You responded, “I was intrigued by the idea of Solitaire as an experience unmoored from plot, and did a little random reading in it myself. I’m not sure what I would make of it as a new reader…”
Not necessarily a plot unmoored. The reader still gathers the plot from unusual angles.
John Cage published a written work that consisted of three very different works, interlaced, with each work color-coded. Unexpectedly, the reader becomes more attentive, rather than confused. Though sequentiality is still maintained in that example, it somewhat illustrates the random approach.
My disenchantment with science comes from having studied it extensively and finding the politics of its interpretation to be a huge, probably unconscious, part of everyone’s lives, a virtual reality.
I am pleased to read your thoughts about your writing process, “laziness”, etc., the process of arriving at the completion of something, Michael Ventura’s essay on writing, the room, too.
Anonymous
Yes, I understand your point about discerning plot from unusual angles, although I find this more enjoyable in film than in prose. I enjoyed Memento, for example, even though it wasn’t seamless — I had fun with the layers, and admired the screenwriting. Someone put together a fantastic website (you need to allow popups). I’d love to have something like this for a book, with visuals and artifacts from the story, that could offer glimpses of the story. Most of the websites I’ve seen dedicated to books (as opposed to writers) are static, in all ways unengaging. Connection, interaction, that’s the strength and beauty of the web (as well as all art, in my opinion). I’m guilty of this too, as regards Solitaire; that part of this site is pretty boring. (Edited in 2008 to add: I hope not so much anymore!)
I agree about the politics of interpretation as regards science (and just about everything else). There’s a model that I used in the classes I taught on effective communication and meetings, called the Interpersonal Gap. I don’t know whom to credit for it, but it’s widely used.
I send a message (face to face, email, etc.). I intend to communicate something specific. First, the message has to pass through my personal filters — how my day is going, how I feel about the other person, my assumptions about them and the situation, my socialization, whether or not I’m in a hurry. All these factors color my communication in ways I may not be conscious of. The person I’m talking to can’t see my personal filters, and so cannot be expected to be aware of specifically how they affect my communication.
My intended message, already affected (perhaps distorted) by my personal filters, is now out in the space between me and the other person. This is the realm of observable behavior — body language, vocal or physical language stresses (depending on whether I’m speaking or signing), where I’m looking, etc. This is what the other person sees and/or hears.
This altered message has to pass through the other person’s personal filters, which aren’t visible to me. Did they eat a bad piece of corned beef for lunch? Do they like or dislike me? Is some of my observable behavior attractive or objectionable for cultural reasons? Are they in a hurry? Are they tired? All of these factors color the way they receive my message. By the time my message arrives in their brain, it may be something quite different from what I intend, because of factors that neither of us can control absolutely. And that’s the message they respond to, and the whole cycle starts over.
The goal of this model is to help me understand that what I think I’m sending isn’t necessarily what the other person is receiving. We need to make filters observable if at all possible, to help close the gap. I need to be as aware as I can of my own filters, and I need to ask questions to identify other people’s filters or intentions. For example, I might tell the other person that I’m distracted because I’m in a tricky place in my book, and my brain is giving the problem a lot of attention. Or I might say, “Did you mean to snap at me, because that’s what it sounded like.” It’s not rocket science, it’s just technique. It falls under the category of not expecting other people to read my mind. Often I hear people complain that someone didn’t get the message — “It was obvious I was in a hurry, but she wouldn’t let me go!” Well, maybe it’s not obvious — who knows how everyone’s filters are distorting the message? Making it obvious improves the odds that the real message gets through.
I find this model accurate in my experience, and it’s been very useful to me not only on a personal level, but with regard to the interpretation of information. The people who deliver information have their filters. Cultures and disciplines have filters too. My culture is biased toward the notion that data is superior to, and more valid than, personal experience. But ask anyone who’s been medically misdiagnosed because her symptoms didn’t “fit” what she thinks about that.
Filters matter. Often they are integrated at such an unconscious level that it takes a lot of work to dig them out. But it’s work worth doing, in my opinion.
Note from Kelley in 2008: If this interests you, you’ll find more about the Interpersonal Gap and other communication models/tools in Session 2 of the Humans At Work curriculum (follow the link and check the sidebar).