a .02 on authorial (and authoritarial) respect

[bronze_ribbons]

There's a fandom-triggered discussion at xochiquetzl's that got me thinking about the ancient and eternal tensions among various schools of criticism. Long before Harry Potter and his cohorts emerged from J.K. Rowling's brain, and long after the current debates are rendered (mostly) moot by the end of the series, there was and will be no end to the debates among

those who prize authorial intent above all other considerations, vs.

those for whom reader interpretation trumps historical or biographical "evidence" (e.g., even if the author is on record as stating they intended x, what the author actually conveyed was y, so y is the correct reading), vs.

those who regard the author and reader as active collaborators in the creation of meaning, vs.

those who wonder why the heck any of this matters, vs.

those whose thoughts and feelings are a messy melange of some or all of the above.

Although I am myself a writer, I confess to being baffled by those insist that original authorial intent is paramount and must be treated as sacred at all times. Some creators themselves subscribe to this approach (i.e., there is only one way this story should be told, and there is only one correct way to read it), and I've sometimes felt their pain (readers who automatically equate narrative with autobiography are my particular bane), but I ultimately regard this worldview as somewhat humorless and naive. I also feel it indicates a certain lack of ambition and/or faith: it strikes me as more disrespectful to insist that there's only one true way to interpret or expand upon an author's work, not to mention unrealistic. Even with a single reader, multiple lens and perspectives are possible; when I revisit books I read in earlier decades, I see different nuances and possibilities in them. That doesn't render my earlier reactions "wrong"; it may mean that the work is sufficiently rich in scope and/or detail to connect with me at different levels and at different times. Which -- wow. When an author is capable of that, that is magical.

I've been thinking about Shakespeare in relation to stuff like this -- talk about someone who messed with his original sources! Talk about centuries' worth of wank over authorial intent! I'll admit that I can get as uppity and twitchy as any hardcore Bardolator over radical (re)interpretations that (IMO) fail to convey the soul of a play -- i.e., when the producers and I don't agree on their choice of agenda, style, and/or gimmick -- but I feel that way about poorly directed traditional productions, too. And when someone communicates Shakespeare well -- whether they're soliloquising in nineteenth-century court dress, or doing The Tempest as a one-man show in a kiddie pool -- holy fresnels, the thrill. And when they go beyond the text -- whether it's skewering his pet plot devices in a parody, or imagining what happens after the onstage murders and/or marriage -- if they can infuse their effort with enough conviction, wit and/or emotional truth to captivate or stimulate my own imagination, I won't care how far they've wandered away from canon, and I'm convinced Shakespeare wouldn't either.

And since that's how I regard the Bible, the Harry Potter books, the Marriage of Figaro, and myriad other masterpieces, I find myself agreeing with xochiquetzl's recommendation in "radical, relentless, protracted, and militant non-engagement" when it comes to general interpretation wars: trying to reason with fundamentalists and hagiographers in those realms too often results in heartache and tsuris (*). To be fair, though, I'm sure they feel equally stymied by my stubborn universalism -- which again begs the question of faith: why in the world do certain devotees to canon find it necessary to treat alternate interpretations as such threats to their own? To me, it tends to indicate insecurity in one's own beliefs (i.e., lack of trust in the very deity or belief one wishes to glorify), but I'm operating with the postulate that God does not smite individuals for collective failures of misinterpretation. If one does believe in guilt by association, though -- that we each are tainted by the sins of others -- or that vice is virulently contagious, and/or that saving other people from themselves is a duty, I can see how easy it would be to become shrill and strident about one's core beliefs, and to lash out at those who infect the very people one is trying to enlighten with unhelpful myths and unholy distractions.

I'm now indulging in oversimplifications, of course: this is hardly a them vs. us phenomenon. There's a part of me that fears mass negativity and narrow-mindedness will spell the end of us all -- that the collapse of civilization is upon us if we don't collectively transcend easy cynicism and uncritical dogma (be it conservative or liberal), and the choices (or lack thereof) that emerge from such attitudes -- and this can make me as desperate and didactic (some call it condescending) as any evangelist. There's a part of me that cringes at how easily a charismatic leader or teacher can manipulate those around her or him, and that it's my obligation to advocate for the devil when I see people being seduced or bullied into groupthink in the name of angels. There are times when I cannot keep a grip on my temper, even though I shut down myself when someone is yelling at me.

