Sunday, July 1, 2007

Nostalgia, irony, incest, legitimacy

Last week Salon.com ran an article excerpted from Reading Comics: How Graphic Novels Work and What They Mean by Douglas Wolk. Wolk hits several themes pertinent to romance culture. What is it about these genres that creates so much "cultural baggage"? And to what extent is the genre’s culture nostalgic? Wolk also touches on genre defensiveness and the wish for "legitimacy".

I know nothing about comic culture and, as expected, a number of Salon commenters disagree with Wolk. Nonetheless, Wolk’s arguments resonate with some of my recent thoughts.

Nostalgia

Wolk characterizes comic book culture as nostalgic. He has some biting things to say about artists’ nostalgia that clings to the familiar instead of keeping comics vibrant. But his description of readers’ nostalgia connects with a thought I've had on romance readership:

The comics collecting market was called the "nostalgia market" at first.... In mainstream comics, nostalgie de la boue manifests itself as stories whose main point is to trigger nostalgic responses in their older readers--forgotten Golden Age characters being trotted out
"Nostalgia" means, literally, a longing to return home. The word was originally a medical term for "physical and emotional upheaval... related to the workings of memory". If nostalgia arises from a sense of longing, then in a sense, much of romance reading is nostalgic. We sometimes read to reexperience a specific feeling--not for a new experience or to learn someone else's story (see comments on male stereotypes and happily ever after).

Character-driven genre fiction is the perfect medium for nostalgic reading: (1) it provides familiar structures or situations that we know will tug at our emotions in particular ways (see Sarah Frantz on reader expectations), and (2) it provides well-developed characters with whom we can identify, increasing our chances of an emotional response—if not by placeholding then by reader identification (see Laura Vivanco on reader response theory).

Incest and shorthand

Not to draw too solid a correlation here, but Wolk's description of an inward-looking comics culture:
It's frustrating to love comics, because there's so much cultural baggage.... A lot of the people... think of comics readers as some kind of secret, embattled fellowship.... That incestuous relationship between audience and medium has been encouraged by the big comics publishers. Mainstream comics pamphlets that are incomprehensible to anyone not already immersed in their culture aren't just the standard now; they're the point.
bears some resemblance to Robin's comments on Smart Bitches and Dear Author on the increasingly telegraphic style of romance novels ("increasing reliance on genre shorthand"):
with page counts shrinking, part of the burden of the novel-writing craft is being shifted... to readers—we have to fill in blanks and flesh out characters or worldbuilding and make critical links between plot points. And because so many Romance readers have read so much Romance, I think this process becomes almost unconscious
Like comics, the romance genre has developed its own stock worlds and character archetypes. For fans with a long history in the genre, certain key phrases resonate like a hypnotist’s trigger word; some story components may be unwritten but culturally available. Interestingly, this seems like a style of active readership that would be natural in comics; the comic reader is required to do a great deal of the interpretive work, akin to the views of Stanley Fish, "who argues that the interpretive strategy of the reader creates the text, there being no text except that which a reader or an interpretive community of readers creates" (Laura Vivanco again).

Most romances are set in realistic worlds; the barrier to entry is low except for a few paranormal romances. Nonetheless, insider shorthand is increasing in romance. In comics, the use of genre shorthand results in overtly referential novels that make for more difficult reading. In romance, the genre shorthand in use generally reduces the books' apparent complexity. If a graphical novel cuts out backstory explaining its complex world, the action could be completely incomprehensible. If a romance novel cuts out backstory explaining its characters, it'll likely be readable--but the characters may seem shallowly drawn and their actions, lacking support, arbitrary; or lacking deflection, predictable.

Legitimacy and irony

One experience shared by romance readers and comic readers is a mingling of love and embarrassment for the genre. We enjoy “bodice rippers” even while we revile and deconstruct them.

Wolk says this awkwardness is about "comics culture's slightly miserable striving for ‘acknowledgment’ and ‘respect’...." That could be said of portions of the romance community (witness the hostilities between authors Jennifer Weiner and Curtis Sittenfeld over the status of chick lit; Janet's response to Salon's summer book list; and Kassia Krozser and Diana Peterfreund on reviewing). Certainly it's easier to strike an ironic attitude toward romance or comics because they're in the "not serious literature" ghetto. As Erica Jong said recently, "War matters; love does not. Women are destined to be undervalued as long as we write about love."

