Genre and Subversion: A Crucial Balance

When I consider my own life and those things in it that I have read, watched, or heard that greatly affected me, I find a common thread between them all: they surprised me. I should clarify, because surprised can mean a wide array of things. I am not referring to the surprise you might find in watching a horror movie, the sudden shock of a scream sound effect or the visuals of the monster jumping into frame. Nor am I talking about the surprise one might feel when they expect to see or hear something, but they are unsure of when. The cameo appearance of a classic character in a sequel for example, or the known catch phrase of a hero in a book. These types of “surprises” are closer to a secret, one kept from the audience and known only by the author until the moment they finally decide to share it, the goal being to garner a fleeting emotional response.

The type of surprise I am instead interested in is the surprise of having expectations of what a work might contain, and then subsequently having those expectations subverted.  The Dark Knight comes to mind. I walked into the theatre to see this movie years ago. In my head, I had already drawn out my guess for what the plot was, a combination of tropes already done to death by Spider-Man, The Fantastic Four, and of course the already established history of Batman films. I expected the usual good vs. evil plotline, with possibly a romantic side plot and the essential happy ending. By ten minutes in I had given up on guessing, clearly this movie was something different, and the surprise of that cemented the experience in my mind.  

I want to clarify that I am not trying to assert that if something fails to surprise you than it is bad. The run of the mill action and superhero movies, even if you can see the plot from a million miles away, can still be quite good. Rather, I’m saying that texts that subvert expectation are the ones we end up considering great. For us to consider a work timelessly worthwhile (or perhaps sublime) it must first fit into a recognizable genre. Then, with an awareness of the expectations of that genre, it must chip away at the unconscious safety we feel when following familiar plots or tropes through subversion. This practice will then invariably alter the landscape of that genre, demanding further subversion from future artists in pursuit of creating a worthwhile work.  

In Longinus’ On the Sublime, he explains this general tenet of sublimity: 

When a man of sense and literary experiences hears something many times over, and it fails to dispose his mind to greatness or to leave him with more to reflect upon than was contained in the mere words, but comes instead to seem valueless on repeated inspection, this is not true sublimity; it endures only for the moment of hearing. Real sublimity contains much food for reflection, is difficult or rather impossible to resist, and makes a strong and ineffaceable impression on the memory” (Longinus 350)

            Longinus’ essay is quite supportive of stylistics, a school of thought that has had its fair share of criticism throughout history. However, this excerpt is an example of Longinus keying into a truth of people in general. His characterization of what makes something sublime essentially lays out how we as humans think, how we gradually can come to realizations and recognize more as we continue to analyze.

            The last part of this quote, the need for a “strong and ineffaceable impression on the memory” is of particular importance. This essentially means that a basic requirement of sublimity is that it leaves a lasting impression. As I discussed earlier, this impression comes from the surprise of subversion. We can see proof of this in every individual. Take a poll of a room and each would be able to tell you a favorite movie and why it stands out enough to receive that honor. Being able to stand out from countless other properties in a genre at all means that in at least some capacity it was able to surprise and play with expectations.

            With this in mind, we are led to ask why an author adds familiarity to their work at all. Surely setting out to write every story to have nothing at all in common would ensure that the novelty alone would give the text a sublime effect. Devitt’s explanation of genre explains why this is not possible: “genres already exist and hence already constrain responses to situations” (Devitt 577). This idea essentially boils down to the realization that in an author’s attempts to respond to a situation in their writing, they are actively participating in genre. Technically, one might set out to respond to a situation that little to no other writers have responded to in order to avoid some of these constraints, but it is impossible to avoid the recurring situations of all genres in anything one may write. This is true from an audience’s perspective as well. Lets say that a particularity creative author publishes a work. The idea of this work was to be entirely unique, somehow avoid genre at every turn. The work was intended to be the genesis of a new genre, a new starting point. The problem in a goal like this is that one cannot control the audience reaction to a piece. While you might intend to avoid all established genres, a reader might immediately characterize your work as something you did not intend. Devitt goes on to explain that: “If each writing problem were to require a completely new assessment of how to respond, writing would be slowed considerably. But once we recognize a recurring situation, a situation that we or others have responded to in the past, our response to that situation can be guided by past responses” (Devitt 576).  Genre constrains as much as it guides writing.

            Between the theories of these two writers I find myself at the conclusion that although genre is essential to how we create and understand, it must also be dealt with and subverted in creating work of higher quality and progressing culture in general. A balance between these two occurred to me when I considered how we view “classic” pieces of literature. These pieces can often times seem dated, tales like Romeo and Juliet or the stage play The Importance of Being Earnest are full of the conventions of their particular genres that are all too familiar to us. This is why, when evaluating them, we look to understand the context of their time of composition. We attempt to understand that these authors did much to subvert common tropes, and the only reason these plays seem dated to us is because of the generations of authors that came afterwards who used these classic works as guiding additions to the genres. We can see in these examples that genre is both necessary to work within and to subvert. A balance must be struck between the two in creating works of sublimity.

            This brings us finally to Ye Mimi’s project Was Being Moved? The eleven-minute combination of poetry and imagery calls on an assortment of genres. It is surreal and introspective and “erases the border between poetry and image making”, an goal accomplished by including sections of poetry and focused imagery. The alternating between the two adds meaning to the other, two separate texts that feel integral to understanding both of the pieces. In this way, the piece walks the line between genre and subversion that is necessary of a sublime piece. The “travel footage” and poetry through letters are each sub genres of their own, conventions used in many other contexts. But when combined in this way they subvert one another, the poetry makes the imagery from cities around the world feel simultaneously like snapshots of people’s lives and an evaluation of human society. The visuals forces introspective consideration of the lines from the poetry as we see crowds of people from around the world. We are part of these crowds, the letters somehow feel personal to us. The piece would miss both of these effects if it was missing either its poetry or imagery, becoming instead a too familiar addition to one of those genres.

            Dealing with genre is a complex issue for authors. There is a constant struggle to create something recognizable to audiences but also new and unique. But reaching a harmony between the two, as we can see in the theories of Longinus and Devitt, is the basis of sublimity and expanding genre.