3 ms·

> There may well have been in that scene in Lord of the Flies, or not. I don't find it a very interesting question, because absent a statement from the author i

by mlyle 5y ago

> There may well have been in that scene in Lord of the Flies, or not. I don't find it a very interesting question, because absent a statement from the author it's guesswork. What narrative purposes something serves are absolutely an interesting question-- whether the author intended it or not. And, in quality literature, there's a lot less put there on accident that survives the editing process. In the end, we can't know anything about intent, but we can figure out a whole lot about what makes the book work, at least for us. Studying this type of thing makes people into better writers and more astute readers. I've not read your books, but you have Goodreads reviews indicating that you do a whole lot of telling the reader about your world and things rather than setting up scenes that show them. The bits with pigs in Lord of the Flies are very clear showing, with a combination of literary intent and leaving room for readers' own interpretations.

vidarh 5y ago
> What narrative purposes something serves are absolutely an interesting question-- whether the author intended it or not. I have no problem with people discussing what purpose it serves for you. What I have problem with is this frequent notion that you know the intent of the author. Unless they told you. > And, in quality literature, there's a lot less put there on accident that survives the editing process. I've witnessed enough discussions with authors to not accept this for a second. It's pure fiction. > you do a whole lot of telling the reader about your world and things rather than setting up scenes that show them. I absolutely do, very much on purpose, because I utterly detest this obsession with showing when it comes at the cost of slowing down the story. I much prefer older style novels that don't make you wade through paragraph after paragraph of descriptions of events that I have no interest in to get to the bits that interests me. I hate books that are afraid of delving into the thought processes of the characters or that are afraid to take shortcuts to describe the why of aspects of the world you can't reasonably show without derailing the story. I fully accept this is a niche view, and not one that caters to mass appeal, and I'm fine with that. (In fact, I'll give you one specific story about actual intent: I agonised for a month over feedback from my editor about breaking up the telling in the first chapter of my first novel and rephrasing it to be more "showing", and I specifically decided not to, not because I didn't agree that it'd probably have broader appeal, but because I decided I'd rather put readers that don't like my style off right from the start than lull them into false expectations; that consideration took more time than the rest of the editing combined because setting the right expectations about style from the outset mattered to me far more than any specific sentence) I'm bothering to tell you this because it clearly does colour my attitude to analysis of literature. I write what I like reading, and I hate it when people try to guess at meanings the author haven't made clear rather than discuss it in terms of what it means to the reader, because I've seen so many utterly ridiculous outcomes of it, but also because I find it dreadfully annoying when writers are coy about their intent and encouraging that. Now, I don't think Golding was coy in any way, but ironically, when you're being clear about your message, that too tend to egg people into over-interpreting every word to support an interpretation that doesn't need it. I think the eating of the pig is a good example, because on one hand it's entirely possible, and likely, Golding meant it the way you think. But it is also entirely unnecessary to interpret it that way to understand the book, so it doesn't matter. You could delete the whole thing, and the rest is still intact. In fact, you could delete most of the book and still get the message, because he keeps hammering you over the head with it - it's not a subtle book (that does make your interpretation more likely; it'd certainly seem to be in keeping with the rest for this to be Golding appearing to hammer us over the head with symbolism, but it's still a guess) I'd argue that irrespective of the purpose of individual words or paragraphs, most of the book is there not to make the message clear, because the apparent message is trivial and bordering on trite, but to make the book a compelling read. (And yes, that is intentionally reductionist) > The bits with pigs in Lord of the Flies are very clear showing, with a combination of literary intent and leaving room for readers' own interpretations. And accordingly inability for you to know the actual intent. That's fine. There's nothing wrong with that. It's the presumption of to what extent you can say anything about the purpose of specific phrasings I take issue with.
- mlyle 5y ago
  > I have no problem with people discussing what purpose it serves for you. What I have problem with is this frequent notion that you know the intent of the author. Unless they told you. I think everyone, even dedicated lit crit advocates, know that we can't know what the intent of the author is. But we can see the purpose it serves in the writing, and with a decent author be moderately confident that the important elements here are not complete accidents. > I've witnessed enough discussions with authors to not accept this for a second. It's pure fiction. K. > I absolutely do, very much on purpose, because I utterly detest this obsession with showing when it comes at the cost of slowing down the story. OK. I don't really like reading massive amounts of exposition drivel, where the author tries to convince me that the world is interesting and makes sense without example. If I drop in a couple page digression about a character making a sandwich-- why? - Does the character make the sandwich in the expected way, consistent with the way I, as the author, view them in general? - Does this fastidious, fussy character carefully arrange his ingredients like I would normally picture him doing so, or does he throw them together? - If he does something different from how the reader probably pictures them to this point, is it an accident, or am I revealing something about his state of mind or an unexpected other side of his character? - Do I need some obvious break in the action; some downtime. Do I need to make it clear that the characters are obviously unhurried and open to leisurely talking or exploration next? Do I need to put the characters in some specific place for the next step to happen? - Did I just run out of things to write that advance the main story, and I'm just doing random things at this point? If I'm taking a digression, or I'm doing something different from what would seem to be in character, I'd hope I'm doing it for a reason. - Yes, there's still aspects that are totally without purpose. Putting a tomato on the sandwich may not be super meaningful (though it actually does still tell us small things about the world the characters inhabit, and is hopefully still consistent with other things we've been shown/told). Authors have a whole lot of freedom, but what makes a cohesive story is already a highly constrained sequence of events compared to what could be written on the page. If you want that story to hit with maximum impact, there's yet fewer good choices. > but also because I find it dreadfully annoying when writers are coy about their intent and encouraging that. OK, so--- you detest hidden and layered meanings, and assert your writing doesn't have many. That's OK, but assuming that this is representative of most literature isn't valid. > I'd argue that irrespective of the purpose of individual words or paragraphs, most of the book is there not to make the message clear, because the apparent message is trivial and bordering on trite, but to make the book a compelling read. For most books, sure! But -why- is it a compelling read? As Chekhov said -- "If you say in the first chapter that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second or third chapter it absolutely must go off. If it's not going to be fired, it shouldn't be hanging there." Every word is a chance to create tension and to play with readers' expectations for what may happen next-- and then fulfill or subvert these expectations. Good literature does this a lot. This can be a beautiful thing. Reading Mending Wall by Frost, and all of his ambiguity --- wait, does the author like walls or not, and why won't he tell me? Realizing that the first couple sentences were talking about frost not liking a wall was a pure hidden delight. Perhaps this was an accident, but I doubt it... and the meaning's there whether he intended it or not.

