Is the author really dead? Barthes' Death of an Author, Barthes asserts that in order for writing to begin, the role of the author must die. Barthes' stance on a text's significance is clear; a text is defined in its destination, rather than its origin. A text, once removed from a creator's superimposed meaning, can finally be freed.
How interesting is it that Aristotle additionally thinks the same! In his "Nicomacheanethics," Aristotle discusses how the outcome of a situation determines whether an action is voluntary or involuntary, thus, defining the action not on the origin, but on the destination and its eventual affect and place in the world. Much like a text, an action is performed into a context of multiple variables. Barthes and Aristotle both seem to agree that there is an interplay between these variables and of that of the text, rather than the creator, after the text is born. These variables, intertwining, interacting, entangling, form a meaning and significance that could not have solely originated from the author. In fact, Barthes explicitly implies that all texts are intertextual, that is, that all texts are an entanglement of other texts, cultures, and filled with words with dual means. If so, no one man can hold claim to a piece of work, as it is not the product of his own, singular thought.
I began to think of how these concepts could be applied to the most basic principles of novel reading in 2015, and a particular scenario intrigued me. Last year, the author J.K. Rowling of the Harry Potter novels announced to the media a set of shocking facts about her characters, long after the series had been finished. J.K Rowling sheepishly told us she actually made a mistake. She told us of her regret for setting up two of the biggest supporting characters in the story, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, as they in actuality would have been a terrible fit for a relationship. She goes on to say that the protagonist, Harry Potter, should have ended up with Hermione, but because of the way she had always planned her novels to come to completion, she stuck with her original plans instead of realizing she should have made this major plot change.
J.K Rowling is not dead. She is alive, well, and kicking in the wake of the popularity of the Harry Potter Series, and she is certainly exerting her say over the lives of these make-believe characters and what should be happening to them. The world was in uproar. Readers across the globe were either devastated or satisfactorily triumphant at the news; but the fact is, Rowling's statement had a global impact. Barthes' would absolutely attribute this to the pathetic hold of the author's intentions on the way we look at text, and I would concur. What J.K Rowling failed to realize is that the power she thought she had in asserting that she "made a mistake" with her books was still limited. Though she massively disrupted the peace readers had found in the conclusion to the Harry Potter series, readers continued to choose to view the series the way they wanted; I, for one, though mildly annoyed at Rowling's statements, I'll admit, was hardly phased, because the characters of Hermione Granger and Harry Potter lived separately from J.K Rowling. They were no longer hers, but mine, characters that moved according to my fantasies and desires for them, framed in the perspective of my thoughts. Once Rowling had penned those words on paper, those words were taken from her by a stubborn "readership" as Ong would rather, and this readership claimed the ownership she thought she once had.
Conversely, Barthes assumes this is the only side to the story. While I admit that Barthes isn't simply denying the already existing power of the origin, he is asserting that this origin should have no power at all. However, is there truly a harm in the origin having some power? Limiting as it may be, a text's creator used a specific combination of words to produce a specific result. Though this specific result may be an entanglement of thoughts, cultures, and audience reaction, that specific creator helped to influence that creation alone; another creator might create different reactions from an audience in an unconscious way. Creators can all use the same tools (language) to produce a result that isn't entirely theirs, but who is to say that the man who hammers a nail into a wall did not do the work? The nail and hammer are not his, but the impetus for the action was due to the man doing the effort. Whether the outcome could be produced similarly or differently by a different individual, the origin is still a factor in the process, and why shouldn't it be? It is understandable to admit that texts are not born in a linear fashion (the author does not precede the text, is not the "before," and the text is not just an after-result). But can we not think of the text in a non-linear fashion while still acknowledging the creator's non-linear entanglement of input into the text? Thoughts itself are non-linear, but action can be done in a linear fashion while existing within a non-linear context. Rather than completely eliminate the author so that the "reader can be born," is it not freeing to fully acknowledge and accept the creator of a text and the discourse between its receivers? For if meaning and significance are arbitrarily constructed concepts, why is the receiver's arbitrarily constructed concept weighted more significant than the creator's? J.K Rowling's opinions on where her story should have gone may be arbitrary after the finished publication of the entire series, and she may not have the right to exert power over a story that has taken off in the hearts and minds of her young and old readers. However, there is a case to be argued that there is also a certain freedom in knowing a piece's directive, rather than chalking up a text's meaning to "anything, because words have multiple meanings and can mean just whatever you want them to mean."
We live in an intertextual world, but is that not a given? Thoughts, actions, and therefore their results are intertextual; but, intertextuality doesn't have to negate linear actions entirely, as that is limiting in itself. And so the thought arises: Is J.K Rowling really dead?
-Isabella Senzamici
As soon as the argument for The Death of the Author was posed to me, my thoughts went to J.K. Rowling. I was glad to see her mentioned in a post! I think that the uproar she caused with her commentary really fueled Barthes' argument. I'm of the opinion that when an author sends their work out into the world, they - while not necessarily relinquishing their ownership - must share it with their readers. They must acknowledge that their intentions, that their opinions on their work, must not be privileged over their readers'.
ReplyDeleteI thought it was interesting that you took this concept and went in the direction you did. You say that it is important to know a piece's directive, because the alternative is to say that meaning is entirely subjective, that meaning can be "anything" and therefore nothing. I would argue that this is not the case. I believe that texts have multiple meanings, that people bring their experiences to what they read and respond to it in different ways. But to imply that these differences are endless is to take this concept to an extreme I don't believe exist. For example, when looking at the word dog, a reader will bring their own ideas to the word. They will picture a golden retriever, or a pug. There are multiple interpretations. But these interpretations have their limits. There are only so many pictures that can be called to mind when a reader interacts with a text.
In relation to your post, I think there is a middle ground. Where we can acknowledge an author's existence without privileging their opinion. Where we can recognize that readers interact with texts differently, but that these interactions are not endless, that meaning is not rendered useless.
I hope that makes sense!