o.paque adj not transparent; not see-through
o.blique adj indirectly expressed; not
straightforward
There exists already a rather ostentatious list of literary
terms to which I have no desire to add.
Rather, I want to illustrate how fiction conveys meaning to a reader. I want to draw attention to the relationship
between the two words defined above, and to how they relate to our lives.
By opaque meaning,
I refer to that in life which eludes our understanding yet still elicits our
attention. We can know certain things bear
significance without fully comprehending their meaning. Death is one example (a favorite of Poe’s). What happens in death matters to us in life—it
does not seem to matter to animals—even though we know its darkness is almost
complete. The presence of God, the forces
guiding human affairs, the chances of weather: these things have meaning beyond
the compass of our human intellect.
Knowledge is more limited than imagination.
By oblique meaning,
I refer to the figurative, illustrative manner by which literature conveys its
own meaning. One of the most truly
legitimate questions we can ask of literature is why its made-up stories should
matter to us. Part of understanding
literature involves knowing why fiction is necessary
to convey certain ideas. True, stories
move us emotionally, helping to soften our intellects to the seeds they sow—this
is, of course, one reason to use fiction.
But why do we find stories so intriguing? Why are we open to them in the first
place?
Because we live in a meaningful world. Figurative circumstances found in literature,
when carefully crafted by an author and carefully considered by a reader, reflect
the more elusive meaning we are aware of in life. Fiction distills the massive-mundane meaning
in everyday life, if only by showing us accessible meaning. Its initial indirection directs our attention
toward the greater significance of being human.
Oblique meaning in literature indicates and illustrates
opaque meaning in life.
Read Shakespeare’s King
Lear. Look for the word indirection; it appears significantly in
the play. But most of all, turn your
attention fully on the hero of the drama: Edgar.
…Incidentally, keep in mind the fact that Shakespeare, as a
person, is an opaque meaning, while the significance of the play he wrote is
oblique. We cannot know him, but only his
play…
Always fond of a play-within-the-play (so his play is a play-within-real-life),
Shakespeare portrays the redemption of Gloucester—that is, the return of
meaning to his life—as accomplished through fiction. Edgar convinces his blind, despairing father
that his life has been miraculously spared after a fall from a cliff. In truth, he has not fallen from a cliff, but
Gloucester swears henceforth to endure all suffering. The reader, sensitive to this oblique meaning,
learns to not despair on account of suffering.
Yet if this notion can be applied to real life, it must assume the
miracle.
Later in the play, as the final tragedy unfurls, Edgar
utters this cryptic line:
“Ripeness is all.”
That is, wait!, and allow every circumstance to
come to its fruition. Know that you do
not know what the outcome will be. Why
does Shakespeare advocate this? He
cannot know what fruit our lives will bear?
No, but he is aware they will bear fruit. He nods toward opaque meaning. As an author of a terribly tragic play, he
seems still confident in the miraculous.
He has made his readers aware of something he himself cannot comprehend.