Windows on the World / One event, three perspectives!

[fictional]

So, I think about fanfiction a lot, y'all may have noticed. And serial fiction. And the whole act of making fiction "real". What is it in a narrative that makes us think -- after the door is shut, after the windows are pushed down, after the covers are closed -- that the story goes on, before the first page, and after the last?

If you think of a single-author book as a window, or a doorway, you realize that even through you can only see a small portion of the world (i.e. what's framed by the aperture), there must be so much more just out of frame. If there isn't this sense, then the story is flat, two dimensional -- it doesn't encourage wandering. But in a good story, you don't think that the small, squared off picture is all that's real. Because if the thing is three-dimensional, it has solidity. You can pick it up and turn it around. It still exists when you look at it from another side.

Think about mythforms. Superheros. They all exist and the more people use them, carve another perspective onto them, the more solid they actually get.

From Henry James's preface to Portrait of a Lady (a little wordy; James never used one word where fifty would do) :

The house of fiction has in short not one window, but a million-- a number of possible windows not to be reckoned, rather; every one of which has been pierced, or is still pierceable, in its vast front, by the need of the individual vision and by the pressure of the individual will. These apertures, of dissimilar shape and size, hang so, all together, over the human scene that we might have expected of them a greater sameness of report than we find. They are but windows at the best, mere holes in a dead wall, disconnected, perched aloft; they are not hinged doors opening straight upon life. But they have this mark of their own that at each of them stands a figure with a pair of eyes, or at least with a field-glass, which forms, again and again, for observation, a unique instrument, insuring to the person making use of it an impression distinct from every other. He and his neighbours are watching the same show, but one seeing more where the other sees less, one seeing black where the other sees white, one seeing big where the other sees small, one seeing coarse where the other sees fine. And so on, and so on; there is fortunately no saying on what, for the particular pair of eyes, the window may NOT open; "fortunately" by reason, precisely, of this incalculability of range. The spreading field, the human scene, is the "choice of subject"; the pierced aperture, either broad or balconied or slit-like and low-browed, is the "literary form"; but they are, singly or together, as nothing without the posted presence of the watcher--without, in other words, the consciousness of the artist.

Now, apply this not just to fiction in general, but to a single story. Isn't this the act of fanfic? To make things real?

D. and I argue about this all the time. He thinks that contradictory/differing versions make things less real. I think they make them more so -- just like multiple eye witness accounts differ, if they're true. When they're identical -- that's when you begin to think people are lying.

What d'you think?

I wonder about this a lot.

On a not entirely unrelated note, remember the Paul Cornell thing? Here is my version, the lovely magnetgirl's version, the dulcet tones of rm's recap...and Paul Cornell's account of same.

Kind of funny, no? We loom so large in our own minds. For everyone else, we're all just sidekicks and extras. Sometimes we're the cool best friend, or the romantic interest. But protagonists? We're all our own. As it should be.

I almost called my thesis "Windows on the World" but then decided the WTC/9-11 allusion was not quite... what I was going for. Fucking terrorists.

Comments

[fmanalyst.livejournal.com]

Hey, I was posting about serial fiction today too! You're talking about the difference between a portrait and a window, and the difference is the degree to which the view is static. I look out my windows here while I'm working at my desk. It's a quiet neighborhood, but there's always movement, even if it's just the wind and the leaves. Serial fiction as a window implies movement in time, TARDIS all over again. And there's always the sense that one can get close to the edge of the window and see a little bit more.

[kalichan.livejournal.com]

Hey, I was posting about serial fiction today too!
*goes to look* Yay. Even more windows! *g*

I love that analogy of the portrait and a window -- and the idea of adding time, so even more four-dimensional rather than three dimensional as I said. Fascinating. (One of my advisors keeps telling me to avoid "mysticism" but this is LJ, so screw him) -- you know all those kid's books about dolls? That when you shut the door of your bedroom, they keep playing. Do they only exist when we're there to see them? Does the act of observing create them? Or do they go on when we're not looking? I think part of the desire to create sequels for texts is impelled by this desire to have stories and worlds be independently real.

Your note about the TARDIS is also well-taken; part of my fascination with Who is the way it embodies serialization.

[fmanalyst.livejournal.com]

When I was in high school, I won second place in a contest with a story about my dolls reflecting on the fact that I was now too old for them. And time must be there; otherwise it's just a diorama.

