A tendency lurks in the literary world that for a book to be considered "literature" it must have a gloomy, pessimistic outlook. Why is this? Although novels have long held tragedy as a staple, it seemed that in the early 20th century a spirit of despair began to permeate literature. A sort of heavy-handed emptiness that seems almost purposeful, as though the authors were trying to sow the seeds of their own doubt. Or maybe it was just their world-view. But, in a way, it's patronizing, as though they wanted to wake up the happy people--"Can't they see they're miserable?? Or should be??"
Have you read Steinbeck? The Pearl? The Red Pony? The Grapes of Wrath? Good grief!! Although it's been 30 years since I read them, and I was only 18 at the time--maybe I should pick them up again.....
Have you read Steinbeck? The Pearl? The Red Pony? The Grapes of Wrath? Good grief!! Although it's been 30 years since I read them, and I was only 18 at the time--maybe I should pick them up again.....
Well, clearly, I don’t have answers, at least not yet, so I will resort to someone who has thought this through and writes better than I do. Let’s bring in Rachel Kadish again, so you can have another taste until you check out the book. This is from page 2 of "Tolstoy Lied"—I’ve edited a bit. I apologize if this seems a bit lazy, but she's great!
“For people who claim to want happiness, we Americans spend a lot of time spinning yarns about its opposite. Even the optimistic novels end the minute the good times get rolling. Once characters enter the black box of happiness, no one wants to hear a peep out of them. I’ve learned how hard it is to find a good non-tragic novel on academic’s approved-reading list. Hester Prynne doesn’t make out too well in the end, does she? Ethan Frome and poor Billy Budd and just about everyone Faulkner or O’Connor or Porter ever met are doomed…
Let me be clear: some of my best friends are tragic novels. But someone’s got to call it like it is. Why the taboo? What’s so unspeakable about happiness?
What I want to know is this: Can the American story have an ending that’s both honest and happy? Can we ditch the venerable idea that life is meaningless without tragedy? That our only choice is between noble suffering or numbed-out conformity?”
No need to reread, we've been discussing this whole Post-Modern movement in class. About how the writers didn't know what truth was after world war 1, and so all their literature reflects their miserable metaphysical mumbo jumbo.
ReplyDeleteGranted, I can appreciate why the literature of the early twentieth century came out that way (their nations were torn to bits!) but STILL?? I feel like the people of this day and age don't have an excuse to be Post-Modern. They have to great war, they have microwavable dinners. And Ipods.
whew!
*no great war :)
ReplyDeleteYeah, Collette, it's time for people to get over it. They have "no excuse to be Post-Modern," that's awesome. Maybe it's the no-truth thing, still making them depressed. Solid truth makes people happy, perhaps, or at least happiER.
ReplyDelete"Even the optimistic novels end the minute the good times get rolling," ha! This girl's a peach!
Lori, the Red Pony, the Pearl, aaa!
Thanks, for your comments!! Collette, I totally agree--we can allow the post-WWI authors their cynicism, but the modern day angst just seems self-indulgent and whiny. I mean, REALLY, people!! In my next post I'm going to research a bit and create a list of authors who I've found to have an underlying tone of faith rather than despair in their writing. If you know of any, please add them!! Thanks!
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