I began to delve into the stack of short stories I'd gathered from the library, only to find exactly what I feared--endings with unwarranted despair. For some reason, hopelessness began to take shape in much recent literature (I would love to do more research on this, which I suppose I will with all of the short stories I will be reading!). I am not sure if the literature affected the culture or vice versa; it is probably both, so many stories end with not even a sliver of room for hope to enter the imagination. Throughout the whole story, you think surely there is some sort of redemption, surely a character will show virtue, or a relationship will stand victorious, or a situation will arise that gives indication something good possibly can happen, but instead the story ends with brutal abruptness, usually a character coming to the "mature" conclusion that they must finally accept life is terrible. This theme is all too common.
When I met with my teacher about writing fiction, he told me that a big difference, other than length, between a novel and a short story is that the former supplies multiple effects while the latter seeks to achieve only one. These stories that have claimed despair the verdict (seemingly as their one chosen effect) teach me a valuable insight into the status of so many human hearts. They've accepted this. I am grateful to these stories which clearly communicate the despondency today faces, but it only further encourages me never to write with the same departure. My stories will end with hope. If every loved one of a character dies, horrifically, I will still leave room for hope. Hope is necessary, and I think that it is necessary in literature, because no matter how unreal fiction becomes, and whether or not it is intended to be moral, suspenseful, insightful, or humorous; whether or not it intends to communicate a message, it always communicates a message. I have committed myself and now do it further, that any story I write will carry the purposeful or accidental message of hope.
On another note, or maybe the same, yesterday morning my two writing friends and I had a promising meeting. We each listed our personal and group goals for writing and announced rules to keep each other accountable. It was wonderful, and I am elated that the pieces are falling into place for each of us to succeed in what we are after--essentially to glorify God in our gifts.
I wonder what stories you've read? This post made me think of Flannery O'Connor. Her stuff seems despondent, but there is a deeper sort of hope that lurks beneath the surface, because she always tries to portray the moment when one finds oneself in need of Divine Grace.
ReplyDeleteamen amen dico vobis nisi granum frumenti cadens in terram mortuum fuerit ipsum solum manet.
I'm so glad you brought that up, Billy. It was not Flannery O'Connor, but I was thinking about her and how her stories would be perceived. I may need to be a little bit more merciful or open-minded to the writers. I am excited to keep reading and see what new conclusions I come to.
ReplyDeleteI think you're clearly onto something with the fact that so many contemporary authors either present the world as completely absurd or completely cruel (two sides of the same coin, really). Hope is obviously lacking in the postmodern zeitgeist, or else it is something to be created by the subject a la Nietzsche. But there are certain works where, as you indicated in your post, even the tiniest glimmer of hope remains after total tragedy, and the effect is quite profound actually.
ReplyDeleteA Handful of Dust by Waugh is a really funny example of a work where the protagonist just gets dragged through the mud time after time, but the hope aspect comes from the fact that we realize that he's trying to solve his own problems instead of submit to an authority other than his own will.\
You still didn't tell what you were reading though.