Genre Theory v. Subjective Sublimity

Edouard Duval-Carrie’s exhibit goes out of its way to deconstruct the sins of colonialism and highlight the culture and splendor of a victimized indigenous people. Most of the works in the exhibit gain their emotional power, or sublimity, through the genre in which they are viewed in. And while Bawarshi adamantly draws from various literary and rhetorical theorists to assert that genre as a concept is “constitutive rather than merely regulative,” meaning that it is not solely a means to classify discourse, I do question how relevant his theory of genre is when faced against the inherently subjective concept of sublimity (Bawarshi 24).

While the aforementioned subjectivity of sublimity makes it difficult to define, Longinus posits that it is “a kind of eminence or excellence of discourse” that “produces ecstasy rather than persuasion in the hearer” (Longinus 347). This definition allows sublimity to act as a sort of antithesis to narrow theories of rhetoric that see it as not much more than a means to persuade through discourse. Longinus goes on to offer various insights on how to effectively produce a sublime work and frames it as the ultimate goal of a writer and the ultimate treat to an audience. However, his constant ideas of what constitutes the sublime do exemplify how subjective the concept of sublimity really is. He constantly puts Homer to task and deconstructs why his works do not constitute that of the sublime. He even goes so far as to say that Homer’s work on The Odyssey should be “compared to the setting sun: the size remains without the force” (Longinus 352). This complicates the definition of “sublime” due to the fact that while Longinus does not find The Odyssey to represent the epitome of literary prowess that invites a visceral and emotional response, it stands to reason that someone else might come up with just as valid a reason why it does for them. If Longinus’ initial definition of the sublime is to be believed, then he must concede that while his parameters for what makes something function as a sublime work is specifically coded to his interest and can very well be different for someone else’s experience.

It is necessary to speak to the subjectivity of the sublime in order to offer a bit of criticism to Bawarshi’s theory on genre function, or at least asses why it conflicts with concepts of sublimity. Bawarshi offers the opinion that genre, or more appropriately genre function, is not merely a classifying noun, but an action that “constitutes how individuals come to conceptualize and act within different situations; framing not only what Foucault calls a discourse’s mode of being, but also the mode of being for those who participate in the discourse” (Bawarshi 23). This means to say that the context in which a text exists acts as a predeterminate for not only its genre status, but also for its state of being and the effect that it has on its audience. This can be problematic if a text or form of discourse achieves the sublime when viewed outside of the lens of genre function.

The painting by Edouard Duval-Carrie that was offered for discussion is a great example of how genre function can limit the sublime and ultimately dilute the overall emotional impact of a work. While I and many others are aware of Duval-Carrie’s intention with this wor. As stated in the passage that procedes it, it is meant to “implicate the colonial heritage of north Florida and the broader U.S. Southeast in circum-Carribean histories.” Despite this noble intent, I offer a scenario where someone looks at the picture presented without being aware of the context surrounding it. As a result of the lack of context, this person is forced to form his own and view the picture through a lens of a genre that is constructed by the context of his prior experiences rather than the context of the artist’s intent. For the sake of argument, let’s say that this hypothetical person experiences the sublime when looking at this picture without context. What if he sees the colonial garb as something not representative of colonialism, but as something reminiscent of a prior experience? According to Longinus, this is the ideal relationship between author and audience as sublimity’s “amazement and wonder exert invincible power and force and get the better of every hearer” while also exhibiting “the orator’s whole power at a single blow” (Longinus 347).  This person’s sublimity would then be intruded by the genre function that the picture’s preceding passage provides. It is entirely possible for someone to become aware of the author’s intention after ingesting a form of discourse and subsequently altering their  view of it. What was once a sublime work of art that subjectively spoke to someone’s pat experiences becomes an effective piece of commentary that might not ever carry the same weight as it did without the genre that was imposed upon it by intention.

While Bawarshi goes to great lengths to state that genre as a concept is not regulatory, I argue that it is confining in that it can inhibit what is supposed to be the zenith of the author-audience relationship. By “establishing particular space-time configurations within which texts function,” genre theory has the potential to force works into a bubble (Barwashi 30). Not necessarily one of classification or regulation, but one that can dampen a works literary, rhetorical, and emotional impact for the sake of its own contextual existence.