Showing posts with label nonfiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nonfiction. Show all posts

Sunday, March 13, 2016

Fiction & Reality Response Essay 2: Subjectivity, Perception, Language, and Subtlety

How is it that we take so much for granted as real in our everyday lives, when it is typically more complicated than that?

The fact that, in order to write this essay, I am staring into what has essentially become our technological oblivion, tapping a few buttons that I’ve practically memorized, and watching my thoughts manifest in a program—which, by the way, is translating, in some unseen, intangible yet very real realm, a constantly-updating stream of 1s and 0s into several successive higher-level languages and eventually into something called “Times New Roman” text set to a 12-pt size, double-spaced, on a two-dimensional screen that is capable of representing the three-dimensional “real world”, manufactured from multitudinous disparate materials brought together as the result of an extremely long, complex web of design, innovation, business transactions, and manual labor—speaks volumes about how much in our modern age we truly take for granted. (Eat your heart out, Proust!) Berger explains, “We never look at just one thing; we are always looking at the relation between things and ourselves. Our vision is continually active, continually moving, continually holding things in a circle around itself, constituting what is present to us as we are” (p 9). With advertising and marketing agencies feeding us endless streams of mind-numbing “But wait, there’s more!” idiocy; telling us how disgusting our bodies look; how inadequate we are in the bedroom; how we will never amount to anything unless we get out there, unquestionably clock- in to the dictatorship for 40+ hours a week, and prostitute ourselves for money in whatever ways we morally rationalize to ourselves as acceptable so that we can buy all of the trinkets, planned obsolescence, and other wastes of precious, limited resources that will supposedly make our lives so much better; it’s no wonder people typically are just too inundated with distractions and perception manipulation to notice nuance nowadays.

Are there pragmatic reasons for doing so?

Of course! —There are pragmatic reasons for doing everything...right?

Are there consequences?


Cheesy philosophical jokes aside, by pragmatic standards, the idea of “consequence” is really just a description of our ongoing interaction with the paramount reality we all mutually experience. So, we call things choices and pat ourselves on our backs for being so very special and capable of making those choices; but we don’t realize, or perhaps refuse vehemently to realize, that none of those choices would exist were they not consequences of some earlier and earlier consequences—a possibly never-ending chain. In fact, none of us would exist by the same reasoning. Talk about consequences!


Why might it matter that we recognize what we take for granted?

In 1928, a book called Propaganda was released by Edward Bernays that was essentially the foundation for the highly influential sector of our world called public relations. In this book, Bernays describes the rather simple process of manipulating public opinion on large scales using regional and situational biases, nuance, and unrecognized consequences. Today, coupled with the ubiquity of the Internet, using these and several other techniques to manipulate public opinion has never been easier! Whereas Berger claims that the “camera isolated momentary appearances and in so doing destroyed the idea that images were timeless” (p 18), the Internet—or more accurately our misuse of the Internet and perhaps all of our modern technology—has simply destroyed the idea of actually knowing things and replaced it with the idea of looking things up. In other words, knowledge of how to look things up has become a poor simulacrum of, and at the same time has successfully depreciated and supplanted, knowledge itself.

Perhaps the most irritating “argument” I hear tends to reference minimum wage and how some people apparently don’t deserve a living wage because they “flip burgers” or something— as if that should be viewed as a pejorative. (By living wage, I mean a wage that can allow one to afford to live without any assistance programs outside of reasonable extenuating circumstances.) At its core, the argument hinges on self-placement upon some imaginary hierarchical scale that only exists in the minds of those perpetuating it which basically states “Everyone must EARN what they get. No entitlements. No freebies...” and so on. Well, I love being the eradicator of unsubstantiated claims, so think about this: Just by being born in a so-called First World country in our modern age, you were GIVEN cell phones, automobiles, planes, interstate highways, healthcare systems, supermarkets, the Internet, and computers; clean, fresh water delivered right to your spigots; and lights at the flick of a switch (or even the clap of your hands). You got all of that and more and in fact expect it—and what did you contribute toward it? Nothing! Don’t feel bad, though—I didn’t do anything to contribute toward it either; but I certainly expect it. For, we are all entitled to the fruits of our predecessors’ innovations because that is the nature of innovation itself: To allow for the free flow of information so that others can build upon that information and perhaps better some aspect of our world with it. But, a dangerous situation manifests when people begin alienating others by using dehumanizing tactics: Social stratification. This idea is not just socially constructed; it is socially reinforced—fascinatingly, even within the lower echelons of the class system itself. In other words, no matter our place on the hierarchical scale, the assumption that classism even exists is taken for granted without exception. So, I suppose the question at this point is this: What kind of consequences will arise from our current actions and social organization on this planet considering we’re no longer captivated by our own experiences of the universe because we were duped into striving to live vicariously through and emulate other people’s experiences instead? 

Saturday, February 6, 2016

Fiction & Reality Response Essay 1

The following essay was written in response to the prompt: 

Compare John D’Agata’s approach in Lifespan of a Fact with Tim O’Brien’s approach in “How to Tell a True War Story” (and/or “Good Form”). How do you feel about artistic license in both cases? Where do we draw the line regarding how much license we will accept and what are the factors involved in this decision? Explain your reasoning as you analyze the two texts and address why this is important.
Lifespan of a Fact
with Tim O’Brien’s approach in “How
to Tell a True War Story”
(and/or “Good Form”). How do you feel about artistic license in both
cases? Where do we draw the line regarding how much license we will accept and what are the
factors involved in this decision? Explain your reasoning as you analyze the two texts and
address why this is important.

