Should the reader focus on the poem rather than their own emotional reaction?

Should the reader focus on the poem rather than their own emotional reaction?

Or should the question be can a reader focus on the poem without their own emotional reaction?

I don’t think a reader can read a piece of text objectively. Every person has their own set of beliefs and background, and it is hard to separate yourself from your reading. I think every reader’s natural instinct is to read something and then relate it and compare it to your own beliefs and assumptions. It doesn’t mean that a reader can’t look at it from different angles, but it is just our natural inclination to relate to what we already believe inside of us. And when it comes to emotions, primary human reactions, we can’t help but have those when we read a piece of literature. Could a reader honestly separate himself, his thoughts and emotions, from the text?

Even in journalism, where objectivity is key, it’s hard to be completely objective. That’s why we have different news channels catering to the conservatives and the liberals and everyone in between. As humans it’s hard for us to be objective. It’s human nature to let our humanness be a part of everything we do and affects how we react to anything, even the reading of literature.

Does reading connect the reader in some way to the author?

Does reading connect the reader in some way to the author?

I sat and pondered this for a while. What do I really think? When I read a poem or a book do I consider myself connected with the author?

I would have to say that it depends on the genre. Take literary nonfiction for example, I know for sure that this reading is completely in tune with the author because the author is depicting exactly what happened to him. The author is painting a picture in my mind of his experiences and I therefore do feel connected with the author and picture the author in my mind as the character of the story. Even with poetry, I too often have the problem of separating the author from the speaker, and creating two separate entities. More often than not I see the speaker of the poem as the author, and read the poem as if this was happening or had happened to the author.

But let’s look at fiction. Fiction is different for me. With fiction I know things are “fake,” that this is just made up stuff, and when I read through a novel I am imagining and creating characters in my mind from the words of the story and it has no connection with the author at all. Even though I know that fiction can be based on true life events and the author can insert his own personality and experiences and twist them a bit in fiction, I still see only the text and not the author’s personality leaking into the story.

Should the text stand alone as is, just like I have processed fiction reading in my mind all these years? Should nonfiction and poetry be the same way? While I do think that reading the text just for its literary value sans outside means from the author, I think bringing in the life and personality of the writer into consideration brings a whole other understanding to the writing. Not to assume that the text is autobiographical by any means, but understanding about the author can make things in the text make sense or shed new lights on certain aspects of the text. So I think a balance of both incorporating and “ignoring” to a sense the author’s involvement in a piece of writing is good.

Selfish

Selfish

I was reading an article by Herbert M. Schueller entitled “Romanticism Reconsidered,” when I came across this line:

Escaping into what the individual desires, it celebrates suicide, which is the apparent denial of life, though it also celebrates life in its richness and multiplicity.

At first I was taken aback by the analogy to suicide, but then I thought more about it and was drawn to the “escaping into what the individual desires,” and then I pondered the question, is writing a selfish act? Are romantics just a bunch of selfish poets sitting under a pretty tree?

And let’s not only limit writing to the romantics, but open it up to modern day writers. Are they writing just to get a paycheck? Just to put their own thoughts and musings onto paper whether society could give a crap about their thoughts and musings?

The Romantics were all about having a connection with the supernatural through their writing. Writing was the bridge from human to supernatural. Did their writings help others? I think they thought their work would inspire them, but deep down I think they just did it for themselves. That’s why Emerson urged everyone to go out with a pencil and pad of paper in the woods and find Truth. Each one on their own! Maybe Schueller was right, writing, “Romanticism,” is escaping into what the individual desires.

And today I think we are still Romantics. We are still pushing the ideal that each person is on his own. And everyone likes it that way. That’s America for you. Do what you want.

But yet Schueller still says writing “celebrates life in its richness and multiplicity.” And it does. Writers might just have been celebrating it with themselves and if others enjoy it, great, but that wasn’t the sole intention of the writing…

Schueller, Herbert M. Romanticism Reconsidered. The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, 1962. 359-368.

The American Scholar of Today

The American Scholar of Today

Reading was always a task. But not at first.

At first reading was fun, it was the story before bed or the book you read because it was exciting and gave great pleasure. That was before school took over.

