Literature I Mimesis

The ancient Greek term "mimesis" (my-mees-is), "holding a mirror up to nature" or in English "imitation" - which carries many negative, or at least sub-par connotations, is the starting point for all human expression - in this case, literature.

Aristotle, in his The Poetics, marveled at how certain black marks on white background - or certain sounds and tone in the ear - when strung together in the right order and sequence, could transfrom into a timeless epic tale about human adventure such as The Odyssey.  He was, however, at odds with an even more authoritative philosopher than himself - his teacher and mentor - Plato.

Plato was an idealist and a rationalist.  While he applauded the aesthetic qualities of these imitations, he viewed them as mere shadows of reality, cheap tricks to inspire emotional, not rational, responses.  In his The Republic, he argued that fictional literature, poetry, was all a flight of fancy, subjective, illegitimate, and superficial - a waste of time.  Plato wished to exile all poets.  Truth was not the province of the artist, but belonged to the more serious and logical problem-solvers - the philosopher-kings.  These "beautiful lies" of poets led to irrational thinking, spontaneous and reckless choices, and futile and unproductive living - selfish thinking and selfish lives.  In short, there are so many real and actual events to discuss, why waste time on what is unreal - what never happened?  If it did't happen, why talk about it?

Aristotle, however, objected.  The genres of literary art, whether tragedy or comedy or epic, are not bogged down or confused with the randomness of humanity's confusion, accidents, mistakes, or unintentional successes.  They can cut away all the fat - stab right into the heart of the matter - and ring that funny bone of universal truth inside a human.  A thing needs not be real to be true - as in the old fable, The Boy Who Cried Wolf.  There may never have been a boy who continued calling a false 'wolf' alarm,  but the truth that if you continue to lie, then nobody will believe you, even when you speak true, is a universal truth that everyone understands in their core.

Or, another, in the words of Russian novelist Leo Tolstoy, "Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way".  Literature can trim a lesson down to the basic and most simple truth.

Plato's second objection is that we spend all our emotions on fictional characters (like Leonardo DiCaprio dying in Titanic) but ignore the starving beggar outside the theater.  But Aristotle countered that art and literature offer catharsis - a purging of emotions that leaves one calmer and more collected - with a clearer mind and more ready to see the world with reason and purpose.  As Milton said in Samson Agonistes, "calm of mind, all passion spent".

Does this mean, however, that simply making "tear-jerkers" or using cheap tricks to trigger emotions, offers better catharsis than good literature?  This argument has been made.

Plato argued to exile the poets.  Aristotle argued to keep them inside the city. George Orwell argued exile is necessary and where true writers belong.  Solzhenitsyn, exiled in 1973, wrote more powerful literature than all the hacks who lingered within the safety of the Soviet Union's walls.  James Joyce argued writers should be forcefully isolated to be truly cunning.  Marxist writer Bertolt Brecht warned that mimesis was the drug of literature and dangerously could lure people away from reality and should be avoided.

Shakespeare loved the idea of mimesis.  Hamlet tells the visiting players, "hold as 'twere mirror up to nature". He played with it in Midsummer Night's Dream, with the theater crew desperately using mechanics to mimic nature, and said, "the lover, the lunatic and the poet/ Are of imagination all compact."

What think you, reader?  Is fiction a useful tool for thoughtful reflection and contemplation - to purge our emotions in cathartic experience and leave us with a clear head, as Aristotle argued - or was Plato right to wave away fanciful fairy tale distractions from the real problems of life?


(above is a paraphrasing of chapter 1 of John Sutherland's 50 Literature Ideas...)

The Devil ~ an exceprt from "The Club Dumas" by Arturo Perez-Reverte

"Who are you?"

"The devil," she said. "The devil in love."

And she laughed. The book by Cazotte was on the sideboard, next to the Memoirs of Saint Helena and some papers. She looked at it but didn't touch it. Then she laid one finger on it and turned to Corso.

"Do you believe in the devil?"

"I'm paid to believe in him. On this job anyway."

She nodded slowly, as if she knew what he was going to say. She watched Corso with curiosity, her lips parted, waiting for a sign or gesture that only she would understand.

"Do you know why I like this book, Corso?"

"No. Tell me."

"Because the protagonist is sincere. His love isn't just a trick to damn a soul. Biondetta is tender and faithful. She admires in Alvaro the same things the devil admires in mankind: his courage, his independence..." Her eyelashes lowered over light irises for a moment. "His desire for knowledge and his lucidity."

