Some months ago I did an interview with Astrid Cooper from The Specusphere. Her queries were thought provoking but the wording of one really stuck in my head.
AC: Perhaps I am reading more into this than I should, but . . .
KF: Astrid, I am so glad you brought this up . . . You can’t read too much or too little into the work because it is the act of reading that makes it meaningful. The story itself isn’t complete until read. Everyone will re-create the Spell of Rosette [and Arrows of Time] in their own minds in a slightly different (or radically different?) way, and that’s the magic. That’s the whole point! You complete the work. (Read entire interview here)
One reader recreating and making meaning ...
This notion of reader/listener participation is not new. The concept was developed by Roland Barthes, a 20th century French social and literary critic. He said, ‘a text’s unity lies not in its origin but in its destination …. the birth of the reader must be at the cost of the death of the Author.’
When I first heard this I was offended. Death of the author? Ridiculous. I knew the ‘correct’ meaning of MY stories. I wrote them, after all. It wasn’t until I started getting feedback and critique of my work that I began to understand the birth of the reader. What an epiphany! It is the act of reading that completes the work.
Barthes described a ‘writerly reader’ whose goal is to no longer be an end point of delivery but a participator in creation. I think Barthes loved the magic of writing so much he was able to vision it beyond the classical limitations of delivery/reception and into a realm of co-creation. Barthes ideal text enables the reader to engage in the ‘meaning making’ process because the story is not constrained by genre expectations, linearity, or author control. In other words, in the ideal text, storytelling becomes a conversation, not a lecture. The more I explore these concepts, the more in love with them I become.
With the ‘writerly text’ in mind, the Quantum Enchantment series blurs some conventional boundaries including genre classification (if anyone can nail it, please email me!) linear time structure and most important, reader participation. After centuries of being lulled into passive reception—end point ‘listening’—my readers can look forward to a ‘proliferation of meaning’, choices within the narrative structure, and creative conversations to which they can contribute, if they so wish.
... while another has her own interpretation
Of course, readers can relax and float down stream with the story as well. You can get swept up and swept away, but there is an underlining thread of ‘alternatives’ which encourages an active position—the question no longer what did I mean, but what does it mean to you?
What do you think? Is the reader always right? Is textual meaning a personal, individual interpretation—a co-creation? Or is authorial control definitive and final? I’d love to hear our Voyager readers, writers, authors, critics and reviewers weigh in. Comments welcome!
Kim Falconer is the author of the Quantum Enchantment series: The Spell of Rosette and Arrows of Time. She is currently working on the next book in the series. She lives in Byron Bay on the east coast of Australia and besides writing, she manages to fit many other things into her time – Falcon Astrology, being owned by black cats, practicing the way of the sword … and much more!
Filed under: Kim Falconer, New Book Releases | Tagged: arrows of time, birth of the Reader, death of the Author, interpretation, Kim Falconer, Quantum Enchantment, the reader is always right, The Spell of Rosette |
Voyager Online 
What an interesting – and sometimes contentious – topic! I do feel that as a reader you start to own certain characters, stories and worlds – in your own head. For me, people like Jane and Silver (for example) are now ingrained as part of my own experience of life – part of me, although they were born out of someone else’s imagination, I have been allowed to take them into my self and life thanks to the writer giving them to her readers.
I think we see how strongly readers feel ownership when they sometimes criticise a writing decision the author has made in a series – and that’s where I think a line should be drawn – the author has birthed the story and therefore has an intrinsic right to it, to create and change the body and soul of it before giving it to the world – I don’t think you can argue with that any more that criticising someone for being born with a particular hair colour which came from their parent.
Kim, how do you feel about fan fiction? Would you be comfortable with someone making concrete their ideas about characters and worlds you created?
It is contentious! I’ve gotten streams of Twitter DM’s both condoning and attacking!!!
I think with characters, the reader forms a particular relationship, a particular identification to them, that transcends the author’s. This is were the ‘meaning making’ becomes most poignant. Jane and Silver started to expand the moment I read them (the moment you read them…that moment for everyone) and they now are a part of my consciousness in ways Tanith Lee has no say in. Thanks to her, they exist yet in our minds they exist in different ways–some perhaps far from her original intentions.
