This made me think: what exactly makes a great american novel? I've heard novels like The Great Gatsby and Old Man and the Sea refferred to as great, and I don't know why. Not only great, however, but Great American Novels. Why? What makes them so great?

If I remember correctly from Junior English, The Great Gatsby was little more than a 1920's soap opera: A sleeps with B but is married to C, who's sleeping with D. E is the main character, who barely understands any of it.

Old Man and the Sea was about a man in a boat following and catching a big fish.

Am I blind to literature? Is this some sort of lapse in memory, where the greatest passages in the novels are lost to me, or is it just "the older the better"?

Some one fill me in, because I'm going out of my mind.

Confused, frantic, and many things but sane,

The audience.

Cynically, I would say that if the people that run the "literary community"--meaning arrogant professors that had to go to school for ten years to figure out that they can't create anything themselves and the like --decide they everyone ought to experience some work of art, regardless of whether it has any aesthetic appeal to people that actually care about such things, then they stamp it "Great" and proclaim that everyone that cannot see the greatness of it is an imbecile (sort of a take off on the Emperor's New Clothes, only they really believe it themselves half the time).

Once stamped "Great", the work is assigned a "Meaning"--which is to say, they attach some wildly far fetched 'deeply significant' moral to the art work, usually something rather suspect having much more to do with supporting the delusions of the members of their community rather than being based on any real interest in questions of right and wrong. It is then ready to be flogged about as a sort of tool for social change, a shovel for the glorious conceptual fertilizer that is so important to the development of the sort of society they envision.

On the other hand...

The Great Gatsby really is a marvalous morality tale. It's about the depravity and moral emptyness of the elegent society of the roaring twenties, an utterly compelling and believable narrative of hypocrasy, deceit, and animalistic passions dressed up in fashionable clothes and expensive possessions. It's about an idealistic boy that sells his soul for the affection of the woman he loves, only to have her spit on his grave. It's a beautiful work of fiction, for it is utterly believable, but it is also a great work of art, because it teaches us a truth beyond the particulars of time and place.

Likewise, the Old Man and the Sea is a testament to genuine, unvarnished human courage. It isn't about causes, or morality, or even survival. The only thing we are asked to contemplate is simple heroism, with everything else stripped away. The value of heroism isn't dependent on whether or not it accomplishes some particular goal. It is intrinsically valuable and worthwhile in its own right.

So perhaps if I don't want to be cynical, I could say differently. To be "Great", art must tranform the way the audience percieves the world, either reaffirming deeply cherished beliefs and giving them new meaning, or challenging the audience with new beliefs that are too powerful to resist.

Art is not a product of an algorithm. Further, it is not "repeatable", just as you will never have a second first epiphany. You cannot study past examples of great art to learn how to create great art. Instead you must study the audience to whom you will offer it. When you know them in such intimate detail that you know an insight that will profoundly invigorate and increase the meaning of their lives, and further understand them well enough to know how to put that into a form they can understand, then you can create great art, art that takes the audience and transforms it.

I can tell you this: the greatness of a novel has nothing whatsoever to do with its subject matter. A soap opera can be great. A man catching a fish (or not catching it) can be great. A college student struggling with an image of catching children running through a field or rye can be great.

If someone tells you that a novel is great and you ask "What's it about?" then you don't get the point. There are many great novels. There are no great subjects.

Short version: I don't believe there's any objective "greatness" to a novel -- but if a large number of people consider it great, that will do very well as a substitute for objective greatness.

"Art is subjective...art is subjective...art is subjective...."

Ok, I'm better now.

The Scarlet Letter isn't my favorite either, but how about his short stoires? Young Goodman Brown? The Minister's Black Veil? Earth's Holocaust? Have you checked any of those out? Well, if you don't like those either, I'll just have to go back to my new mantra.

"Art is subjective...art is subjective...art is subjective...."

It's getting worse!!!!

I haven't read Scarlet Letter in a long time, but don't throw Hawethorne away----there other good stuff out there.

Is there anyone out there that agrees wiht me???

JOHN!

Just by way of a side note, anyone here read his story, The Artist of the Beautiful? Now that was a story that was way ahead of it's time, and yet perfectly symbolizes the relationship of Hawthorne to his own world (of course, viewed that way, it becomes a little bit less, as though it were the standard "starving artist" story).

