I've read some books recently which just didn't work for me because of my emotional response to them, and while I was thinking about that, I also pondered a few statements that were made during a heated discussion at Dear Author about Linda Howard's Death Angel. MS Jones wrote thatgood writing can make us suspend dismay with the underlying philosophy/world view. I think the better the writing, the easier it is to swallow values at odds with our own. [...] the rake hero/virgin heroine characterization, which has got to be the most pervasive trope in the entire romance genre) doesn’t work for me (and please, I’m not judging readers who buy it). But I really liked Lord of Scoundrels, [...] Chase redeems these clichés with her excellent characterization and witty writing.I'm not sure how we could arrive at a non-subjective definition of what constitutes "good writing" but as I was thinking about the idea of "gut reactions," the metaphor of good writing helping readers to "swallow values at odds with our own" was interesting. Can good writing sweeten a bitter pill of medicine which is good for us? Or must we beware of it lest it coats a poisoned pill of values that might harm us? Is brain candy tasty but badly written? Is too much of it harmful? What's so special about our guts and what do we really prove when we eat the pudding? I might have to spend some time digesting all those metaphors.
Lets get back to the question of whether or not, if a reader enjoys a book containing a premise that would usually annoy her or him, it's a possible indicator of "excellent characterization and witty writing." In some cases it might suggest that, certainly, but perhaps it could also suggest that something in the characterisation appeals to that reader, or that something about the way it's written seems witty to that reader and that the pleasure the reader derives from these qualities over-rides their lack of appreciation for the underlying premise. The judgements about the quality of the characterisation and the wittiness of the writing may remain subjective ones.
Jane A., meanwhile, stated of the comments about Howard's novel that "One readers “garbage” is another readers “treasure” and I don’t think a mediocre writer could engender such a response." I'm not at all sure how one determines the exact criteria by which to judge excellence, mediocrity and total lack of talent. The comments about the book mostly seemed to me to demonstrate that the writer had included some things in her text which greatly annoyed some readers but pleased (or at least didn't displease) others. If a text gives lots of readers gut troubles, is that really a sign of literary excellence?
Of course we may wish to believe that the books we like best are the ones that are the best written, and some people may also like to think of themselves as connoisseurs with refined palates who are able to appreciate flavours that wouldn't appeal to those with more common tastes. Northrop Frye made some rather biting comments on the topic:
Shakespeare, we say, was one of a group of English dramatists working around 1600, and also one of the great poets of the world. The first part of this is a statement of fact, the second a value-judgement so generally accepted as to pass for a statement of fact. But it is not a statement of fact. It remains a value-judgement, and not a shred of systematic criticism can ever be attached to it. (20)and "Rhetorical value-judgements are closely related to social values, and are usually cleared through a customs-house of moral metaphors: sincerity, economy, subtlety, simplicity, and the like" (21) and
The hesitant reader is invited to try the following exercise. Pick three big names at random, work out the eight possible combinations of promotion and demotion [...] and defend each in turn. Thus if the three names picked were Shakespeare, Milton, and Shelley, the agenda would run:In other words, as satirist Stephen Colbert might say, very often readers and critics make judgements on the basis of what their "guts" tell them but they then appeal to apparently objective standards to justify those gut reactions. I certainly wouldn't argue that our guts are wrong, because clearly they're right about what appeals to them, but I do think it's helpful to be aware that gut reactions may attempt to disguise themselves as statements of objective fact.The reader may sympathize with some of these "positions," as they are called, more than with others, [...] But long before he has finished his assignment he will realize that the whole procedure involved is an anxiety neurosis prompted by a moral censor, and is totally devoid of content. (23-24)
- Demoting Shelley, on the ground that he is immature in technique and profundity of thought compared to the others.
- Demoting Milton, on the ground that his religious obscurantism and heavy doctrinal content impair the spontaneity of his utterance.
- Demoting Shakespeare, on the ground that his detachment from ideas makes his dramas a reflection of life rather than a creative attempt to improve it.