[stakebait.livejournal.com]

I have read books that felt very real to me that didn't leave much dangling outside them -- they felt like a fabrege egg or a locked room mystery, complete and wrapped up tight in themselves -- not that there wasn't a world outside the window, but that this was more or less a closed system within it. They don't encourage wandering, but not because it's flat, because I already have everything I need. I wouldn't say that makes them not good stories.

And I have read other books that were vast sprawling messy networks, like a rainforest root system of which I am only seeing a tiny and mostly random sample. And those were good too. But they're good differently, and those are the ones in which I am more likely to write and read fanfic.

For myself, I don't feel fanfic makes the source story either more or less real; it feels like a separate issue to me, a new story of its own that has a common ancestor but can't affect its parent once the cord's been cut.

I do agree that use makes mythforms more real, but I don't think of mythforms as the same as their source stories or worlds -- what makes it more real in this case also makes it more generic, stripped of its unique characteristics and become a stretchy costume which many men can wear. I certainly don't think fanfic is for making mythforms more real.

I'd be more likely to say mythforms are for making fanfic more real -- or any archetype-using story. Like sacvenging old rubble to build a new wall -- it is stronger and prettier because the stone came ready-shaped, but I need the stone for the wall, not the wall for the stone.

[kalichan.livejournal.com]

Probably it was incorrect to say "good" there. Though of late, that's been the focus of my interest in fictional worlds, but like you, I've been fascinated by closed systems too.

Although. Hmmm... I actually don't know if I completely agree. Two texts that I think are pretty much perfect: Pullman's His Dark Materials and Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. Complete in and off themselves, beautifully structured and designed. Nothing more required. But still more desired.

I do agree that use makes mythforms more real, but I don't think of mythforms as the same as their source stories or worlds -- what makes it more real in this case also makes it more generic, stripped of its unique characteristics and become a stretchy costume which many men can wear. I certainly don't think fanfic is for making mythforms more real.

I'd be more likely to say mythforms are for making fanfic more real -- or any archetype-using story. Like sacvenging old rubble to build a new wall -- it is stronger and prettier because the stone came ready-shaped, but I need the stone for the wall, not the wall for the stone.

I suppose it is rather a chicken-egg question, but I do think that the fact of making people want to tell their own versions of stories makes the story seem more real. Like, there's something casting the shadow; without the shadow, we'd not know the real thing was there, and without the shadow, I don't know that I'd believe in the thing's existence. If that makes sense?

[jlh.livejournal.com]

I never thought the food was that great at Windows on the World anyway.

I agree with you about it making things more real, but I have a friend more on D's side. For him, any suspension of disbelief is rather difficult, and the closer that a universe is to our actual one (that is, the more that he knows about that universe and can therefore critique the depiction that is in the story) the less he can suspend his disbelief. For him, speculative fiction allows him to turn off the analytical brain because he can't criticize the depiction of a universe he has no independent knowledge of. (By the same token, he doesn't like knowing things about actors, because then it's more difficult for him to watch them act—he needs to have that idea of the thing really happening.) More perspectives on an event, therefore, makes it less real, because he's more aware of the construction.

In the same vein, he sort of vaguely doesn't quite believe that different people really have different understandings of the same event—he does feel there is an objective true event in there someplace, with people's personal shadings glazed over it. Then again, he is a lawyer.

I should say here that I am the opposite. The further that a story is from this universe, especially if it simplifies or amplifies certain aspects of our own, the more frustrated I become, because I'm not sure what it can tell us about our own universe given the changes that it has made to the base conceit. Don't get me started on alternate histories—I'm too aware of the myriad reasons that history turned out the way it did to be able to spend any time at all on "what if Hitler had won?" stories. History is chancy, but it isn't that chancy, not in the macro.

On another note: I don't know that we are all the protagonists in our own lives. I know for parts of my life I certainly didn't feel like I was, and people who live in close proximity to those big personality types often don't, either. I remember a story about the musical Gypsy where the writers read Gypsy Rose Lee's autobiography and basically decided that she literally wasn't the protagonist in her own life story—her mother was. Having seen Gypsy more than once, I'm not sure I entirely agree with them because I think Gypsy has a very compelling story that the show just isn't interested in. The same with Beloved—I think the problem with Oprah's movie of that book, and some people's reading of it, is thinking that it's about Sethe, when it's about Denver. But it's easy to get distracted by Sethe's story because it's more obviously dramatic.

And that was a really long tangent!

[kalichan.livejournal.com]

I'd only ever been to Windows on the World once, and frankly, I don't remember the food -- it was some kind of breakfast fashion show benefit, and I think I was about seven.

In the same vein, he sort of vaguely doesn't quite believe that different people really have different understandings of the same event—he does feel there is an objective true event in there someplace, with people's personal shadings glazed over it. Then again, he is a lawyer.

lol.

Don't get me started on alternate histories—I'm too aware of the myriad reasons that history turned out the way it did to be able to spend any time at all on "what if Hitler had won?" stories. History is chancy, but it isn't that chancy, not in the macro.

But you are a historian. So that makes sense. *grins* this, and the lawyer thing made me sort of wonder another chicken/egg question -- are we drawn to these disciplines because of our intellectual makeup? Or do we pursue these disciplines, and they construct out outlook?

I don't know that we are all the protagonists in our own lives. I know for parts of my life I certainly didn't feel like I was, and people who live in close proximity to those big personality types often don't, either.

You are completely correct; I had but written it before I remembered large swathes of my life where I definitely did not think of myself as the protagonist. And it made me terribly unhappy, because I wanted it so bad. I mean, I wanted to be the protagonist objectively and was terribly depressed that I couldn't even think of myself as that subjectively.

The whole being the hero-of-the-story is also sort of fascinating. What does it mean? Is it the one who's story is the most dramatic? Is it the shaping force of the novel? People always say that Rufus is the hero of Another Country but he dies on page 88... Hmm... *ponders*

[mellacita.livejournal.com]

D. and I argue about this all the time. He thinks that contradictory/differing versions make things less real. I think they make them more so -- just like multiple eye witness accounts differ, if they're true. When they're identical -- that's when you begin to think people are lying

I'm with you. Even when particular facts are consistent, the lens is always going to be different. Different people notice different things. Different things stand out more to different people. Different things matter more to other people. And so on.

I'm an evaluator by training. Governments hire my colleagues and I to find out what funded programs work, which don't, why they work, and so on. Whether it is HIV, literacy, or refugees, nobody involved ever sees things the same way. Generally speaking, you can plot all the different versions on a diagram and be pretty sure the "truth" is somewhere in the middle of them. :p

Edited to add: And those are just the ones telling the truth. We won't get into the corruption. :P

[kalichan.livejournal.com]

Right, it's like trying to figure out the news, when the media...is what it is. You look at ten different sources on the same issue, and try to piece out what really happened. After you put all their biases and elisions and perspectives together, if you're lucky, you might be able to have some idea of what actually happened.

[neifile7.livejournal.com]

Clearly this is a GMTA sorta day, because I've been thinking about a meta concerning time travel/narrative/serial fiction in the wake of some of the IHNIIHBT comments, and then got quite excited by reading fmanalyst's post and the work she's planning, and now these wonderful comments here. So just a few thoughts.

I think that myth-forms, or archetypes, or simply certain sorts of storytelling, tend to hang around for reasons that don't always have much to do with their content (let alone some deep rootedness in human psychology, or whatevah). They persist in part because they do, in fact, offer an opening for re-telling, and making sense of something within the teller's or reader's own frame of reference. And at any given moment, such narratives have multiple possible re-tellings that can suspend disbelief or draw attention to their own artifice.

One such strategy is the Rashomon-like interpretation of a single text/event from several different viewpoints (a synchronic retelling, if you will); another is sequential or serial (diachronic). A lot of fictions, including fanfic, use both -- although seldom simultaneously, which to me is interesting to think about. I think that both approaches are equally capable of creating effective "windows." Whether the illusion sustains a reader's belief, I think, depends as much on frame of reference as the fictional framing. (Witness D. and the lawyer above.)

And now I've committed the Jamesian crime of using too many words without any of his elegance. Oh well.

I very much enjoyed, btw, getting the "Rashomon" version of the Cornell meetup. :D

[kalichan.livejournal.com]

*grins* It's exciting to have so many smart people thinking about this stuff!

They persist in part because they do, in fact, offer an opening for re-telling, and making sense of something within the teller's or reader's own frame of reference. And at any given moment, such narratives have multiple possible re-tellings that can suspend disbelief or draw attention to their own artifice.

Interesting. What do you think provides this opening for re-telling? Is it a formal property?

I think the contrast you draw between the multiple viewpoints vs. the sequential installment is fascinating. My own feeling is that it is fractures in a narrative -- gaps and/or errors which invite participation from the reader/auditor. Both strategies you suggest provide these in their different ways. Think of driving a pick into ice and watching cracks form around the fissure (multiple viewpoints) vs. the gaps between, say rungs on a ladder.

Seemed pretty elegant to me!

