In class we discussed whether the "death of an author" was a literal
death, and if not, what was meant by it. After reading Foucault and
Barthes' pieces, I felt their pieces, both interesting, were rehashments
of what we would think is "common knowledge". Though I could be wrong
in thinking this, the argument that
"Shakespeare" holds a bit more clout than a piece by "anonymous" is
something most people would agree on. As discussed, a name like
"Shakespeare" holds a certain criteria that a reader expects the piece
to live up to. Personally, this is where the death of an author takes
place. Once the author's name holds more meaning, more weight, more
significance than "the one who wrote the following", I think they die as
an author. They become something more--a persona of something we
expect. When Grisham's first novel came out, Plath's first poems,
Sparks' first book, we as readers only judged the book based on our own
experiences with it (or perhaps what critics said). Now, however, when
we hear those names, we come with a set of great expectations on what
their novels will be and how we will feel after. The name has become a
checklist, or a thing bigger than the person him/herself. That's the
death of the author--when they have to set aside their individuality for
instead a more grandiose idea of self.
The concept of
author-function in relation to the death of the author seemed to be
pretty connected. The death of the author (as explained above) allowed
for the birth of the author-function. Foucault even explains as a third
point that one characteristic of the author-function is "the result of a
complex operation which constructs a certain rational being that we
call 'author'" (Foucault 909). So we can have many writers, but I think
we have much fewer authors. There were four criteria in determining if
a reader is dealing with one or many individuals--these all help to
reaffirm the qualifications of an "author". I would think that Foucault
and Barthes both agree that about anyone can be a writer, but few can
be authors.
One thing I found particularly interesting was a passage in
Foucault's piece. He states that the first person pronoun used by an
author is not referring to the author, "but rather to an alter ego whose
distance from the author varies, often changing in the course of the
work" (910). I thought that this was the point of writing--to allow the
author to have an alter ego. I would argue that this alter ego, in
fact, helps to connect the author to the character much more than it
serves to distance them. Authors can become connected with a character,
creating him/her based on characteristics they feel the need to express
or traits they should conceal. These characters, subconsciously (and
consciously), become reflections of the authors--there are always parts
of a character the author can relate to, and some traits that they
cannot. I think these traits differing traits can reflect
characteristics the author wanted to have or did and eventually lost.
Regardless, this is why I find myself disagreeing with the idea of an
author's death. I think that figuratively, yes, part of an author
dies...but I hate using the word "dies". Instead, I like to think of it
as an author metamorphosis; where the author begins beings as a single
person and eventually, through the criteria mentioned by Foucault,
transforms into an author-function--so that they can be more significant
in the field of literature than a writer.
1 comment:
In the first two paragraphs, you perfectly stated the ideas I had relating to "The Death of an Author." Some writers turn into Authors, as readers and critics begin to obsess over every life detail and how it might relate to his or her writing. Authors become larger than their writings. We can quickly name off such Authors.
It is interesting that you said that the ideas presented by Foucault and Barthes are somewhat part of common knowledge. It made me think of how high school students responded to author-function. I remember hearing many criticize how interpretations of a text could be so nitty gritty. A teacher would explain the meaning of the text and how it relates to the authors life, and students would be doubtful. They would think, "How do you know exactly what Emily Dickinson meant in line 5 of 'I Started Early, Took my Dog?' Maybe it's not as meaningful as you're making it out to be. Maybe she just wanted to write a poem about her dog." Even as high school students, we were critical of what we thought to be ridiculously close readings that have no merit. So I wonder if the ideas of Foucault and Barthes inspired this sentiment, or if this is simply something everyone would come to understand, but Foucault and Barthes just articulated it well...
Anyhow, I particularly found your third paragraph interesting. I'm surprised Barthes did not use the word "metamorphosis" when discussing what occurs with Authors because that is exactly what seems to happen. Perhaps a more accurate title to the piece would be "Metamorphosis of an Author; Death of a Text." That would imply that when discussion of an Author consumes the criticism of his or her work, the text dies. As Barthes says, "To give a text an Author is to impose a limit on that text, to furnish it with a final signified, to close the writing" (Barthes 877). In my opinion, the title is not referring to the act that does occur, but rather what Barthes would like to occur. He wants this metamorphosed Author to die in order to have a true reading of the text that is not obscured by unrelated materials.
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