- Promoting Shakespeare, on the ground that he preserves an integrity of poetic vision which in the others is obfuscated by didacticism.
- Promoting Milton, on the ground that his penetration of the highest mysteries of faith raises him above Shakespeare's unvarying worldliness and Shelley's callowness.
- Promoting Shelley, on the ground that his love of freedom speaks to the heart of modern man more immediately than poets who accepted outworn social or religious values.
- Promoting all three (for this a special style, which we may call the peroration style, should be used).
- Demoting all three, on the ground of the untidiness of English genius when examined by French or Classical or Chinese standards.
Some are easier to spot than others. The Smart Bitches recently posted about Robert DeMaria's The College Handbook of Creative Writing. He writes that
Trivial literary entertainments such as thrills and romances and television dramas [...] have a role to play in the lives of many people, [...] though significance in such works is clearly minimal. Their aim is to thrill, chill, and titillate. Frank Lloyd Wright once described television as “chewing gum for the eyes.” It’s an excellent description of that medium and might also apply to most of our light literature. Chewing gum gives you a lot of action but no nourishment. Great literature, on the other hand, is full of emotional, spiritual, and intellectual nourishment.It's apparent to romance readers that he's writing from his gut (and not just because he uses the metaphor of "nourishment"). He's generalising and not providing any textual evidence that all the works he dismisses truly lack the ability to "nourish" the brain as well as the gut.
We may dislike certain styles of writing, certain types of humour, particular character types or plots etc, and it's valid to note these gut reactions. In addition, because I'm probably one of that group of what Colbert dubbed "brainiacs on the nerd patrol" (and yes, he was being satirical, and there's a full transcript of his speech here) I think it's interesting to use our brains to explore why we have those gut reactions. As Robin wrote during that debate about Linda Howard's novel, "I definitely think these discussions are worth having, not only because they’re interesting textually, but also because we ALL harbor ideological views we’re not fully aware of."
Whether a particular novel is, or isn't, "badly written," however, is really quite a separate issue. Frye writes that
Comparative estimates of value are really inferences, most valid when silent ones, from critical practice, not expressed principles guiding its practice. The critic will find soon, and constantly, that Milton is a more rewarding and suggestive poet to work with than Blackmore. But the more obvious this becomes, the less time he will want to waste in belaboring the point. For belaboring the point is all he can do: any criticism motivated by a desire to establish or prove it will be merely one more document in the history of taste. (25)I'd suggest that even that needs some qualification, because perhaps there's a critic out there who would find Blackmore "a more rewarding and suggestive poet to work with than Milton." I've certainly been finding that many romances are much more complex and rewarding to work with than many people had previously imagined was possible. And for anyone who's interested in reading TMT and Northrop Frye's collected thoughts on what literary critics should do (rather than offering up their gut reactions to texts in the guise of arguments about literary merit), we've got more here.
- Frye, Northrop. Anatomy of Criticism: Four Essays. 1957. Oxford: Princeton UP, 2000.
So many great issues! I just finished Death Angel and it's vexing to think I missed all the fun.
ReplyDeleteAnyway, in response to some of the issues you raise:
1. This is supposed to be one of the morally edifying things about art in a liberal society: exposing us to life plans and values at odds with our own. This is exactly why Plato wanted to either kick out or severely restrict (depending on which passage you read) the poets in his Republic.
2. On the nature of reasoning. Depressingly, I think much of what we call "reasoning" is actually post hoc rationalization of things we already believe, and came to believe, not through a process of reasoning but some other way/s. Psychologists have long told us all about cognitive biases, and now neurologists with their fMRIs are proving it another way.
3. On the question of "gut" reaction. I wonder what do you mean by this? Do you mean that beliefs we are aware of having influence our valuation of books? Or that instinctive "gut" reactions which may reflect beliefs we don't know even know we have and have never articulated may do this? Or both?
