Alison McCulloch, reviewing Eric-Emmanuel Schmitt's collection of stories called "Invisible Love" in the Sunday, Jan. 4, 2015, edition of the New York Times, said Schmitt, in a writer's dairy appended to the stories, argued that moralists make bad novelists.
"When they try, they bring to their reproduction of reality a coldness, a clinical attitude, a dissection of living matter that reeks of the laboratory."
That got me wondering as to what extent my story "Manhattan Morning" deals with moral issues and what that might say about it.
We are all familiar with the phrase "there's a moral to that story" -- a phrase that often pertains to unintended or unconsidered consequences. For instance, when the Goddess Aurora asked Jupiter to give her human lover, Tithonus, immortality, she failed to request that he also be given eternal youth and as a result he became forever old. Disappointed, Aurora turned him into a grasshopper.
"There's a moral to that story: be careful what you wish for."
There, the word "moral" is being used as a synonym for something along the lines of "important message."
That's not what's under consideration here. Rather I'm thinking of fundamental rights and wrongs and in so doing, it may be useful to differentiate between morals, ethics and in this case, values as well. Another word that sometimes arises in this context is norms. One might also think of virtues and vices, or scruples and lack thereof.
I'm going to use my own definitions of some of those terms here, which may provoke disagreement.
Morals lie a the top of the heap and as I mentioned above, refer to fundamental rights and wrongs. In most, but not all circumstances, killing another person, or stealing from him or her, is considered immoral. Adultery is also often said to be immoral and in some cases, so is sodomy, even when consensual. Just what's moral or immoral can get murky pretty quickly, but that doesn't mean the issue isn't important.
Ethics, which are related to morals, but don't have to derive from them, pertain to matters such as appropriate conduct or fairness. For instance, it might be considered unethical to give people differing amounts of pay for identical work, or to accept an appointment to a position where one has a conflict of interest. For a long time, it was considered unethical for lawyers in the U.S. to publicly advertise their services, but no more. Thus, ethics are not always engraved in stone.
In my mind, values are further down the scale. They simply represent what a person, or a social grouping, considers important and worthwhile. Displaying visible respect to one's elders, for instance, might be viewed as a good value. Failing to do so is not immoral or unethical. Consistently spending less than one's income is a value not a moral in most societies. But borrowing money responsibly can also be considered a good value and may contribute to a higher rate of economic growth in society at large. Marking certain one's children get a debt-free education is a value. If that is impossible, student loans are not unethical or immoral except, arguably, when they become so large than repayment is problematic and unreasonably burdensome.
In "Manhattan Morning," there is little to suggest that the chief character, Dan, is immoral, but depending upon how one views certain behavior, the same might not be said for his attractive, younger, second wife, Marcy. While Dan feels lucky to have won Marcy in what was evidently a competition of sorts and is very attached to her, much to his discomfort, he hasn't been able to resolve in his own mind one incident in her past. While my depiction of this situation is not at all preachy, some readers may feel that at least by implication, it raises the question of whether two people of differing moral standards can enjoy a satisfactory long-term relationship. Can they successfully bring up children?
Is this "a dissection of living matter that reeks of the laboratory?" It's up to readers to decide.
In contrast, from what we know about Marcy -- and arguably we don't know enough because we don't get to hear her tell her own story -- she doesn't necessarily believe she acted in an immoral fashion. Rather she seems only to believe that she acted unwisely or inappropriately, thereby threatening the social fabric. She understands that she violated a "norm" of the society in which she lives, but on a deeper, more fundamental level, she seems to view her actions as in line with the laws of nature. Marcy is a spiritual person, but not in a conventional religious sense. Religion can be a useful arm of society, helpful perhaps in promoting and implementing ethical conduct, but to her it isn't a source of moral standards.
How about Marcy's mother Gloria? What we know for sure about her is that in one situation, she put a certain value -- protecting the legacy of her deceased husband --above all else. Although not stated explicitly, one could easily conclude that Gloria's values have trumped her morals in this situation, and some might even believe there is a message there.
And then there is the minister. Do his good works more than offset a personal failing? This is a question that the recent film "Selma" asks, rather delicately, about Martin Luther King.