The point is that greatness in a work of art transcends issues of craftsmanship, like having a child speak like an adult (actually, this is supposed to symbolize Pearl's connection with Original Sin, because she is born of sexual impurity, she has the gift of unnatural knowledge), or more importantly, having a bunch of frontiersman pioneers speaking like ministers at a theological congress (this has no special literary significance--Hawthorne just thought people back then spoke like that because everyone literate wrote like that whenever they knew they were writing "for the ages").

It's not really implausible for a bright child of three or so to say things that mimic what the adults around them say (where do you think children learned to speak before the advent of Sesame Street?). But with Pearl, all her comments are laced with symbolism to show that she was not born innocent. Her name is actually rather ironic, being a biblical referance--most notably to the fact that she came at great cost to her mother, but also to her unique character, which cannot be appreciated by the uncouth common people around her.

Besides, the book is really about Dimmsdale and Chillingsworth, who play out the roles of secret sins, thus remaining unredeemed. Their pretense of moral purity is much more relevant to our modern world. We no longer even try to hide our acts, but instead pretend that they are not sin, that there is no "harm" in them. In a way our hypocrisy is both more subtle and more dangerous, even as the acts become more obvious and regulated.

But the fact is that few writers can be considered "Great" for all ages. "Great" art must transform the audience, which means that after the transformation is over, it is only "Great" in the historical sense (the same way that dead people are considered "Great", not because of anything they can do now, but because of what they once did). Only art that deals with universal themes of individuals lives, without comment or significant reference to the particular social/environmental milieu, can remain great for different generations, and even then only for a particular species (Dolphins might enjoy Shakespear, but I doubt they would consider him "Great", and the octopus neither enjoys nor appreciates human literature).

I don't know; did Hawthorne make Pearl speak the way she did because he wanted her to be a symbol of something? Maybe, I guess. Doesn't really work for me, or for a lot of other people in our time, but maybe it worked for some people at the time. It seems like there's a good chance, too, that Hawthorne made Pearl speak like an adult because he didn't have any serious experience of three-year-olds, or couldn't convincingly create three-year-old talk. Or maybe people weren't willing to put up with three-year-old talk in a novel for adults at the time.

I guess I don't think great literature is about themes, when it comes down to it. If you want to attribute themes to Shakespeare, they're pretty much stock ones. Romeo and Juliet redux is just: Boy and girl from feuding families meet, fall madly in love for no apparent reason (really! no justification is given for it), and then bad things happen to them until they die, except that they get to sleep together. The story is basically just a really excellent retelling of the ancient Greek tale of Pyramus and Thisbe, and yet _Romeo & Juliet_ still grabs people today (whereas nobody's doing new movie versions of Pyramus and Thisbe that I know of). I think Shakespeare just did such an excellent job of telling his stories that people can enjoy them despite the disparity of language and culture.

I'd definitely agree, though, that a story can kick butt in its own time and lose a lot of its punch in a different time and/or place.

What you described it as was primarily the reason I did not like it. If I wanted to read propganda, I'd find a brochure. If I want to read a novel, I will--and I'll be sure it isn't Hawthorne.

Years before this thread popped up, I actually started my current novel with a quote from the story. (“Once upon a time—but whether in the time past or time to come is a matter of little or no moment...”) My female protagonist wears pink ribbons in her hair like Faith in Young Goodman Brown

I’m not trying to shove my opinion down your throats, but I’ve just always liked Hawthorne, and he’s an influence of mine. I have a collection of his short stories and I freely admit that a bit of his writing his mind numbingly dull, but when he’s on point, he’s on point. I’ve only read one of his novels, though and from what I can tell his short stories are far superior. IMNSHO.

Of course, I recognize that you are trying to cheapen the concept of really powerful art by calling it "propaganda", and I agree that much of what people call "Great" art is in fact just propaganda that reflects their own agendas (which I mentioned before, if anyone ever bothered to read my posts). But if you've never read something (or heard a song, or seen a painting) and found that it really changed your perspective on something important, then why the heck do you care about whether art is "Great" or not?

As I mentioned before, I think that agonizing over "how can I create 'Great' art?" is pointless, since artists get paid for entertaining (or sometimes informative) art, not "Great" art (anyone that tries to make a living creating "Great" art is pretty much by definition a hack). Greatness in art is just something that happens when a work of art happens to communicate something profound to a lot of people. It's good that it happens, and it is definitly true that having a vibrant and active artistic community improves the quality of really great art, but the greatness itself is about what happens to the audiance, not the art itself.