It may not be a problem that something is gut level, if you're willing to try to rationalize it in a way that others can understand (that is, you may not have come to have the gut feeling by a rational process, but you could have).
4. So Frye is a subjectivist about aesthetic value (?I think based on your quotations). That position has a lot of problems. Does he try to address them?
I think these questions about subjectivity and transparency to self in reviewing are great!
1. This is supposed to be one of the morally edifying things about art in a liberal society: exposing us to life plans and values at odds with our own.
ReplyDeleteAren't a lot of us exposed to "life plans and values at odds with our own" on a frequent basis outwith our reading of fiction? So in that case do we need all fiction to perform that function? And even if it does try to fulfill it, is it not likely that any individual book may challenge some people and not others?
2. On the nature of reasoning. Depressingly, I think much of what we call "reasoning" is actually post hoc rationalization of things we already believe, and came to believe, not through a process of reasoning but some other way/s. Psychologists have long told us all about cognitive biases, and now neurologists with their fMRIs are proving it another way.
Speaking just for myself, I know my reasoning ultimately comes down to "I believe that's right" and "because it seems fair to me." I can reason outwards from that core of beliefs and principles but they themselves are truths I hold self-evident ;-) They aren't all self-evident to everyone else, though, and it seems to me that if two people start from a different set of core beliefs, they're likely to reach very different conclusions (or may perhaps reach similar conclusions but via a rather different method).
I've read some suggestions that genes may have some influence on people's core inclinations:
on the basis of a new study, a team of political scientists is arguing that people's gut-level reaction to issues like the death penalty, taxes and abortion is strongly influenced by genetic inheritance. The new research builds on a series of studies that indicate that people's general approach to social issues - more conservative or more progressive - is influenced by genes.
Environmental influences like upbringing, the study suggests, play a more central role in party affiliation as a Democrat or Republican, much as they do in affiliation with a sports team. (from 2005, New York Times, and there's an update on this research, from 2008, here).
[While looking for that I also came across an article about how biological factors might influence voter turnout, and more recent findings on that are reported here]
3. On the question of "gut" reaction. I wonder what do you mean by this? Do you mean that beliefs we are aware of having influence our valuation of books? Or that instinctive "gut" reactions which may reflect beliefs we don't know even know we have and have never articulated may do this? Or both?
Both, probably, because we may be more aware of some beliefs than others, or have thought some through more carefully than others.
It may not be a problem that something is gut level, if you're willing to try to rationalize it in a way that others can understand
Yes, I agree, but I think people may need to recognise that their guts will at times remain in disagreement with another person's gut, because of a fundamental difference in core beliefs/preferences. Even if they can explain those preferences in a rational way, I doubt that would be enough to change someone else's core beliefs/attitudes.
Someone might be able to demonstrate that author A has an innovative technique, employs alliteration and subtly weaves interesting imagery through her work, but that may not make me like it, even though the rational explanation might help me reach a better intellectual appreciation of the works in question.
4. So Frye is a subjectivist about aesthetic value (?I think based on your quotations). That position has a lot of problems. Does he try to address them?
My impression, from reading that last quote I included, was that Frye did think some works were better than others, but he thought that this would be demonstrated not by appeals to aesthetic values related to taste, but by proving that Poet X is a "more rewarding and suggestive poet to work with."
As I said in my post, "I'm not at all sure how one determines the exact criteria by which to judge excellence, mediocrity and total lack of talent." I do know which I most enjoy reading and which I find most interesting to work on. There is some overlap, but there are some books I like less on a gut level, but which I find more interesting to work on and vice versa. Does that make me "a subjectivist about aesthetic value"? And if so, what are the problems with that?
Isn't it practically the whole point of art to move us--to appeal to our gut (the seat of the emotions in ancient philosophy)? Tom Wolfe wrote an interesting article on what he called "porno-violence," namely violence depicted in such a way as to make the reader identify with the one who inflicts it rather than the victim. (His starting point, oddly enough, was a convention of stringers for tabloid newspapers.) He pointed out fictional examples that made the violence repugnant by making us see it from the victim's PoV.
