Does greater understanding mean getting less joy out of things?
Stephen Den Beste wonders if there comes a point at which literature professors stop enjoying the very act of reading -- for knowing the medium too well. He points to the case of Mark Twain; after Twain had been trained as a riverboat pilot on the Mississippi, he lamented having "mastered the language of this water" and "every trifling feature", that afterwards, "the romance and the beauty were all gone from the river". I don't share Twain's view; it's my conviction that greater understanding leads to greater appreciation.
Early in my studies of theater, I was forced by my teachers into the mindset of not just sitting back and passively watching a play, but analyzing it -- breaking it down into its component parts and evaluating them each for what they were and for what they contributed to the play. The worst critical judgment of a play you can offer is: "It was good," or "It was bad." It's far more informative to know why: was it the actors? One actor? The dialogue? The plot? How was the pacing? Did the set do its job? How was the lighting? What about it contributed or detracted from the play? The list goes on and on.
After a while, one minute into a play, and you're already sizing it up. You're attuned to the good and the bad in a way that passive enjoyment doesn't allow. You know, for instance, when that actor blurts out that line in a way that rings totally false, whether it was the actor's fault or the writer's. Or possibly the director's, for trying to force an emotion out of a scene when to do so would be contrived and unnatural.
To me, having this critical analytical mindset does nothing to sap the joy from the experience of watching a play. Admittedly, there are many plays I've been to which I otherwise might have enjoyed more were it not for the analytical mind I bring into the theater. But at the same time, having this ability to understand the language of the theater, and the tools with which the actors and director and designers carry it out, only enhances the joys of a great production. Far better to know when you're seeing great set design, or great acting, or great direction or stage management, rather than just lump it all into an undifferentiated mishmash of "good" or "bad".
The major risk of developing this mentality is that you might find that you're surrounded with mediocrity -- and now you're aware of it. But while that understanding does have its drawbacks, the benefits far outweigh the costs. Far better to recognize things for what they are. If you truly do love the theater -- or any medium -- I say: learn all you can about it, and learn to analyze it, understanding all the parts and how they fit together to form the whole. When you have this understanding, you'll find that you'll enjoy art far more than you ever could without that understanding.
What a shame it would be to be exposed to great beauty, but lack the ability to understand just how beautiful it is. The more you know and understand about a medium, the more able you are to understand, enjoy, and appreciate great art when you see it.
Posted by Matt at June 21, 2003 02:52 PM
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I think Twain must have written this after the loss of his wife and daughters to scarlet fever. He became a bitter and spiteful old man after that. Understandable, but regretful.
To me, the more you understand something, the more magical it becomes. The universe is an awesome place and understanding only enhances the beauty!
Posted by: Merlin at June 21, 2003 08:41 PM
That's what I'm saying. :)
Posted by: Matt at June 21, 2003 09:07 PM
As with the theater, so with geology.
Looking at the abrupt outlines of the Rockies, or the softer curves of the Appalachians, and stretching the imagination to see millions of years of uplift, and tectonic motion, and (mainly) erosion--it adds to my appreciation.
If you want to see beauty in the landscape, study earth sciences.
Posted by: AMac at June 21, 2003 11:23 PM
I think it also depends on how you are taught to analyse something. If you are taught to "take something apart," kind of like the Deconstructionists do (or perhaps people who have imperfectly understood that philosophy seem to do anyway) -- in order to find the "real reason" behind the "text," or to find out who or what has been "ignored" or "marginalized" by the work (either by not being included at all in it, or by not being given enough emphasis -- in the judgment of the one deconstructing the work) -- if you do all that, then maybe you do lose the ability to enjoy anything.
If, however, you are taught to analyse things for the purpose of deeper understanding of a work as something worth regarding in itself (not just as a mask over some oppressive other scheme) then you will have a richer appreciation of art, literature, so on.
Posted by: Andrea Harris at June 21, 2003 11:45 PM
For me, Mark Twain's description of the pilot's-eye view of the river was just as enchanting, albeit perhaps not so "glorious" as the jeweled sunset to his Victorian mind. Why couldn't he see both, part of his mind "on the job" and part taking in the beauty? What a grouch!
