Or maybe it’s not so new, since an essay on the subject, S/Z by French critic Roland Barthes that was used in class today to help provide one definition was written in 1970. We covered his thoughts on writerly versus readerly, the style, intent and purpose used in a creative effort by a writer versus an author.
Let me digress a moment from the class discussion in which I dang near made a fool of myself but luckily held back (oh, us passionate artististes!) to throw in a line from S/Z here:
“Barthes suggest that text is, ‘multi-dimensional space in which a variety of writings, none of them original, blend and clash… a text’s unity lies not in its origin, but in its destination.” Thus the reader “produces” a text on his or her own terms, forging meanings from “what has already been read, seen, done, lived, assuming many different, and possibly contradictory roles as a text is read. This way, the reader is ‘no longer the consumer but the producer of the text’ (S/Z).” (http://www.geneseo.edu/~bicket/panop/author_B.htm#BARTHES).
Our good professor started laying out the difference in Barthes’ preferred “writerly” style, that of supporting multiple association or open to interpretation, freedom of narrative movement within the work, and the taking out of the “I” imprint of the writer; and the not-to-be-aspired-to “readerly” style of the author which is considered too predictable, static, inflexible, obvious, and simply performs a function by keeping the reader in a passive position.
As I listened, I felt an idea building up within me, a sense of familiarity; all the while biting back my own greedy urges as a writer—or not a writer, but an author, according to Barthes (which is a big switch for me as well. In a very different interpretation of writer/author, I tend to call myself a writer because I write. The label of author was one I only aspired to)—and a need to overcome the innate need to own my words. The idea that was forming came out in a scribble upon my notes that looks like, “It’s a liberal plot!!!!”
What bothers me is the same change in values I see in so many areas, especially in education. It’s a devaluation of the producer, or creator of the work, to appease the multitude, or readers, in an attempt to make everyone feel equally important. It’s the great leveling device of the extreme left. Or, as I put it to the instructors after class, it’s grabbing the blue ribbon away from one who has achieved something above others, tearing the ribbon into little bits to stick on everybody else’s (readers) forehead so they won’t feel bad. It’s condescending to the masses. It’s allowing a false sense of accomplishment to the reader, who considers himself on an equal footing with, let’s call him the “Head Writer.”
This open to interpretation stuff is great, it really is. But it should not be established as a standard. For if it were to be so, I see it adversely affecting individual creativity in those who would be deservedly held above the rest, as well as creating the need for expanded institutions to house the growing mass of diagnosed cases of “entitlement.”
For if I am taught (allowed, yes, taught, no) to read something written by someone else, and if nothing I say about it is invalid, wrong, false, or considered by me to be intentional or the exclusive right of the writer, then I sure would like to carry this attitude into my Statistics Exam on Wednesday and get away with it. While I understand that the difference is based on this division that “these” writings are written by writers and therefore free to twist and play with, while “those” writings (i.e., textbooks, esp. Statistics) are not open to discussion, the attitude that has been presented in this essay alone, on literature in all its forms alone, is not limited to this field. The persuasion that the student is free to interpret what the instructor is teaching is just a playground for the battlefield of adult life. And obviously, the results could be devastating if carried too far and widespread. We are arming new generations with rubber bladed swords. By following the principle that the reader is just as important as the writer, that he is equal to, has the genius of, is just as responsible for the work, and can in effect be allowed to believe that if he thinks Shakespeare was a lousy writer who didn’t use language correctly, that he’s not wrong, than this reader will be woefully unprepared to eventually deal with reality. Because everyone else will place the same importance on his own opinion, and the established goal of allowing everybody to be right will have defeated itself in the loss of outstanding art and literature, and performance.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology