a. You have been reading Lost in the Cosmos, haven't you?
b. I think of the structure of story somewhat differently. To me it is about placing a character in a situation where two of the things they love are incompatible with each other, forcing them to choose between them. That's not so different, but it allows that the impetus for the story may be loss as much as desire. The character may be preserving rather than seeking. And it does not require that either love be transformed, merely that one of them be chosen over the other. Such a choice may, of course, transform the life of the character, but not through the transformation of their desire so much as through a reconciliation between their loves.
This leaves, of course, the question of whether the character has chosen well, and whether each of their loves is appropriate and well-founded. But the moral weight of the story does not actually depend on answering those questions, for it is the moral burden of the choice itself that lies at the heart of the story, and one may feel the character has loved foolishly and chosen poorly and still be stabbed to the heart by the poignancy of the moment of choosing.
Thanks for this thoughtful response, G.M. I believe we're in agreement. Conflicts between irreconcilable goods are a key ingredient in most fiction. The protagonist's "want" often turns out to involve his or her inability to secure all his or her "wants." I would simply maintain that in choosing one good over another, there is something of a "transformation of desire," as now the character's priorities have been adjusted. This is probably the same thing as what you call "a reconciliation between their loves." And, OF COURSE I've been reading Lost in the Cosmos. Hasn't everybody? Ha ha. Strength to your arm!
I adore John Truby's "Anatomy of Story," but I agree, we are lacking in direction of what exactly constitutes a frivolous want vs a super important need. And you're right, it comes down to what's important to each of us as storytellers.
Thanks, Wendy! And I, too, have learned a lot, and hopefully will continue to learn, from Truby's "Anatomy of Story." It's one of the better writing guides. But I am pushing the typical notion of writing guide in a more philosophical direction.
The chaplain at my Newman center tells a story from his time as a college student before he went to seminary. This was a state school, mind you. In a gen ed philosophy class the professor showed the Pieta and then some modern art (Warhol maybe?) and asked which one was more beautiful. Everyone of course said the Pieta.
I don't know if the same thing could happen today. I'm in a drama department where they're telling us that all of Shakespeare is about modern gender theory.
They talk all the time about what the character wants and I can't help but think of Lewis's quote from The Weight of Glory, "It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak." It makes for really shallow theatre that's ideological more than artistic.
Thanks so much for this comment, Reuben. It is all too sad that we have lost in the arts the sense of a "criterion" that orders and governs desire--and that is not mere ideology. It's especially sad to see in the theater--alas, the corruption of the best is worst. Strength to your arm as you continue your good efforts in this area! Love the quotation from "The Weight of Glory."
a. You have been reading Lost in the Cosmos, haven't you?
b. I think of the structure of story somewhat differently. To me it is about placing a character in a situation where two of the things they love are incompatible with each other, forcing them to choose between them. That's not so different, but it allows that the impetus for the story may be loss as much as desire. The character may be preserving rather than seeking. And it does not require that either love be transformed, merely that one of them be chosen over the other. Such a choice may, of course, transform the life of the character, but not through the transformation of their desire so much as through a reconciliation between their loves.
This leaves, of course, the question of whether the character has chosen well, and whether each of their loves is appropriate and well-founded. But the moral weight of the story does not actually depend on answering those questions, for it is the moral burden of the choice itself that lies at the heart of the story, and one may feel the character has loved foolishly and chosen poorly and still be stabbed to the heart by the poignancy of the moment of choosing.
Thanks for this thoughtful response, G.M. I believe we're in agreement. Conflicts between irreconcilable goods are a key ingredient in most fiction. The protagonist's "want" often turns out to involve his or her inability to secure all his or her "wants." I would simply maintain that in choosing one good over another, there is something of a "transformation of desire," as now the character's priorities have been adjusted. This is probably the same thing as what you call "a reconciliation between their loves." And, OF COURSE I've been reading Lost in the Cosmos. Hasn't everybody? Ha ha. Strength to your arm!
I adore John Truby's "Anatomy of Story," but I agree, we are lacking in direction of what exactly constitutes a frivolous want vs a super important need. And you're right, it comes down to what's important to each of us as storytellers.
Thanks, Wendy! And I, too, have learned a lot, and hopefully will continue to learn, from Truby's "Anatomy of Story." It's one of the better writing guides. But I am pushing the typical notion of writing guide in a more philosophical direction.
The chaplain at my Newman center tells a story from his time as a college student before he went to seminary. This was a state school, mind you. In a gen ed philosophy class the professor showed the Pieta and then some modern art (Warhol maybe?) and asked which one was more beautiful. Everyone of course said the Pieta.
I don't know if the same thing could happen today. I'm in a drama department where they're telling us that all of Shakespeare is about modern gender theory.
They talk all the time about what the character wants and I can't help but think of Lewis's quote from The Weight of Glory, "It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak." It makes for really shallow theatre that's ideological more than artistic.
Thanks so much for this comment, Reuben. It is all too sad that we have lost in the arts the sense of a "criterion" that orders and governs desire--and that is not mere ideology. It's especially sad to see in the theater--alas, the corruption of the best is worst. Strength to your arm as you continue your good efforts in this area! Love the quotation from "The Weight of Glory."