TWELVE-HEADED OFFSPRING OF VIRGINIA WOMAN AND RHINOCEROS DENIED FEDERAL FINANCIAL AID BY JOHNS HOPKINS. STRYZMANZEWSKI HOTLY DENIES UNIVERSITY INVOLVEMENT IN DISCRIMINATION AGAINST APPLICANT ON BASIS OF AGE. . . .


Hippo Marx, 97, the young man - young in rhino humanoid terms - who claims to be writing a book about the pain, humiliation and rejection he suffered in the process of applying for federal funds the poor creature desperately needed to complete his studies as a degree candidate in fiction. . . .


* * *


Sensationalism in the written word is beneath you, and we understand that you are here after clicking on "12-headed offspring of Virginia woman" inadvertently.

Nevermind. We all do it. Even Stephen King heads for the tabloids - his "weekly codswallop served up by The National Enquirer, where I can get recipes and cheesecake photographs as well as scandal."

Whether we admit it or not, we are drawn to sensationalism in writing.

All of which raises the question of what is literature and what is not.

Prompting this post was my publisher's decision to drop one of my stories from the collection because it is too "CSI-esque" to be "real literature."

(I had never thought of any of my stories as "real literature.")

But wait a minute. Let me look up "CSI" (by now you know I have never watched television).

Okay. With the claim of crime scene investigation (-esque) leveled against my writing, I couldn't help wondering if that complaint also discounts as "real literature" some of the finest work of Edgar Allan Poe and all of the Sherlock Holmes stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Claims of genre-ism, sensationalism (Virginia woman copulates with rhino) and bad taste are among the usual ones lodged in efforts to dismiss particular works as "literature."

I'm not here to tell you what is real literature and what is not - because I don't know - but only to raise the question.

So. Literature. What is it?

Joyce Carol Oates has posted over her desk this quote from Henry James:


"We work in the dark - we do what we can - we give what we have. Our doubt is our passion, and our passion is our task. The rest is the madness of art."


I took from this quote the part I understand and taped it above my own desk (which is not even a desk, but only a door):


"We work in the dark - we do what we can - we give what we have."


Is Erskine Caldwell's God's Little Acre real literature?

What about James Joyce's Ulysses, John Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men, Joseph Heller's Catch-22, Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451, Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird, Boris Pasternak's Dr. Zhivago, J. D. Salinger's The Catcher In the Rye, D. H. Lawrence's
Lady Chatterley's Lover, and Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter - all with delicious controversy surrounding their publication, banned in Boston, primly challenged as to literary merit. All ridiculed and berated at first, but undisputed as real literature today.

Is William Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury real literature? Barry Hannah's Airships? Tom Franklin's Poachers? William Gay's Twilight? Of course they are.

What about Danielle Steel?

Danielle Steel has more than 570 million copies of her books in print, and every single one is a bestseller. Her work is loved by women and men, by the young and the old, and it has been published in 47 countries and 28 languages.

Her books have been on the New York Times hardcover and paperback bestseller lists since 1981. In 1989, she was listed in the Guinness Book of World Records for having at least one of her books on the Times bestseller list for 381 consecutive weeks. But Guinness was premature. As of 2008, Danielle Steel's novels have been on the New York Times bestseller list for over 390 consecutive weeks.

THEREFORE. . . . . .this woman CANNOT POSSIBLY BE WRITING "REAL LITERATURE" - right?

Until now, I'd never read a book by Danielle Steel.

But when another Forum member expressed embarrassment at the prospect of being caught reading Danielle Steel (while traveling on a locomotive), I hightailed it to the Internet to see what all the fuss was about.

The choices are staggering. The woman has produced 71 novels and a bottle of perfume.

My poor little Virginia girl and her 12-headed baby paled in comparison with what I read about Danielle Fernande Schuelein-Steel (five husbands, two of them convicts serving time in prison for brutal crimes, etc.). The shocking story of this poor little rich girl's real-life romantic adventures is a fascinating read.

"Every woman falls in love with a bastard at least once in her life," Steel has said.

(But Steel has done it more than once, and so have I.)

We share the same passions: writing, theatre, haute couture, gemstones, beautiful homes, fine furnishings, antiques (I dream, she collects), Mexican food, no-good men, exotic perfume. Sharing the same passions is a start. When writer and reader share the same passions, there is hope.

I read the little sketches - alas! so much alike - of her 71 books. I'm not in the business of knocking other writers, and I promise to read at least one romance by this author who has slaved so hard and so long, even though it may not be my cup of tea.

