For Lunatics and Poets

 

 

            Having finally finished The Secular Scripture, I thought now would be an excellent time to reflect on the book as whole.  I must start by admitting that if I have ever encountered “referential mania” in the real world, it has been in the works of Frye.  His ability to fly through works and draw obscure connections without making those connections explicit is something that will be lost on most readers as I expect will have happened on a lot of this class.  Frye expects his readership, or perhaps does not expect them, to recognize the works of the Samuel Richardson and Henry Fielding, know the relationship and—for lack of a better word—competition between them, all without naming the two of them specifically:  Tom Jones and Pamela are all the clues Frye gives to the relation.  Perhaps this type of mystery is what I find most pleasing in Frye’s work.  This demanded placed upon the reader to be well-read and be able to move from the smallest references to the larger works is what will make these works nearly impenetrable to someone who is not a fifth as well-read as Frye himself.

            Since we have talked about nearly all the chapters of the book in class, I want to point out one of my favorite sections from the final.  Near the end of the chapter, Frye, quoting Sartre, says “hell is other people.  The creative act is an individualizing act, hence, for all the sense of participation, we are also returning to a second kind of isolation” (184).  This reminded me of another quote that I once encountered, though I am not certain where, that said, “I am a writer because I want to tell stories, but I do not want to have to look people in the eyes.”  Later, Frye notes, “In human life creation and contemplation need two people, a poet and a reader, a creative action that produces and a creative response that possesses” (185).   There is, indeed, a unique relationship between the writer and reader.  There are no relationships that are the same.  Every reader, has an unique relationship with any writer.  No two are the same.  This creates a sense of isolation for the writer.  Each reader composes his or her own image of the writer and none of these creations, may be the correct one.  In this sense, the writer is surrounded by people who may think they understand him, and, perhaps, that is the greatest of isolations.