Long before Genghis Khan, before King Arthur, before Martin
Luther, there was writing. Before wheels, gears, or electricity, there were
stories. From basic scriptures and monotheistic symbols, to novels and volumes
of regurgitated knowledge, humanity has come to embrace reading and
storytelling as a second language – the key to knowledge.
Aesop, who used his fables of altruistic animals and shockingly concise scenarios to clarify and metaphorically reciprocate human
morals and selflessness, was notorious for his oral stories from his days as a
slave in Samos, Greece. But it was not his life that engraved his name in
history’s books; it was his stories. For thousands of centuries, his stories
had passed through word of mouth to paper, which can now be found in many
libraries and other literary structures. Yet how does this relate to writing,
the act of tangible letters and symbols? Although he wasn't able to place his
stories on paper, his vocal imagery can be considered a form of writing, as it
was a story, created in his mind, to enthrall a user in wisdom and knowledge. His
stories alone are the reason he is remembered today.
Obviously, not many writers today will be remembered for as
long as Aesop has, if any. So what, exactly, makes a writer so ‘good’, that
they prolong their existence by thousands of years? Take a look at an excerpt from
Edgar Allan Poe’s short story, The Duc de
L’Omelette, in which a royal Duke denies the Devil his presence in Hell:
“You have no intention of putting such – such – barbarous threats
into execution.”
“No what?” said his
majesty [The Devil] – “come, sir, strip!”
“Strip, indeed!—very pretty i’ faith!—no, sir, I shall not strip. Who are you, pay, that I, Duc
De L’Omelette, Price de Foie-Gras, just come of age, author of the Mazurkiad, and Member of the Academy,
should divest myself at your bidding of the sweetest pantaloons ever made by
Bourdon, the daintiest robe-de-chambre ever
put together by Rombêrt – to say
nothing of the taking my hair out of paper – not to mention the trouble I
should have in drawing off my gloves?” (120)
What Poe has just described – a man, a mortal, with the ego
large enough to deny the Devil himself of puppetry – has obviously never
happened before, and can be identified as blatant fiction. This, however, doesn't
take away from its intrigue. Many people read stories that they can connect to
(or maybe ones they can’t). But sometimes, a good book about humans doing the
extraordinary, the supernatural, the extreme – things the reader nor the
author would never even dare to act upon – is one that pulls us in and
inadvertently forces us to continue reading. And isn’t the point of a good book
(and possibly, an even better author) to capture us in the moment of its occurrences,
while attempting to simultaneously distract us from the reality of life flowing
constantly around us? This near-poetical, subconscious manipulation is truly
what I believe to be one of, if not the sole quality that determines the fine
line between good writing, and exceptional history.
Christian, first off, the way in which you write is very sophisticated and fresh to the typical 'flower and butterflies' approach that many students seem to take. Your idea that good writers create work that they would never in fact see themselves completing but can only imagine is interesting. As I think more upon this, I come myself coming to amends with this notion as if you look at any historically acclaimed authors and legendary writers, their works, yes hold important moral lessons but also have moments of insanity that readers and possibly the writer himself would never commit. One suggestion I have for you is to maybe have a consecutive paragraph that sums up your piece as a whole instead of just ending with your discussion of Poe. Otherwise, this is beautifully written, and your voice shines through loud and clear.
ReplyDeleteChristian: your detailed, honest, and unique impressions are quite inspirational and open up a whole new world for anyone who takes the time to consider your perspective before reading a book. You have made thins about so much more that an assignment and I am honored to be considered your reader.
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