When we chat, it’s usually afternoon here in Arizona and late night in London. Her beverage of choice tends to be alcoholic, and she sneers at my choice of chai lattes. Only the real thing will do for a British Tigress!

I use films because it’s easier to find a lot of people who have seen a film as opposed to a lot of people who have read a book. Even in a place like this where a lot of us have shared faves, I can’t assume that everyone knows Carrot’s real identity or why Mary shot the Marquis. Even giving those examples shuts people out.

But I think you’re on to something with the collages. I’m really going a lot more visual in my writing process. Lani and Krissie are coming next week and we’re goig to make a model of the coffee shop in D&G so we can see where everything goes. I’m such a geek, I’m looking forward to it. Maybe we’ll do the temple, too. With the bas reliefs and . . .

Glee, I knew that about the different kinds of learners from my ed courses, but I’d forgetten it. Applying it to readers . . . . Hmmmmm.

Shoshanna, I haven’t the faintest idea where Tai and Ag hang out, but I’m sure the tea is hot and the discussion is lively.

Not least about the jarring use of ‘alternate’ rather than ‘alternative’ in that now-standard term. However, the genre generally lives down to its name, as far as I am concerned…

I really really enjoyed the description of the film which I am unlikely to ever watch. I “see” the point of the visual metaphors as described by Jenny and would never have seen them in the film. Probably I wouldn’t see them if I had the film here and went and put it into the dvd-player and watched it right now. But I get it when it’s in words. And I seldom if ever think about the author when I’m reading. I guess that puts me in the Talpianna side of the discussion. I don’t get collages. I don’t think I ever noticed which person knew what in a book before reading a Jenny (or perhaps Bob) bit about something-person-omniscient. And I even knew what omniscient meant Because I’ve read a lot now from Jenny and Bob (and Laura and Eric and …) about how things are done, I’m more likely to notice how things are done than I used to be. But I remain an uncritical (in the lit crit sense) reader — I am a critic in terms of I do like some books more than others.

Once upon a time, in a far away life, I took a ‘speech’ course at work on effective communication. One of the things I learned in it was about how to make sure when trying to convey a message that I put in something for each “type” of learner (visual, aural, kinetic). That’s when I figured out I’m the type that learns by doing and I give it away when I say “I feel …” Aural and visual learners give different clues and cues.

Isn’t it interesting that all of us, who perceive and learn and think and enjoy so differently, can gain so much from the work itself (the story) and do it in ways that may or may not have been the reason/purpose/goal of the creative act itself or its creator?

More books, more points of view, more “good” stories. I’m ready. Bring ‘em on. I am ready to be anvilled.

I respond to visual references instinctively, considering that I think almost entirely in pictures – as long as I am familiar with the reference. If a passing reference in a novel is made to, say, Manet’s Dejeuner sur l’herbe, or the Pantheon in Rome I see that image immediately, and therefore ‘get’ the connection that the author is subtly suggesting. If the reference is to a film… shrug. It’ll normally whoosh right past me. Which brings us to the other question of culture-specific references, but I suppose this is not the place.

Another thing that occurs to me is how often you make your points by referring to films rather than books, and your use of collages, both of which are pretty much lost on me. Dunno how the Tigress feels about it, but she’s not a film buff.

I looked it up in my Dictionary widget. It could not be found.

And I definitely did not watch the movie closely enough or recently enough to think about your analysis, but I remember I liked the movie, so it works for me. =)

is that a real word?
geez. Must have gotten some literary degree or something.

My point is simply that for some readers, the apparently misty and self-effacing position of the author is merely a challenge that may make us every bit as acutely aware of the author’s presence as any ‘dear reader!’ interjection. If we can’t see the author, we go looking for her.

I have worked out some of the reasons why I experience reading in the way I do: it is connected both with the generation to which I belong and the fiction I read as a child, and with the traditional, pre-feminist rules of academic writing, in which the writer’s aim was to be utterly invisible, writing as though objectively reporting observed fact (lots of use of the passive), while the critical reader’s aim was always to shine the spotlight on him, to winkle out the personal attitudes that had shaped his opinions, and to show up the ‘objective’ statements as being subjective and personal.

In academic discourse today, it is perfectly acceptable for the author to write, ‘in my view, Haverfield’s approach fits the evidence better than Collingwood’s': up to the 1960s, that would have had to read, ‘it would appear that Haverfield’s approach fits the evidence better than Collingwood’s'; ‘I’ and ‘me’ and ‘my’ were forbidden words. So I am in the habit of reading as a process of communication between me, the reader, and the author. I don’t care if the author is hiding behind a screen; I don’t care if I am apparently being asked to ‘help shape’ the story (after all, I am going to bring my own experience to bear on that story, whether invited to do so or not). The author is the creator, and I am viewing the product of her imagination, through the filter of my own experience and imagination. That remains true whatever POV is used, and whatever techniques the author uses to disguise herself. Good heavens, her very style and voice are going to announce her presence, loud and clear, if nothing else does!

The issue of how well the author presents her story within the conventions she has selected is another matter altogether.

Sorry this is so long. It could have been longer.

I adore this movie-in much the same way I adore “Pushing Daisies,” now that you mention it. Can’t wait to read the new book. Hurry up, already.

The very best omnsicient, I think, takes all the white space away–a drawback–but paints a much more complete picture–a benefit–so that the scope of the story can be much larger. Epic even. My fave omnsicient on film is Pushing Daisies. Every aspect of that is controlled by the author/designer/director. They demand that you go into their world and just receive the story as told, but the telling is so brilliant you understand why they want control.

Very true. Every book is not for every reader. And I know that not everyone experiences books the same way I do.

This is actually an important issue for both readers and writers: we do not all experience reading in the same way, and this is one of the many reasons why books that some people love leave others unmoved. That’s fine; we are all different, and that’s as it should be, but these differences do mean that some of the ex cathedra statements we are all inclined to make, just as I did in the blunt sentence of mine that you quoted, need to be examined and modified. I should have said that I, and other people like me (since it is highly unlikely that I am unique in this respect), can never read a story without being conscious of the author’s presence. In the same way, I can never watch a film or a stage play without being aware that the people in front of me are actors, and in the case of a film, that I am sharing the viewpoint of the cameraman. I ‘see’ the invisible camera with one part of my mind just as I see the action. This is probably why I do not get upset by ‘horror’ scenes in fictional films. I sure as hell get upset by them in newsreels, because that is real life.

The best fiction draws me in to the point where I stop being aware that I’m even reading. The author’s voice disappears and my mind’s eye is seeing events unfold as if I was observing. I once missed a subway stop because I was afraid I would miss something if I closed the book before the scene finished.

Interesting way of seeing it. But the author is both omniscient and omnipresent, whether the reader is aware of her presence or not. The 3rd-person limited POV is merely a conscious device in which the author is deliberately standing ‘out of our sightline’ as we read.
In withholding information that would not be known to a given character whose point of view is being presented at a given moment, the author is pulling the strings to no less a degree than she does if addressing the reader directly in an aside. I don’t see how one can read any work of fiction without being conscious of the author’s presence – nor, surely, would one wish to do so. The characters are inventions: the author, even if long dead, is another real person, and we make contact with his or her mind as we read.

Movie was fun too. A little slow in spots, but that was ok.