Plot-theme. Rand introduces yet another poorly thought out aesthetic construct. She explains "plot-theme" as follows:
A cardinal principle of good fiction [is]: the theme and the plot of a novel must be integrated—as thoroughly integrated as mind and body or thought and action in a rational view of man.The link between the theme and the events of a novel is an element which I call the plot-theme. It is the first step of the translation of an abstract theme into a story, without which the construction of a plot would be impossible. A "plot-theme" is the central conflict or "situation" of a story—a conflict in terms of action, corresponding to the theme and complex enough to create a purposeful progression of events.
The theme of a novel is the core of its abstract meaning—the plot-theme is the core of its events. Where is the incoherency in this idea? It stems from how Rand utilizes it in her criticism of novels she doesn't like. Consider what she says about Dreiser's
An American Tragedy:
A related, though somewhat different, example of a bad novel is An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser. Here, the author attempts to give significance to a trite story by tacking on a theme which is not related to or demonstrated by its events. The events deal with an age old subject: the romantic problem of a rotten little weakling who murders his pregnant sweetheart, a working girl, in order ... to marry a rich heiress. The alleged theme, according to the author's assertion, is: "The evil of capitalism."
Rand here commits the error of confusing the author's intended theme with the actual theme manifested in the author's story. In other words, Dreiser's alleged theme is entirely irrelevant to the merit (or lack of merit) of
An American Tragedy. Even if that novel fails to demonstrate the evils of capitalism, that in itself wouldn't make it a "bad novel." The integration of theme and plot is entirely irrelevant. Every plot will have a theme, regardless of the author's intentions. Since every story has a theme, integration of theme and plot is a built in feature. It works regardless of what the author intended. Indeed, the author's intentions are of no consequence whatsoever; what is important is the final result. A novel cannot be judged because it turned out different from what the author originally intended. If Dreiser had never claimed that the theme of
An American Tragedy was "The evil of capitalism," none of us would be any the wiser and Rand could not have used the work as an example of a bad novel that misintegrates the theme and the plot.
Is "the evil of capitalism" Drieser's stated intended theme, or did she make an educated guess based on what she knew of his political views? I know it's foolish to expect Rand to ever cite anything, but I'm curious as to what Drieser himself had to say about his intentions in that novel.
ReplyDeleteOn to the main topic, a classic example of the finished product missing the mark is Trevanian's The Eiger Sanction. He intended the novel to be a (very subtle) parody of the espionage genre (a la La Carre and Fleming), but the critics (who by-and-large liked the book) read it straight and missed the parody, so Trevanian wrote The Loo Sanction and made it more on the nose so that more readers would "get" the joke.
Did Trevanian fail as an author? Well, on one hand, he failed to realize his intention of writing an espionage parody with the first book, but only when it was first released---and regardless of this, it is was still well received. On the other hand, once you're in on the joke, Eiger Sanction does work as a satire, and it's very enjoyable to see the subtlelies the second time through. When taken in that sense, it's the readers who failed the first time, not the author.
Rand's plot-theme construct assumes that a work of literature is a finite, 3-dimensional object constrained only by the author's skill in realizing his intention, when in truth, a work of literature (or any work of art) is four-dimensional object; whether or not it is "good fiction" (in the Randian sense) depends as much on the audience as it does on the artist, and they may be separated by gulfs of education, prior reading, taste, culture, language, or time.
Rand's plot-theme construct assumes that a work of literature is a finite, 3-dimensional object constrained only by the author's skill in realizing his intention, when in truth, a work of literature (or any work of art) is four-dimensional object; whether or not it is "good fiction" (in the Randian sense) depends as much on the audience as it does on the artist, and they may be separated by gulfs of education, prior reading, taste, culture, language, or time.
ReplyDeleteThe subtleties of subject-dependent interpretation were largely lost on Rand (or more likely, deliberately ignored in her quest for Objectivity).
I haven't read An American Tragedy, but if the novel contains passages explicitly attacking "the evil of capitalism," and these passages are not supported by the events of the plot, then Rand could have a point.
