In the collision between author and reader, a system (language, process, product ) is nursed into being. It manifests in a volley of control. It activates in a nexus of exchange.
Such a system is multi-tiered and comprised of component forces. Forces that both coalesce and subvert each other's intentions: sometimes simultaneously. In other words: forces that comprise "interaction".
The reader and the writer are two component forces that activate the system of literature. These forces aren't necessarily coequal, despite conflated claims, instead they are separate, but symbiotic. A text is activated by the friction formed from the convergence and divergence of this respective control. Much hype (with various degrees of sophistication) has been made of deconstructing and recasting the author/reader binary in literary theory: particularly early hypertext. However, the debate can be traced back much further. Early cinema theory is one contributor to this legacy. Through André Bazin and Sergei Eisenstein, it might be possible to consider how the interplay between author/reader, audience/director shapes interactive literary experiences. One way to interrogate a hypothesis is through practice based research. Therefore, I will use my work on Penumbra as another lens through which to consider this issue.
Project Context:
Penumbra is a hybrid, gesture-based novella crafted for Apple’s iPad. Or, rather than belonging to a any one category, it is more appropriately a system. A system comprised of interlocking forces and carrying a literary aspect. In Penumbra, both narrative and exploratory content are very intentionally composed. Though the author’s force in this may be omnipresent, the reader often retains some degree of control as a privileged guest in the protagonist’s mindscape. To further how the relationship between the forces of reader and writer operate on the project, an explanation of project mechanics is required. Although there are multiple sites of interaction, this paper will primarily concern itself with one of the project’s mechanics: its internal/external dichotomy. The protagonist’s external world is initially represented in video, while the internal world is in text. However, there are hints of overlap throughout the system that foreshadow the eventual collision of worlds. Most of the external world is represented by uncut POV video. The default state of the project is the internal world, but the reader can force open the character’s eyes, a literal pinch gesture, to witness what the protagonist sees. The order of events of chapters read in this mode are predetermined. The reader may miss or encounter details depending on when they choose to open the eyes. However, they are also restricted by the trope of blindness. If the eyes are open too long, the author has imposed a refractory, or “white out”, period. This forces the reader back inside the internal world to recover. Internal world texts are thoughts, written as a stream of consciousness, that reflect on and adjust to the external world.
Text and video as representatives of the two worlds aren’t mutually exclusive; however these modes were chosen based on a hypothesis of what they might embody best. An internal private world of text could create a subjective space, while an external world of video might showcase an objective reality. According to Bazin, early researchers/pioneers increasingly imagined cinema as “the reconstruction of a perfect illusion of the outside world in sound, color, and relief” (20). Bazin is known for his emphasis on realism; however, it is possible that Bazin advocates for something closer to “essence” rather than simple mirage. Therefore, the choice to represent the character’s external world in video, could extend beyond a metaphor for “the cinematographic eye” into the “image of an embodied viewpoint on phenomena” (Eisenstein 233). Regardless, Penumbra makes no claim to a untainted objectivity. Structures of objective/subjective and internal/external become intertwined as the protagonist becomes disoriented. The conflation of both worlds video indicates that video too is an “expressive means of revealing the inner world and ethical countenance of the characters themselves” (Eisenstein 199).
Author: Control of the Edit
In a hybrid cinematic system, like Penumbra, authorship rests on “control of the edit” or, at least, an illusion of control. The edit contributes to the resonance of a system: its aesthetic impact. Further, its resonance is found within what Bazin calls “rhythm of attention” (91). Both author and reader direct the rhythms of intention through edits. In authoring Penumbra, we set out to direct. The goal was to craft with deliberation and intention; thus, placing more emphasis on author controlled edits. Even content that could be considered exploratory was still carefully constrained. What remains of an exploratory structure is not a branching narrative; rather, reader control of how a linear structure is spliced. Even if the reader is free to decide when to open the eyes, the project mechanics allow for author feedback by limiting the duration of possible edits. The push-pull dynamic between reader and author is heightened by the imposed white out period. If the reader has spent too long in the protagonist’s external world, the protagonist’s eyes reach their limit and must close. As a result, the reader is forcibly injected within the internal world. By programming this parameter, the author intrudes on the reader’s edits. The author may also force perspective and/or framing to ensure that essential story moments aren’t missed. If the system determines that the reader is in the internal world during a relevant external shot, the world is able to pause its continuous time until the reader returns. For the reader’s illusion of control to uphold, they must not become aware of the break in world continuity. Illusion is sustained by an audio track of external world’s ambient sounds. Thus, the “cinematic world” should appear to sustain its autonomy and not rely on the presence of the viewer for its existence (Bazin 114).