School made reading a task. Read this book. Check. Read that book. Check. It became a chore, something I had to do because my teachers said I had to. And there was always the incentive. At first it was pizza. Personal pan pizza at Pizza Hut. That was cool, I liked pizza, so of course I would read as many books it took to get the little golden dish of cheesy goodness. As time went on the incentive to read was a good grade. If you read you would surely be guaranteed a good grade.

Reading became an action done out of necessity rather than want or desire.

The fun was sucked right out of it and for all of the American scholars in my generation.

For Emerson, the American scholar needed three things: nature, action, and reading. While reading is necessary, Emerson also says that reading makes a student into a satellite and not a system. Instead of developing minds we are hindering them with books. We need to break free from the models that have been driving into our minds for years and discover and create new ways of thinking and learning. Let creation take over imitation.

So here we are, years after Emerson, and my generation would agree with throw out the books part of Emerson’s assertion, but would they believe in the creation part? If my generation doesn’t even read the books in order to point them to others things, then will our generation be without inspiration? Can people create without inspiration? Are books the source of inspiration? Is our increasingly bookless, reading less, generation doomed of creation and imagination? What has happened to our American scholars of today and what will happen to the American scholars of tomorrow without books and reading?

Do morality and writing go hand in hand?

Do morality and writing go hand in hand?

As a writer, I have always waited in front of the blank computer screen, fingers ready, waiting for “inspiration.” If I didn’t feel like writing, if I didn’t feel the creative juices flowing through my veins I just simply wouldn’t write. But if I feel some, dare I say it, “supernatural,” powers come over me, suddenly my fingers will tickle over the ivories.

So, yes, I’ll admit I do give into the so called naïve view of inspiration in the case of writing. Does that mean that my work is divinely inspired? And not only in the case of writing somehow coming from God above, is writing in general a moral act or can it be used for a moral good?

In the reading, “The Four Ages of Poetry,” by Percy Shelley, Shelley claims that poetry improves society. Because of poetry, and writing in general, imagination is boosted, fostered and grown. Imagination leads to ethics and ethics leads to perfection. If this is applied to the human race what a great world we would live in if everyone just read poems all the time!

So is this the case? Is Shelley in the right by saying writing leads to imagination which leads to good sound ethics? This would mean that poetry is intrinsically moral, that it holds some type of goodness that would affect anyone who reads it. This means that the poet would be writing down some great Truth with his pen. Do we give a human such credit?

Human. That’s a good word. Are humans not flawed? If you would agree that humans are flawed beings, that we ultimately fall short, would that not mean that our creations would also be inherently flawed as well? If that is the case, can we feasibly say that our creations, our “poetry,” are good and can be used for good?

When I sit down before my computer to write I don’t think that God is dictating my every word. I feel like he gave me gifts and has inspired me to use them and can inspire me to sit down and write. But yet it doesn’t make me perfect and it doesn’t make my work perfect. But just because I am flawed and my work is flawed doesn’t mean it is totally bad. I think there is some good we can find in our creations, especially literary creations. Like Emerson said, we fall short in the end, but hopefully our works are a tool to point something higher and greater and better than we could ever produce. We are all made in the image of God and are God’s creation, which is good, and have been given the ability to create ourselves, which is good. But we are human so ultimately our good won’t be good enough. We try and fail. But the important thing is that we try.

To read or to write? That is the question.

To read or to write? That is the question.

Since I consider myself a writer, my natural response to this question is definitely to write! Why waste time reading someone else’s work when you can create your own!

I guess I am a bit Emersonian in this sense; I am partial to writing over reading any day. I would much rather create my own writing than read someone else’s creation.

Like Emerson stated, poets, writers, authors, fall short. Poets cannot fully capture the essence of nature and this higher spiritual reality in words. But they try- I try. And fail.

But the important thing is- is that the attempt is there. And poets can point the way to capturing the world in writing.

So all in all, I guess reading others work isn’t to be ruled out completely. The human species needs to see where we have come, what we have thought, what we have felt over the years. We need a guide of where we have been so that when we put the pencil in our own hands to write we know where to go.

So, to read or write? How about a mixture of both as the answer…

The Beauty of Nature

The Beauty of Nature

Ah, nature. It’s beautiful isn’t it? Birds, trees, clouds, grass. So much to see. So much to write about.

