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I remember reading "Confessions..." about fifty years ago, and what struck me about it then is the same thing I think now: It is an unusual work of literature--and nothing more. It is most assuredly not a great work of literature. And I think De Quincey would agree with that assessment.
I do believe you’re correct about De Quincey's self assessment, Jassy. Here’s the introductory sentence to his chapter, Introduction to the Pains of Opium.Quote:
Originally Posted by Jassy Melson
I like the way he addresses his readers directly, gives it a great 19th Century feel.Quote:
Courteous, and I hope indulgent, reader (for all my readers must be indulgent ones, or else I fear I shall shock them too much to count on their courtesy), having accompanied me thus far, now let me request you to move onwards for about eight years; that is to say, from 1804 (when I have said that my acquaintance with opium first began) to 1812.
<Makes the Scooby Doo quizzical interjection> Huh?Quote:
Originally Posted by virginiawang
VW, I don’t think anybody is commenting on the quality of the writing. We were just speculating that De Quincy may have played fast and loose with the facts – like Bill Shakespeare did in his histories. Besides I can't dump the book in the trashcan (Mine's an e-book); I'd have to hit 'delete.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. De quincey never heard what you said about his book, so he never agreed. Nobody can give a work of literature an assesment and say it is absolute. That is quite funny.Quote:
Originally Posted by Jassy Melson
If he had been misled by opium or a bad memory, into speaking randomly, that presents a fact which is truer than any, any fact you may have digged out if any of you are so much interested.It is a fact truer than the real facts, because it has more to do with Thomas Dequincey.Quote:
Originally Posted by Sancho
The narrator is a technique of fiction in a book. They are a construct through which the writer can craft a story, change the details, give conflicting opinions, tell truths and lies. It's a technique. It's not about the veracity of the writer but about their way of telling the story.
But when dealing with a work that is non-fiction does not the veracity come a bit more into play?Quote:
Originally Posted by Paulclem
Yes it may do. I've only just started the book, and so I'll need to read more. It's good to foster the awareness that a writer of non-fiction may also have an agenda. I'm not saying De Quincey does, but he may have.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
It is really awkward to give the word, " technique" to a writer like De Quincey, when he wrote under the influence of opium, and wine. I do not think it is the right word for such a writer, though I cannot explain the reasons why. I once read another author as a course requirement, but no sooner had I reached the second page than I dumped the book. That writer did his best to lie pompously, in ways that made me angry. whichever book of Camus? Even the title of the book escaped me now. I think the word technique is more suitable for Camus, though I do not know anything more about Camus, except the one page I read several years ago.
Often times, you know by heart that a writer was speaking the truth when he wrote, and you do not need any evidence, to back up what you think, because you are right. I do not know how I should convince any of you here that he was not led by a bad memory or the influence of opium and wine, into deceiving; however I think it is not needed to go into such a topic. At least I am almost sure that he was doing his best to express what came to him the moment he wrote honestly. That is quite enough for a writer, too beautiful indeed. I can imagine some of those writers who wrote down what they planned an hour ago, through some step by step process, which included the making of an outline, a draft before the real work, and perhaps some revisions after the writing. In my opinion, to do this sort of work kills the writing itself, and me, if I am required to write this way.
I do not think any of you can deny the fact that De Quincey wrote somewhat randomly, without too much reasoning or a good organization. How could he plan with some technique, if he had not even an idea of what he would write for the next sentence that came to him?
But when dealing with a work that is non-fiction does not the veracity come a bit more into play?
Are you naive enough to believe that any literary "non-fiction" involves any less invention/fiction than admittedly fictional works?
I do not think it is a point worthy of a thought, for a work of literature. If I want to believe the writer, I do. If I do not, I do not. If I feel glad to believe in a lie, it is equally good.Quote:
Originally Posted by stlukesguild
If you had read my prior comments and thus taken that remark into proper context than you would realize I do not.Quote:
Originally Posted by stlukesguild
I am not suggesting that works of non-fiction do not contain a bit invention and fiction of their own, but I was simply implying that when dealing with a work of non-fiction the question of veracity is a bit more relevant than in a work of fiction.
Because when we are presented with a work of non-fiction than at least to some extent the author is asking us to believe what we are being told. Thus how much of what they say can in fact be taken as truth, and how much is deception, either intentionally done, or even how much the author themselves is deceived by their own memories, perceptions, bias etc...
My translation professor was always right. He once told us the best way to choose a good dictionary is to pick up the biggest one you see on the shelf of a bookstore. The bigger a dictionary is, the better it is.
As far as I know, a confession does not always have things to do with a fault or a misdeed, committed. I read some entries in a few dictionaries online yesterday, but they dissapointed me, as with one accord, when all of them explained the word confession the same way. I was not easily failed, because I trust my feelings more than a dictionary. I looked up the word in a very big dictionary at home, and learned the fact that a confession is also a piece of writing in which the writer writes honestly and passionately.
That does not preclude the possibility that a crafted work may well be fictional account that is written with the purpose of entertainment.Quote:
Originally Posted by virginiawang
Fictionally, the confessional story is a story written, in the first person, about emotionally fraught and morally charged situations in which a fictional character is caught. These stories may be anything from thinly veiled recountings of the writer's life, to completely fictional works.
From:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Confessional_writing
I can imagine some of those writers who wrote down what they planned an hour ago, through some step by step process, which included the making of an outline, a draft before the real work, and perhaps some revisions after the writing. In my opinion, to do this sort of work kills the writing itself
How do you think many writers work? They don't all begin at the beginning and end at the end, (if in fact any of them do). And there is always an element of craft involved in the revisions.
To revise with craft breaks the work.
"To admit or grant to be true; concede" is one of the definitions given to the verb form of confession, to confess, from Collins English Dictionary. (Complete and Unabridged)
This dictionary happened to be the biggest one I saw on the shelf that day, in a bookstore that sell English books for the most part.
I didn't try to gainsay what my last poster wrote. Anyone can choose either to believe a confession or not. It is up to the reader himself/herself. A writer can always stay in a mysterious and aloof corner, in which she writes her mind, perhaps honestly.
I don't think it's a question of honesty. It's about the skill of a writer who can entertain and inform through their writing. All I'm saying is that the writer has these tools at their disposal, and the narrator is another tool that can be used to present a point of view, information - whatever. In this way, we can't just assume - though it may be found in the body of the text to be o upon reading- that the narrator actually represents the writer or the "truth"/ actual autobiography.Quote:
Originally Posted by virginiawang
Truth may be the wrong term given that in the production of a piece of writing - everything is changed by the perspective of the writer.
I've got into the book a bit now, and he does seem to protest too much about Coleridge's claim that he became addicyted through pleasure. I felt he went on and on about it. Was it this that set you thinking?Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
His descriptions so far are oddly removed from his family. He is very funny when describing the torpid Rev - his tutor, but he hardly mentions his older brother.
Do you think, considering that we are responding to the written musings of a contemporary of the Romantics, who were themselves not shy in populating their sentences with asides, we should respond in a like idiom to our venerable fellow posters? :biggrin5:
In his letter there is a point in which he flat out states that he takes no blame for his addiction and does suggest that one you fully understand the circumstances of how he came to use it, you cannot really find fault with him.Quote:
Originally Posted by Paulclem
Than towards the end of the letter he gives off the list of all these other people whom have also succumbed to the use of opium, in way that seemed to be indicated that it was just the in thing to do.
And I think he does make some remark about how while he himself first started taking it to relieve himself of his pain, while there have been others whom had sought it for its pleasures.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Paulclem
:lol: