The technique of the modern novel, which expands scenes, exposing them in greater detail and exploring the inner and outer minutiae of events, has its advantages. But sometimes one gets the impression that such detail weakens the plot. If we take as an example the ancient folk tales of some civilizations, we see that the narrative often varies, the details vary, and there may even be more or fewer scenes depending on the source; however, the logical sequence of the story does not vary, and therein lies its strength. The curious thing is this: these ancient tales, even if narrated schematically, devoid of literary devices, produce almost the same effect; a modern novel, on the other hand, if devoid of the particularities of the author’s style, becomes something quite different. Ancient narratives can easily be told orally, as they were and are, without much being lost, something impossible to do with modern novels. The modern novel can only be told by the author, and through the lines he has already written. Perhaps this means that the story never gains true autonomy, which may or may not be favorable.
Category: Notes
Times of Cultural Misery Are the Most…
Times of cultural misery are the most conducive to immersing oneself in great eras, great works, and great achievements. This is because everything in them stimulates an interest accentuated by contrast, leaving no doubt as to where attention should be directed. In truth, even in the most prolific times, the portion that survives is small, and therefore the portion that distracts is large. There is, of course, a special feeling that comes from novelty; but perhaps this feeling diverts attention from where it could be focused much more profitably.
It Is Interesting How a Combination…
It is interesting how a combination of multiple factors, such as modern music itself, the astonishing ease of access and, at the same time, the rarity of chance encounters and natural guides, has made it extremely difficult to orientate oneself in the great works of music. To reasonably know a prolific composer such as Mozart, Bach, Beethoven, or Brahms, it is not enough to have an unusual taste for classical music: it takes a conscious and focused effort to get to know them, an effort to search for a guiding light that seems hidden behind the tangle of hundreds of compositions. Carpeaux’s book, of course, solves the problem and falls like a godsend into the hands of the modern music lover. But long before thinking of reading it, most have already succumbed to disorientation.
Leopardi’s Work Is Proof That It Does Not…
Leopardi’s work is proof that it does not take many poetic forms to produce a strong effect of variety. Reading his Canti, the last thing you feel is monotony; and yet, there are always decasyllables and hexasyllables. However, due to the extremely varied arrangement of verses and rhymes, one never knows what comes next. And the brain, challenged and entertained in capturing the order, is satisfied with the meaning that never allows itself to fall into the banal. The problem of form is real and relevant, but it is only justified when there is truly something to say.