Glad you enjoyed the multiple Cornell experience. :-D

[neifile7.livejournal.com]

Oi. Delving deeper here into this Big Can O'Worms, with my computer on the verge of dying....

The opening for re-telling can be a formal one, and serial fiction is a good example simply because its form allows outcomes to remain suspended, at least for a time. The more complex its installments, also, the more chance that "continuity" issues will arise -- the gaps and errors you allude to. But even very simple narrative devices like point of view or the use of an apparently omniscient narrator allow such openings; it's generally possible to imagine a story being retold simply by shifting the narrating voice.

But when I think of elements independent of specific content that seem to enable re-telling -- especially re-tellings over time that re-imagine the story in a more contemporary setting -- I think of even more basic things: the degree to which choice or conflict drives a story, and the extent to which motivations or conditions remain opaque in any given version. (Different versions of Greek myths, the King Arthur stories, most of Shakespeare...) Given a character or a premise of sufficient heft, even with some limiting conditions, the possibilities are still infinite.

I'm reminded, in this connection, of Rach's recent and excellent post about parallels between acting and fanwriting: in both cases, one takes on the task of giving voice and embodiment to character and story that already exists in some form. Writing's always reading, always interpretation.

I like your analogies of the ice and the ladder -- although I'd add that one element of the latter (sic) is that the rungs often break after you've stepped on them, and there may be nowhere to go but up!

[haplily.livejournal.com]

I love this post. These questions are so interesting. I actually thought reading it, "Damn, I want to read her thesis." (So if you need a copy editor at any point -- or just a cheerleader -- I'd be a willing one!) :)

I don't think it necessarily makes it less real. Interesting characters are conflicted, so the choices they make are nuanced and nothing is inevitable (except for the scent of bitter almonds? but what if it weren't? haha), meaning there is the possibility of changing it. But it depends on how well and consistently it's done, again, and whether fundamental truths about a character or situation are respected. X number of things have to be constant in order to change Y number of things?

I think maybe it depends. Sometimes a story is so perfect I don't want to think about what alternate or supplementary versions there are. Like when I wrote the last paragraph, I thought, "What if she HAD married Florentino Ariza!" and I immediately didn't really want to think about it. The way the characters are written, the story wouldn't have worked if they didn't have to wait. And it wouldn't have been so tragic anymore... or it would have been, but different. Would they have even been the same characters if those 50 years didn't pass the way they did? And indeed, a master like Marquez could have done anything with it. But too much might be changed for them to seem "real" or for them to even be themselves anymore. There are other places in that book (it does span more than a half-century) where you could play with it (like Ariza's million encounters). It's just a question of which elements are the most important. If you touch the untouchable, then it stops being itself.

Just to use a famous example (since I'm not really into fanfic, although your discussion of it always makes me want to be), in Great Expectations, both endings are equally real to me -- there's a reason both endings work, and it's because Pip and Estella are conflicted people, and either ending is plausible. The choice of one option over another is balanced on a very narrow rim. A lot of my favorite movies have extremely tenuous endings predicated on decisions that are incredibly hard to make, and they would lend themselves to really interesting exploration. (Of course, I would be afraid to touch them, but the potential is there.) In a minute there is time for decisions and revisions which a minute can reverse, right?

This post makes me think about your fanfic about the Malfoys/pure-blood wizards, which I loved. It definitely made those characters more real to me. It was so well written and could have convincingly been done by JK Rowling. But it was also so consistent with their characters, personalities and styles -- it just explored something that was left unexplored in the book. It gave answers in places where the question wasn't even fully formed.

And this: "Kind of funny, no? We loom so large in our own minds. For everyone else, we're all just sidekicks and extras. Sometimes we're the cool best friend, or the romantic interest. But protagonists? We're all our own. As it should be."

You should see Synecdoche, New York, if you haven't already. It's amazing and I love it. I think you would, too. (It's pretty depressing, though.) Philip Seymour Hoffman's character says: "I know how to do it now. There are millions of people in the world. None of those people is an extra. They're all the leads of their own stories. They have to be given their due."

And I think you should call your thesis "Windows on the World" -- otherwise the terrorists will have won. :)

I totally wrote a tl;dr comment, and I'm sorry about that! (I hate writing huge comments... but it was just such a provocative post!)

BUT: When do you want to hang out next week? We could do something Monday and celebrate the presidents. (Including the 44th! Yay!) Otherwise, any day for me works but Tuesday. <3

[haplily.livejournal.com]

(I know it was long-winded -- hopefully it wasn't just totally stating the obvious!)