by mlyle 5y ago

vidarh 5y ago

> What narrative purposes something serves are absolutely an interesting question-- whether the author intended it or not. I have no problem with people discussing what purpose it serves for you. What I have problem with is this frequent notion that you know the intent of the author. Unless they told you. > And, in quality literature, there's a lot less put there on accident that survives the editing process. I've witnessed enough discussions with authors to not accept this for a second. It's pure fiction. > you do a whole lot of telling the reader about your world and things rather than setting up scenes that show them. I absolutely do, very much on purpose, because I utterly detest this obsession with showing when it comes at the cost of slowing down the story. I much prefer older style novels that don't make you wade through paragraph after paragraph of descriptions of events that I have no interest in to get to the bits that interests me. I hate books that are afraid of delving into the thought processes of the characters or that are afraid to take shortcuts to describe the why of aspects of the world you can't reasonably show without derailing the story. I fully accept this is a niche view, and not one that caters to mass appeal, and I'm fine with that. (In fact, I'll give you one specific story about actual intent: I agonised for a month over feedback from my editor about breaking up the telling in the first chapter of my first novel and rephrasing it to be more "showing", and I specifically decided not to, not because I didn't agree that it'd probably have broader appeal, but because I decided I'd rather put readers that don't like my style off right from the start than lull them into false expectations; that consideration took more time than the rest of the editing combined because setting the right expectations about style from the outset mattered to me far more than any specific sentence) I'm bothering to tell you this because it clearly does colour my attitude to analysis of literature. I write what I like reading, and I hate it when people try to guess at meanings the author haven't made clear rather than discuss it in terms of what it means to the reader, because I've seen so many utterly ridiculous outcomes of it, but also because I find it dreadfully annoying when writers are coy about their intent and encouraging that. Now, I don't think Golding was coy in any way, but ironically, when you're being clear about your message, that too tend to egg people into over-interpreting every word to support an interpretation that doesn't need it. I think the eating of the pig is a good example, because on one hand it's entirely possible, and likely, Golding meant it the way you think. But it is also entirely unnecessary to interpret it that way to understand the book, so it doesn't matter. You could delete the whole thing, and the rest is still intact. In fact, you could delete most of the book and still get the message, because he keeps hammering you over the head with it - it's not a subtle book (that does make your interpretation more likely; it'd certainly seem to be in keeping with the rest for this to be Golding appearing to hammer us over the head with symbolism, but it's still a guess) I'd argue that irrespective of the purpose of individual words or paragraphs, most of the book is there not to make the message clear, because the apparent message is trivial and bordering on trite, but to make the book a compelling read. (And yes, that is intentionally reductionist) > The bits with pigs in Lord of the Flies are very clear showing, with a combination of literary intent and leaving room for readers' own interpretations. And accordingly inability for you to know the actual intent. That's fine. There's nothing wrong with that. It's the presumption of to what extent you can say anything about the purpose of specific phrasings I take issue with.