At the end of "Manhattan Morning," a woman named Sheryl expresses her values in a clean, crisp, simple way. That leaves Dan wondering about all of the rather complicated things he has been thinking about up to that point in his day. We leave him perhaps wondering whether what Sheryl has expressed could be a useful guidepost for his own life in the years ahead.
More on This Question
"When they try, they bring to their reproduction of reality a coldness, a clinical attitude, a dissection of living matter that reeks of the laboratory."
That got me wondering as to what extent my story "Manhattan Morning" deals with moral issues and what that might say about it.
We are all familiar with the phrase "there's a moral to that story" -- a phrase that often pertains to unintended or unconsidered consequences. For instance, when the Goddess Aurora asked Jupiter to give her human lover, Tithonus, immortality, she failed to request that he also be given eternal youth and as a result he became forever old. Disappointed, Aurora turned him into a grasshopper.
"There's a moral to that story: be careful what you wish for."
There, the word "moral" is being used as a synonym for something along the lines of "important message."
That's not what's under consideration here. Rather I'm thinking of fundamental rights and wrongs and in so doing, it may be useful to differentiate between morals, ethics and in this case, values as well. Another word that sometimes arises in this context is norms. One might also think of virtues and vices, or scruples and lack thereof.
I'm going to use my own definitions of some of those terms here, which may provoke disagreement.
Morals lie a the top of the heap and as I mentioned above, refer to fundamental rights and wrongs. In most, but not all circumstances, killing another person, or stealing from him or her, is considered immoral. Adultery is also often said to be immoral and in some cases, so is sodomy, even when consensual. Just what's moral or immoral can get murky pretty quickly, but that doesn't mean the issue isn't important.
Ethics, which are related to morals, but don't have to derive from them, pertain to matters such as appropriate conduct or fairness. For instance, it might be considered unethical to give people differing amounts of pay for identical work, or to accept an appointment to a position where one has a conflict of interest. For a long time, it was considered unethical for lawyers in the U.S. to publicly advertise their services, but no more. Thus, ethics are not always engraved in stone.
In my mind, values are further down the scale. They simply represent what a person, or a social grouping, considers important and worthwhile. Displaying visible respect to one's elders, for instance, might be viewed as a good value. Failing to do so is not immoral or unethical. Consistently spending less than one's income is a value not a moral in most societies. But borrowing money responsibly can also be considered a good value and may contribute to a higher rate of economic growth in society at large. Marking certain one's children get a debt-free education is a value. If that is impossible, student loans are not unethical or immoral except, arguably, when they become so large than repayment is problematic and unreasonably burdensome.
In "Manhattan Morning," there is little to suggest that the chief character, Dan, is immoral, but depending upon how one views certain behavior, the same might not be said for his attractive, younger, second wife, Marcy. While Dan feels lucky to have won Marcy in what was evidently a competition of sorts and is very attached to her, much to his discomfort, he hasn't been able to resolve in his own mind one incident in her past. While my depiction of this situation is not at all preachy, some readers may feel that at least by implication, it raises the question of whether two people of differing moral standards can enjoy a satisfactory long-term relationship. Can they successfully bring up children?
Is this "a dissection of living matter that reeks of the laboratory?" It's up to readers to decide.
In contrast, from what we know about Marcy -- and arguably we don't know enough because we don't get to hear her tell her own story -- she doesn't necessarily believe she acted in an immoral fashion. Rather she seems only to believe that she acted unwisely or inappropriately, thereby threatening the social fabric. She understands that she violated a "norm" of the society in which she lives, but on a deeper, more fundamental level, she seems to view her actions as in line with the laws of nature. Marcy is a spiritual person, but not in a conventional religious sense. Religion can be a useful arm of society, helpful perhaps in promoting and implementing ethical conduct, but to her it isn't a source of moral standards.
How about Marcy's mother Gloria? What we know for sure about her is that in one situation, she put a certain value -- protecting the legacy of her deceased husband --above all else. Although not stated explicitly, one could easily conclude that Gloria's values have trumped her morals in this situation, and some might even believe there is a message there.