ReplyDeleteThere can be a disconnect between plot and theme, if the theme is made obvious and yet is not adequately dramatized in the storyline.
A possible example is War and Peace, where Tolstoy takes great pains to advance his theory of determinism in the historical essays included in the book, yet (arguably) the novel itself does not do much to dramatize this idea.
It happens when the author tries to impose a theme on a story in a way that doesn't fit - like trying to force a square peg into a round hole. And we all know how painful that can be.
Michael: it's many years ago that I read An American Tragedy, so my memory is admittedly rather vague, but I can't remember any discrepancy between plot and that alleged theme. I wouldn't trust Rand's judgment, because the idea that the American Dream might sometimes become a nightmare is of course anathema to her, so she must have been convinced that no plot could ever illustrate that theme.
ReplyDeleteA possible example is "War and Peace," where Tolstoy takes great pains to advance his theory of determinism in the historical essays included in the book, yet (arguably) the novel itself does not do much to dramatize this idea.
ReplyDeleteActually, Tolstoy does dramatize his view of history (which is a bit more nuanced than mere determinism) is his novel. But let us suppose that he didn't. Does that make War and Peace any less great? Is it even relevant as a minor defect? No, I don't think so.
Dreiser is an interesting case. As a thinker, as a man of ideas, he was a complete disaster. He was a materialist who dabbled in wigi boards, an anti-semetic communist who cheered for the Germans in WW2 (after 1941). He was also a mediocre writer, with, as Mencken put it, "an incurable antipathy to the mot juste," along with a dismal penchant for piling up irrelevant descriptions expressed in the most appalling cliches. Yet, in the end, none of this matters. The Financier and The Titan are the two best American novels I've ever read. They reach a depth of realism and sheer power of insight into the nature of things unrivaled in American fiction. The ability to integrate theme and plot is, at best, a minor defect which, in the hands of a great artist, loses any significance.
I could have sworn I posted on Dreiser/Rand here yesterday,did anyone see it? Anyway it's gone... or a few more of my wits are. Anyway, it was a stunningly insightful post, of course.
ReplyDeleteCaroljane
"who dabbled in wigi boards"
ReplyDeleteOuija, not wigi. The term is a conflation of two words for "yes": oui and ja.
I think there are enough problems with Rand's aesthetics (it's a target-rich environment) that we don't need to lambaste her for making a more-or-less valid point. Obviously a novel is better, at least on a technical level, if there's a tight integration of plot and theme. An incomplete or inadequate dramatization of the theme is going to be a problem - maybe not a fatal defect, but a flaw.
An example of an incompletely dramatized theme is the Albert Brooks movie "Lost in America." The theme is: "trading in your real life for a romantic fantasy can be hazardous." (Interestingly, the theme is suggested in the very first scene by some audio of Rex Reed reviewing the Fountainhead movie, with Rand's romanticism foreshadowing the unrealistic dreams of "Lost in America's" protagonists.) It's a fun movie with some laugh-out-loud moments, but because the characters never hit rock bottom, the theme isn't completely expressed. At the end we feel the story could have gone further. The theme is not fully explored, so the result is not completely satisfying.
I'm sure there are other examples; this is just the first one that occurs to me, other than "War and Peace," which has enough literary merit in other areas to overcome any thematic defects.
Hi Caroljane
ReplyDeleteI didn't see it. Blogger has been doing some weird things, we lost a few comments a while back when the system crashed out. As I say, I almost never delete comments unless they're spam.
Long, painful experience on the internets means I always save a version before I post. Also watch the old google ID sign in- you can come back after signing in and your comment is gone. So make sure you sign in first.
Michael,
ReplyDeleteI thought you missed Greg's point with your first criticism and I still think you are doing so.
Rey hit it head on with the example of The Eiger Sanction and by pointing out with a strong example that a work of art might not achieve the explicit goal/theme of the author, but the reader might discern other themes that were not those explicitly announced by the author and still find the novel a good work of art.
Rand is again working with the premise that all achieved goals must be consciously realized and expressed for them to have (objective) merit.