Emerson’s “The Poet,” reinforces what I had already known about Romanticism. Wander out in nature and find not only yourself but a bond and connection to a deeper meaning and spiritual reality. Break away from the conventions of society, break down those barriers and constraints of form. Be your own person. In the woods. In a tree. By a lake.

I’m reminded of the movie Dead Poet’s Society, where Robin Williams plays a young English teacher of poetry who changes his class of adolescent boys in blooming transcendentalists. The boys sneak off into the woods to a cave where they are one with nature and they read and write poetry. They break free from the constricting norms of the preparatory school and find not only an autonomy of their souls but a deeper connection with a spiritual reality bigger than themselves.

The movie, and Emerson’s “The Poet,” says that we can all be transcendentalist romantics. We can all be poets. It’s there inside of us. We all have the capabilities of going and observing nature and connecting with a higher reality other than ourselves and our society. We are all observers. We have been gifted with sight, we have the ability to see all that our world provides to us. The trick is if we choose to see. If we choose to observe. If we choose to be poets. We all have it in us- it’s just if we actually do it. And not all of us will. We can’t all be poets. Just a fact of life. So the select few- the select few who choose to see the world like others choose not to- are special. They dig deeper and think harder than others. Are they more human because they are poets? I don’t know about “more human” but I think they are more in tune with what it means to be human. They are more in tune with the body the mind and the soul.

Ah, the beauty of nature and its effect on the human species…

What is an author?

What is an author?

That is a very good question. And one I should be asking myself, especially if I call myself a “writer.”

So here we go, I’ll commence my ranting on what I think an author is.

As a young child I would scribble words down on copy paper from my dad’s office and staple it together claiming to be an author of a short novella. I’d also double as an illustrator by doodling in some pictures alongside my words. My stories were usually something I had seen on television or based on another story I had read elsewhere. But nonetheless, my words were my own, and those words created a story that was my own. I was the author of my own book. I told my parents, peers, extended family members, and teachers that my profession in life would be that of an author. I had this firmly embedded in my brain by fourth grade. I remember a guidance counselor asking me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I replied “I want to be an author.” She laughed and suggested another profession. But I was dead set on being the author of my own stories, my own words. I wanted to be a creator.

An author is a creator.

Now I’m in college. My last semester of my senior year and I’m about to embark into the real world as a so-called writer. But I don’t refer to myself as an author. Why? Are author and writer synonymous? Sure, I’ve written stuff. Loads of stuff. If I consider myself a writer shouldn’t I also consider myself an author? Did I not just assert that an author is a creator? Did I not create those writings with my own fingers tapping across the keyboard or my own fingers flowing across the page of paper? Yes I did create my own writings. Yet I still find myself hesitant to call myself an author. Snap, looks like I’ve contradicted myself.

Does an author have to be published? My young child mentality leaps out and shouts “yes!” Only can you be an author when the words you have created are bound in hardcover and on the shelf in Barnes and Noble. Is this why I do not consider myself a writer because I have not been published?

But what if someone came to me, holding a play I have written, and asked “are you the author of this play?” I would indeed say yes. I am the author of the play.

Now I’m just digging myself deeper and deeper now aren’t I?

Yet I still revert back to my earlier assertion that an author is creator.

Yet another question pops in my mind, does the term author only refer to writers? If I say that an author is a creator, well the word creator can be used to refer to anything. An artist creates a painting. A sculptor creates a sculpture. A chef creates a meal. An engineer creates a bridge. A teacher creates a lesson plan. Are we not all creators of something?

Maybe we are all authors. Authors of anything we create. My sister knitted a scarf. Is she the author of that scarf?

Now that just kind of sounds ridiculous.

So where do I draw the line? Draw the line between author of words and author of scarf? Does there need to be craft, attention to detail, intentionality, deeper meaning? I would say yes to all the above. But one could argue the same for that scarf my sister made. Who knows she could come up with a good reason as to how the scarf symbolizes all the people in the world intertwined by one common thread… blah blah blah.

And again I find myself digging deeper and deeper…

And yet I keep finding myself back to my original assertion, an author is a creator.

Creator of what? And what “creations” can really be authored? Can the term author be used in relation to all things or just “worthy” things? And what makes something worthy?

Now I feel like a philosophy major with more questions than answers.

But like I said, I’m only ranting here…