ReplyDeleteThe discussion of the Gaffney book on Jessica's blog, which you linked to in the previous discussion, mostly involved people talking about their emotional reactions to the story, and what they could and could not accept. I think that perhaps gut reaction and literary evaluation might be the twain that never meet in literary criticism.
Here's an example, though, of literary quality making the unacceptable acceptable. As a result of my upbringing, for most of my life I have been fairly puritanical in my attitudes; and I've never much cared for stories that weren't moralized in some way, with virtue rewarded and vice, if not punished, at least exiled to America. Although sometimes morality and strict legality didn't agree (I had no problem with the murderer of a blackmailer, for example, escaping justice, as long as some innocent wasn't convicted by mistake); I didn't like it when really evil characters got away with doing harm.
Then I read Tanith Lee's Tales of the Flat Earth, a series of novels vaguely orientalist in flavor, in which the protagonists are demons. Anyone who reads fantasy knows that Lee's writing is gorgeous, literally and figuratively; and she weaves a web of enchantment in more ways than one. But in this case, the innocent suffered and the evil triumphed--and I STILL sympathized with them! Of course, the demons turned out to be worth our sympathy, and not all their victims were hapless innocents--some of them deserved what they got, in spades. (And a demon redeemed the world eventually.) But I was really shocked when I read the first one, Night's Master, and realized how my sympathies were being manipulated by art.
Wow. I typed a 5 paragraph comment that seems to have vanished. Oh well. I'm sure I didn't know what I was talking about anyway.
ReplyDeleteI think that perhaps gut reaction and literary evaluation might be the twain that never meet in literary criticism.
ReplyDeleteI think Frye might agree with you. He wrote that
the positive value-judgement is founded on a direct experience which is central to criticism yet forever excluded from it. Criticism can account for it only in critical terminology, and that terminology can never recapture or include the original experience. The original experience is like the direct vision of color, or the direct sensation of heat or cold, that physics "explains" in what, from the point of view of the experience itself, is a quite irrelevant way. (27)
"Isn't it practically the whole point of art to move us"
Not necessarily. Jessica was suggesting a different standard against which to judge literature: "one of the morally edifying things about art in a liberal society [is] exposing us to life plans and values at odds with our own." I can see how there could be overlap between these two criteria, but something could be art and appeal primarily to the intellect rather than to the emotions. And if a work of art is designed to evoke emotions, does it fail if it doesn't evoke emotions in some readers, or if it evokes unintended emotions in them? If so, could "great works" stop being considered that way if they no longer evoke the intended emotions, perhaps because the language has become difficult to understand for later generations, or because our mores have changed and what seemed funny or appropriate to one generation no longer seems so to another?
Here's an example, though, of literary quality making the unacceptable acceptable. [...] I was really shocked when I [...] realized how my sympathies were being manipulated by art.
Although works of "literary quality" may achieve this, I don't think that achieving it is proof of "literary quality." Obviously, though, it depends how you define "literary merit." If the main criteria on which merit is judged is the evoking of strong emotions against a reader's will, then yes, doing so will be evidence that could be used in support of a work's greatness.
I tend to think that the emotions can also be manipulated by advertising and propaganda/rhetoric (which admittedly might sometimes be thought of as art, but sometimes have no pretensions to being art at all). Tumperkin recently gave two examples of adverts which make her cry every time she watches them. It's not because of their artistic qualities, I don't think, but because of something which (I'm going to abandon the guts and switch body parts for my cliché here) tugs on the heart strings.
Paca, I'm really sorry your comment disappeared. I'm sure it would have been very interesting. I double-checked, but there isn't a moderation queue or anything like it here in which it could have got stuck, so I have to assume it's just gone. :-(
I read that discussion. I never felt it came to any productive end, for several reasons, the main one being that the foundation was all wrong. Linda Howard's book, by definition and market, is romance, and a successful romance requires likable characters. Anti-heroes are difficult to make into lead characters in romance novels.