Greg's point, as I read it, is that whatever the author explicitly says is the theme of the book is of far less importance in appreciating the book than what can be reasonably appreciated in it and that Rand simply used her point to pillory a book that she did not like. To make the point clearer from another angle, what do you think a book that would properly realize the goal of criticizing capitalism would look like to Rand?
If the Dreiser novel is bad, one does not need to quote the author's explicit theme to discern that - Rand just used that as an excuse to dismiss a novel that she did not like.
Thanks Daniel, it is probably Blogger, it's always barging in when I push Publish.
ReplyDeleteAt least I can be fairly sure I haven't got False Memory syndrome, or worse, Incorrect Identification Disease.
"what do you think a book that would properly realize the goal of criticizing capitalism would look like to Rand?"
ReplyDeleteTo me, a book that effectively dramatizes "the evil of capitalism" is The Jungle, by Upton Sinclair. I'm sure Rand didn't like it at all. Whether she was honest enough to acknowledge it as technically a good example of integrating plot and theme, I don't know.
But I take your point that the author's explicit statement of his theme may be irrelevant. If the ghost of William Shakespeare told us that the theme of Hamlet is "the evil of marital infidelity" and that he'd failed to properly express it, we wouldn't be obliged to regard Hamlet as a bad play.
Where I disagree with Greg is when he says (in the original post), "The integration of theme and plot is entirely irrelevant. Every plot will have a theme, regardless of the author's intentions. Since every story has a theme, integration of theme and plot is a built in feature."
It may be true that every story has a theme, but some stories are, at best, incomplete and inadequate expressions of a theme. Regardless of whether Rand was justified in using her principle to bludgeon Dreiser, her general point is valid: plot and theme should be so tightly interwoven that they mutually reinforce each other. If they don't, the book is not necessarily a failure - it may be very good in other respects - but it has at least this one defect.
Probably Rand's greatest skill as a novelist was figuring out effective ways to dramatize abstract themes, so on this point I'd wager she knew what she was talking about.
It may be true that every story has a theme, but some stories are, at best, incomplete and inadequate expressions of a theme. Regardless of whether Rand was justified in using her principle to bludgeon Dreiser, her general point is valid: plot and theme should be so tightly interwoven that they mutually reinforce each other. If they don't, the book is not necessarily a failure - it may be very good in other respects - but it has at least this one defect.
ReplyDeleteAgreed, Michael, and I don't think Greg disagrees with that, or even what you quoted disagrees with what (though I do see how it can be read that way). Greg's point, as I read it, is that the plot of a any story has a theme as an in-built feature, not an add-on, and Rand is treating it as if it must always be an add-on of sorts to criticize a book. No one cares about the add-on per se except the author (which might be why you feel strongly about this) - all the reader cares about in the first place is whether he is enjoying a good story and a good story with a plot will reveal to its readers some theme, even if it is not the one the author intended.
Reading Michael's criticism has made me realize that there is an important distinction I failed to make in the post, namely, between the consciously intended articulable theme and whatever inarticulable, implicit themes the characters and situations of a narrative might suggest. An intended, articulable theme will tend to be, well, superficial, and the attempt by the author to integrate it with the story will likely lead to a worse novel or play rather than a better one. A work of serious literature is great because it reveals complex truths and insights about the human condition which can't be adequately expressed in a vague propositions masquerading as a "theme." Any artist with the ability to write about the human condition with great depth and power will find that his artistic integrity will cause him to notice that reality doesn't fit most articulable theme so neatly as might be wished, that there are ambiguities, complexities, moral perplexities which will weaken the force of his theme, and hence weaken the integration of his plot-theme. Rand did not have this particular form of artistic integrity, so she could integrate the themes of her plots as mercilessly as she pleased. She could draw her characters either in the whitest of whites or blackest of blacks, because drawing them that way avoids the sort of ambiguities that weaken integration of plot and theme. Plot-theme, then, merely seems to me a virtue of didactic novels, which I regard as a lower form of literature, and not of the highest class of literature, which explores insights into the human condition far too complex to be easily articulated.