But wait. Here's another one. And this one looks different.

In His Bright Light: The Story of Nick Traina, Danielle Steel shares with us the story of her brilliant and troubled son, his long battle with bipolar disorder, and the depression that took his life when he committed suicide at the age of 19. Although I have not experienced the loss of a child, in my view, this is the worst tragedy that can happen to any human being. I cannot imagine pain more intense, or despair any deeper, than this.

If, as Henry James has noted, ". . .we give what we have. Our doubt is our passion, and our passion is our task. . .," then real literature may distill, finally, to "what we have to give." And if it does, then what about His Bright Light? - a book in which Steel surely gave all that she had. Is it real literature?

The writing style is swift and sure. The writing is not "literary" and never distracts from the story. You may not even be aware of the writing style as you race along, because in this work, the story is everything.

I stayed up all night reading this powerful and deeply moving book, something I haven't done half a dozen times in my life. As the morning sun flamed over Keyser Mountain, and I came to the end of His Bright Light, I closed the book and silently asked this question:

If literature is not this. . .

Then what is it?



Arlene Sanders

Edited: 06/15/2008 at 05:40 PM by Arlene Sanders

What is Literature?

I find myself nodding in agreement with the below referenced summary of Eagleton's opening chapter in his Introduction to Literary Theory. Here's an excerpt:

"...Terry Eagleton points out, "we can drop once and for all the illusion that the category "literature" is objective in the sense of being eternally given and immutable" (10). He goes on to say that our opinions and value-judgments are not neutral either, that "the ways in which what we say and believe connects with the power-structure and power-relations of the society we live in" (14). In other words, your opinions about literature and literariness are not just your opinions. They are related to how and where you were raised and educated. Importantly, our environment encourages us to accept some values but not others, support the activities of some groups but not others, or exclude some choices as unacceptable. Therefore, how we define literature reveals what we have been taught to value and what we have been taught to reject. This is important for you because you are forced, for the most part, to learn what other people value and at the very minimum, what other people have made available for you to read. It's also important if you plan on teaching, for you will help shape the perceptions of your students. Again, have you ever had a teacher tell you that the novel you are reading is "not literature," "escapist," or just "fun reading"? Can you see the potential problem here, especially when it comes to passing tests, getting into college, and pleasing others, including yourself? Do you recognize that the source of your values may not even be you?"

"...Perhaps something is literature because it is the kind of writing we like to read; it's a highly valued kind of writing. In this case, anything can be literature, and anything can stop being literature. The important implication is that we don't get to decide what is literature because our parents, teachers, exams, etc. define that for us. We are trained to value the kind of writing that they value...a quick glance at the race, gender, class, and time period of authors you have had to read in school will reveal something about whose ideology (system of values, beliefs, and history) is valorized, privileged, and passed on to other generations. Therefore, what and how you read is a political issue because it has to do with relations and structures of power."


Read the whole summary here:
http://www.ap.krakow.pl/nkja/l...hat_is_literature.htm

Jim K.

I often get asked in class what is the difference between "literary" and "popular" fiction -- and I realize this is not quite the same as asking what is literature, but it leads in that direction, I think. My answer is threefold:
1. If you break down the elements of fiction into plot, characterization, language/style, and theme, then popular writers tend to emphasize plot and characterization, hardly ever do much with theme, and generally consider language/style to be good if it is clear and concise and flows reasonably well. The literary writer de-emphasizes plot (what's truly important is not what happens but how what happens affects the characters it happens to); some would place language/style at the top of their list, and would seek language/style that is original, perhaps beautiful, even breath-taking; theme is also important, and perhaps character most important of all. So there's a difference in which elements the literary and popular writers consider most important.
2. Audience. The popular writers seeks the audience; the literary writer lets the audience find him/her. The popular writer, when told, "An editor will never buy this" or "The public will never read this" because it does X, Y, Z, will then change the work so that it no longer does X, Y, or Z. The literary writer, told the same thing, will shrug and say, "X, Y, and Z are what make this work true. I'll keep them, and hope your prediction is wrong."
3. This is a quote I found in a review of a biography of Marcell Proust. I no longer remember who said it but it has always remained with me. The popular writer, the quote says, seeks to entertain, "to take readers away from the truth of who they are and what their world is really like." The literary writer seeks "to reveal to readers who they are and what their world is really like."