The author also asserts her presence by articulating story structure surrounding the edit. Structure serves as the framing, or guiding, device for reader edits. One form of structure is parallelism. Films by early director D. W. Griffith employed the technique of “montage progression of parallel scenes, intercut into each other”. Eisenstein associates Griffith’s parallel construction with strategies employed by Charles Dickens (Eisenstein 217). Appropriate to it’s identity as fiction, Penumbra also uses parallel form: both in general structure and classic definition. The most notable instance of the later is the introduction to Chapter 1 where the protagonist’s real world memories are intercut with their imaginary (stop-motion) counterparts. The intention is to juxtapose alternate mindscapes in order to suggest an unreliable narrator. Perhaps, the deliberation needed to compose a parallel sequence speaks to the presence of the author. In Chapter XVII of Oliver Twist, Dicken’s himself professes, “sudden shiftings of the scene, and rapid changes of time and place, are not only sanctioned in books by long usage, but are by many considered as the great art of authorship . . . “ (qtd. in Eisenstein 224)
Finally Bazin’s concept of “normal editing” as three modes of “analyzing reality” may assist in determining type and degree of author control. The author’s control of the edit is proportional to how leading an edit is in creating “concentration of attention”. The first mode, “A purely logical and descriptive analysis”, is very leading and conveys a deliberate, intentional guidance (91). One of the external world moments that a reader is forced to witness in Penumbra is the POV application of eye drops right before the protagonist’s vision clears. Yet, most of Penumbra is more closely aligned with Bazin’s second mode: “a psychological analysis from within the film” (92). Bazin describes this as POV, but it can also be linked to how the reader analyzes the protagonist’s thoughts, which are in turn the protagonist’s analysis of the external world. The guidance is less explicit and the reader is asked to make an associative leap. A split mind process is necessarily for writing the system. On one hand is an awareness of crafting leading “concentrations of attention”, on the other was willingness to give up control and compose without knowing how exact splices would be made.
Reader: Control of the Edit
Ways that the reader might have control of the edit have already been alluded to. In fact, by simply engaging with a system, the reader already has some control because they are needed for its activation. The cult of the author is not all supreme. Bazin seems to advocate for a more democratic reading. He examines the contemporary (at the time of his writing) emphasis on “fidelity to text” and hints at how the sacredness of the text could be a detriment to adaptation, or a better work of art (84). Underlying his critique is a possible desire for a more mailable text and a more democratic reading. Giving the reader control of the edit both divides and upholds the rhythm of attention, the tempo of the edit and montage. The structure and crescendos remain, but the time signature may change between measures. In the mechanics of Penumbra discussed, the reader’s primary control of the edit is their decision of when to open the protagonist’s eyes. Through successive visits to the external world, a montage is created. Thus, the reader, to an extent, controls how the story is cut and creates a unique “third space” of associations. This reader-made montage isn’t necessarily Griffith’s deliberate structure; the shots aren’t always “immutable and unrelated (232)” nor is there always a precise “intra-shot conflict” (236), but the hope is that there is still the impression of the “image of the whole”: a continuing external world. A world that is informed by its past, present, and third space. The third space is Eisenstein’s description of the imaginative associations made by the reader between two spaces of bracketing cinematic events (200-201). Due to how the reader controls edits in Penumbra, not all bracketing events will be evocative. However, what’s articulated in the reader’s third space makes an important contribution to the story. Ultimately, the reader engages with the protagonist in mimetic reading. Two third spaces overlap – the reader’s and the protagonist’s. In the protagonist’s third space, internal world commentary reflects what he witnesses in edited sequences of his external world.
Conclusion
In a hybrid cinematic system, like Penumbra, authorship rests on “control of the edit” or, at least, an illusion of control. Through the intervention of the edit, the reader becomes both witness and catalyst. They, along with the force of the author, sustain and activate the text. However, the reader's authorship is ultimately limited. Their control of the edit, while valid and integral to the third space of the story, is ultimately influenced by constraints imposed by the author. The forces of reader and author aren't necessarily coequal, despite conflated claims, instead they are separate, but symbiotic. Story emerges from the friction formed from the convergence and divergence of this respective control. In Penumbra, layers of subjective and objective forces collide to make the system possible: reader/author, inside/outside, omnipresent/exploratory. Early cinema theory is helpful in considering how such component forces shape a text. Although aspects of both Eisenstein and Bazin could be adopted by both reader and author, they are still worth considering as early representatives of each camp. Through André Bazin and Sergei Eisenstein, it might be possible to consider how the interplay between author/reader, audience/director shapes interactive literary experiences.
Works Cited
Bazin, André. What Is Cinema?. Trans. Hugh Gray. Vol. 1. Berkeley: University of California, 2005.
Eisenstein, Sergei. Film Form; Essays in Film Theory,. Trans. Jay Leyda. New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1949. Print.