ReplyDeleteThat's an interesting point, Greg. There's a lot of truth to it, but I think maybe you're making things a little too complicated. I can't speak for writers at the highest level of achievement, but I think for most of us the process goes something like this:
ReplyDeleteYou come up with an idea for a story and start to write it. At some point in the writing, a theme emerges. You may have had this theme at least partly in mind all along, or it may come as something of a surprise. In any event, once you become aware of it, you're inclined to rework and punch up the manuscript in certain ways in order to drive home the theme. This may entail considerable revision. A less self-aware writer, or one who is simply lazy, may not take this later step, and may end up with a book that expresses its theme imperfectly. By the most charitable reading of Rand's remarks, this is what she was referring to. Of course a less charitable reading may be more accurate!
Melville's first draft of Moby-Dick was a great deal shorter than the final version. As the larger themes of the novel emerged, he found himself compelled to go back and rewrite the book on a bigger scale with more explicit Biblical and Shakespearean allusions. This could be an example of a self-aware writer going to additional lengths to ensure that the story will fully capture the theme. (It doesn't change the fact that Moby-Dick can be a real chore to read.)
The sheer length of Hamlet, which at 4000 lines is longer than any of Shakespeare's other works and probably too long to be performed uncut in his day, suggests that Shakespeare discovered themes in the play that required revision and expansion.
So while it's true, as you say, that the theme can and does emerge naturally from the story, it's also true that the writer's intellectual grasp of the theme can lead him to a fuller and more perfect exploration of it. The final theme may be difficult to articulate, but I wouldn't go so far as to say it's ineffable. The whole process, as I see it, is somewhat less mysterious than it's sometimes made out to be.
That's not to say that a more undisciplined writer like Thomas Wolfe would necessarily have approached his work in this way. In his case, it's quite possible that the themes were divined and accentuated by his brilliant editor, Maxwell Perkins. Still, even if Wolfe didn't do the work himself, somebody had to.
Anyway, it's a small point in the grand scheme of things. I must admit, you've gotten me interested in reading Dreiser now!
On further reflection, I think Greg and I are saying pretty much the same thing at this point, just in different ways. And it's certainly true that a rigid attempt to shoehorn characters and events into a narrow theme will result in didactic and simplistic fiction.
ReplyDeleteI agree, Michael, that we're not far apart; though I tend to veer towards extreme anti-formalism. I can enjoy a well craft, well-written, tightly constructed novel as well as anyone else; but at the end of the day, it's the content that's most important. Rand's formalistic rules about plot, theme, and style may have been important for her work; but their applicability to great literature seems to me close to nil. I don't find that the impressive architecture of Atlas (is there a more tightly constructed large novel in literature?) saves it from its glaring defects. If an author of Tolstoy's power attempted a re-write of Atlas, "naturalizing" all the characters and removing all the unrealistic elements, the result would be a novel that lacked Rand's architecture and her immaculate integration of a theme and plot but which, as a work of serious fiction, would be far more successful.
ReplyDeleteIs "the evil of capitalism" Drieser's stated intended theme, or did she make an educated guess based on what she knew of his political views? I know it's foolish to expect Rand to ever cite anything, but I'm curious as to what Drieser himself had to say about his intentions in that novel.
ReplyDeleteI hope that you are mentally prepared for the shocking news that Rand is yet again inventing quotes out of whole cloth and attributing statements to people she perceives as ideological enemies without regard for their accuracy.
In fact, Dreiser's initial motivation for considering this kind of plot was completely apolitical. There's a very informative introduction to An American Tragedy, Signet Edition, and in it Richard Lingemann points out that Dreiser had been talking about "getting inside the skin of a murderer" since 1907.
