke. Da-sein immerses itself into the world as it journeys into the realm of being. When Da-sein enunciates he brings into the world a separate being. A being which is its instrument of disclosing being, the written word poses the same being with the enunciated word. On the contrary with Heidegger who placed more importance to the spoken word, literature is the most clear and distinct expression of da-sein to the world. Juxtaposing poetry, literature in itself is the world at our hands. When the novelist placed a small event into his work, he puts the entire world under his pen. With all his strength, he expressed the being of his world into the other. When it is written it is now the monopoly of the common world. It is the world that you and I share. Yet, the writer does not fully give what he means. He makes use of devices to alter the other’s understanding. Why? For the same reason that we talk in analogies, we make use of different devices that tickle the imagination of the reader. Tolstoy’s account of the battle of Austerlitz diverts our imagination into the violence of the battlefield and thus if we read the whole novel itself we are at awe at what Tolstoy meant. This ambiguity of understanding and interpretation is the life and strength of literature if it is to be differentiated with other forms of expression. In what way do we enjoy the novels and stories of Kafka? His novels were unfinished but why do we devour its pages and even go to the point of even formulating an adjective Kafkaesque that can only lead us to Kafka’s opus. If writing is to be like mathematics, then it loses its power. If a piece literature is easily understood then it loses its strength and sinks into anonymity. Neither common appreciation is the measure for it is a matter of relativism. To like a novel and not to like it is not a question of its sublimity. If literature is to be appreciated for its common appreciation then what is the difference with ideology which is an instrument of terror. These we simply cannot allow.
            The writer is in a situation where as Ricoeur puts it:

The formal resemblance is valuable: it permits me to understand the relations between myself and my body and myself and my history in terms of mutual analogy. History and my body are two levels of motivation, two roots of the involuntary. Just as I have not chosen my body, I have not chosen my historical situation but both the one and the other are the locus of my responsibility.[12]


The writer is simply responding to the call of his existential situation. Whatever, he has written is an expression of his being sublimity, subsists in that level. Let nothing hinder him from it.
J.R. Garcia
December, 2011    



[1] Longinus, On the Sublime, trans. H.L Lavell, (www.gutenberg .org) p. 3
[2] Ibid, 5
[3]Alan Gowing, Empire and Memory, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), p. 15
[4]Jean Paul Sartre, What is Literature ed. Stephen Ungar,(Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1988) p. 27
[5]Emile Zola, Nana, trans. Douglas Parmée, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), p.425
[6]Longinus, p. 5
[7]Karl Marx and Frederich Engels, The Communist Manifesto, trans. Samuel Moore (New York: Washington Square Press, 1964) p.55
[8]Lt: to taste, It: to know
[9]Gottlob Frege, “On Sense and Meaning,” trans. P.T Geach and Max Black, in Analytic Philosophy: Beginnings to the Present, (London: Mayfield Publishers, 2001), p. 63
[10]Poliphilio’s Strife for Love in a Dream
[11]Paul Ricoeur, “The Problem of Double Meaning,” trans. Kathleen McLaughlin, in The Conflict of Interpretations, ed. Don Ihde (Evanston: North-western University Press, 1974), p. 64
[12]Paul Ricoeur, Freedom and Nature: the Voluntary and the Involuntary, trans. Erazim V. Kohak, (Evanston: North-western University Press, 1988) p. 125 

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