Posted by: Alifa at June 22, 2003 06:45 AM
Twain looking at the river, and the doctor looking at the diseased woman, are looking for mortal dangers, and finding them. You can see how that would not be fun. You also can see how it doesn't apply in general.
Understanding may reduce your enjoyment of the poor or mediocre, but increases your enjoyment of the excellent. People who know a lot about harmonic progression are more likely to enjoy Bach than those who don't, in my experience.
There are a lot of things that require some knowledge to appreciate at all, or even to recognize. Those who have the knowledge enjoy the thing for that reason alone. Hence pop culture "cult favorites." If just anyone could watch, say, anime, and "get it," most of the fun would be gone.
In short: Tree pretty. Understanding good.
Posted by: Bob Hawkins at June 22, 2003 12:09 PM
My freshman year of college, the acting dean who gave the address to the incoming students was a professor of literature. One of the main subjects of his speech was how it had become difficult for him to simply sit down and enjoy a book without dissecting it. The most remembered quote from that speech was, "I am now this kind of analytical machine."
Posted by: Kenneth Patterson at June 22, 2003 04:20 PM
That's awfully depressing. Do you remember the context? I hope that line wasn't meant to ward students off from thinking critically... "Stay naive," or something to that effect.
Just another reason why it's important to have teachers who aren't just masters of the subject matter, but who can also inspire the most out of their students to want to do the same.
Posted by: Matt at June 23, 2003 03:12 AM
Blog Of Xanadu June 23, 2003 12:00 PM
Does greater understanding mean getting less joy out of things? No. Since I seriously started writing fiction about ten yearsRead more: Understanding Beauty »
I recall Dostoevsky in Brother's K praising Alyosha's irrational reaction to Father Zossima's death rather than calmly analyzing the situation. FD claimed, if I recall correctly, that a man who becomes analytical too quickly will fail to see the nature of life around him and will fail to appreciate it, being too quick to suppress his natural emotions, will become dry, cynical, and hollow without this foundation.
Posted by: Mark Aveyard at June 23, 2003 02:54 PM
Interesting thesis, and I generally agree, although I have a slightly different take on Twain's piece here:
http://www.badmoney.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_badmoney_archive.html#105632626526768456
The title is "Ignorance & Bliss", if permalinks aren't working.
Posted by: Harvey Olson at June 24, 2003 03:40 PM
I think a great number of people here, including the original poster, have missed Clemens' point altogether. What he's saying is that in the process of learning the technicalities of a process, you lose the sense of wonder because you know HOW IT WORKS, and thereafter it's impossible to un-learn that knowledge and return to your Edenic state of wonder. I'm certain he's correct in his assertion, because I've experienced it myself.
When I was much younger, I worked for several years as projectionist at a movie theater. This was the old sort of theater, where the projectionist had more to do than flipping a single switch once every ninety-seven minutes. I had to learn about adjusting carbon-arc lamps, and how to make a smooth changeover every fifteen to twenty minutes, and how to listen for the telltale noises that tell you when the film's about to break or jam, and dozens of other things. And it completely ruined me for being able to watch a movie in a theater. Try as I may, I *cannot* help listening for the two-minute warning bell that tells me it's time to light the lamp on the new reel, and watching for the changeover spots that signal when to start the motor running and when to hit the shutter and sound toggles, and all the other things I had to know thirty-some years ago, and these distract me from the movie itself, to the point that I might as well not have come. In learning the technical details of how to run the show, I lost the ability to lose myself in the story the film-makers are trying to tell.
Posted by: Jon Cosmos at June 28, 2003 08:14 PM
Otherwise, we are doing what campaigns are supposed to do before a debate: lowering expectations. That is difficult in my case, as we are already just where a campaign would want to be. Going for me are, let’s see, age 94, emphysema, arthritis, nearly deaf, no experience debating, didn’t read the newspapers this morning. All that is finally an asset!
Love to you all!
Posted by: Lora at November 10, 2004 01:22 PM
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