A political angle did develop, in that he wanted to find a murder case that he thought would be quintessentially American, and he believed he found it in the person of Chester Gillette. His point was never to try to demonstrate that capitalism was evil as a whole, but rather to analyze a murder case that Dreiser thought would throw an illuminating light on the Horatio Alger myth, motivated by a reason that, if it had not resulted in murder, people would have lauded. To the extent that capitalism is implicated at all in the story, it's in the way that it justifies itself through the rags-to-riches story and thus gives people an unrealistic notion of how upwardly mobile they can be, and in the way it tends to degrade personal relationships until they become mere cost-benefit analyses. Clyde Griffiths would be more financially secure by killing Roberta and marrying Sondra, so he does so.
If Rand were truly interested in being honest, she would have to admit that An American Tragedy demonstrates her notion of the plot-theme exceedingly well. Clyde Griffiths is a very sympathetically drawn portrait of a killer (ironic, considering Rand's interest in William Hickman, that she didn't pick up on this) and the way that the Horatio Alger ideology so suffused Clyde Griffiths' imagination that he believed he was doing not only what was convenient for him, but also what society would have demanded. Naturally, society had other ideas, but it's the sexual angle that they objected to. If a young man throws over his working poor fianceé for a rich heiress, that is excusable as long as the fianceé isn't pregnant. It was sexual morality that trapped Clyde Griffiths, not disapproval of social climbing, which was actually encouraged.
The earliest source I can find for the proposition that Dreiser ever said that he was out to demonstrate "the evil of capitalism" is in The Romantic Manifesto itself. It's not in the text of An American Tragedy, any biography, or critical writings about the novel.
I can't believe the way she summarizes the plot of the novel. If she cannot read with charity, imposes the most reductionist view possible, and completely lacks any capacity for imaginative sympathy, then how in the hell did she ever convince herself that she'd be even an adequate novelist and literary critic? It's like summarizing Hamlet as a story about an "emo kid who cannot make up his mind".
Thanks Nullifidian for the info on Dreiser. I suspected all along Rand was operating on a very thin empirical ice, but didn't know for sure so I didn't pursue it. That she would acknowledge that Dreiser "allegedly" regarded the theme of his novel as "the evil of capitalism" raises all kinds red lights, particularly given Rand's track record for empirical irresponsibility. When even Rand admits that an assertion is a mere allegation, there exists a high degree of probability that the assertion is baseless.
ReplyDeleteI suspect that Rand's principle of "selectivity" underpins her assertion An American Tragedy is an anti-capitalist novel because Dreiser chose to write about a murderous social climbing businessman, which must mean that he must mean that he thought all businessman are (on a 'metaphysical' level at least) murderous social climbers.
ReplyDeleteSlight aside, it just occurred to me that her principles of selectivity and plot-theme integration rest on the assumption that all literare is, or is intended to be, or ought to be, allegorical morality plays with each character, events, image, etc. being a symbol for something else ... that is, it rests on the assumption that (in literature) A≠A.
I suspect that Rand's principle of "selectivity" underpins her assertion An American Tragedy is an anti-capitalist novel...
ReplyDeleteWell, actually, this probably is giving Rand too much credit, because it assumes that Rand read the Dreiser novel. This is highly unlikely. Rand's claim that Dreiser's theme is "allegedly" anti-capitalist is a dead give away that Rand is expressing something she learned second-hand, from someone else.
No, I think when she writes, "the alleged theme, according to the author's assertion," she's claiming that the author alleged the theme to be the evil of capitalism. It's "alleged" because Dreiser (supposedly) identified it as the theme, when (according to Rand) it's not actually a theme that the plot can support. In other words, the use of "alleged" can't be taken to mean she never read the book; it only means that she doesn't think the actual theme is the one that Dreiser (supposedly) alleged.
ReplyDeleteNow, maybe she never did read it, or maybe she read only part of it. But as Nullifian points out, she "cannot read with charity," as the book Ayn Rand's Marginalia amply proves. So even if she read all of it, she would have filtered through her own distorting lens of preconceptions and biases. She was completely incapable of grasping a point of view different from her own. See her resolute obtuseness in her marginal notes on C.S. Lewis's The Abolition of Man, for instance.
FYI, a few years ago I wrote a blog post about her marginalia which contains some amusing quotes from this out-of-print book:
http://tinyurl.com/3enkzfh