P.S.--your comments dissing Hawthorne were stupid, though I didn't exactly say so. All I said was that I wasn't stupid enough to express those opinions myself. I apologize for any minsunderstanding caused by my overestimation of your intellectual capacity. In no way should you feel that I deprive you of the right to make idiotic comments whenever you please. If this apology does not please you, please inform me, so that I my make more extensive ammends, clarifying the pathetic state of mental incompetence I failed to notice in you when unguardedly making my earlier remarks, and raising everyone's awareness of the special needs that certain members of our community have

Communities naturally take powerful art, particularly narrative art (and a true story is the highest form of art, believe you me) and use it do define themselves. Yes, I know that Card has been through this a few thousand times (probably close to a hundred times in print, and he can't seem to talk for any length of time without touching on the subject), but this is a matter of neurophysiological fact. It may even be a matter of cybernetic fact (not general cybernetics, though, only sentient cybernetics).

Great art is not propaganda because it doesn't have an ulterior motive. If it does have an ulterior motive, then it's by (my) definition, relative hack work. The difference is that propaganda stuffs its message down your throat whether you want it or not. Great art speaks its message (and don't take me to mean that it has one, specific literal message, but rather a whole underlying view of the world) as clearly and meaningfully as it can and hopes to take you along with it without trying to force itself on you.

The reason I go on about this is that it's important in writing: It's the distinction between carrying your reader on the story and manipulating your reader. For example, withholding something a reader should by rights know is manipulative (sez I).

Anyone want to continue this rant? I have some editing to do.

What is so great about the short story 'Bears Discover Fire?' (Terry Bisson) IIRC, it is a Hugo award winner + year's best SF + included in OSC's Masterpieces + whatever else.

Sure, it seems a pleasant enough read, but standing back a bit, the whole thing is just silly: a story about bears on the highway median strip discovering fire. ??? What am I missing?

Survivor,

You sound like a cynical, post middle-aged humanities professor.

I agree that it is futile to try to create great art. But not that all great art is propoganda. Both of these topics have been discussed already, however, and so I'm going to leave it at that.

What I didn't like about The Scarlet Letter was that it seemed to take the theme and club the reader over the head with it. It seemed like every page screamed, "Oh, the IRONY!" I wanted to shout, "Yes, I get it! Shut UP!"

The definition of "propaganda" is any systematic, widespread dissemination or promotion of particular ideas, doctrines, practices, etc. to further one's own cause or to damage an opposing one. If you are creating and disseminating art for a reason, then it is propaganda. If you have no reason for creating and disseminating it, then you will not create and disseminate it. If you do not create and disseminate it, then it cannot affect anyone, and therefore cannot be great art.

Therefore, all great art must first be propaganda.

The negative connotations of the word "propaganda" are well understood, which is why I usually choose to call important artwork "great art" rather than "propaganda", but the explicit meanings of the two terms are the same (or more specifically, the meaning of "propaganda" encompasses the meaning of "great art").

The only reason that I'm sounding like a "cynical, post middle-aged humanities professor" is because this is all stuff that they should have taught you in school (I know that they didn't, but that isn't my fault). I can't believe that a group of writers is even having this completely innane discussion (actually, I believe it, but that just makes me sad--perhaps I should say, "I can't both believe that a group of writers is even having this completely innane discussion and remain upbeat at the same time.")

Of course, DragynGide managed to come up with the textbook answer, so either the schools are doing better than I thought or she's just smarter than the rest of you

If you're feeling too bitter and cynical, check out www.despair.com. It'll make everything brighter.

While you were so busy attempting to talk about peoples' heads on your soapbox, you managed to contradict yourself.

DragynGide's definition in no way incorporates your idea of propoganda. You can simply illustrate a facet of humanity, and cause that to resonate within people, without having a 'secret' motive.

I just don't understand your obsession with defining 'great art' so closely. If anything, the 20th century--the encounter with 'nothingness' as Barret calls it--was the birth of meaningful meaninglessness. When the 'dadaists' said that anything, even an old tire, was art and that 'great art' could be anything that means something to you.

So don't be sad that we 'evince no concept of the meaning of "great art"', instead be glad that we are still artists enough to have envisioned different meanings of it.

Even existentialist, surrealist, dadaist art is still about touching the audience and changing (or affirming) the way they percieve the world. "When the 'dadaists' said that anything, even an old tire, was art and that 'great art' could be anything that means something to you" is a perfect expression of what I'm talking about (actually, it is a very silly illustration of what I'm talking about, confusing epiphany with art, but still).

The very fact that you can't see the difference between a powerfully honest and truthful portrayal of reality that reshapes how an audience percieves it and a conscious effort to decieve makes me so bitter and cynical that I think you're merely amusing yourself at my expense by pretending to put on such a ridiculous display of non-sentient behavior.

