01-08-2017, 05:34 PM
I have a feeling that the "realness" of a work isn't tied to whether or not it's prose or poetry, or whether or not it sings of real things, but whether or not the poet adapted an authoritative voice, and whether or not the audience finds his genre particularly authoritative. I'm guessing prose is a fairly new genre, so it only seems realest now because all the official texts of old were in plain prose (and because it possesses a continuity of thought that makes it feel like it was just suddenly spoken, like the author was just blurting out the stuff he knew at the top of his head, rather than being all fussy as with poetry), but then I'm also guessing people thought the Iliad or the Aeneid were actual histories, and the Ode or the Lamentation possessed social functions that made the emotions they expressed, whenever used by the speaker, to be always legitimate. But, in the end, it shouldn't have a bearing to our appreciation of the work -- all poetry is imagination, and all imagination is make-believe, such that what matters is that we believe it's true, even for only the moments when we're reading. Or believe that the artificiality of it all is meant to say something, meant to hide away emotions or thoughts or stories bubbling away under the surface -- and thus, present a hidden reality, which of course is still an imagined reality.
It is interesting to note that Frye's Anatomy of Criticism doesn't consider veracity when outlining his theory of genres -- that, and the fact that, in his experiment in creating a more unified system of criticism (as opposed, I think, to the systems of New Criticism prevalent to the day) that seeks to treat poetry as it is (as opposed, I think, to the other end of the spectrum, to all the Marxist and Feminist and such works out there), he distinguishes between prose and poetry (and drama -- and he divides poetry into two groups, epic and lyric poetry -- and of course all these genres often blend together) only in terms of mimetic form, rhythm, and poet-audience relationship (as in, whether or not the reader is isolated, or whether or not the poet exists as a person rather than, say in the case of a drama, a puppeteer), not in terms of anything more intrinsic; ie, that he liberally calls, as if I remember right established in his prologue, both poetry and prose "poetry".
So that, for me, resolves the issue of a work's veracity. It doesn't really matter, unless I'm studying it with a certain agenda in mind, such as trying to relate it to history, or trying to set up a biography for its author. The fiction/non-fiction device may just be something set up by journalists to make sure their work isn't easily dismissed, or by booksellers to make sure the crowd is managed easily enough -- it's nothing wrong, but to treat it any more seriously than that would be a trap -- and it's a device I think poets don't really care about because they have other priorities (such as actually making their works sing), and poem-sellers don't really care about because the market also has other priorities (either the audience more academic, in that they'd prefer classification by style and origin, or the audience is so minuscule as to be a compartment of their own). Although all this talk of sellers and markets makes me think that the fiction/non-fiction device is a modern thing, and that somehow the modern reader's judgment has devolved....
I suppose I could never claim to have written anything that wasn't from my point-of-view. Even the stuff I've written from supposedly completely different people in completely alien circumstances using completely new rhythms and symbols can only come from myself, and to claim that they're exact, unfiltered representations of the other would be a sort of bastardization of what the other is, the other being by definition outside the self. I suppose the artist takes in, filters out according to his or her point of view, then spews out the whatever -- they can never present anything without the involvement of the self (otherwise the work of art wasn't really made), and conversely they can never present anything without the involvement of some other (otherwise the work of art can't communicate its own existence). I don't really find myself trying to convince people of anything; instead, I am always convincing people of something, though whether what I've convinced them fits in with what I want to believe is what determines whether or not I was successful, and normally what I want to communicate doesn't relate to whether something is true or not, at least not directly.
But as a reader? Again, I don't care -- if I believe it to be true, then I believe the author has succeeded in one dimension, but really it matters less than if it made me think about stuff or feel stuff. As a more critical reader, however, when responding to the work, I try not to speak like I'm assuming the speaker is the author, but when the work is convincing in its goodness (or badness -- I find that it's the extremes that make a work seem more from-the-heart), it's hard not to, my tongue loves its shortcuts. And then there are also the times when a work seems to have an agenda, a beyond-the-aesthetic message, or when the author claims it to have one -- and again, I try not to, but I can't help it, though in this case I think it's more excusable, since if the point of the author was to preach about Jesus Christ or about how Global Warming isn't true anyway, then he or she should be delighted that someone's actually listening, even if that someone voices a nitpicky or wholly contrary opinion.
It is interesting to note that Frye's Anatomy of Criticism doesn't consider veracity when outlining his theory of genres -- that, and the fact that, in his experiment in creating a more unified system of criticism (as opposed, I think, to the systems of New Criticism prevalent to the day) that seeks to treat poetry as it is (as opposed, I think, to the other end of the spectrum, to all the Marxist and Feminist and such works out there), he distinguishes between prose and poetry (and drama -- and he divides poetry into two groups, epic and lyric poetry -- and of course all these genres often blend together) only in terms of mimetic form, rhythm, and poet-audience relationship (as in, whether or not the reader is isolated, or whether or not the poet exists as a person rather than, say in the case of a drama, a puppeteer), not in terms of anything more intrinsic; ie, that he liberally calls, as if I remember right established in his prologue, both poetry and prose "poetry".
So that, for me, resolves the issue of a work's veracity. It doesn't really matter, unless I'm studying it with a certain agenda in mind, such as trying to relate it to history, or trying to set up a biography for its author. The fiction/non-fiction device may just be something set up by journalists to make sure their work isn't easily dismissed, or by booksellers to make sure the crowd is managed easily enough -- it's nothing wrong, but to treat it any more seriously than that would be a trap -- and it's a device I think poets don't really care about because they have other priorities (such as actually making their works sing), and poem-sellers don't really care about because the market also has other priorities (either the audience more academic, in that they'd prefer classification by style and origin, or the audience is so minuscule as to be a compartment of their own). Although all this talk of sellers and markets makes me think that the fiction/non-fiction device is a modern thing, and that somehow the modern reader's judgment has devolved....
I suppose I could never claim to have written anything that wasn't from my point-of-view. Even the stuff I've written from supposedly completely different people in completely alien circumstances using completely new rhythms and symbols can only come from myself, and to claim that they're exact, unfiltered representations of the other would be a sort of bastardization of what the other is, the other being by definition outside the self. I suppose the artist takes in, filters out according to his or her point of view, then spews out the whatever -- they can never present anything without the involvement of the self (otherwise the work of art wasn't really made), and conversely they can never present anything without the involvement of some other (otherwise the work of art can't communicate its own existence). I don't really find myself trying to convince people of anything; instead, I am always convincing people of something, though whether what I've convinced them fits in with what I want to believe is what determines whether or not I was successful, and normally what I want to communicate doesn't relate to whether something is true or not, at least not directly.
But as a reader? Again, I don't care -- if I believe it to be true, then I believe the author has succeeded in one dimension, but really it matters less than if it made me think about stuff or feel stuff. As a more critical reader, however, when responding to the work, I try not to speak like I'm assuming the speaker is the author, but when the work is convincing in its goodness (or badness -- I find that it's the extremes that make a work seem more from-the-heart), it's hard not to, my tongue loves its shortcuts. And then there are also the times when a work seems to have an agenda, a beyond-the-aesthetic message, or when the author claims it to have one -- and again, I try not to, but I can't help it, though in this case I think it's more excusable, since if the point of the author was to preach about Jesus Christ or about how Global Warming isn't true anyway, then he or she should be delighted that someone's actually listening, even if that someone voices a nitpicky or wholly contrary opinion.