Of course, it's not all embarrassment over status. We're in an era that's discomfited by un-ironic praise. Linda Hutcheon writes about the conflation of irony with nostalgia as a characteristically postmodernist mode of discourse. This rings true with the tone of current romance, and romance discourse. We revel and mock simultaneously; we value sweetness but are embarrassed by it.

I'll finish by quoting several of Wolk's points on legitimacy that directly echo current conversations in genre romance:
It's hard to imagine what kind of cultural capital the American comics industry (and its readership) is convinced that it's due and doesn't already have…. demanding (or wishing for) a place at the table of high culture is an admission that you don't have one; the way you get a place at the table of high culture is to pull up a chair and say something interesting....

there's a longing for the medium to get more of something that's usually called "legitimacy." There's an element of comics culture, sometimes called (a little derisively) "Team Comics," that gets excited whenever anything that looks like that acknowledgment or respect… turns up in the outside world -- a college class on the graphic novel, a Hollywood movie based on a graphic novel, a newspaper or magazine article about a cartoonist, somebody reading a comic book on a TV show….

The "Team Comics" culture vultures… are driven by the desire to turn their hobby into some kind of success or validation, whether through affluence or cultural power, and that impulse is directly connected to the class aspirations that afflict the entire medium. A lot of comics readers are unhealthily attached to the idea that everyone else thinks what they do is kind of trashy and disreputable, and that they have to prove their favorite leisure activity worthy of respect -- to show the world that they were right all along.

2 Comments:

Robin said...

A lot of comics readers are unhealthily attached to the idea that everyone else thinks what they do is kind of trashy and disreputable, and that they have to prove their favorite leisure activity worthy of respect -- to show the world that they were right all along.

I wonder, seriously, how much that defensiveness permeates the larger society and taints mainstream views of genre reading. With Romance, for example, it can't just be the books. Now, I think it can be the covers, and I think it can be some of the marketing. And maybe even the sex. I DON'T think it's all about the woman thing, though.

Very, very interesting meditation you've written here. You know I'm also Janet, right? And today I did my regular stint on Reader's Gab on the importance of Romance as a genre, totally oblivious to the article in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution and Laura Vivianco's latest piece. Even I was tired of complaining for once!! But clearly, there's something in the air -- or the water. Or the kool-aid, maybe, too.

I do, though, find myself trying to understand Jen Weiner's anger -- or more precisely, trying to understand the form that anger takes. I'm almost more troubled by her treatment of Sittenfeld than I am by the things that trouble Weiner.

RfP said...

I wonder, seriously, how much that defensiveness permeates the larger society

If you mean how visible is it (what kind of message does it send), I think it's very noticeable and sends a strong message that romance isn't ready to stand tall.

In a different vein, I think part of the reaction is larger than any of those issues--women, "formulaic" writing, romance, sex, defensiveness, crap covers. I think we all, meaning the "larger society", are increasingly defensive and sometimes almost eager to take offense. Particularly over issues like condescension and entitlement. Almost any argument can trigger the rhetoric of the culture wars, elitism, exclusivity. This is not to say we shouldn't get angry! There are plenty of issues where we absolutely should be angry. But I think a lot of people's rage flashpoint is low lately--it's like chronic road rage, just waiting for an opportunity to vent.

I also find it eye-opening that people who *know* romance can say some pretty belittling things about women who read romance. No wonder it's hard to establish higher ground in an argument, when there's so much internal conflict and self-doubt.

I do, though, find myself trying to understand Jen Weiner's anger

I had a similar reaction. Reading her denunciation of Sittenfeld, I thought, Pot, you're looking kind of black. I got tired of the meta-meta-meta-argument about those authors (A dissed B; C dissed B's book and B's diss; C's diss results in general dissery on the blogs; and the actual books get lost in the disssss). So I decided the way to get clarity on the situation was to read all three damn books (Bank, Sittenfeld, Weiner). Which is sort of self-martyring as I'm one of those who avoids anything with a "chick lit" cover. We'll see though. The premise of the Weiner book I picked up seems to bear out all my misgivings about the genre. But I may be proved totally wrong. Maybe it's a phenomenal treatment of a banal topic.