ReplyDeleteAlso, how would we ever discuss if the writing is good?
As for Shelley, I'd take up that debate gladly. (G) His immaturity and burst of emotions, even his self-pity, created some of the best personal poems ever penned. It's all about the work.
I feel Linda Howard's novel failed, but not for the main reason debated.
a successful romance requires likable characters.
ReplyDeleteThat's still quite a subjective thing, though, isn't it? You're right, though, that there's broad agreement on the characters being "good" in some way. At least, here's part of the RWA's expanded definition of the genre:
An Emotionally-Satisfying and Optimistic Ending — Romance novels are based on the idea of an innate emotional justice—the notion that good people in the world are rewarded and evil people are punished. In a romance, the lovers who risk and struggle for each other and their relationship are rewarded with emotional justice and unconditional love. (emphasis added)
I do have the impression that the criteria against which likeability/goodness are measured seems to differ somewhat for heroes and heroines. Heroes can get away with being really quite horrible to heroines, and as long as they're "redeemed" in some way by the end, many readers seem to accept that.
One of the impressions I gathered from reading the comments about Howard's novel was that many people seemed to feel that the hero was never sufficiently "redeemed." In turn, that seems to have made more apparent the double standard that exists regarding the likeability of romances heroes and heroines.
One of the impressions I gathered from reading the comments about Howard's novel was that many people seemed to feel that the hero was never sufficiently
ReplyDelete"redeemed." In turn, that seems to have made more apparent the double standard that exists regarding the likeability of romances heroes and heroines.
Too true. Even if we note the *fantasy aspect* of the romance novel, and it is FANTASY, Howard's novel fell outside the boundaries, precisely because of its cold, contemporary, and realistic nature. The hero was not redeemable.
Can romances tackle serious issues? I am beginning to believe this might be done more effectively in a fantasy or historical romance, where the novel could work on more than one level, tackle issues, and still work within the boundaries of a story that could be read purely for escapism. The reader doesn't have *to see* the layering or understand it on a conscious level and so forth...
And while much of this could be labeled suggestive, consider the fact that when we study romance, we have to take positions at some point and support that position, even if we fail.
I'll give you an example. There was a big discussion on Loretta Chase's last book where the heroine was a prostitute. I had no problem with the novel's nature. It was not prostitution that bothered me, it was the fact that the prostitute/heroine wrote letters to her ex-husband, daily at some point, to share her exploits. That's not a free woman. No one noted that detail and it was a very important detail.
Okay, I've rambled. (And I'm no scholar).
Great blog.
You definitely don't have to be a scholar to comment here, Ophelia. It's a huge genre and different readers and authors will have their own perspectives to offer. The discussions I've had here and on other romance blogs and sites have been very helpful to me in teaching me about the genre, and with the genre being so huge, and the readership so diverse, I don't think I'll ever stop learning from them.
ReplyDeleteEven if we note the *fantasy aspect* of the romance novel, and it is FANTASY, Howard's novel fell outside the boundaries, precisely because of its cold, contemporary, and realistic nature. The hero was not redeemable.
It maybe depends how you define "fantasy." Definitely there's no guarantee in the real world that good people will get a happy-ever-after ending. But sometimes good things do happen to good people. I think some romances are more fantastic (in the sense of further from being realistic) than others. The genre's huge, and there's a lot of diversity.
In the case of this particular novel, I don't know what level of fantasy or realism was present, since I haven't read it. I get the impression, though, that maybe it had a mixture of the two which failed to convince some readers to suspend their disbelief.
Can romances tackle serious issues? I am beginning to believe this might be done more effectively in a fantasy or historical romance, where the novel could work on more than one level, tackle issues, and still work within the boundaries of a story that could be read purely for escapism.