Now, having said all that, I recognize that all of them (especially #2) are a bit ideal and ivory-towerish. I don't think there's any one of us out there who wouldn't love to write a book that makes the best-seller list. And there are clearly some literary books (literature) that make it: look at Cormac McCarthy this past year or two. But also keep in mind that Cormac McCarthy wrote in relative obscurity for 30 years before the Coen brothers made one of his books into a movie. The audience found him.

This may well have practical ramifications for all of us, too, down the road. What will you do if an editor reads your book and says, "You must change this part of it -- this part that you feel is absolutely essential to making your book what it is -- because unless you change it, your book will never sell?" What if your first novel is 600 pages long and everyone who knows anything in the publishing world is telling you you'll never publish a first novel longer than 300 pages?

Lastly, I'll share this. A friend of mine, when we were both in grad school, did a research project in which she examined the ten most popular (best selling) books for every year from 1920 to 1960. That's 400 books. Out of that number, 26 (I believe that was the number; it was definitely under 30) were books that were still being read, or were still known by most serious readers, in 1990. Twenty-six. That's 374 (if my math is to be trusted, which it often isn't) that disappeared with time. And even if 50 of those shouldn't have disappeared (lots of good books go out of print and are forgotten), that's still more than 300 that were -- according to the same public that once touted them as so popular -- ultimately, quite forgettable.

Mark

Professor Farrington -

What a wonderful post. Thank you.

Would you say that my writing is "popular" fiction, rather than "literary" fiction?

I think it is.

I'm not consciously trying to write one or the other. I just write what's "there" - what I have, as Henry James might have said.

In response to your three points:

1. I focus on characterization first and foremost; on plot somewhat less. On language hardly at all; theme not at all. So "popular." (Not "literary.")

2. On the other hand, I don't seek an audience. But I think this is only because I don't know how. If I knew how to sell 570 million copies of anything at all - I would xerox my own mother and sell her soul, and mine, to the Devil and all of his kingdom - I would do it.

Yet, when you ask, "What will you do if an editor reads your book and says you must change this part you feel is absolutely essential to making your book what it is?" - my reaction is one of breathless astonishment that I would have such an option.

Me?

When an editor asks me to change something, I change it. Not, however, because "the public will never read this," but simply because my editor or publisher - my boss in that particular project - wants it that way.

Maybe doing what the boss wants, without questioning him, is ingrained behavior. It is also, in many arenas, professional behavior.

In theatre, the professional actor obeys the director. The actor does not generate discussions about "art." He does what the director tells him to do, not because he has no other ideas, but because he's a pro.

In one afternoon, Jack Nicholson did 50 takes of the courtroom scene in A Few Good Men. He questioned nothing. He just did the takes until the director was satisfied. (Not until he - Jack Nicholson, arguably the best actor, or one of the best actors, of our time - was satisfied.)

3. The quote from Proust about writers seeking to entertain, to take readers away from [whatever] is not me. I try to peel back the layers of the onion to expose things - nearly always the emotional truth of a person or a relationship (usually between a man and a woman), or the emotional impact on a character of something that happened to him.

I have looked the other way when editors cheapened my work, distorted my intention, falsified my emotional truth, and watered down the subjects closest to my heart (sex and violence) in the name of "Christian" and "family" values, or simply under the banner of what that particular editor considered "good taste."

So if an editor/publisher says, "You must change this" - I do it. I don't write sex or violence just to shock or to sell, but only to reveal what truly happened, how it was, how it felt for the victim, and maybe for the abuser. But I don't suppose it matters why a writer has written about sex or violence, when the editor's problem is merely the presence of one or both.

This forum is a wonderful thing. It is a place to wrangle without threat of reprise, to think out loud when you are not used to thinking at all, and to consider that you might have the right to write what you want, when you didn't even realize that you could.


Arlene

Edited: 06/24/2008 at 08:32 AM by Arlene Sanders

Well, sorry to hear about your dilemma. I would certainly want to read the story, but some people have told me that some of mine are rather odd and wouldn't I like to write they live happily ever after instead? (I kid you not!) So, I have wondered if I shouldn't make them even odder! Seems like that would be easier than going to the right for me. But I've been reading lots and lots of journals and I think the literary market has taken a turn towards the realistic, realism. More of what I did last summer when my boyfriend dumped me type of stories. I suppose I could write that kind of story - not to dump on people who do. Just not my thing.

So, I guess after all that rambling I was wondering if the dilemma is more about the more serious-minded side of people being dominant now instead of popular versus literary? An interesting discourse by Mark. Guess you'll probably have to save it for your next book! (And where can I read it?) M

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marystojak

Edited: 06/19/2008 at 12:39 PM by Mary Stojak