Blogging Burke--scattered Essay of Doom Theory

It had to happen Sometime, so it might as well be Now: Reading All of Burke.
Yes, it is daunting, which is probably why we aren't doing it. Not all, that is. But most.
The thing about Burke is that he and I write and think alike, "strangely" recursive, reflexive, revising without erasing. Each concept reappearing in each book in a different form, a kaleidescope of the idea. It makes more sense to read Burke conceptually, not chronologically.
That, however, is difficult to do unless you already have read Burke chronologically. Which is why tonight I'm starting in on the First, Counter-Statement a title which reveals very little.
To help I have none other than Professor Dave Blakesley's book called "Elements of Dramatism." That title reveals very little; one might think it is simply an overview of Burke's Dramatism. But Blakesly recognizes (of course!) that in order to understand the system Burke finally ended up with (or, simply ended with due to old age?) requires knowing the steps Burke took to arrive at that hexad/pentad.
Every time I read "pentadic" I think it says "pedantic"
Reading "Elements" on the bus today, I realized some things.
When Burke talks about "imaginative works" as providing ways for writers to answer Big Life Questions that arise from the writer's (creator's?)current situation, he is talking about the representative anecdote (almost) described in the Grammar. The two ideas are inexorably linked: The representative anecdote is the result of the writings that are done in order to symbolically react to a situation. The situation is defined by the writer (the writer gets to frame it according to his/her past interpreations of OTHER representative anecdotes s/he's read) so as to provide an interpretation for other readers in similar situations. That interpretation is the representative anecdote, the "equipment for living" that literature provides.
Subjectivity, then, is not only the author's own self, but the interpretations that help him or her create new interpretations. At this point, if you're still reading my blog, you must know some Burke. Who gives a damn? Indeed.
Why worry about interpretations borne of interpretations? What the hell does that have to do with ANYTHING in the corpus of Amylea-dom?
I've been working this "Essay of Doom" for a few months now, getting down thoughts, noting theories or criticism that may come in handy, etc. You may notice I have uncharacteristically avoided Burke. Instead, I've been recursively revisiting the same ideas through different frameworks, hoping to arrive at the answer to "Why is Fan Fiction so alluring?"
Perhaps I was not using the right word? "Alluring" is close. Others I've used: Attractive, interesting (ew!), engaging, popular, involved...I'm sure there are others. That's not the point. I was missing one, one which triggers giant neon signs and fake animated idea light bulbs over the heads of lit crit people:
Desire
Why is it desirable? Desire, as the Freudian mechanism (eros, blah blah, need fulfillment, blah blah), desire as the Derridian deferral of (of WHAT?) pleasure (or meaning), desire as the trace where we almost get to the meaning, we want pure communication of angels, we are so close to being linked, but...
we are denied. The desire multiplies from this denial/deferal. We want more.
Blakesly interprets Burke's "syllogistic progression/form" via examples of arguments we're used to, namely, mystery novels and academic thesis on top essays. In these forms, we are given several pieces of "prior knowledge" to consider (oooh, I'm working in Ed Psych stuff!) which make us desire some end to all these proofs. "Where are you going with this?" we ask our composition students. "How does X lead to Y?" We desire to reach that end, the completion of the argument, and consent consubstantiality with the writer in order to achieve that end, to be "gratified by the sequence." It's a familiar form, we know how (or at least that it ends. We join the author in following the clues to generate conclusions.
This is lovely, and I would have missed the real loveliness of it had Blakesly not given his last example: "Television soap operas rely on such a form [Syllogistic], but in their case, the progression is unresolved; they must keep going and going (and therein is their lure)" (57). The defered desire that both Derrida and Freud note as a key to human action comes from the form (can I say "genre" in this case?).
Let me take this to my own interests before I begin waxing tangental on the problematics of genre and Burke. Mother often tells me that anime is no different from soap operas. I want to scoff, but know better; both are serial and seemingly unending. While most soap operas have yet to end, animes do. Manga do. And that's a big problem for all of us desire defering people.
Most of the popular anime in America, in fact, are already over in Japan. A big exception was, until recently, Inuyasha, and in that case, the manga continues. Because manga are more difficult for most of the US (those not living in cities, that is) to acquire, anime is the medium most popular for these serials. Anime is more difficult to continue, though, due to budget restrictions and TV ratings, and tend to end after a few seasons while the manga may or may not continue on afterward (an additional 100 chapters of Inuyasha have already been written past the "end" of the anime).
What do we do when we are given a conclusion? Particularly one that is not at all satisfying? Inuyasha ends with much of the plot unresolved, sexual tension still not released, and the bad guy still alive. If we wish to make Inuyasha a representative anecdote, to let it give us instructions for living, then our lives seem very bleak indeed--we are stuck in limbo with Inuyasha and the gang, unable to move beyond episode 167.
Fanfiction seems to do several things in light of this small section of Burkean prose, depending on the genre of the fic. One, the "continuation" fics (Media Miner genre label) allows us to move beyond the "end" of the series, or, in many cases, imagine that end. Two, as "interpretations of interpreations" that will help readers with their own interpretations, fanfics help writers symbolically mediate those confusing things in life, and work out--in fiction, symbollically--possible answers. Writers who make characters that seem particularly OOC are usually using the fic to answer questions via role playing: What if Inuyasha started feeling attracted to males? What if Kagome decided to stop being so forgiving? What if they weren't in Japan, but the US? These questions lead to some of the more improbable fan fics, but at the same time, are probably the most useful fics for us to analyze here; they are less of an explication of the original series than an explication of the "writer's situation."
Another possibility is that some are tired of defering the fulfillment of desire. In the Harry Potter fan universe, as well as Inuyasha, the "final battle" is a subject that is almost a genre of its own. (Note to self: All fan fiction is AU by necessity because we can never know where the author would have gone/is going (again, the terminal end metaphor!)) The end is written because the author takes the fulfillment into his/her own hands. Is there some sort of breaking point? Did anyone imagine the final Inuyasha battle before, say, episode 100? A critical mass of deferal?
If we want to think of other fan fiction actions ("Genre as social action"), the "original" category is interesting (again, an mm.org genre). In this genre, the stories are set in the middle of the series and seek to explore/exploit those moments the author has left open to interpretation. While PWP stands for "Plot? What Plot?" in so called "lemon" fics, in the "original" genre, there is often a TWT bent--"Time line? What Time Line?" The tongue in cheek manner with which the authors treat the adherance of their fic to the canon time line points to a different social action than simply fulfilling some desire within a conclusion: instead, there is further deferal of conclusions, but a satisfaction of questions about character. I'll have to read Counter-Statement, but I'm willing to bet Burke addresses this kind of symbolic action, where form satisfies something other than an end
Note: See ffn, mm.org and checkmated.com for stories that emerged just prior to and just after the release of Harry Potter VI. How do the authors situate themselves in this new situation?