Again, there's a lot of variety in the genre, and among readers, isn't there? I think some readers are looking for more "escapism" than others. It also maybe depends on the issue that's being tackled, who has the issue (i.e. is it one of the main protagonists or one of the secondary characters), and whether the issue is one that the person has begun to deal with or whether it's one they only start to address in the course of the novel. For example, if a secondary character has breast cancer, that's going to affect the story differently from if it's the heroine who's got it. If she meets the hero and then develops it, that's going to make for a very different story than if she meets him when she's already been in remission for several years. Sometimes because of the constraints of the story and the need to get a solid HEA by the end of the book, characters recover very quickly from their issues, and that can be a little unconvincing if the story's set in the real world. If they'd already begun to deal with it before the start of the romance, however, the time-frame may be more realistic. And it does all depend on the issue, of course, and the personalities of the characters.
I think you're right that fantasy/historical settings might offer writers opportunities to tackle certain issues in a setting which is clearly not like the readers' real lives, and so may be less threatening to them, or less upsetting for them. Depending on the issue, it might also mean that the reader is encouraged to approach it without the sort of prejudices that she or he might already have about the issue in its real-world context.
I haven't read the Loretta Chase novel you mention either, though I read quite a few reviews of it. I had the impression that both the heroine and the hero were free in some ways e.g. free to have sex with a variety of people, but less free in that doing so was part of their jobs. And I got the impression from the interview Loretta Chase gave to Romance Novel TV that she was interested in exploring the freedom that comes from being outside society, and also the constraints/restrictions that can put on a person. So maybe the lack of freedom that you noticed regarding the letters was part of an exploration of what it means to be free?
"what literary critics should do (rather than offering up their gut reactions to texts in the guise of arguments about literary merit)"
ReplyDeleteI find this a tricky balance in blogging. The blogging convention seems to be a more personal critique, revealing more about the critic than is common in print. It's not a form I learned in school, but I have a hunch that that style can contribute to making blogs good spaces for conversation. So while a "me me me" blogging style isn't precisely what Frye meant by "familiar essay", I think it has points of contact with the Frye passage you quoted:
It is the task of the [reviewer, aka] public critic to exemplify how a man of taste uses and evaluates literature, and thus show how literature is to be absorbed into society. But here we no longer have the sense of an impersonal body of consolidating knowledge. The public critic tends to episodic forms like the lecture and the familiar essay, and his work is not a science, but another kind of literary art. (8)
Morpho Ophelia: "a successful romance requires likable characters."
I always have hem and haw over that idea. In that discussion of Death Angel, I said:
"I want an author to convince me of one character’s feelings for another, instead of relying on my feelings for the other character. If it’s all about my tastes, why read romances unless the female characters are like my friends, and the men fit my "type"? I love it when I can believe in a romance between people different from me. The point is that they find something extraordinary in each other; that’s what makes a romance, not that some third party finds them both doable."
On the other hand, I don't always finish romances with stupid or whiny characters in part because I don't like them. I would say there's an inbetween ground. I'll plump for a happy ending because of a general sense of grounding or contact: that I understand that character and what s/he wants (which isn't usually because I like or see myself in him/her). Liking characters is also powerful but by itself isn't as important to me. I'll also get invested in the happy ending if there's a sense of good versus evil in the world of the book (not necessarily good vs evil characters).
"It was not prostitution that bothered me, it was the fact that the prostitute/heroine wrote letters to her ex-husband, daily at some point, to share her exploits. That's not a free woman."
No, she's not, but I think one could argue over what it means that it's of her own choosing. She didn't get divorced or become a scandalous woman by choice, though becoming a courtesan was her chosen way to handle it. She's not free of her ex, but she chooses to turn the tables and make him unhappy. I read all that as primarily a sign of unhappiness: she hasn't got over how she was treated, and while she's made all these decisions she was forced into them. Perhaps she's not as accepting of her changed situation as she tells the world.