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Sep. 11th, 2004
"Nothing happened"
Sep. 11th, 2004 07:44 amA lot of avant-garde art challenges the audience's ability to pay attention in spite of disgust and/or boredom due to repetition.
There's another frontier I haven't heard of anyone taking a crack at--an extended narrative about pleasantness. Usually, the complaint if there's no pain for the characters is "nothing happened", which gives an interesting angle on what people think of as a something.
Does anyone know of literature that's tried this?
Afaik, there's pornography where everything that happens pleases the characters, but that tends to be unambitious about prose and not considered literature. If there's anyone reading this who knows somewhat about pornography, could you tell me whether literary pornography tends to be less fun for the characters?
( Heinlein and endearments )
There's another frontier I haven't heard of anyone taking a crack at--an extended narrative about pleasantness. Usually, the complaint if there's no pain for the characters is "nothing happened", which gives an interesting angle on what people think of as a something.
Does anyone know of literature that's tried this?
Afaik, there's pornography where everything that happens pleases the characters, but that tends to be unambitious about prose and not considered literature. If there's anyone reading this who knows somewhat about pornography, could you tell me whether literary pornography tends to be less fun for the characters?
( Heinlein and endearments )
"Nothing happened"
Sep. 11th, 2004 07:44 amA lot of avant-garde art challenges the audience's ability to pay attention in spite of disgust and/or boredom due to repetition.
There's another frontier I haven't heard of anyone taking a crack at--an extended narrative about pleasantness. Usually, the complaint if there's no pain for the characters is "nothing happened", which gives an interesting angle on what people think of as a something.
Does anyone know of literature that's tried this?
Afaik, there's pornography where everything that happens pleases the characters, but that tends to be unambitious about prose and not considered literature. If there's anyone reading this who knows somewhat about pornography, could you tell me whether literary pornography tends to be less fun for the characters?
( Heinlein and endearments )
There's another frontier I haven't heard of anyone taking a crack at--an extended narrative about pleasantness. Usually, the complaint if there's no pain for the characters is "nothing happened", which gives an interesting angle on what people think of as a something.
Does anyone know of literature that's tried this?
Afaik, there's pornography where everything that happens pleases the characters, but that tends to be unambitious about prose and not considered literature. If there's anyone reading this who knows somewhat about pornography, could you tell me whether literary pornography tends to be less fun for the characters?
( Heinlein and endearments )
Another animal question
Sep. 11th, 2004 09:58 amIs it possible to train a cat or dog to look both ways before they cross a street? I can imagine using operant conditioning to get them to turn their head both ways, but that doesn't cover paying attention.
Another animal question
Sep. 11th, 2004 09:58 amIs it possible to train a cat or dog to look both ways before they cross a street? I can imagine using operant conditioning to get them to turn their head both ways, but that doesn't cover paying attention.
Here's Paul Graham on essays.
After a history of how non-fiction prose has come to be taught--it comes partly from the renaisssance work of assimilating classical culture and partly from legal argument, he gives a description of essays--a sort of writing which begins with a question rather than a premise and which describes the discursive work of getting an answer.
(IIRC, I was never given any systematic explanation, good or bad, of how to write an essay, but I do remember having to write about who was the tragic hero of _Julius Caesar_ and wondering why anybody would care.)
So, what's interesting?
This at least starts to address one of the questions I've been chewing on for a while--how to be interesting. I'm at least decent at it, but the web and the net are plagued by people who are want attention but don't know any pleasant way of getting it. Telling them about surpise might help and is kinder than asking them to come back when they can pass a Turing test.
After a history of how non-fiction prose has come to be taught--it comes partly from the renaisssance work of assimilating classical culture and partly from legal argument, he gives a description of essays--a sort of writing which begins with a question rather than a premise and which describes the discursive work of getting an answer.
(IIRC, I was never given any systematic explanation, good or bad, of how to write an essay, but I do remember having to write about who was the tragic hero of _Julius Caesar_ and wondering why anybody would care.)
The river's algorithm is simple. At each step, flow down. For the essayist this translates to: flow interesting. Of all the places to go next, choose the most interesting. One can't have quite as little foresight as a river. I always know generally what I want to write about. But not the specific conclusions I want to reach; from paragraph to paragraph I let the ideas take their course.
So, what's interesting?
Surprises are things that you not only didn't know, but that contradict things you thought you knew. And so they're the most valuable sort of fact you can get. They're like a food that's not merely healthy, but counteracts the unhealthy effects of things you've already eaten.
This at least starts to address one of the questions I've been chewing on for a while--how to be interesting. I'm at least decent at it, but the web and the net are plagued by people who are want attention but don't know any pleasant way of getting it. Telling them about surpise might help and is kinder than asking them to come back when they can pass a Turing test.
Here's Paul Graham on essays.
After a history of how non-fiction prose has come to be taught--it comes partly from the renaisssance work of assimilating classical culture and partly from legal argument, he gives a description of essays--a sort of writing which begins with a question rather than a premise and which describes the discursive work of getting an answer.
(IIRC, I was never given any systematic explanation, good or bad, of how to write an essay, but I do remember having to write about who was the tragic hero of _Julius Caesar_ and wondering why anybody would care.)
So, what's interesting?
This at least starts to address one of the questions I've been chewing on for a while--how to be interesting. I'm at least decent at it, but the web and the net are plagued by people who are want attention but don't know any pleasant way of getting it. Telling them about surpise might help and is kinder than asking them to come back when they can pass a Turing test.
After a history of how non-fiction prose has come to be taught--it comes partly from the renaisssance work of assimilating classical culture and partly from legal argument, he gives a description of essays--a sort of writing which begins with a question rather than a premise and which describes the discursive work of getting an answer.
(IIRC, I was never given any systematic explanation, good or bad, of how to write an essay, but I do remember having to write about who was the tragic hero of _Julius Caesar_ and wondering why anybody would care.)
The river's algorithm is simple. At each step, flow down. For the essayist this translates to: flow interesting. Of all the places to go next, choose the most interesting. One can't have quite as little foresight as a river. I always know generally what I want to write about. But not the specific conclusions I want to reach; from paragraph to paragraph I let the ideas take their course.
So, what's interesting?
Surprises are things that you not only didn't know, but that contradict things you thought you knew. And so they're the most valuable sort of fact you can get. They're like a food that's not merely healthy, but counteracts the unhealthy effects of things you've already eaten.
This at least starts to address one of the questions I've been chewing on for a while--how to be interesting. I'm at least decent at it, but the web and the net are plagued by people who are want attention but don't know any pleasant way of getting it. Telling them about surpise might help and is kinder than asking them to come back when they can pass a Turing test.