17 October 2007

Autonomy and Socialization

Today we are going to stray from the beaten path. This is a perfectly acceptable thing to do, for we are not trying to walk through Mirkwood. In a world where autonomy and socialization are in ever tightening tension, a short straying should serve as a proper assertion of my autonomy, as long as I return shortly after to the beaten path, ensuring my socialization. The presence of both, in conflict, is essential to the existence of the Bildungsroman, you see, but they must be unbalanced, for they are inversely proportional, but more on this later.

...

Have we been followed? Excellent. Now that we have strayed into the woods, I am going to discuss my actual existence. This is not something I ordinarily do here, though I have several times. Today is different, for today I shall address it directly and stare it down until it stands unshrouded before me, at which point I shall say, "Put your shroud back on! What on earth were you thinking?"

The Man has gotten me down again, as he often does. The problem with partial socialization is that it allows the Man to hold authority, but my remaining autonomy hates it. Let me tell you what the Man did to me. Are you ready?

The Man's servant told me that I have to write a paper. Not only that, the Man's servant told me that I have to write a paper with another human. This caused problems from the start because this is inherently absurd. The Man does not care; however, he believes that it is absolutely necessary that we all "engage other learners." All the same, despite great resistance (from lack of friendship in these parts) I found someone to write with me. As it turned out, I would not hear from this individual again. The Man knows that this sort of thing happens more often than it does not. He merely seeks to torment me. He will feel my autonomy!

Following this episode, the Man's servant was faced with tragedy, and he disappeared for a short while. In the meantime, I recalled the paper, wondering whether I would ever hear from my fellow paper writer again. Because of the dramatic irony I set up before, you (the audience) know that I would not. Eventually I lost hope and, not knowing how to contact this individual, I set out to work on my own. Firmly I believed that this paper was due on Tuesday 16 October 2007, or possibly Thursday 18 October 2007. Having grown extraordinarily weary of bearing the weight of the paper's impending due date, I assumed Tuesday under the assumption that if Thursday was, in fact, the date, I would have my abhorred task out of the way.

On Monday 15 October 2007 in the early afternoon I set out with the aim of completing this paper before the morning of Tuesday 16 October 2007. Already I had begun to work, having decided upon the organization and having written the introduction, therein outlining the aforesaid organization so as to prepare the audience for the wonders to come. So I worked from there, and I did so for the next twelve hours or so. Now mind you, my version of working on a paper involves a great deal of pacing around, meandering here and there, and excessive consumption of fluids. It also entails that every couple of hours I will run through my internet procedure, wherein I cycle through all the internet sites I make a point of visiting each day, but that is another matter for another time. So as you can see, I have mastered thoroughly the art of distracting myself. I even went to a cultural event for about two hours that particular evening. In the end, though, I still spent many hours with the task of completing this paper before me.

I finished it at last in the wee hours of the night, as is my way. These hours, though, were considerably more wee than most, that is, they were greater in value than my ordinary way would dictate. I do not know what the Man thinks of my sleeping habits, but I would like to think that they are more autonomous than socialized. Ideally, there would be twenty-eight hours in a day, you know. I have considered these matters before.

I awoke the next morning at 8:45 am following an unacceptably short sleep. Ordinarily I can better plan to awake at 8:45, but this day the Man and his paper prevented it. Looking out the window, "The world is wet!" I observed. I got to use my umbrella that day, much to my satisfaction. I use an autonomous umbrella, you know. Socialized umbrellas are convenient to carry, but mine can be used as a walking stick, except that it would break under even a smallish person's weight. There were behind me certain persons discussing how so much as holding an umbrella was a socialized act, but they were wrong. I assure you this is true.

Eventually I found my way to the class wherein this paper had been assigned. I was much pleased with myself, for I had completed the task, and I had even divined the name of the individual with whom I was supposed to write the accursed thing, thereby allowing me to complete the assignment in full by giving the false pretense that he had something to do with the writing process. After all, his name was next to mine on the first page...

As my fellow "learners" assembled in the room, they began to discuss the paper assignment.
"Did you start your paper?" one asked another.
"I don't think anyone has," this other one responded.
I did not say anything. So it seemed the due date would be Thursday. Fine. Perhaps then I can create the illusion of having actually done this with my fellow "learner." Perhaps I could comb the paper for errors and improve it by editing! This was not a bad thing at all.

About ten minutes after class was supposed to have begun, the Man's servant found his way to the room. This is what he always does, enter ten minutes late. He is a fine fellow. I only call him the Man's servant in the sense that he serves the Man. He gave us a new syllabus to cover the remainder of the semester; the old one had become confused, babbling on about things that are quite simply untrue and nonsensical. Noting the absence of the previous paper assignment, some "learners" inquired as to its due date. The answer: Never.

Do you see what the Man did? He put me through much pain and grief and effort only to mock me in the end! He will feel my autonomy! I will put my incredibly dull work on the internet! I warn you, good readers, in the name of sense and sanity, you ought to stop reading here. My story is over. Please, I beg you, spare yourselves the suffering.

...

I congratulate those of you who have read on. You have truly shown your autonomy. "I will not listen to him," you said. "I want to feel this pain for myself." This is a fine sentiment, but pain still hurts, if I may say so.