And then there is the minister. Do his good works more than offset a personal failing? This is a question that the recent film "Selma" asks, rather delicately, about Martin Luther King.
At the end of "Manhattan Morning," a woman named Sheryl expresses her values in a clean, crisp, simple way. That leaves Dan wondering about all of the rather complicated things he has been thinking about up to that point in his day. We leave him perhaps wondering whether what Sheryl has expressed could be a useful guidepost for his own life in the years ahead.
More on This Question
Back in April, I published a post entitled "Do Moralists Make Bad Novelists?," based on some material I found in a book review in the "New York Times."
Well, last Sunday, the NYT itself decided that two "Bookends" commentators should debate the same topic in a feature named -- you guessed it -- "Do moralists make bad novelists?" Very interesting.
There were neither surprises nor or anything singularly insightful in the responses by Alice Gregory and Pankaj Mishra. Gregory argued that authors intent on preaching differences between good and bad to others have no business trying to use novels to do it. Not only is it inappropriate, it's inefficient, she argued.
But moral issues do belong in fiction and are, in fact, frequently to be found there, she said, Authors need to deal with them by suggestion and the end result "should expose us to a conscience, not a conviction." Examples, she said, might be found in the small details over which characters in a novel disagree or the extent to which a character might "forsake integrity for social graces" (or for almost anything, one might argue).
The other commentator, Pankaj Mishra, took a more sweeping view, maintaining that attempts to spread enlightenment through fiction, starting in the 18th century, failed miserably and more or less continuously then and thereafter. "No wonder, then, that the greatest novels since the 19th century have been marked by their author's incurable neurosis," he said.
Mishra concluded by arguing that "in our darkly ambiguous world," the role of the "now irrevocably unhappy" novelist is to offer readers a kind of transcendent ambiguity as an antidote to "the deceptive certitudes of politicians, businessmen and ideologues."
Well, fiction has always been an avenue of escape, from boredom or unappealing circumstance mainly. Why not add "deceptive certitudes" to the list?
My own view is that framing the issue in terms of "morality" is too black and white. More interesting are the related, but more ambiguous concepts of ethics, values, virtues, vices and even preferences. I think an important purpose of fiction is to explore for readers, in situations with which they can identify, the nature of choices and the potential consequences that might follow from them. Obviously, this should be done in a fashion that is at the same time diverting and entertaining.
Well, last Sunday, the NYT itself decided that two "Bookends" commentators should debate the same topic in a feature named -- you guessed it -- "Do moralists make bad novelists?" Very interesting.
There were neither surprises nor or anything singularly insightful in the responses by Alice Gregory and Pankaj Mishra. Gregory argued that authors intent on preaching differences between good and bad to others have no business trying to use novels to do it. Not only is it inappropriate, it's inefficient, she argued.
But moral issues do belong in fiction and are, in fact, frequently to be found there, she said, Authors need to deal with them by suggestion and the end result "should expose us to a conscience, not a conviction." Examples, she said, might be found in the small details over which characters in a novel disagree or the extent to which a character might "forsake integrity for social graces" (or for almost anything, one might argue).
The other commentator, Pankaj Mishra, took a more sweeping view, maintaining that attempts to spread enlightenment through fiction, starting in the 18th century, failed miserably and more or less continuously then and thereafter. "No wonder, then, that the greatest novels since the 19th century have been marked by their author's incurable neurosis," he said.
Mishra concluded by arguing that "in our darkly ambiguous world," the role of the "now irrevocably unhappy" novelist is to offer readers a kind of transcendent ambiguity as an antidote to "the deceptive certitudes of politicians, businessmen and ideologues."
Well, fiction has always been an avenue of escape, from boredom or unappealing circumstance mainly. Why not add "deceptive certitudes" to the list?
My own view is that framing the issue in terms of "morality" is too black and white. More interesting are the related, but more ambiguous concepts of ethics, values, virtues, vices and even preferences. I think an important purpose of fiction is to explore for readers, in situations with which they can identify, the nature of choices and the potential consequences that might follow from them. Obviously, this should be done in a fashion that is at the same time diverting and entertaining.
And Still More
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