Monday, September 6, 2010

Blog 4

Considering the issue of “truth”:

In examining riveting, sublime literary journalism, readers cannot help but wonder: if the journalist wasn’t actually there, how on earth did they capture such a level of detail and feeling? (In other words, it would seem that no interviewer is so talented that they could possibly obtain the absolute accurate stream of inner thoughts, feelings, actions of their subject. Enter: doubt.) 

Unfortunately for many journalists, after one commits plagiarism or fabrication (ie: Million Little Pieces), the author is, more or less, branded with reader mistrust of his or her truthfulness in future pieces. It is truly astonishing to me the level of detail that John Hersey uses in Hiroshima, and, believably, it appears, he put the series together over the course of a year. [Note: I would be interested to find out how Hersey chose these particular survivors on which to focus and whether it might have made a difference in the overall effect.] Perhaps, for some readers, John Hersey’s creation of a composite character in “Joe is Home Now” creates room for mistrust in his other works, such as Hiroshima. Some critics, however, such as the authors of Art of Fact, claim that Hiroshima meets the level of authenticity and reliability required of literary journalists and that the book’s “clinical detail” is made possible by the “strength of extensive interviews.”

In other works for this week, such as “The Ultimate Literary Portrait,” the question of truthfulness becomes a little less ambiguous. James Boswell in “The Life of Samuel Johnson” was, according to the Art of Fact excerpt, “eager to express his opinions; he thrust himself into the narrative spotlight; and on occasion he blatantly stage-managed the action.” The “Ultimate Literary” article begs the question: can someone who is friends with (or, perhaps, obsessed with) a subject expect to produce a “true” and “accurate” product? The power of omitting and selectivity suggests subjectivity and Boswell’s claim that an “action of small note, a short saying, or a jest, shall distinguish a person’s real character” makes this reader wonder who is to say *what* makes a person’s “real character”? In this sense, Henrik Bering gets the point across, stating, “Not only is it vital to get the facts straight, but the emphasis also needs to be right.”

Early days of journalism

The line of fact and fiction in the early days of journalism was very loosely drawn. For example, in the “yellow journalism” days, reporters were encouraged to sensationalize their stories, or play up the blood and gore in order to sell more papers and excite public opinion. Joseph Pulitzer and William Hearst often competed in this arena. Politics also caused issue for the aims of truth in early newspapers, as many were bias to one side or another in a wide range of issues and, at times, took liberties about the opposition in editorials and stories, such as playing up an editor’s or opposing politician’s “drunkenness.” This taking liberty with the truth goes back all the way back to U.S. frontier press days, when articles touted the wonders of the "wild west" and used its columns to encourage migration and promote local economies. 

Elements of literary journalism

There are many notable elements in Hiroshima (and other readings this week) that raise this journalism to something literary. For example, as the entry in Art of Fact points out, Hersey “reconstructs scenes and explores the survivors’ thoughts and feelings in novelistic fashion,” restricting “the story to the characters’ sphere of knowledge …” Hersey’s sheer attention to detail and the (on any other day, boring) minutia of these six protagonists’ lives creates a fascinating play-by-play effect on the day of the bombing and the days following.

In honor of Hersey, I determined another literary journalism to be: a humanistic approach. In other words, authors of literary journalism should strive to represent his/her subjects in a humanistic manner through the subjects’ own recounted true thoughts and feelings in a way that is both accurate and descriptive of how events actually transpired.

Another element might be, as mentioned in the Daniel Defoe excerpt in Art of Fact, is: thoroughness of reporting.

Question for the class:

How important do you deem it for literary journalists (and/or all journalists) to create works, such as John Hersey’s Hiroshima, to battle the concept of “otherness” in times of war? As The Art of Fact entry on Hiroshima points out, Hersey “offers American readers a series of sympathetic portraits” and allowed those who felt hatred for the Japanese to realize “that Mr. Hersey’s six protagonists were fellow human beings.” Can you think of any parallel works of literary journalism that capture the horrors and empathy of Iraqi War victims like Hersey does in Hiroshima? 

2 comments:

  1. I like these stage directions - "Enter: doubt."

    Good on the elements - though the humanistic approach we could possibly articulate it a bit better - and YES on the thoroughness of reporting. That is so key.

    Even current affairs enters here with this notion of otherness -- think about the issue of Muslims in America vs. American Nativism not unlike that which has confronted numerous marginal groups in America throughout history. See http://bit.ly/d4HtYl for example re Catholics
    Here is where I imagine a local newspaper of any size could use the elements of narrative nonfiction - literary journalism - to powerful purpose.

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  2. "The power of omitting and selectivity suggests subjectivity"--we ran into this problem with the authors we looked at in New New Journalism; any omission of any fact shows bias. I'm beginning to feel like this is a circular argument. The only way for us to know is to have been present ourselves and even then our story may not read the same as another spectator's story. Like Adrian LeBlanc said about writing someone's story, "The truth may be my truth, not necessarily the truth they believe."

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