Upon reading certain literature, a most interesting question is proposed by Steve Ersinghaus at The Great Lettuce Head:
“How does an author generate this “reader response”? The same goes with King Lear. Every time I read Lear I hope the text will end differently. I’m hoping for the play to change, for Edmund to open his mouth. But he never does. I know he won’t. But I read “hoping” that he does.”
While an ongoing discussion places the burden upon the author, I also feel that the individual reader brings unique experience and point of view to a work, and bears a certain degree of responsibility for his own reaction.
For example, in the comments, Joanne suggests that she felt no empathy for Woody Allen’s protagonist in “The Kugelmass Episode.” I did. For whatever reason—age, upbringing, relationships, etc.—I could understand Kugelmass’ desires and frustrations as he seeks love with a literary character via a magician’s magic box. (I know that sounds strange, but I can’t think of better wording right now.)
Of course, I’m also branded as “Cries at weddings” and after a rather wet wedding rehearsal was nicely drugged for my own special day. So much so that at the minister’s words, “If there be anyone here present who sees just reason why these two should not…” I turned fully around to the congregation and scowled, eliciting a community chuckle among our friends and a sudden shrinking down into the seat by my embarrassed mother.
But back to the question of the writer and reader relationship, I would suggest that this is what is meant by reader input, whereas even the bound physical book of words is not seen the same by all.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
I find the reader reaction to story very interesting. By the way, I like this new design.
Anyway, I’m wondering if you’d have more comment about this issue of the reader’s reaction to the “fixed” plot or story element. In other words, Santiago Nasar always get’s killed Garcia Marquez’ novel. Yet I always “hope” that the story will change, even though I know it won’t. In a way, it’s about the reader’s “suspension” in the face of what I know will happen. The story always hits me that way. “Wish” is perhaps the wrong word: it’s that as I read I’m “thinking” that the text will have a different outcome. I know it won’t, but in the course of reading I’m actually anticipating the change. The change just never occurs.
Without the benefit of further instruction (as yet) from Hugh of St. Victor
as to HOW to read, I can only offer my own uneducated sense of experience.
Well, not totally uneducated…there were those literature courses. But
still I hestitate out of fear of appearing ignorant. However, since this
answer to your question is on my weblog and I am not as intimidated as when
appearing on yours, I will attempt to fully understand your question and
answer to the best of my humble ability.
At its simplest form of explanation, a reader response such as yours may be
heavily dependent upon reader traits–incurable optimism, idealism, refusal
to accept the singularity of the path of the printed word which while open
to interpretation, is not open to manipulation of facts. This is why I
mentioned on The Great Lettuce Head your enjoyment of hypertext narrative
and interactive fiction; new media that allows for a degree of change
(although often while various paths are offered, the destination remains the
same).
In my own readings, I prefer stories with a defined conclusion–that is a
personality trait that flows through my life…
But wait a minute, it doesn’t! Oddly enough, I like my life open-ended. Do
we live one way and read another?
I’m also currently ignoring the author’s expertise in extracting such
personal involvement from a reader; that entails even further discussion
about capability and elements of story. There is also the consideration of
the “wish” theory and human nature. There is so much more to this than can
be expressed here, and I’m starting to ramble rather than formulate. There
are just as many paths in individual thought process as there exist in
stories. Maybe we should move this matter to the Narratives Forum?
Another thought (since now I can’t sleep)–
1. Text is static, so that doesn’t change;
2. Reader input changes REACTION to the story–or let’s concentrate on the ending, say;
3. So now the story IS different, not only the reaction to it. For example, if one roots for the death of the antagonist and he dies, then this will be considered a happy story (we’re going to extremes here just for clarity). If one roots for him to live, and he (still, of course) dies, then this becomes a sad story.
4. This is a definitely apart from simply saying that the story made you happy or sad, it is the story itself, the “thing” that becomes that description. A rose is beautiful. But if you think it isn’t, then it isn’t–for you.
You’re driving me nuts. I’m supposed to be reading instead of thinking this much, and now I can’t stop. Please note the time.
Which still doesn’t answer why, even after you know how it progresses and ends, you still can go back to it and expect it to be different. Unless, reading it again brings with it the inclusion of experience between readings that for some reason makes you think it will be different this time, and you have hope that it can be, because you “changed” the story even on the first reading and the “different” you can then make a “different” story.