The author decides what will happen next (the action). Readers decide what that means to them (the feeling). Between the two, a new story is told inside every individuals mind! It’s amazing to think about!
Fan fiction is free expression and I’m all for that. It’s a sign of reader participation in the worlds the author creates–an expansion and deviation, a ‘what if’ made concrete. I like it.
In a sense, screen plays based on novels are a type of ‘fan fiction’ though more professional (perhaps), and done with the auspice of the author.
I suspect I wouldn’t read any fan fiction from the QE series until I’m through writing it, just to stay true to MY version!
🙂
Oh I like that – it’s about the meaning rather than the structure – you build the house but we (the reader) make it a home …
And yet, of course, when you do have a home, you make whatever changes you like to it until it is entirely yours.
I have heard most authors don’t read fanfiction – for the reason you say – it distracts from their own vision. This is one reason I always wonder if the Harry Potter books would have gone the same way had J K Rowling not had the pressure of the world’s children (and adults really) upon her from about book 4 onwards. I am sure it must be stressful to know that many people are waiting upon your words. But then, perhaps it is just as stressful if it’s just one reader waiting – I don’t know!
For me, knowing that readers are waiting on my words adds to the feeling of conversation. It makes me feel more connected. I’m telling the story to them!
Of course, the more feedback I receive, the more conscious I am of what they like or don’t like about characters, worlds, events and themes. It does effect my sense of audience and how I tell the story.
I like your metaphor of the author building the house and the reader making it a home. Nice!
🙂 Kim
I really like this understanding, I’m just not sure how it plays out practically.
Is it the listening that completes a story? I mean, when I write stuff, it’s for the joy of creation, for the love of putting things together, for the sheer delight in making up new worlds and characters and plots and ..
Maybe when you are a published author, things change? Maybe you get a different perspective, given that people are reading your stuff 🙂
Hi Stu,
Is it the listening that completes a story?
It is the interpretation that completes the story, just as the participation in discourse creates new meaning.
If I listen and receive the story as ‘authority’ it stagnates–it becomes a replica of the author’s perceptions. If I listen and interpret as co-creator, the story expands, meanings multiply and the creation grows as something alive.
It’s this life of the story that I’m after–this participation mystique that merges author and reader to create something new each time!
Thanks for dropping by.
:)Kim
Kim, thanks for the response!
So, apologies if I missed the answer to this in your post, but ..
Practically, would this kind of symbiosis of writer/reader play out on forums and twitter and wotnot?
Or is it just that when I read a book at home on the couch, I’m actually part of the participation?
Great question, Stu,
I was referring to the latter–you on the couch at home reading a book. You take in the voice of the author, you take in the characters, scenes and actions and you make them new in your mind–you make your own meaning based on your unique interpretation. And that meaning, for you, is always the right one.
The symbiosis occurs in ‘another world’ beyond the everyday. It occurs in the place where creativity comes to life. You as reader are ‘the other half’ of the author’s conversation. This is the ‘participation mystique!’
Not every narrative lends itself to this kind of participation. That was Barthes’ main point. If the text is structured so tightly with classical expectations and assumptions about what can (or should) happen next, the reader is locked into the ‘end point’ role of delivery. When those boundaries loosen up, the way is clear for the ‘writerly reader’ — the chance to make of the story something unique to you.
Thanks Kim! I understand now where you’re going 🙂
Ooh, I love this post!
The very act of observation changes that which is observed, so naturally when I read, view, hear or even sense anything, I alter it. Does it matter if anyone else is aware of the way in which I’ve done so? Not a jot – in fact, sometimes I’m completely unaware of it myself!
All readers create different versions of characters, events, landscapes and histories – I imagine them swirling around in a kind of primordial creative soup, with the original version somewhere near the centre. It doesn’t make the reader or their new versions “right” exactly – their versions just ARE, and cannot be denied or undone.
