The Evolution of Literature
The written word has been evolving ever since the very beginnings. We no longer draw symbols on cave walls or tablets of stone, and long gone are the days when our ancestors wrote on scrolls and papyrus leaves. Even the type writer has become extinct. In this generation, we can type our words into computers and we can read others’ writings through the very same machine. We can search any fact on the internet and obtain almost any piece of knowledge through Google. One can find a book in fiction or non-fiction, romance or mystery, historical or science fiction. All of these innovations and modernizations have promoted society. Why should this generation halt all development and growth now? Of the literary innovations of this age, one is of particular controversy. Hybrid print/visual books, such as The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick, are part of a modernization within the young adult’s genre. What is so remarkable is that The Invention of Hugo Cabret and other works like it are almost pseudo-films, in that detailed drawings and scenes permeate the chapters and actually tell parts of the story. Through not only words, but series of pictures that give off the cinema-type experience, these novels captivate readers with their mystery and absorbing visual effects. At first glance, however, one might believe that The Invention of Hugo Cabret is hardly literature.
For obvious reasons, The Invention of Hugo Cabret could be viewed as merely a picture book. What if this genre is simply stemming out of the increased need and want of young children for entertainment, and a decreased desire for depth and knowledge? Could The Invention of Hugo Cabret more accurately be described as a comic book? As Sven Birkerts states in his book, The Gutenberg Elegies, “My core fear is that we are, as a culture, as a species, becoming shallower; that we have turned from depth – from the Judeo-Christian premise of unfathomable mystery – and are adapting ourselves to the ersatz security of a vast lateral connectedness. That we are giving up on wisdom, the struggle for which has for millennia been central to the very idea of culture…” (Birkerts 228). True, probably about half of The Invention of Hugo Cabret is comprised of the drawings. Just picture a little boy whining about how he doesn’t want to read a book, and then celebrating when he realizes the book he has to read is mostly pictures! Actually, when I first looked at The Invention of Hugo Cabret, I was ecstatic because I realized the book assigned for class would be extremely light reading. When one involves themselves in these hybrid print/visual books, however, they might find that it is much more than it seems. While some of my classmates dismissed the pictures, saying that they were bothersome and an annoyance, I believe that they give the book the mystery and intriguing quality that keep intent readers involved. The film-like aspect allows, and almost requires, the readers use their imaginations to unravel, explore and fill in the blanks of the story line. As a young girl in the book named Isabelle said, “’You can make up your own story when you look at a photo’” (Selznick 93).
Unlike a comic book, the plot was much more complicated, and the pictures much more artistic. Another critic, Nicholas Carr wrote in his article about the effect of the web and, more specifically Google, “Once I was a scuba diver in the sea of words. Now I zip along the surface like a guy on a Jet Ski” (Carr). Carr’s skimming along the surface would not be possible in this book. The Invention of Hugo Cabret is like a magnet; it pulls you in, brings you into the story and immerses you in the action. The drawings in Hugo Cabret do allow for complexity, contrary to Birkerts’ assertions.
“Each improvement is, at bottom, an order of abstraction that we accommodate ourselves to. Abstraction is, however, a movement away from the natural given – a step away from our fundamental selves, selves rooted for millennia in an awe before the unknown, a fear and trembling in the face of the outer dark. We widen the gulf, and if at some level we fear the widening, we respond by investing more of our faith in these systems we have wrought” (Birkerts 224). Birkerts’ definition of abstraction somewhat contradicts his argument. To me, literature embodies abstraction. When I read, I lose sense of the present. Upon reading The Invention of Hugo Cabret, I had a new appreciation for abstract works of literature. Upon reading The Invention of Hugo Cabret, I immediately felt a connection with the character, Hugo, through our passions and imagination. Earlier this semester, I wrote about the magic of reading and how it inspires me. I wrote that I will always be fascinated with the magic of reading; by simply picking up a book I can swim in the deepest ocean, or fly through the air over the tallest mountain. Then I read, “In the darkness of a new cinema that opened in a nearby neighborhood, Hugo was able to travel backward through time and see dinosaurs and pirates and cowboys, and he saw the future, with robots and cities so gigantic they blocked the sky…In the dark of the movie theatre he first saw jungles, oceans, and deserts” (Selznick). It is true that reading to me transports me to a dream-like state, and The Invention of Hugo Cabret showed me that other people experience the same feeling and happiness through film and pictures. Throughout the book, the reader is exposed to the passions of the different character. Isabelle, like me, loves reading and the magic of film. Hugo is mesmerized by magic and intricately built machines, such as the automaton man. For those individuals who claim they don’t “get” art, I certainly would still recommend these print/visual works, for I am one of those non-artistic people; I do not have one ounce of artistic ability of appreciation in my body, yet Hugo Cabret opened a door for me. Finally, I have found an abstract work that I could appreciate and enjoy. Also, when he states that “each movement is a step away from the natural given”, Birkerts reinforces my introductory argument that literature is and has always been evolving. The very computer (or pen and paper) that he used to write his volume is a “widening of the golf” of literature and composition.
As Birkerts and Carr might say, this innovation of reading and learning might be a mere distraction, and a destruction of self and soul. However, Birkerts himself asserts, “And who can say what the effect of all these changes and enhancements will be? Where is there a platform, an unaffected point of vantage, from which one can make a disinterested assessment? …Who is to say that any historical period is better than any other?” (Birkerts 227). Recognizing that he is not the voice of the future, Birkerts leaves room (however small in amount it may be) in his argument for debate; he leaves room for those like me to argue that hybrid print/visual books are a positive innovation for young adults and even children. Maybe if I had read The Invention of Hugo Cabret when I was younger, today I would have more of an artistic appreciation. Children who do find it difficult to focus on books may find console in these hybrid prototypes, which encompass and absorb you so that they literally cannot tear themselves away. As George Melies, the great filmmaker and magician in The Invention of Hugo Cabret said, “’If you ever wondered where your dreams come from when you go to sleep at night, just look around. This is where they are made’” (Selznick).
joanmcd 