Thursday, March 24, 2016

Literary Noise in the Twenty-First Century

I recently read again Sherwood Anderson’s Winesburg, Ohio. This is a novel (or collection of short stories, however you want to label it) that had a profound impact on revered 20th-century writers such as Hemingway and Faulkner. Literary critics say that this book evolved (I won’t go so far as to say “revolutionized”) literary fiction and, in so doing, inspired other American authors, in particular, to adopt and adapt Anderson's contribution in their own writing.

What does this have to do with “literary noise”?

There is very little literary noise in Anderson’s novel, if you forgive the propensity of prior literary generations in using way more adjectives and adverbs than we are “supposed” to use today. In the intervening decades since Anderson’s book was published, we have moved to worshiping “show don’t tell” in literary fiction and creative nonfiction. Some editors even state that the adverb is or should be dead in literary fiction and that adjectives and adverbs should be replaced by evocative descriptions of what characters are doing, implying what the adjective would have declared.

With the human predilection to believe that if some is good, more is better, we now find writing that is so stripped of modifiers that it requires long passages just to get at what the characters are doing or what can be expressed viscerally about the scene.

"Moderation in all things" would urge that neither the use of modifiers nor of passages that replace them be used to an extreme. I believe the writer needs further latitude. In some stories and styles, multi-paragraph scene descriptions evoke and even reinforce the actions and feelings of the characters.  In Anderson's novel, the colors and weather conditions even substitute for direct descriptions and statements of characters' thoughts and feelings. For me, this is what makes a novel rich and aesthetically pleasing. It is not evocative writing in the minimalist-description sense but in the somewhat indirect way it speaks to the reader. It also, I believe, enhances. 

However, I know avid readers who pass over or skim these passages to get back to the "action." For them, all but action is noise that interferes and stalls the momentum of the story. 


In literature, is what constitutes noise only in the eye of the beholder?