Once I’ve read Rosette, my version of her exists and will never cease to exist – of course “my” Rosette will change as the novel’s Rosette changes; but she comes into being the moment I read her. Or does she simply come into my awareness once I read her? Maybe “my” Rosette exists before I even read her – maybe those reader versions of characters also come into existence when the character is first imagined? Or at least, the potential for those versions is there.
It certainly gives the reader immense power – just think, for every book on my bookshelf I’ve created my own parallel worlds with parallel characters – and so have you!
Which means that if, as a writer, I want to retain total control over my own characters, I’d better not let anyone read my manuscripts, LOL!!
😉
Janette,
Thank you for pointing out the observer effect! It’s a great way to put it–regardless of what kind of meaning the reader makes of a work, just the act of reading changes its original form.
In a way, ‘your Rosette’ does exist before you ever read her in the same way the colour red exists before you see it. Your mind will make it unique to you and yes, the potential for infinite versions (of Rosette, or the colour red, anything) exists parallel to your perception.
It does give the reader immense power. Worlds within worlds withing worlds! (and you said Arrows of Time had you spinning? I think you totally nailed it!)
Ha! If writers want total control they best not let anyone read their work! That’s one way to keep it ‘pure’!
Thanks for dropping by with your vision and clarity!
🙂 Kim
PS Janette, you said, it doesn’t make the reader or their new versions “right” exactly – their versions just ARE, and cannot be denied or undone.
That’s a great way to put it. ‘right and wrong’ are limiting words that place expectation and assumption on the experience. It did use ‘Right’ purposefully in the title though to A) invite challenge and B) evoke that oft used and frustrating (for shopkeepers) axiom about the customer! 🙂
So, where do you see The Editor in all this, Kim? (And Is MY post going to make any sense?)
The Editor must play the role of The Reader, who is The Author’s audience, and read the story and characters that way, assuming not only what The Author intends, but also somehow what The Reader may or may not imagine from that manuscript. The Editor must see the difference between the death of The Author and the beginning of The Reader’s own imagination; and where the story just needs tweaking or editing. Because in some cases, those parts of the story are not mere facets that allow The Reader to just make their own interpretation, they’re actually flaws that could take The Reader on the WRONG parallel journey. The role of The Editor suggests, in part, that before the story is finished, when it is a manuscript and not a book, The Author is not dead.
And yet, who is to say that those “flaws” are mistakes; that The Reader’s journey would be wrong? If pointed out by The Editor, is that just another form of death for the Author, The Editor another form of Reader? That reading, that journey, was no less valid. That version of the story exists. The story is already out there, with its infintie parallel possibilities and murderous Readers, the moment The Author lets go – whether they release the story to the book-buying public, to a family member or to their agent or publisher. In philosophy it is all about ideas, so there is no “tweaking and editing” – you can’t polish that which is intangible.
Seems like The Editor must tread a fine philosophical line between dimensions to make sure that the essence of The Author’s story remains true to the author’s intent without standing in the way of The Reader’s freedom.
Does that make Editors pan-dimensional beings?
The other day I read an article (and huge string of comments following it) in which editors were derided for marking up manuscripts with comments and suggestions relating to “audience” and the need to write passages a certain way in order for the audience to understand. The suggestion being that this had caused many a book to be dumbed down and important detail to be lost; that editors were overstepping the mark and assuming readers were too stupid to understand meaning; that this was the reason that the market was flooded with and a selection of other complaints I can’t remember, some of which may or may not have been fair enough.
I guess that argument could work either way if The Author is dead anyway…
Love the Editor as pan-dimensional being – and why not??!!
It would explain a lot about my mental state a lot of the time…
Oh Vertigo, thank you. It makes perfect sense! You just gave us some good insights into the mind, the pan-dimensional mind, of the editor.
I see the editor as a bridge, or a bridge maker–you translate for the reader (channel?) and make suggestions to the (still breathing at this point) author. You have a foot in both worlds, standing in that ‘transitional space’ between manuscript and published work.
