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.
Tag: literature
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.
In Theory, Meetings With Remarkable Men…
In theory, Meetings with Remarkable Men, by George Gurdjieff, was conceived with “similar objectives” to those of Autobiography of a Yogi, by Paramahansa Yogananda. But this can only be said in quotation marks, because the discrepancy between the works is so striking that it would not be an exaggeration to consider them models, one of truth and the other of falsification. One is truly instructive, presenting truly remarkable men and thus achieving its “goal”; the other is merely a succession of accounts whose purpose is nothing more than to inflate the ego of an author who, whenever he seems about to say something important, he cunningly states that he will only say it in a volume yet to be published and that you, the reader, will have to buy. But above all, what both works reveal is a contrast between personalities that, if not opposite, are absolutely distinct. The qualities that shine through in Yogananda are completely absent in Gurdjieff: the former inspires respect and admiration, while the latter inspires only antipathy.
It Is Impossible Not to Enjoy a Good Fisherman’s…
It is impossible not to enjoy a good fisherman’s tale, even if we do not believe a word of it. But here, the adventures, exaggerations, and even absurdities provoke laughter rather than aversion. Why? It is interesting to note that there is this type of lie that entertains, stimulates, and generates a positive feeling in the listener. And it opens the door to an entire literary genre in which creativity is free to manifest itself. The more ingenious and implausible the story, the more easily it is sometimes engraved in the memory, and the more it increases the merit of its author. Perhaps the mystery of this phenomenon is not a mystery at all: in it, the lie only works because it is based on purity of intention.