The Future of Writing

The above image, captured by French inventor Nicéphore Niépce in 1825 and titled 'View from the Window at Le Gras' is commonly regarded as the first photo ever taken and, coincidentally enough, was published in Roland Barthes' (yes, the very same) book Camera Lucida. What the photo allegedly depicts is an outside table being set for the evening meal, but what it shows more importantly is the beginning of a new and now viral manner of recording events, places and people: photography. In many ways you could argue that the recorded image has always been the enemy of writing: whilst photos haven't come to replace the written word per se, they've certainly enhanced our enjoyment and understanding of countless stories and texts: from the likes of the illustrated story books that we were read as children, to the textbooks we hurriedly digest with hungry brains before exams.

But to this day no method of recording information, has proved as efficient and versatile as the written word.

Just as Barthe's argues that a text can exist happily without the author, it could be said that a picture – like the one above – speaks for itself without the need for an accompanying caption (although in this instance it certainly helps). With the widespread ownership of a plethora of electronic devices you would have thought we could all but leave written text behind, opting instead to communicate through the spoken word or visuals alone whilst recording every choice event as pictures and videos. And yet, at times we still choose the text message over the phone-call and record events in writing rather than sound or video (much like this blog).

Writing clearly has a practical place of its own before you even begin to consider it on purely artistic merit and this ingrained association of the written word as art in itself has become so obvious as to be abused. I'm sure not half the Fifty Shades enthusiasts would confess to being a fan of an adult movie by the same name, but the fact that E.L. James wrote a smutty book instead of a film has given the series a disconcerting level of success it may (or arguably, should) never otherwise have known.

The Invisible Writer

Should writer's be invisible? For many writers, writing is in and of itself, enough. Emily Dickinson and Franz Kafka to name a couple of authors, never intended or indeed actively requested that their work be published. But had Max Brod not posthumously published Kafka's work, his friend's uniquely surreal style might never have been recognised and we may never have adopted that most modernist of terms, Kafkaesque. Similarly had Lavinia Dickinson not released her sister's work, the reclusive poet may have remained invisible to the world forever.

The real crux of the matter is, whether an author's personal desire to remain invisible at the cost of depriving the public of their work is a fair price to pay.

Both Dickinson and Kafka have become household names as significant and influential writers of the 20^th Century and, without the latter, a young travelling salesman may never have woken up to find himself transformed into a 'giant vermin': a story which has become the subject of a plethora of satirical and tribute works. On the other hand, as respected as both writers are, by reading work they never intended to be published, one could argue that to an extent we are showing them an equal level of disrespect.

On balance however, I'd be inclined to say that the appreciation of a writer's work surpasses the issue of whether or not the author intended it to be published, providing that the writing does not infringe severely upon their right for privacy: Lavinia Dickinson's destruction of (the majority) of her sister's love letters was an understandable deed, however many would argue that destruction of her poetry would not be.

And had Kafka's work never been published, this might never have existed:

Right To Write?

As a writer, is it necessary in to write about political and social issues of our time? And furthermore, what constitutes as a worthy issue to be discussed? A writer like George Orwell, for example, would certainly agree that it is very much the responsibility of writers to address contemporary political and social issues: remarking in his 1946 essay 'Why I Write' that 'It seems to me nonsense, in a period like our own, to think that one can avoid writing of such subjects.' 'Well obviously' I hear you say, 'Orwell was a raging leftie who loved to satirise dictators and totalitarians as farmyard fiends: of course he'd tell you to write about politics.' And it's at this point I'd like to point out that Orwell also wrote an comprehensive 11-point essay on the perfect cuppa.

The fact of the matter is, that consciously or not, every issue a writer tackles will be relevant to the time.

Examining Emily Dickinson's poems, for example, affectionados of her work such as Richard Sewall argue, with good reason, that Dickinson's work intentionally deals with the American Civil War of her time - albeit through largely metaphorical language - whilst Daniel Aaron concludes that even those poems which deal directly with the war are moreover a reflection of Dickinson's inner conflicts. It's hard to deny that Dickinson's work is certainly affected by the war, but even if this were not the case and her poetry simply reflected her inner conflicts it would be no less of an issue of the time: granted, the Civil War will always be the more pressing issue of the time to the masses, but like Orwell's perfect cup of tea, Dickinson's inner conflict is no less pressing an issue, if only purely on a personal level.