The image of Charon comes to mind–the ferryman of the underworld. Souls pay their coin and he guides them across the river Styx to the realm of Pluto. He is the link between the worlds . . . pan dimensional himself even.
I like it.
Interesting also about books being ‘dumbed down’ for audience accessibility. My experience so far has not been the case but I can see how it could create a strange loop that keeps works at a remedial level therefore readers are not stretch therefore works are kept remedial.
Can you post a link to the article? I’d like to read it.
Thanks for showing another side to this author/reader polarity–the editor’s perspective!
🙂 Kim
I just realised that WordPress cut out part of my original comment mid-sentence but never mind. I managed to track down the article I was referring to. http://paperpools.blogspot.com/2009/06/same-again.html
They seem to be suggesting that editors don’t like The Reader to be challenged and that The Editor functions as a sample size of one, acting for The Reader before the book is published and that’s not fair to the readers plural who are out there and might enjoy or prefer the book in its original, pre-edited form – where else would you ever trust a small sample like that? One of the commenters says they don’t see the point of editors and that only proofreaders should be used.
That fine line again?
I’m not sure if this is the only article I read at the time or if others had also written on this subject, but it’s the only one I could track down.
Thanks for posting the link, Vertigo.
I don’t think there are many readers out there that REALLY want to see an unedited (but proofed?) book. And I am sure it’s an extreme stance, saying that editors smooth all the bumps so the reader doesn’t have to stop and think. That’s just way too big a generalization for me. Plus I happen to know that Hofstadter’s Godel, Escher, Bach was edited. Talk about stop and think!
Editors don’t neuter the story for the reader, any more than Charon changes the souls he ferries. But there is something to be said for knowing the audience. I think that’s important for author, editor and proofreaders. We need to ask, who is it for?
🙂
Oh, and did you notice the mention that a 500 page manuscript was LONG? Clearly not spec fiction ….
Oh, I missed that one re: 500pp… wow… a nice quick edit for someone, then! hehehe
I bet Roland Barthes had an editor, too…
Quite a few, actually. François Wahl for one!
Is The Reader always right?
Kim kindly invited me to participate in the discussions, so here I am.
As an author, I have to say that the reader is always right, even when he/she is “wrong”. A reader reads from their perspective and can see (or miss) the layers in the story they are reading, or even see something in a story that the author has not consciously included – the meaning is, in the eye of the beholder.
But what if a reader is offended by an author’s work and tells the author so? Should an author respond? Yes. My responses are written and then sent to … my draft folder where they remain. It is unprofessional (and unethical) to castigate a reader for their cherished beliefs, however much an author is tempted to do so!
If the work is speculative, then an author may cross a boundary that a reader cannot. Speculative fiction, by its very nature can challenge; it can present a different worldview than the mundane world in which we live.
I recently faced this issue in a reader response to my latest book: it is, on first glance, a series of highly sensual scenes with a story threaded through them. One can read it at this level, or delve deeper. The characters are felinus (human cat/shapeshifters) who interact with the world and others most often through their sexuality, so there’s bound to be a lot of “docking manoeuvre”, in all its infinite diversity. But within the obvious, is the “unobvious” – the layers and depth that are there for a reader IF they choose to look. An underlying theme of my work is: “what is humanity”? And I ask that question of the artificial intelligences in the book as well as the shifters – mostly done through the point of view of my human heroine, who must also question her “humanity”.
A book can always be read on many levels. So, regardless of whether a reader sees (or decides not to see) the themes, layers and depths within a work, they are right – the work is interpreted by them, based on their own world view. An author sends a book out into the world and if it pushes boundaries, then it is to be expected that it may confront readers who may feel obliged to challenge the author … The irony of it is that one reader immediately recognised my intent, saying how much she loved the characters and their devotion to one another – so it IS in the eye of the beholder and the reader has to be always right, as is the author.
Hi Astrid,
Thanks for bringing your insights to this topic. It was your question in the interview that got it fired up in the first place! So glad you’re here!
