I want to think about writing as a picaresque adventure (and this shouldn't necessarily be accurate, nor indeed in accordance with any of the serious theories of genres). That, of course, requires some clarification as to what the picaresque is in the first place.
Long out of
use, the genre of the picaresque is the illustrious predecessor of the novel.
One of very many. Taken as per its form, it resembles very much its offspring,
in the sense of being an extended narrative with a variable number of characters,
most of which are secondary and episodic, and a central figure, the picaro,
who, an errant fellow, is observed in his daily wanderings in pursuit of an
essential goal: his raison d'ĂȘtre.
There's plot and a certain degree of development, as well as an obvious
characterological determinism, all of which make the picaresque genre a good
candidate to the title of proto-novel. Now of course, there will be an enormous
amount of theory to explain how the two are to be differentiated. Mikhail Bakhtin is perhaps the best (and
certainly most often used) resource insofar as this distinction is concerned. I
am not interested in that theory here, but I want to pick on one particular
aspect, one that might give blood and sinew to my interest in writing.
Rogues…
That element
is the journey. It is customarily said that the picaro evolves along a straight
line, his adventures being mere advancements from point A to point B to point C
etc. This is, indeed, the case, although it is not exactly obvious as to how
this projection must unfold in a linear fashion. In truth, the evolution of the
picaresque hero is organized in accordance with the strictest rules of hazard.
Hazard, which, if definitions don't fail me, means pure accident, pure
unexpectedness, pure failure of the straight line. In the picaresque genre
there is no immediate causality apart from the major one of the primary
adventure, which may be thought of in terms of a beginning and an end (both
weakly resolved), and also in terms of the common thread that traverses all
individual episodes and makes them readable together. But apart from this, the
tremendous amounts of events that make up the narrative of the picaresque don't
fall in the category of the predetermined. The picaresque is not like Greek
mythology, for instance, where characters (gods and humans alike) have to face
the pain of predestination and die (death is an inevitable feature of the
genre) only in order to justify the moralistic I-told-you approach to life.
Source: Tina Negus |
The picaro,
therefore, is not a tragic figure. He couldn't really be, since he's a
low-status character, a rogue. His tribulations are considerable, he is likely
to encounter pain and terror along the way but he never falls from the status
he was invested with in the very beginning (there's really nowhere lower to
fall from rogueness). Most importantly, he only dies (if ever) of old, very old
age.
So, back to
the journey.
The events
that make up the narrative of the picaresque are, as I said, not linear. One
can see that aspect in the hero's perpetual return to a point of origin: every
next episode is another link, independent in itself, but part of the larger
chain that makes up the cycle. With every adventure, the chain grows, but the
justification of the entire undertaking is not forgotten. Every step of the way
some adventure awaits, some unexpected challenge pops up, some villain clutters
the horizon, some fight needs to be picked, some tricks need to be played. And
all this in order to develop a sense of continuity, which is otherwise
inexistent.
Spatially
speaking, the picaro is an unsettled character. He has no settlement because he
is destined to carry on this long story that keeps growing. If there is unity
and linearity, they must be sought in the chronological ordering of events;
more precisely, in the narrative time. Given A as a starting point and B as a
point of arrival, there is nothing to deter the accomplishment of the feat set
out in the beginning. The picaro almost always succeeds. A stable place doesn’t
exist, since all that matters is the movement from A to B to C etc. Time,
however, matters, because of this idea of the again that governs the dynamic of the picaresque. The episodes characteristic
to the genre are mere digressions: they turn the clock back, as in Groundhog Day, only the scene is filled with
new adventures every time. Digressions without a backbone, these are, but still
digressions. That method of narrative procrastination so dear to
eighteenth-century novelists (Smollett, Fielding, Sterne) has its roots in these
picaresque wanderings of a rascal who fools the world again and again.
… and writing
So now I
want to look at writing from a perspective similar to what I've outlined so
far. Writing has this episodic aspect to it. In writing, one starts off on a
journey which has its raison d'ĂȘtre
in its accomplishment. There's no writing task that doesn't reach an end. And
every such ending marks the episodic character of the craft itself.
What's more,
the attributes of the picaro can be transferred to the writer: the character of
this story of writing, its protagonist. Since writing is a journey, the writer
is a traveller. In the case of professional writing, authors move from one text
to another remaining, essentially, the same. Of course, there's progress, and
we're usually taught to distinguish between different phases in a writer's
oeuvre; but in essence we have the same person performing the same actions by
means of the same personal abilities (sometimes called 'talent,' other times
called 'genius,' or, at the lower scale of the hierarchy, the lack thereof).
Source: Tina Negus |
When it comes to nonprofessional writers, i.e. those of us who fill in
applications, complete request letters, devise shopping lists, copy Lotto
numbers at the end of the week, this episodic nature of writing is even easier
to comprehend. When the same person partakes in all of the above, they do so
without their social (et al) qualities
changing a bit. They are the same, no matter how many things they write down.
At the same time, they also complete tasks, and, along with them, journey on,
taking step after step, experiencing the richness of the world and its demands
as tricks of compliance. One might say that they fool the system by giving it
exactly what the system demands. So that when one fills in an application form
one presents oneself solely as an application-filler. In order for the writer
to be perceived in their complexity, they need to be seen as simultaneity. And
that simultaneity can be accomplished if that writer is regarded from the
perspective of the craft they have employed: Writing. The bridge between
operations (or episodes) is created by this thin membrane of the craft – writing
is their common ground, their narrative logic, the transparent film that keeps
everything together.
So writing
does operate like a picaresque novel. It brings together all disparate tasks,
all tricks, and all adventures, so as to enable the emergence of the writing
subject. This subject uses the means provided by the craft to further their own
interests. At the end of the process, there's no real progression. One doesn't
become better simply because one has successfully finished a task. One hasn't
acquired higher moral status simply because one has filled in the right form,
at the right time, in the right manner. By writing down what writing itself has
requested (its being brought into existence), the writer has shown his bravery:
the valour of having mastered the demands of writing. It's not literacy I'm
talking about here, but a sense of accomplishment that comes with the subject's
immersing in one task in order to become free of all the other tasks ever aimed
at him/her.
The picaro,
if regarded from this perspective, is also someone who uses the features of the
narrative art to gain pre-eminence over the world. While the world stops to
contemplate the task, the picaro is free to do all the other things that make
him a rascal. While a fair-goer stoops to look through the pinhole of a peepshow,
the thief (the same as the owner of the show) is free to pick his pockets.
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