The art of fiction: a guide for writers and readers - By Ayn Rand & Tore Boeckmann Page 0,57
set them down and make them anything but hackneyed? And as natural, as conventional, as youthfully gauche, as eternally beautiful and authentic as those ancient sounds was the talk of Martin and Leora in that passionate half-hour when each found in the other a part of his own self, always vaguely missed, discovered now with astonished joy. They rattled like hero and heroine of a sticky tale, like sweat-shop operatives, like bouncing rustics, like prince and princess. Their words were silly and inconsequential, heard one by one, yet taken together they were as wise and important as the tides or the sounding wind.
The purpose of this passage, which follows the first meeting of Martin and Leora, is to present the essence of their romance.
“Sound of mating birds, sound of spring blossoms dropping in the tranquil air, the bark of sleepy dogs at midnight; who is to set them down and make them anything but hackneyed?” Here the author openly confesses incompetence, saying in effect: “I have only the hackneyed to say about this, but that’s in the nature of things. Nobody could do otherwise.” Not all Naturalists reveal their writing problems by telling the reader about them (which is improper from any literary standpoint); nevertheless, it is the Naturalist premise that makes Lewis do it. On the Naturalist premise, a writer describes “things as they are,” not things as they ought to be. The method of selection is not a value judgment, but a statistical one. Consequently, when Lewis wants to present a setting or connotation proper to love, he will think only of the hackneyed—which is the statistically average.
“And as natural, as conventional, as youthfully gauche, as eternally beautiful and authentic as those ancient sounds was the talk of Martin and Leora.” Here Lewis confesses the Naturalist premise: “This is hackneyed, but it is natural and authentic.” Natural and authentic to whom? As a Naturalist, he does not ask this question. He describes love from the statistical viewpoint.
His fidelity to what he thinks is reality—meaning: the statistical and the average—is also obvious when he says “youthfully gauche.” The majority of young lovers may be youthfully gauche, but that is not a law of human nature. I submit that any outstanding young people are more romantic and dramatically outspoken than they become later on. Yet the kind of young man or girl who will say, “Oh, gee, darling, you know, I’m kind of smitten,” that is Lewis’s (and Hollywood’s) idea of young love.
Calling this “eternally beautiful” is again a confession of the statistical standard. “This is what most lovers act like; and, of course, love is beautiful; therefore, this is its beautiful form.” The Naturalist does not project the values which ought to be, and so he presents love not in its highest form, but strictly in its statistical form.
The last part of this sentence is good in that it says something specific (and true) about the nature of love: “each found in the other a part of his own self, always vaguely missed, discovered now with astonished joy.” This is specific—and general. It pertains to the essence of love more than do “mating birds” and “spring blossoms.”
The next sentence is the writing of a repressor. “They rattled like hero and heroine of a sticky tale, like sweat-shop operatives, like bouncing rustics, like prince and princess. ” Lewis wants to convey that love is important and that a romance is happening between Martin and Leora, but at the same time he is apologizing to any cynical “realist” who is not in sympathy with romantic feeling. He in effect says: “Romantic scenes might be accused by the sophisticated of being sticky. All right, I’ll admit it, I’ll smile at it myself—so don’t take it too seriously. But still I consider love important.” To make the scene more “true to life,” he then selects the lowest possible forms of couples: “sweat-shop operatives” and “bouncing rustics.” He in effect acknowledges: “By the statistical standard, there are more sweat-shop operatives and bouncing rustics than princes and princesses, so I’ll include them. I am paying my dues to reality. But still Martin and Leora were like a prince and princess, or at least that is how they felt.”
The last sentence is again the confession of a writer’s impotence: “Their words were silly and inconsequential, heard one by one, yet taken together they were as wise and important as the tides or the sounding wind. ” Lovers usually have a kidding romantic code which might be