You said: A reader reads from their perspective and can see (or miss) the layers in the story they are reading, or even see something in a story that the author has not consciously included – the meaning is, in the eye of the beholder.
That sums it up so well. I particularly like the idea that the reader may see something in the story that the author isn’t aware of. That’s happened to me and it’s a real eye opener!
I think you’re right about responding to critique and sending it to the draft folder! Anything else is like defending the work and art, by its very nature, needs no defense. Like Jannette said, it just is.
I like the notion of human/cat shape shifters (why wouldn’t I!!! so my alley)and the exploration of ‘what is humanity. (Natalie and I are having an email conversation on this topic that’s been going for months!) I look forward to exploring the deeper levels of character/meaning/sentience/sexuality in your new novel. Starlight, yes? I want to see what meaning I make in my mind!
The birth of the reader must be at the cost of the death of the author.
Kim, what a fascinating and profound statement. I had to think about it a lot before I could respond. Thanks for inviting me to do so!
I have a reader (aged 86) who has been with me since I started my writing journey; occasionally a character or a piece of my work so inspires her that she writes poetry for me – whether for a particular scene or character (she was very taken with the shifter with the purple tentacles). She doesn’t write very often now, as her hands are crippled with arthritis, but when she does … it is the highest compliment. She is reincarnating my work, in her own image (again, her eye beholds what I have created, and she re-works it).
Yes, the author dies frequently. When a book is completed and sent in manuscript form to the publisher, that book is dead in its original incarnation. It is re-born as a printed volume with a cover – again a new creator/reader has presented an interpretation of the work through art. Having worked on a book for months, or years, an author often has a profound sense of loss when the book is finished. Having lived with the story – plot, characters, etc., these creations have become part of the author’s life. When the book is completed, the characters “die”, only to be re-born when the book is published and a new set of eyes see the story. The author faces the symbolic death of self in that work, because the story is part of the author. But the author is also re-born (as is the work) when the book is read by others. And, has happened to me recently, I returned to my latest book after an absence of months. In that time, I had, as a person, undergone some experiences that ensured I was not the person I was when I wrote the story – so I read the book with new eyes, with new experiences, and discovered layers and depth that I had not noticed. This may sound odd – as creator/author, I surely must know what is in the story, what I am doing? Not necessarily. The characters tell the story and there is often moments in the writing process where what I write comes from “without” – from somewhere beyond the author and the characters. I could cite some specific examples, but not here. But I re-read one passage in my latest book and it was an “Ah-hah!” moment – the theme of the book revealed to me as reader. As a reader the whole thing made sense. As its creator, I was surprised …
How beautiful–the poetry inspired by your work. That is a true communion with the reader.
When the book is completed, the characters “die”, only to be re-born when the book is published and a new set of eyes see the story. The author faces the symbolic death of self in that work, because the story is part of the author. But the author is also re-born (as is the work) when the book is read by others.
Again, a clear way to express this process. I love how you as author became the reader and discovered new aspects to the work–it shows the depth of layers, some so deep you were unaware as you wove them in!
Your posts are portraying how powerful the process of writing is, and how much more goes on than simply telling a story–yet it is that too!
An editor is integral to the creative process and a good one really is worth her weight in gold. Their experienced eye can discern something amiss, when an author is often too close to their creation to be objective, or, is too subjective — has the information in their head, but hasn’t translated it clearly (or enough) to the page.
I agree! I’m reading the comments in the link Vertigo gave us and getting an eye full! My experience of editors is they are another set of eyes, another set of sensory perceptions, that can spot things ‘amiss’.
Sometimes, as author, I am so inside the story that I’m not sure how much of it is in my head and how much on the page! As you say, a good editor is golden and I know my work is better for their close reading and comments! I may not always follow the advice exactly but I do take it on board and work out why they felt the way they did. Sometimes the ‘fix’ is much further back or forward than they suggest, but I’m always listening.