[kalichan.livejournal.com]

I love this post. These questions are so interesting. I actually thought reading it, "Damn, I want to read her thesis." (So if you need a copy editor at any point -- or just a cheerleader -- I'd be a willing one!) :)

This would require my eventually actually doing some writing; when I do, I'll certainly take you up on that! *grins* Thanks.

Sometimes a story is so perfect I don't want to think about what alternate or supplementary versions there are. Like when I wrote the last paragraph, I thought, "What if she HAD married Florentino Ariza!" and I immediately didn't really want to think about it...It's just a question of which elements are the most important. If you touch the untouchable, then it stops being itself.

Someone upthread said something similar -- what about the perfect ones? And at first I agreed, but then I was all like... except I (if I loved it) always wonder... what happened after? What happened before? If they're real, then nothing ever ends, does it??? I never want it to, at least.

Just to use a famous example (since I'm not really into fanfic, although your discussion of it always makes me want to be), in Great Expectations, both endings are equally real to me -- there's a reason both endings work, and it's because Pip and Estella are conflicted people, and either ending is plausible. The choice of one option over another is balanced on a very narrow rim.

Great Expectations is a great (heh) example of this very thing. I think if D. read it, he'd think that the two endings made it seem like neither could have actually taken place -- and then it'd be like Pip and Estella never actually lived. But then you also have to get into the whole realm of the market... are you doing the right thing as an author if you focus group your story? (Again, if you believe stories are "real"... then you have to be true to the story's pattern; catering is bad.) I don't know how I can believe both these things -- multiple variations good, focus grouping, bad... but I do.

And I think you should call your thesis "Windows on the World" -- otherwise the terrorists will have won. :)

I think I'm actually calling it: "To Be Continued: Sequels, Series and Shared Worlds in Children's Literature and Popular Culture" but I'll keep the other one in reserve just in case ;-)

re: hanging out: Sunday I'm throwing a birthday party for one of my friends, and therefore I think Monday I'll be recovering, but maybe Wednesday? If you're around...

*grins* And I loved your comment.

[haplily.livejournal.com]

You're so sweet. Thanks :)

It's always sad when books end, isn't it?

Wednesday would be marvelous. I can meet you wherever.

[framefolly.livejournal.com]

> D. and I argue about this all the time. He thinks that contradictory/differing versions make things less real. I think they make them more so -- just like multiple eye witness accounts differ, if they're true. When they're identical -- that's when you begin to think people are lying.

I think it depends on the media, work(s) and the viewer(s) in question. My specialty is film and motion picture media, so that's where I get my examples. Rashomon is widely acclaimed for good reasons, and its very subject is the multiple differing eye witness accounts of a single incident -- which cannot be simply reduced or resolved. However, the film itself displays a high degree of aesthetic coherence or unity, and I wonder what D would think of it in terms of being real. For me, part of the very pleasure of the film is that it is simultaneously a psychologically engaging mystery that allows me to suspend my disbelief at many moments, a virtuosically constructed work that contains many sophisticated forms, AND an allegory for human contradiction and weakness that connects these two levels -- the story and the art work. This complex and in some ways, contradictory pleasure comes from my simultaneously feeling that the work is "real" AND "unreal".

I guess what I'm saying is that for me, this is a case where I can almost always have my cake and eat it, too, if it is a sufficiently well-made work or if I am in a sufficiently open frame of mind. Multiple povs (and attendant narrative contradictions) are a formal property like any other to me -- what matters to me is whether they _function_ well within this work of art, hopefully on multiple levels.

[kalichan.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I actually completely agree. For me, the appreciation of stories is predicated on being able to believe contradictory truths at the same time -- which is definitely a have-your-cake-and-eat-it-too sort of a thing.

D's problem is not with multiple differing eyewitness accounts, so much as --- hmm... I'm putting words in his mouth, but... it's more that if there's a story, i.e. canon -- and then there are muddying variations which claim to be "true" perspectives -- say, a slasher's version of a movie or a show, they actually wash back onto the original and make it feel less real. Sort of like an endless game of telephone, where it somehow makes changes to the actual original message itself, rendering it garbled. Much like, a movie version of a book inserts its images into ones memory, even if one didn't like the movie...

I don't know if I'm saying it exactly right, but that seems to be his feeling. (When he wakes up I'll ask him to put it better. *g* )

[rm.livejournal.com]

There is no such thing as the truth. Fanfiction reminds us of this: stories lie in their neatness.