"You seem very well informed. What do you know of all this?"

"Much more than you imagine."

"I don't imagine anything. Everything I know about the devil and his loves and hates comes from literature: Paradise Lost, The Divine Comedy, Faust, and The Brothers Karamazov." He made a vague, evasive gesture. "I know Lucifer only secondhand."

Now she was looking at him mockingly. "And which devil do you prefer? Dante's?"
"No. Much too terrifying. Too medieval for my taste."

"Mephistopheles?"

"Not him, either. He's too pleased with himself. Too much a trickster, like a crooked lawyer... Anyway, I never trust people who smile a lot."

"What about the one in The Karamazovs?"

Corso made a face. "Petty. A civil servant with dirty nails." He paused. "I suppose the devil I prefer is Milton's fallen angel." He looked at her with interest. "That's what you were hoping I would say."


That's the excerpt.  I'm curious how many people have actually read all four of those literary references.  I hadn't. The first time I read this I'd read Milton and Dante, but had no idea about the other two. 

The interesting question is the literary portrayal of the devil - or evil.

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Philosophy Entry 1 - The Veil of Perception

English philosopher John Locke first brought this notion to the minds of scholars.  He said, "No man's knowledge can go beyond his experience," - meaning that you know only what you are exposed to.

This has been taken two ways.  First, that only what you see or smell or hear or otherwise with your senses are exposed to.  This is a rather materialistic view, but it is nonetheless a valid conclusion.

Second, that which we can piece together from the knowledge in our head.  Just as we can see lines that don't quite connect, but our brains connect those lines and make a shape anyway, so can we do this with knowledge and concepts.

Philosophy

Philosophy, as a subject, should be studied before any and all other subjects (with the exception of language and mathematics).  Philosophy teaches us how to ask the right questions.  It teaches us how to analyze data and think logically.  It teaches us how to debate intelligently.  Philosophy opens the path through which we find real knowledge.

I believe reality is truth and truth is reality.  I believe they are a multi-faceted object.  I believe that each subject - literature, mathematics, art, psychology, architecture, biology, chemistry, physics, astronomy, history, sociology, politics, thermodynamics, music... each is a single angle to view this object - reality and truth.

If a person only studies one subject, that person will only see reality from one angle.  To get a full picture, to piece the puzzle together, one needs to study as many subjects as possible.  Or, at the very least, find people you can trust who have studied the other fields for you.

The brain grows and retains knowledge by making (quite literally) connections.  The more information you offer it, the more possibilities it has to connect and make sense of.  The more knowledgeable you become.

Don't, however, forget the power of emotion.  It can blind and debilitate logic.  So it is important to understand emotion, whenever and wherever it comes from - and not to ignore it or pretend it has no influence.  Emotion is an angle to truth that logic cannot fathom.  They are, after all, two separate parts of the brain.

What is Akralon? Part I

When people ask what the Akralon books are about, I find it difficult to give a short answer and do the books justice.  Akralon is about two things, primarily.  First, it's about self-discovery and finding purpose in life.  Second, it's about the power of imagination and creativity.

The reason the characters span the globe is to show many different lifestyles and circumstances, but also to show how most people define themselves by their job or their family or their culture.  We all do it, to some respect.  But who are you without those things?  With no job, no family and no culture, what is left? 

We have all these societal norms that regulate our behavior that we never really stop to think about.  I like to use the old elevator example.  There are unspoken rules about etiquette inside an elevator.  You step in, you turn around, you stare at the doors or watch the changing floor light.  Nobody wrote these rules down, we just sort of adapted into this group behavior.  But imagine how people would react if you stepped inside the elevator and did NOT turn around, and instead stared forward.  What if you just walked to the back of the elevator and stood silently facing the corner?  Technically, you wouldn't be doing anything wrong, but something as simple as which direction you're facing is enough to make people freak out and think you're crazy!

All that, just in an elevator.  A household, town, city and country have a million more of these unspoken rules of how we ought to behave. But what if you took people out of their society, out of their country - out of their world?  What if you put them in a different world where none of those rules applied.  How would they react?  What would they think?  Without culture, family and friends - how would they now define themselves?

Now imagine, after some time, they return home, to all the familiar things.  Would they be any different - changed in any way?  Would they simply revert back to their old habits and ways of thinking?  No doubt, depending on the shortness of the time away, most people would settle back into their old ways.  It's what they've been doing the longest.