Fundamental Flaws

Does a character who embodies the flaws of the author detract from the narrative of a story?

I guess in many ways the answer is 'yes': a story which revolves around a character constructed from the weaknesses of the author may indeed detract from the narrative if, as a reader, we become overly interested or even infatuated with the imperfections of the writer. In John Cheever's The Swimmer, for example, it would be all too easy to draw comparisons between the story's protagonist Ned and Cheever himself: it would certainly be hard to ignore both men's affection for a touch of tipple. It may be tempting therefore, to get hung up on the references to the writer's own alcoholic tendencies and so lose track of the narrative, but I think to do so would be unfair when Cheever has crafted a story with a far more important focus: why the hell is this guy Ned gallivanting around the neighbourhood invading his pals pools in the first place?

I think however, that sometimes the narrative grows out of the flaws of the author, and may in fact find a hard time existing at all were it not for the fatal foibles of the writer. Let's take William Burroughs' A Naked Lunch as an example. Most people would probably not consider a crippling heroine addiction the most attractive character trait, and yet, were it not for Burrough's drug-drenched biography we probably wouldn't have the almost tiresomely grotesque and explicit tale of addiction, depravation and downright despair that A Naked Lunch turned out to be. It would seem therefore, that in some cases the narrative of a story would be at its most flawed without the flaws of the writer.

Wishful Truth-Telling

In an interview for the Paris Review, John Cheever once said that 'The telling of lies is a sort of sleight of hand that displays our deepest feelings about life': an opinion with which I'm inclined to agree.
Whilst a lie can often be mistaken as purely an act of deception and deceit, by fabricating the facts, a writer who lies is revealing a great deal more about themselves than could ever be achieved through a purely truthful account of reality.

And then of course, there is the matter of intentional lying versus misremembered facts. A infamous example of intentional fabrication can be found Greg Mortenson's Three Cups of Tea, in which, under the pretence of a non-fiction account of his travels in Kashmir, Mortenson claims to have promised to build a school in repayment for the help he received when he became stuck during an ascent of the K2 mountain in the region. It has since come to light, that this claim and many other comments in Mortenson's book are no more than elaborate falsifications. However, whilst much of the truth presented in the book may appear to be no more than tall-tales, if as Cheever suggests, lying 'displays our deepest feelings about life' then we can perhaps at least gain some insight into what Mortenson would at least like to be the truth.

Perhaps therefore, a writer can inadvertently be at their most truthful when they're exercising the most deceit.

The Writer: An Artist or Their Art?

Do we, as a society, favour writers who we're familiar with and thus award them greater respect as artists? I for one, know I have often found myself to harbour an unnatural bias in favour of writers, and other figures of artistic merit who I've previously encountered, or as it were, I feel myself drawn towards familiar names and titles over those which I've not before heard of. That's not to say by any means that I feel my taste in literature, and the arts in general, is even remotely refined to the point of being so comprehensive that I have no need to discover new authors and artists. Nor does it necessarily mean that I inherently consider writers special or more credible as artists based on how I already perceive them, or what I previously know about them or their biography.

What is it then, that makes a writer special as an artist?

I'm sure for many people, a book is enjoyable regardless of what they know about the author, but for others it may be what they do know about the writer that influences their enjoyment of the text: or as Barthes put it in his celebrated essay, 'the sway of the Author remains strong'.

There's long been some speculation, for example, regarding whether the author of a certain collection of books concerning a girl who finds herself lost down a rabbit hole, ever possessed less-savoury thoughts about the girl on which the character in question is supposedly based.

Personally, the matter of a writer's personal life and biography are not something I try to let influence my enjoyment of a text and if possible I believe it's probably best to approach a text with no prior knowledge of the author so as to appreciate the text as it stands.