     When writing stories relating to what Berger and Luckmann call the paramount reality (“The Social Construction of Reality” p 25), even if only for publishing categorization, authors must decide how much artistic license they will use. In my opinion, the line of acceptance is drawn between these genres. That is, if someone publishes a book, an essay, or anything between, within, or without that is labeled “fiction”, I would expect it to be a work of their imagination that has only the possibility of incorporating real-world scientific facts, historical events, people, and situations; if that person publishes a book, an essay, or anything between, within, or without labeled “nonfiction”, I would expect it to be based upon facts and real-world, documented events— not rife with misquotes and blatant fabrications. (Granted, “based upon” seems to present yet another dimension of the never-ending mental exercises that are writing and interpretation, but I’m going to spare a rather unnecessary tangent regarding the inefficacy of our language here and simply say this: Facts and real-world, documented events are corroborated by producible documents, photographs, unedited videos, and/or reproducible, falsifiable experimental evidence.) That’s not to say that in nonfiction, thoughtful, meaningful extrapolations cannot be made based upon presently available information. Instead, in doing so, integrity advises the use of a reasonable amount of discretion regarding the injection of unverifiable personal opinion and anecdote in something labeled nonfiction and requisites explicit statement of the use of such.

     Having drawn the line of artistic freedom in the previous paragraph, in The Lifespan of a Fact, author John D’Agata and fact-checker Jim Fingal go head-to-head in a no-holds-barred battle of wits while trying to flesh out the defining attributes of fiction and nonfiction. Well, I suppose that’s not entirely accurate. Perhaps a better way to put it would be this: D’Agata wrote an essay— I stress this because he makes abundantly clear his reasoning for such self-permissive licensing by calling himself an “essayist” (p 53)—Fingal fact-checked it, and then proceeded to utterly destroy D’Agata by pointing out one factual discrepancy after another—names of bars (p 16), made up “facts” (p 85), and made up stories (p 91), among many others. In other words, D’Agata appears to have taken unwarranted artistic freedom. So Fingal’s analysis was meticulous—shouldn’t D’Agata have been meticulous in accurately relaying his research knowing that this was going to be published as nonfiction? I think so. Frankly, if someone, D’Agata in this case, gets factual accuracy called into question from the very first sentence (p 15) of their book or essay or whatever they would like to call the words they’ve pieced together under the future categorical term nonfiction and then proceeds to offer endless rationalizations and smartass remarks in response, it’s not only disingenuous, after a while it’s just childish and petty. Certainly entertaining, as this is one of the most interesting titles I now own, it’s still a bit petty for D’Agata to be so hand-wavy with what he calls “facts”.

     In contrast, author Tim O’Brien, writing in the excerpt “Good Form” from his book TheThings They Carried, takes a very different approach. First, the book itself, and hence the excerpt, is overtly labeled fiction. Despite being written in first-person narrative style, I know that, while there may be demonstrably nonfictional elements, the story certainly is not entirely true. But, that’s okay because I know this from the outset—it’s literary fiction. Second, O’Brien makes a distinction between “happening-truth”, i.e. what happened in a nonfictional sense, and “story-truth”, i.e. waxing eloquent. Regarding story-truth, he says, “I can look at things I never looked at. I can attach faces to grief and love and pity and God. I can be brave. I can make myself feel again” (p 172). The importance of this distinction is captured in the interactional anecdote with one of his daughters in the last three lines: ‘“Daddy, tell the truth,” Kathleen can say, “did you ever kill anybody?” And I can say, honestly, “Of course not.” Or I can say, honestly, “Yes.”’ (p 172).

     The thing that makes fictional (story) truths so appealing is that they allow us to create a world in which we can think and say and believe and do and be whatever we want. It’s just when fictional truths spill over into our mutually experienced reality—the paramount reality—without the outright fictional distinction, manifesting in book signing deals through the egregious, willful manipulation of public opinion and funds, our society becomes more and more disjointed and idiotic—debunked myth and baseless opinion taking precedence over reproducible, experimental fact. I’m not the PC police. In fact, I think that is one of the most annoying trends of the past few years: Everyone getting offended by every little thing. I personally feel that almost no sort of speech is off-limits—save very few examples of what can be termed social-violence-inciting speech. (I tried being straightforward in my meaning without having to navigate an entirely new set of explanations for what that type of speech is and what intent means. I’ll assume that you understand.) The beautiful thing about free speech is that I can say things that are offensive and, well, who gives a shit? Being offended is the most useless thing that a human can be. I bring up this point to clarify that taking the “no limit” approach to artistic freedom isn’t something I’m “offended” by. Rather, I feel that the “no limit” approach and shirking labels because someone thinks of themselves as “an artist that shouldn’t be constrained by those labels” not only perform a disservice to the general public that have the indisputable honor and privilege of reading such glorious literary tours de force but also reek of shameless, unfettered hipster narcissism.