I can see the difference between a *clears throat*, "powefully honest and truthful portrayal of reality that reshapes how an audience percieves it and a conscious effort to decieve." And I'm saying that, for this particular interest, an old tire is more powerful, honest, and truthful than Nathaniel Hawthorne proved to be in "The Scarlet Letter".

Happy horse poopoo is what I say now. I think those writers, most writers, simply wrote the story they had to tell and nothing more. I don't set out to say well, I want to tell society this and that, and oh by the way I am going to use a black horse because it will symbolize and mean--- crapola--- those writers would probably laugh themselves silly at the analysis of their beliefs based on their fiction.

Great books are simply the ones people most identify with at the time they are written. And by reading a hundred year old work we get a look into how people thought and believed at that time.

Oh and BTW my daughter at 3 sounded like an adult. And I liked the scarlet letter.

Although, with all that 'writing is just writing' business, who knows.

Though the part about being smarter than the rest of you... *chuckles* I really don't know about that.

I can't recall which writer, but relatively recently I read of one who actually was laughing at what people read into his books. Still, allegory is one of a writer's tools. A mystery is always better with a thunderstorm.

(Hmmm. Maybe it was a local Cleveland cartoon.)

You analyze the work to find out why it appeals to the audience. Like the symbolism of Pearl reminding someone of a scene from The Exorcist (not a fan of The Excorcist myself, anymore than a fan of The Scarlet Letter). Perhaps Hawthorne simply didn't know how to do a realistic three year old (though I doubt it, he didn't live in an ivory tower or anything). But the fact is that Pearl is memorable on a number of different levels because she is a bit creepy, a bit too wickedly wise.

By the way, I'm not a particular fan of The Scarlet Letter either. I just don't have the unmitigated gall to question its place as a great work of art. The greatness of The Scarlet Letter is a historical fact, like the greatness of the Roman Empire (another thing I'm not fanatical about). To claim, "I don't see what was so great about the Roman Empire" would be a frank admission of stupidity, no matter how glad you personally are that Rome fell. The same is true of artwork that has shaped the course of history. I might not even like the way that The Scarlet Letter affected the world, but the fact of the matter is that it did.

An individual is part of the continuing audience, after all, and should be entitled to his opinion even if at odds with the popular thought stream. I know I risk the ire of many by not agreeing that Hemingway was a great writer, but to me he was a reporter first and foremost and wrote in bald reporter facts. I know the popular wisdom is that less was more in his case, but I say nothing was nothing. Other than The Old Man and the Sea, I am wholly unimpressed with his works, although I have to -- grudgingly -- acknowledge that he ranks among the greats.

It seems wise to me to ever entertain the thought that the group may be wrong and that sometimes we need the naive among us to state the obvious to wake up the rest of us. Or at least a challenging voice to get us to re-evaluate, to "analyze the work to find out why it appeals to the audience," and thereby better appreciate by proving to ourselves the greatness of time-tested literature--or not.

So, even when talking about classic literature, the tem great is still subjective. The only reason I was so adamant about Hawthorne was because I truly like his work, and also I'm no narrow-minded enough to disregard other's pople's POV just because it conflicts with mine. I found I learn a lot more from those who disagree with me opposed to those who do even if I never come to agree with their opinion.

A person never learns from those who agree with them--no need to learn or change becasue they agree with you. I also learn a great deal from those who do not like my work, or do not agree with me---many times I learn that I do not want to be like that person or that I do not want to share their veiws, but it is learning none the less.

I think some folks are getting hung up between what they like and what is literature. I have no problem recognizing Henry James' or Hemingway's works as literature that has affected and inspired readers' world views. At the same time, I'd rather poke my eyes out with hot irons than read them again. This is a matter of personal preference...not a statement of the meaning, depth, or relevance of the works.

To say categorically that no writer intends the nuances or meanings read into them by students and instructors of English/American literature confounds me. How can you read Poe, or Melville, or Harriet Beecher Stowe and not recognize the deliberate use of symbolism, the metaphoric imagery? I have to assume that such a blanket statement was made for shock value, much as someone standing in the middle of the Guggenheim who wants to sound cooler than cool sniffs, "All modern art is crap that people pretend is art." Even when writing pure entertainment, as I assume most of us do, surely we incorporate layers of meaning as part of the writing process. Otherwise, the resulting story is all surface...fun to read, but not worth a re-read or even remembering.