On the Mythos and Dianoia of the Classical Bildungsroman in Franco Moretti’s The Way of the World

In his The Way of the World, Franco Moretti approaches the Bildungsroman first by qualifying it as a “symbolic form,” representative of and peculiar to modernity (5), and then proceeding in an attempt to qualify the aspects of this form themselves. In these proceeding analyses, touching greatly upon history, philosophy, and literature, Moretti establishes a certain mythos, the content as a matter of plot, and a certain dianoia, the content as a matter of structure, for the form of the Bildungsroman. In essence, he divides the mythos into two principles or “plot differences:” that of classification and that of transformation, which differ in terms of how the plot communicates meaning (7). He then portrays the dianoia fundamentally as a synthesis rooted in “autonomy and socialization” (28). The mythos and dianoia taken together in this sense, then, illustrate the approximate form of the Bildungsroman as it progresses linearly to a conclusion or lack thereof though its structure of interconnection and synthesis.

Beginning with the Bildungsroman’s mythos, Moretti defines the classification aspect thereof as a plot sequence in which “the meaning of events lies in their finality” (7). That is, the inevitable conclusion of events is the most important thematic aspect of such a plot. This idea is elaborated upon by dealing with the classical Bildungsroman and by setting up a conflict between meaning and time: “[I]n the classical Bildungsroman the ending and the aim of narration coincide. The story ends as soon as an intentional design has been realized” (55). This emphasis on time as the vehicle of plot and as the defeated adversary of meaning is very characteristic of this classification principle of the mythos of the Bildungsroman. Thus the passage of time, though potentially destructive of meaning, is in fact the only way for a plot to create meaning. This then brings about the opposed “plot difference,” transformation.

The transformation aspect of the Bildungsroman’s mythos is summed up in Moretti’s statement, “what makes a story meaningful is its narrativity, its being an open-ended process” (7). As stated before, plot is driven by the passage of time, and it is the transformation principle’s treatment of this passage in the creation of meaning creates its antithesis with the classification principle, for where classification concerns itself with ends, transformation concerns itself with process, as their names rightly suggest: “[Events] become meaningful….It becomes so because someone…gives it meaning” (45). Now, the stratification of classification and transformation into separate classes of Bildungsroman should be a simple and consequently attractive idea, but the Bildungsroman thrives on paradox and conflict. Moretti explicitly states that “while both are always present in a narrative work, these two principles usually carry an uneven weight, and are actually inversely proportional” (7). This “uneven weight” is essential; without it, Moretti explains, either both principles balance and cancel one another, or their conflict is not present. In both these eventualities the Bildungsroman fails to exist: “[T]his symbolic form could indeed exist, not despite but by virtue of its contradictory nature” (9). Thus a synthesis of conflicting paradox is essential for the existence of the Bildungsroman’s mythos, but it goes further by being the very essence of its dianoia.

As previously noted, Moretti seems to put a great deal of weight on synthesis in defining the dianoia of the Bildungsroman. Chief among these syntheses is that of autonomy and socialization. Like the conflicting nature of the two aspects of the mythos, these play much the same role for the dianoia. In terms of autonomy, Moretti chooses to discuss the personality, saying that “[the personality] would…prefer that each activity lose its autonomy and objective consistency to become a mere instrument of its own development” (40). The personality, being the essence of the individual, seeks to subjugate action to itself, rather than to be subjugated by action. Assuming that the socialization of the individual entails the socialization of the personality, it is evident why autonomy and socialization should be in conflict. This, in turn, demonstrates the importance of the Bildungsroman, which “creates a continuity between external and internal” (30). How does it achieve this, though? How does the nature of the Bildungsroman allow the internal being, desiring autonomy, coexist with the external factors that would limit such autonomy?

Socialization in the Bildungsroman is ideally the result of an autonomous decision. Such is the great synthesis of these two oppositions of the dianoia. Moretti details the classic model for such an occurrence, marriage, which is the necessary ending of many a Bildungsroman. He refers to marriage as “that ‘pact’ between the individual and the world, that reciprocal consent…” (22). By way of marriage, two individuals surrender freedoms to one another, and together surrender freedoms upon entering the social institution. This, interestingly, is very much a compromise, to freely will the loss of a degree of free will. Moretti also addresses this issue directly in discussing the final line of Goethe’s The Apprenticeship of Wilhelm Meister, summarizing Wilhelm’s position saying, “I exist, and I exist happily, only because I have been allowed access to the plot patiently weaved ‘around me’….I exist ‘for myself,’ because I have willingly agreed to be determined from without” (21). Freely does the protagonist choose socialization, leaving both autonomy and normalcy to some degree intact. Thus in the Bildungsroman, even shaping of the individual is largely defined by his or her surroundings and all the other individuals therein. This then begs the question, can autonomy exist without socialization? Again synthesis and conflict become essential in understanding the Bildungsroman.

On the whole, Moretti appears to view the mythos and dianoia of the Bildungsroman as, taken together, yet another conflicting dichotomy that arises in defining the genre. By their very definitions, they discern meaning by opposed methods, but together and only together can they effectively describe the Bildungsroman. Thus, through the conflict of the two, the Bildungsroman can be defined neither by plot nor structure, but by both of them related. As Moretti notes, “it is as if the structure of the classical Bildungsroman consisted of two large planes partially superimposed. The common area is the domain of synthesis…” (17). Only by synthesizing in their contradictions mythos anddianoia can one find their vast importance of in defining the Bildungsroman as a genre.

Bibliography

Moretti, Franco. The Way of the World: The Bildungsroman in European Culutre. New Edition. Verso, London: 2000.

3 comments:

maria said...

That seems like a rather unpleasant experience overall.

I liked it better when my only definition for a bildungsroman was that it was a rite of passage story.

Thorvald Erikson said...

No! Not at all! Now I seem to be the only one who has any conception of what the good Dr. Harwood is talking about.

Thorvald Erikson said...

I mean it was not a bad experience.

I do not know what a Bildungsroman is, or at least I am not supposed to. The good Dr. Harwood told us so.