This entire post, of course, is likely an exercise in preaching to the proverbial choir: odds are it won't alter anyone's existing stance on artistic or religious liberties. Even so, there's a part of me that feels compelled to offer this: to reassure like-minded people that they aren't alone; to ask different-minded folks to consider the possibility that my beliefs are as deeply-felt and hard-won as theirs, even though they've led us to radically different conclusions; and to stimulate the thoughts of readers who may not have pondered any of these things before. (**)

_ _ _
(*) To be clear, I do believe it's possible for fundamentalists and heretics to get along, and that efforts to find common ground -- or to at least clarify our differences -- can be worthwhile. But I also believe one has to choose one's battles, and that means ascertaining whether one's postulates are even going to be acknowledged and treated with respect: there is a difference between "you are wrong because you are willfully stupid and/or depraved" as opposed to "your conclusions are wrong because your background and experiences have supplied you with different assumptions and/or incomplete information."

(**) On a narcissistic note, I've been mulling over some of the adjectives people have recently used to characterize me. I haven't participated in the "describe me in one word" meme that's been circulating around LJ -- frankly, I suspect that would be inviting trouble -- but according to my colleagues, I am notably candid, pessimistic (in a good way), intentional, and thorough. It's also been intimated that I am relentlessly skeptical and occasionally scary. *grin*

The thing is, while almost all of those traits are congenital to my personality to some degree, it's also been a matter of friends and mentors refining my values and shaping my priorities. And some of those influential people happened to be long-distance correspondents or long-dead authors whose words articulated and echoed difficult, problematic truths: I would be neither the woman nor the writer that I am were it not for them. Because they took the trouble to write about what mattered to them, they are an integral part of whatever grace I possess, and this fuels my own compulsion to bear witness -- to speak of the marvelous, maddening complexity of our world, and in doing so, perhaps to help others make the most of their own gifts. And that, in turn, becomes yet more opportunity for joy.


[Adapted and expanded from my original comment to xochiquetzl's post.]

Comments

[aunty_marion]

I don't have any noticeable faith in the standard sense of the word, but I am right behind you in pretty well all of the above. In particular, several things hit a chord with me, leading to these reactions:

a) to reassure like-minded people that they aren't alone - "You are not alone!"
and
b) Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combination.

Can you tell I was infected with Star Trek at an impressionable age?

[schemingreader.livejournal.com]

I would never have thought to compare the authorial intention issue in biblical interpretation with the one in Shakespeare, much less the shipping wars.

I always find that people try to justify bits of Biblical text by imagining a universe in which some law is an amelioration. Or not imagining, necessarily. This happens a lot in Torah discussions in my Jewish community. I think it's kind of silly, as there is a long hermeneutic tradition on which to draw. I have more in common with Rashi, you know. Instead of feeling isolated in my discomfort, I feel validated to be part of a community in time and space who are reading together. (And cheating death, in a way, to keep reading together centuries apart.)

What you said about long-dead authors--yeah, that.

Now, I must admit that I would use authorial intention as part of my chorus of voices supporting some reading, if it did so. We all would. In a recent shipping wars essay I read last night, someone said, "If JKR had made R/S canon, wouldn't all the R/S shippers be crowing about it" (not a direct quote.) I thought, "Yeah, once we had all picked ourselves up off the floor, a lot of people would have been excited by something like that!" I just think, to mangle a quotation from Mordecai Kaplan, that the author gets a vote, not a veto.

[kassrachel.livejournal.com]

I also feel it indicates a certain lack of ambition and/or faith: it strikes me as more disrespectful to insist that there's only one true way to interpret or expand upon an author's work, not to mention unrealistic.

Word. :-)

[gnatkip.livejournal.com]

That doesn't render my earlier reactions "wrong"; it may mean that the work is sufficiently rich in scope and/or detail to connect with me at different levels and at different times. Which -- wow.

Yes. Indeed.

I came here intending to thank you for the love over at the love meme, so thank you. :D But then I got to readin' around, and ah! I find you so very charming. Your "Ambisexuality" sermon is lovely, and just the sort of thing that I needed to read, right about now.

[mechaieh.livejournal.com]

Thank you -- your work is so very entertaining and inspiring (I adore people who care about getting the details right), and your page on the Whomping Willow slays me every time I look at it.