I definitely felt like the editor’s role had been misinterpreted in the article, or by some of the commenters. Or maybe they have just had bad experiences. Most editors work to serve the story first and foremost, at least in my experience. That DOES include taking into account who the audience may be, at least in terms of who the author intends the audience to be. And in that case you presumably have to write to their level, taking into account the assumed knowledge that audience would have and the expectation they would have of the book you have written.
That’s a great point about being unsure of how much is in your head versus actually on the page, Kim. I like to think that’s part of the editor’s job – to be the key that unlocks the door you don’t realise you forgot to open. Although that analogy doesn’t really work – it’s back to the ferryman; editor as guide: the editor shows you the locked door is there. As the author it’s up to you to figure out whether the door need unlocking, kicking down, whether there is a key at all or whether you’ll need to pick the lock, or whether in fact this door should be left alone and walled up for the time being.
In other words the editor merely points out the triggers and suchlike that occur to him or her as she reads and dissects the story. Something which again, this article is against. The implication to me is that the writers are saying that the authors don’t make any errors so such reading and editing is unnecessary.
Interesting discussion!
Although I agree that there are many different interpretations for a work, some that wouldn’t have occurred to me, the author, I don’t think ALL of them are valid. I do love it when a reader sees something different from me, but which is perfectly possible within the bounds of the story I told – something that escaped me and yet was there. I get a sense of delicious wonder, in fact!
However, sometimes a reader will simply not read the clues that are there – not hidden – and ends up putting words (not into your mouth so much) as into your book; an interpretation that is contrary to the story told.
To give a very simple example, more factual than interpretive, I admit: I have often read comments about how The Isles of Glory trilogy is a Medieval fantasy. Sorry, it is not, and there are loads of clues to tell the reader that it is more an early 18th century-type world. No big deal, of course, but in this case the reader was not “right”.
To be “right” in an interpretation, they have to account for all – or at least most – of the facets of the story/ characterization/ etc.
Do I let a “wrong” interpretation worry me? Of course not. Nor do I write that stinging rebuttal *g*. I am sure I have been “wrong” myself many times in my reading!
P.S. Ah, Kim, I so relate to your last reply above!
Vertigo, you said Most editors work to serve the story first and foremost, at least in my experience. That DOES include taking into account who the audience may be, at least in terms of who the author intends the audience to be.
This is such an important point–knowing who the audience is. And yes, blessings to all editors who offer the key to those forgotten doors. (unless they are meant to be secret!)
🙂
Hi Glenda!
Great example–. . . ‘The Isles of Glory trilogy is a Medieval fantasy’. Sorry, it is not. . .
This might be a distinction between ‘meaning making’ and literacy. Interpretation requires reading comprehension and not everyone has the same aptitude.
I think what you’re saying is the story is not a Rorschach test–we aren’t looking at an ink blot and saying, ‘it’s a heart with wings,’ or ‘It’s a man stabbing a woman.’ Those kinds of interpretations are wholly subjective. But is there a distinct boundary between reader/viewer interpretation and author/artist intention? Ink blots are different than Picasso. A physics text is different to a Lark novel.
Anais Nin said: We don’t see things as they are, we see things as we are. It is possible that readers ‘see’ what is in alignment with their thoughts and beliefs at the time of reading, making meaning from what they selectively comprehend.
I know this is the case with me. I’ve gone back and reread books years later and found a whole new story! ‘How could I have missed that?’ I wonder.
The reader can only bring to the work what they know in a given moment, and what they are willing to appreciate.
The question becomes, is the reader always aware? They recreate the work according to their own consciousness.
Thanks for bringing this up!!!
🙂 Kim
Every author makes mistakes — from the typos, spelling and grammar and punctuation to the ones of consistency or character and plot defects — that’s why I value any editorial input. To say that writers don’t need editors, is like saying writers don’t need paper. No matter how hard or critically an auhtor reads his/her work, something always slips by …
like that typo in the post — auhtor.
let’s not look too closely at any of my lengthy posts which need both editing AND proofing…
Or mine!
The great thing about the comments is they are a conversation–natural–like chatting around the kitchen table. We’re allowed to stutter or stumble a bit, when talking among (amongst?) friends!