Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, they say. They, who say this, are probably ugly. The reason they say this is to explain that intangible
ideas, like beauty, are subjective, not objective. There is no standardizing measuring stick for
beauty. Some find beauty in a swamp,
other on a mountain peak. They are both
right. They are both wrong. And that is
ok.
If you told me fiction writing was beautiful I would say, ‘ok’
and move on with life. How do you argue
with that? But the question here is if
fiction writing has value. Value is
tangible, measurable, and objective. For
something to have value it must have a use and that use must be desirable. A banana slicer has a use, but it is
not seen as desirable. Its value is
minimal if any.
Fiction writing deals in the make believe. It is a construct of the author and based wholly
in their imagination. The characters
have never lived; the places have never existed; the story is a complete
fabrication. It may be a permutation of
real life, drawing on real world context, or it may not be based on anything
that has ever existed. But the
characters have never dwelt outside the pages of the book.
I recently discovered that there have been enough Lego’s
made that everyone on the planet could have 62 pieces. That is 434 billion Lego’s! It is funny to picture everyone on earth
holding a little bag full of 62 Lego’s.
Imagine now that we had a contest to see who could build the most
wonderful creation using those 62 Lego’s.
No doubt that someone would
construct a replica of the Eiffel
Tower and that many, many
more would have an exact replica of 62 Lego’s piled together. This is what fiction writing is.
We all have stories, we all have imaginations. No doubt some are better constructed than
others, but we all have a bag of 62 Lego’s.
How I arrange my pieces is simple a function of my subjective view of
what they should be. My assemblage has
no more value than anyone else who arranges their pieces.
Value is something that has a desirable useful function. A house, a car, real money has value. Given that 7 billion people have imaginations
(or 62 Lego’s) I fail to see how one person’s imagination is more useful than
someone else’s.
Fiction writing may be enjoyable to read, it may be an
escape from reality, but really it is just the preference of one assemblage
over another. If beauty is in the eye of
the beholder then there is no ugly and there is no beauty. There just is. Fiction writing just is. It has no value. But it may not need to. Value may not be the point.
There are several holes in your case.
ReplyDeleteYou say, "For something to have value it must have a use and that use must be desirable... Fiction writing just is. It has no value."
But you also say, "Fiction writing may be enjoyable to read, it may be an escape from reality"
So how can fiction writing be useful and desirable for enjoyment or for escaping reality and yet have no value? You admit it is valuable, and then say it isn't.
You say, "My assemblage has no more value than anyone else who arranges their pieces."
But your example presupposes your conclusion, that there is no desirable use from these constructions. If one needs a door stop, or a flashlight holder, or a game pieces, then some assemblages are going to be more valuable than others.
You say, "Value is tangible, measurable, and objective." What is this assertion based on? Can you objectively measure the love you have for your wife or your children? Do you say, "I love you 286 love units today son."?
I will conclude with this:
"There was a man who had two sons. And the younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of property that is coming to me.’ And he divided his property between them. Not many days later, the younger son gathered all he had and took a journey into a far country, and there he squandered his property in reckless living. And when he had spent everything, a severe famine arose in that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed pigs. And he was longing to be fed with the pods that the pigs ate, and no one gave him anything.
“But when he came to himself, he said, ‘How many of my father's hired servants have more than enough bread, but I perish here with hunger! I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants.”’ And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ But the father said to his servants, ‘Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.’ And they began to celebrate.
“Now his older son was in the field, and as he came and drew near to the house, he heard music and dancing. And he called one of the servants and asked what these things meant. And he said to him, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fattened calf, because he has received him back safe and sound.’ But he was angry and refused to go in. His father came out and entreated him, but he answered his father, ‘Look, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command, yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!’ And he said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.’” - Jesus
(Luke 15:11-32 ESV)