mlyle 5y ago
> I have no problem with people discussing what purpose it serves for you. What I have problem with is this frequent notion that you know the intent of the author. Unless they told you. I think everyone, even dedicated lit crit advocates, know that we can't know what the intent of the author is. But we can see the purpose it serves in the writing, and with a decent author be moderately confident that the important elements here are not complete accidents. > I've witnessed enough discussions with authors to not accept this for a second. It's pure fiction. K. > I absolutely do, very much on purpose, because I utterly detest this obsession with showing when it comes at the cost of slowing down the story. OK. I don't really like reading massive amounts of exposition drivel, where the author tries to convince me that the world is interesting and makes sense without example. If I drop in a couple page digression about a character making a sandwich-- why? - Does the character make the sandwich in the expected way, consistent with the way I, as the author, view them in general? - Does this fastidious, fussy character carefully arrange his ingredients like I would normally picture him doing so, or does he throw them together? - If he does something different from how the reader probably pictures them to this point, is it an accident, or am I revealing something about his state of mind or an unexpected other side of his character? - Do I need some obvious break in the action; some downtime. Do I need to make it clear that the characters are obviously unhurried and open to leisurely talking or exploration next? Do I need to put the characters in some specific place for the next step to happen? - Did I just run out of things to write that advance the main story, and I'm just doing random things at this point? If I'm taking a digression, or I'm doing something different from what would seem to be in character, I'd hope I'm doing it for a reason. - Yes, there's still aspects that are totally without purpose. Putting a tomato on the sandwich may not be super meaningful (though it actually does still tell us small things about the world the characters inhabit, and is hopefully still consistent with other things we've been shown/told). Authors have a whole lot of freedom, but what makes a cohesive story is already a highly constrained sequence of events compared to what could be written on the page. If you want that story to hit with maximum impact, there's yet fewer good choices. > but also because I find it dreadfully annoying when writers are coy about their intent and encouraging that. OK, so--- you detest hidden and layered meanings, and assert your writing doesn't have many. That's OK, but assuming that this is representative of most literature isn't valid. > I'd argue that irrespective of the purpose of individual words or paragraphs, most of the book is there not to make the message clear, because the apparent message is trivial and bordering on trite, but to make the book a compelling read. For most books, sure! But -why- is it a compelling read? As Chekhov said -- "If you say in the first chapter that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second or third chapter it absolutely must go off. If it's not going to be fired, it shouldn't be hanging there." Every word is a chance to create tension and to play with readers' expectations for what may happen next-- and then fulfill or subvert these expectations. Good literature does this a lot. This can be a beautiful thing. Reading Mending Wall by Frost, and all of his ambiguity --- wait, does the author like walls or not, and why won't he tell me? Realizing that the first couple sentences were talking about frost not liking a wall was a pure hidden delight. Perhaps this was an accident, but I doubt it... and the meaning's there whether he intended it or not.