One
feature of any compelling literary endeavor is an element of conflict or
tension. This can take many forms: unexpected turns of plot, threatening
scenarios, ideological conflict, curiosity and discovery, impending doom, etc.
A dialogue with two or more characters who are only in partial agreement, well
enough crafted that they remain distinct personalities in the reader’s mind,
carries a tiny element of tension, of evolving present or potential
disagreement, in every exchange. It also routinely resolves some of the
disagreement, providing nodes of calm or satisfaction. The particular issues the
characters discuss ride the crest of this interpersonal conflict (kept
reasonably low-level, so that they continue to be willing to talk to each
other), and thereby commend themselves to the reader’s interest, even if she
did not initially think she was curious about them.
A
subtle tension of this sort that is internal to the form has advantages not
only for engaging the reader, but for the writer’s own process. Forced to shift
points of view as one character or another speaks, the writer finds the
pressure points in the issues, or in the frameworks of rhetoric and ideology
that render the issues hard to resolve. Imaginatively inhabiting each character
in turn, the writer demonstrates respect for that person’s views and deep
commitments, even while trying to show, alternately, the incompleteness or
altogether mistakenness of each in turn. A reader inclined to sympathize with
such a view feels the respect and
consideration that the author gives to it, both by inhabiting the character and
overtly through the consideration of the other character(s), and thus is in a
psychological position to reconsider.
There
are risks, of course. A less-careful reader, or one heavily fortified against
self-examination, might latch onto a well and respectfully drawn character and
perceive nothing but uncritical reinforcement for her (the reader’s)
pre-critical views. The writer might thereby unintentionally amplify and
encourage dangerous ideas merely by articulating them sypathetically, though
the purpose is to show their limitations. I don’t know any way of mitigating
this risk; perhaps it is simply one that intellectual honesty forces us to
take.
2 comments:
Your comment that the characters must remain willing to talk to each other is particularly interesting; whether or not a conclusion is reached, it has to end in some sort of amiable agreement, the characters have to have gotten somewhere. If they're no longer in a state to talk to each other then the whole exercise has proved somewhat pointless, hasn't it?
Well, I think Plato thought so. But from the perspective of the philosophical content, if we believe dialogue can or should aim at more than aporia, then they would only have to talk to each other long enough to make a sound argument. After that, they could start spitting on each other for all the truth cares...
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