Literature II - Ambiguity

The thing that makes literature so fascinating is the ambiguity of meaning. A character speaks, a scene unfolds, consequences abound. There is so much that can be drawn from all of it - so many possible meanings. It is this ambiguity - this doorway to possibilities that makes English the language of literature.

Latin was made the language of law and academia, primarily moved by the ancient Roman orator, Cicero, and his eloquent speeches using Latin. He was so sharp and masterful in his language, Latin became the academic language throughout Europe for a thousand years.

Many consider French the language of diplomacy because it is so precise; there is little room to misinterpret. This is the opposite of English - where every word can have multiple meanings, and sometimes use them all.


T.S. Eliot called Shakespeare's Hamlet the "Mona Lisa of Literature". In the nineteenth century, the prince (Hamlet) was heralded as a noble philosopher, conflicted over the deep questions of a dramatic existence, whereas in the twentieth century, readers and critics considered the prince manic, indecisive, wallowing in self-pity and even a bit mad. Characters and scenes mean different things to people of different backgrounds and time periods.


But time aside, language itself can be ambiguous. "When I use a word,' says Humpty Dumpty, 'it means just what I choose it to mean - neither more nor less.' The question is, retorts Alice, whether you CAN make words mean so many different things.'" - Take the word 'buckle' - it can mean to grind together or fasten, like buckle your seat belt, or it can mean bend to the point of breaking, like the supports buckled under the weight. Clever writers can use words in ways to suggest multiple meanings - up for interpretation. I'm no poet, so I don't pretend to be master of this method - but Shakespeare was. There is a reason his Elizabethan English verse so captured the minds of people throughout the world, and throughout the centuries. Every verse was packed with more meaning than most people will know.


For example, when Hamlet finds out his mother married his uncle, knowing his uncle murdered his father, he hides in her closet, waiting to confront her and mutters to himself, "O heart, lose not thy nature, let not ever/ The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom. Let me be cruel not unnatural." To those familiar with the Roman emperor Nero, history records he murdered his mother, Agrippina. Other stories circulated that he had an incestuous relationship with her. By using a Nero reference, Shakespeare opens both those possibilities, displaying them to the reader through Hamlet's thoughts.

So ambiguity exists not just in words and their meanings, but also in social interactions and psychology, and again in time periods which are socially charged. As the Latin proverb says, Tot homines, quot sententiae - There are as many opinions as there are people.


As a side note, Sigmund Freud, in the 1930s, was exploring psychoanalysis and believed in 'parapraxes' - or what we today call 'Freudian slips'. Freud believed that even authors could do this in their writing - slipping unconsciously into giving clues into their own minds and motivations... Yet another angle for the ambiguity of literature.

Is good literature like a lemon? The more it can be squeezed for meaning, the better?

(This is paraphrasing of chapter 2 of 50 Literature Ideas by John Sutherland)