The best idea I heard this week was that the reader should give the writer time to establish a plot before they judge the writing. The time for critique is after a book's last page; it is useless and obstructive to do so before. Although I will keep this in mind while reading, it is perhaps more meaningful apply this advice outside the context of written fiction.
For instance, I could see this idea fitting easily into another type of art, such as theatre. Recently I was watching the play Clybourne Park at Steppenwolf Theatre. At first I was confused and disappointed by the quality of acting. The characters seemed artificial and their interactions overdone.
While I was distracted by these distressed thoughts, I was ignorant to the tension growing onstage. Eventually the underlying conflict in the scene grew so great that even I became aware of it. Within a few minutes it was revealed that it was the characters, and not the actors, who were behaving so oddly, and for good reason. It was brilliant, and I was astounded.
I can see how this concept could go beyond even finished works, and into life itself. I forget if someone said this or if I just thought it, but in class I was reminded of Mr. Allen's quote, "To what degree do I understand that which I'm about to reject?"
In conversation, there are often times when I am eager to get a point out. I grow more and more irritated by what seems like an endless stream of talking on the part of the other person. I interrupt.
Often its the case that whatever sounded so profound in my head sounds meaningless and confusing when said aloud. I am left with embarrassment, empty air, and a ticked off friend. I also lose out on whatever they were saying, which could very well have been useful to know or consider.
The same goes for people. To often it is the people who at first seem annoying or boring that turn out to be brilliantly eccentric or full of insight. While at summer camp, I met a junior named Megan, who seemed the corporeal manifestation of shallowness.
I was immediately put of by this, and I made an effort to avoid her. It was only the last few days of camp that I heard secondhand of how kind and excited about life she was. I regret not having made an effort to get to know her.
These experiences only reinforce the idea that the only judge of worth can be time. A book cannot be judged by its cover, but neither can it be judged by its first chapter, or even the first time it is read. Instead of looking for flaws in what life gives me, I intend in the future to assume there is meaning and then wait for it to be revealed. I will no doubt catch a page that others have skipped in their haste.
Nina, it is quite unfortunate that I too have had much experience with this human tendency. In fact, sometimes it gets so frustrating because I feel like my brain is screaming at me, drowning out everything else I’m trying to pay attention to. Our class discussion about withholding our judgments of literature and art until the author has fully made his or her point struck me too, but it was only after reading your post that I began to wonder… to what degree can we actually control this?
ReplyDeleteTwo summers ago, I read a fascinating book called Blink by Malcolm Gladwell. He wrote in depth about multiple scenarios when the “snap-judgments” we subconsciously make actually benefit us and should be trusted. Although his references were not directly related to interpreting literature, I think there are some parallels that can be drawn. I believe our mind works so fast and in so many directions every second, that it is almost impossible to trace its path. We draw from so many memories and emotions every time with unknowingly interpret or categorize something we encounter, and I don’t think this can just be switched off, nor should they be.
Instead, I would propose letting oneself make those judgments, and interpretations, but not letting them cloud or close one’s mind. Acknowledging them and just tucking them away until the author has finished speaking is definitely no easy task, but it can be very valuable. After one has finished reading a novel, watching a play, or listening to a piece of music, looking back and contemplating one’s previous interpretations or trains of thought could be extremely enlightening… uncovering a wealth of insight about how certain little tidbits in that work of art connected to the human mind.
Thanks for sparking those ideas, Nina!