But what if they could, periodically, go back and forth?  How would they deal with two separate realities?  The human brain doesn't like not having everything on the same page, so it would try and adjust, somehow bring the realities together.  This means the person would have to develop a stronger, more defined way of viewing the world/s and his or herself. 

Throw in the extra spice of having abilities not available in the real world and you have a formula for making heroes and villains.  Some people will find strength to overcome their circumstances, to learn and grow and be better people.  Others will fall victim to their darker natures and downward spiral into infamy. 

So, in a sense, the world of Akralon is a test for the soul.

Fey - The Ancient Peoples

Firbolgs were the first to inhabit the forests of Fablemyr. While they are fierce and barbaric, they lived in peace and harmony with the surrounding wilderness.

When the Tuatha de Danann arrived, they felt intruded upon the mysterious and haughty elves. A war ensued, and large and strong as the Firbolgs were, they were outmatched by the cleverness and spellcraft of the elves. Upon losing, they were pushed to the outskirts of the forest.

Now the Firbolgs dwell in the surrounding hills and mountains, venturing into the forest only when food runs scarce. Untrusting and quick to anger, some say Firbolgs have giant’s blood in them. They stand over eight feet tall and are usually thick with muscle and coarse hair. Despite their immense size, they are excellent hunters and can move silently through tree and brush when necessary.

The militant and merciless Fomor are a ruined race of deformed mutants, immune to normal weaponry.  Their pale flesh resembles melted wax, oozing over brutish malformed bodies.

The Fomor invaded Fablemyr after the Tuatha de Danann, defeating and enslaving them.  For long years they ruled with an unyielding iron fist. Lugh Lamfada eventually led the Tuatha de Danann in an uprising.  With the aid of the Four Treasures of Ireland, the Tuatha de Danann brought down the mighty Fomorii leader, Balor, and banished all Fomor from the boundaries of their realm.

The Fomor have recently began turning up in various places in Fablemyr, plotting the vengeance that has been festering in their souls for the entirety of their banishment...

The Tuatha de Danann are the magical and mystical race called elves.  After a successful campaign to drive out the Firbolgs, they indulged in music making and celebrations. They first battled and defeated the Firbolgs and later fought the foul and mean-spirited Fomor... and lost.

Despite the beauty and grace of the elven culture, they were no match for the sheer numbers and brute force of the relentless Fomor.  It took the combined strength of four great treasures and an inspirational leader to rally them to overthrow the heavy yoke of their militant slavers.

Flourishing for a thousand years in Fablemyr, in tandem with the Fey kingdoms.  They spread out and forged four great cities.

The first two cities were Murias in the west and Finias in the east.  Murias was a twilight city of water and healing.  These elves became the Lunaire, or moon elves by common tongue.  They practiced the art of moon magic and studied lunar cycles, curative and calming powers.  A soothing city of smooth marble, flowing streams and serene ponds, Murias was the first city to be abandoned.

Finias, nearly the opposite, became a city of light and illumination, of knowledge and research.  They built tall spires to bask in the sunlight and became the Syldaer, or sun elves.  They spent time harnessing the powers of sunlight, filtered through various precious gemstones to offer the powers of revelation, divination and restoration.

In the north, they founded Falias.  Here the elves delved deep into the earth, diving into the darkness where strange molds and fungi grow.  They took a strange fascination with herbalism and toxicology.  Eventually they began experimenting with shadow magic.  This obsession is what led to the title the Dreyth, or shadow elves.  Eventually, their experimenting became too radical and severe and they were cast out by the other factions of elves - banished forever from Fablemyr.

Last, in the south was Gorias.  Here the elves cast off their fine clothes and jewelry as well as their refined customs and mannerisms.  They chose to admire both the beauty and order of nature and the wild chaos of fire.  Hence they became the wild elves, or the Wildryn.  They hunted and foraged much in the way of the Firbolgs before them.  Their tools were of bone and wood, stone and flora.  They did not tame the animals around them, as the other elves did, but befriended them in their wild and savage state.

In the end, all the elves had gone.  Men came and drove them out with cold iron.  Or perhaps they left of their own accord, seeking growth and expansion.  There are many explanations and stories, but the only thing beyond debate is that the four cities are but ancient relics, ruined and overrun by the Fey.