And I'm pleased that the sermon resonated with you -- thank you for letting me know!

[(Anonymous)]

Very intersting and well thought out post!

It reminds me of a Victorian poet who wrote prose of such sickly sweet and over the top platitudes regarding the Royal family that most hailed it as a work of genius and a fantastic satire. Unfortunately the poet concerned then had to admit that he was quite serious about the whole thing. The question then remains and probably highlights this division: does this remain a satire or is this just bad!fic.

Or looking at Shakespeare. I know that there have been versions done that were feminist or marxist in flavour and I think it's wonderful that the text can be used this way - but I tend to think that it's more about it being used to highlight things within feminism and marxism than it being used to highlight things that exist within the text.

The intentions of the author does hold a lot of weight for me, but you're right, there's no point in holding an extremist view and missing out on what the other side, so to speak, has to offer.

[tacky-tramp.livejournal.com]

Made it over here by linksurfing a bit. Glad I found it!

I completely understand intentional obsessiveness when it comes to religious texts. If one understands the Bible as the medium through which the Will of God is communicated, and if one believes that drastic consequences hinge on one's successful completion of said Will, then it's rather important to figure out what God, the Bible's "author," intends, wouldn't you say? Talk about personal investment in the way a text is read -- some people bank their soul on their interpretation!

However, if we're talking about fiction, all my sympathy for intentional fallacists goes right out the window. I have no idea why people argue so vehemently that HP ought to be read as Rowling wants us to read it. Rowling's a pulp master, nothing more, nothing less, and I don't give a hang what she thinks is happening between the lines she rather sloppily penned.

Friending you, btw!

[mechaieh.livejournal.com]

That's an intriguing way of framing it. If the work of fiction (or nonfiction, for that matter) is influential and/or didactic (and if/whether it intended to be), does that make a difference? (For instance, I consider Ayn Rand pulp, but I've definitely known people whose souls found anchor with The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged.)

What interests and troubles me even more is how readers define textual reverence -- is the Bible off-limits for parodies, reinterpretations, spin-offs, etc.? I would argue "no," but I don't happen to believe in a God who smites humans for taking liberties with His words, no matter how irreverent or frivolous (or hateful or hate-instilling, for that matter). Granted, the stakes are lower with fiction, but I gather some people see it as a like matter of courtesy toward the author -- "do not do unto their text what you would not want done to your own," perhaps -- and perhaps that's why they see slashfic, sequels, etc. as uncouth and disrespectful. (And to be fair, I can understand that attitude to a certain degree -- some of the parodies I've seen of my own style have kind of stung, and I have friends who are understandably protective of the characters they taken such pains to created. But I've also seen various poems and stories of mine misinterpreted on a fairly regular basis for the past twenty years -- often because I failed to be clear, of course, but quite often because the reader's own baggage and biases and desires tilt what they see to places I never could have imagined, let alone intended. (I actually adore my main critique partner for this reason -- she takes my poems absolutely seriously, and our beta styles are similar, but she's from a different generation and culture, so through her eyes I get to see how my work comes across to someone who doesn't share my basic frames of reference before I try to sell it to someone who doesn't know me at all.) So, at least in theory, I can't get fussed over how a mischievious or agenda-driven reader might deliberately misinterpret or twist a text when ones with good and/or lofty intentions get things so wrong so often. ;-) (In actual practice, I get shirty over misinterpretations all the damn time, but that's a rant for another day.)

Thank you for reading and commenting! FWIW, I generally bookmark rather than reciprocate (as part of my chronic struggle with time (mis)management), and there isn't actually that much lit crit here, so if you tire of food/church natterings, I shan't pout should you decide defriending is in order.

[tacky-tramp.livejournal.com]

Well, some people certainly pour enough of themselves into fandom that I'm beginning to believe their souls are wrapped up with JKR's little confections. Which strikes me as so wrong, I don't even know where to begin. At least Rand backs her pulp up with consistent and intentional ideology, you know?

[mechaieh.livejournal.com]

Hmm. Rowling is definitely untidier, but I find her characters more realistic than Rand's.

I can't quite believe I just said that, seeing that we're talking about wizards vs. purportedly realistic fiction. Then again, I see Rand's novels as fairy tales for meritocrats.