That is not to say that some works that are today considered "great" were not simply intended to tell a story or entertain. Shakespeare is a good example. For the most part, he remade existing stories into then-modern plays to be performed, not with the goal of creating great literature, but to make money and achieve fame for his acting troupe. The language is beautiful and the stories richer in most cases than the source materials (i.e., the original King Lier vs. King Lear). But Shakespeare was the Stephen King...no, better...the John Woo of his day, focused on putting out bang-up entertainment with plenty of killing and love scenes and other sure-fire audience draws. This doesn't lessen the impact of his works, or the worthiness of studying them, but were they intentionally developed to be powerful, society affecting literature? No.

My point is, each work and its author's intentions should be evaluated on its own merits. All-encompassing statements like, "What is commonly recognized as literature was all deliberately written to be great" or "Literature is just another name for stories that people read depth into that wasn't intended" should be avoided.

None of you should be trying to write "Great" literature. For one thing, you're sure to fail miserably, whereas you might actually write something worthwhile or even great if you concentrate on being a writer first. Real writers use all the tools that "Great" writers use, but they use them for real, not for the sake of being "Great".

For another thing, at least half of you don't even know what "Great" writing is, and don't seem likely to ever learn, which would seem to make attempting to write "Great" literature even more futile than it already is. Since deliberately setting out to write "Great" literature is already nearly totally pointless, I can only assume that it would take a miracle of the first order for someone that doesn't have a concept of what "Great" literature is to succeed in deliberately writing something "Great".

I don't know what spurned you in a past life--but you have no right to be such a judgemental pompous asshole.

quote:

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at least half of you don't even know what "Great" writing is, and don't seem likely to ever learn

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Can you even see through that slimy layer of filth you call a personality to read what you're writing? Who the hell are you to say what we do and do not know?

Of course no one should set out to write great literature, but no one here has said that that is what they were doing. Instead, we were having a discussion about what great literature is. However, I'd be willing to bet that there are several people who wouldn't agree with your definition of great literature, and have still managed to climb the ranks of the great.

For someone who is quite obviously not published, you shouldn't be giving such definitive advice and trying to belittle the half of us who 'have no idea what great literature is, and probably won't ever learn.'

As I understand it, Survivor's point was that a well-written work incorporates its author's thoughts and opinions such that, when published, the book becomes propaganda whether the author intended it to be or not. A writer who writes truthfully and with his whole heart can't help but infuse his writing with those thoughts and opinions-- after all, they are part of himself, aren't they? I don't know about the rest of you, but I would certainly like for my writing, when published, to affect people such that they stop and think about what I've said. At its core, that really is propaganda. And it's one of the big reasons why I write. I've got something to say, and I'm hoping other people will listen and maybe even agree with me. And yet, everything I write is truthful and wholehearted. There is no secret motive. There doesn't need to be.

So, erm, if Survivor could find the courage to stop insulting people at every turn, and if Rahl could smoothe his feathers some, perhaps we could discuss this like civilized adults?

Shasta

I've been missing out on all of this because of a disagreement between my ISP and the Hatrack webserver, so I am just now chiming in on this discussion. (I think we've solved the disagreement problem, by the way.)

I'm not going to close the topic or shut anyone out because I think some valuable discussion is going on here.

I would like to ask people to remember that not everyone has the same sense of humor, and what one person considers witty and clever can be downright insulting to someone else.

You can make your point without passing judgments on and being snide about other participants in this and other Hatrack discussions. In fact, subtle little jabs at people, as well as not-so-subtle sneers, tend to detract from the impact of important points.

The points alone are enough to show the intelligence of the point maker.

That said, I have found all of the insightful points intelligent and useful in this topic. I would hate to see any of you stop posting here, because I have learned from what you all share.

Rahl, please continue to give us the benefit of your experience and understanding.

The same goes for Survivor.

So, I thought I might take a chance and share one or two of mine.

I think that artists (in any medium) are expressing their beliefs, thoughts, feelings, opinions, needs, wants, desires, dislikes . . . you get the gist - and this is one of the important offerings artists make to their communities. Frequently, they are able to say, show, perform something that the community is otherwise unable or unwilling to face, express, look at -

Art can frequently shock the senses into a different way of perceiving the world - which is a critical problem solving tool. There is never one right answer to anything.

I think "great" art is art (written, painted, sculpted, sung, played - whatever medium you like) that continues to offer people new ways of seeing their world, therefore potential new ways of answering the questions the world poses - new tools. Art that continues to do this, could - I think - be termed "great".

That being said, we all perceive our world differently. And no one way is necessarily the right way - it's just a different way.