Consciousness, Literature and the Arts
Archive
Volume 6 Number 3, December 2005
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Robinson, Jenefer, Deeper Than Reason: Emotion and its Role in Literature, Music, and Art, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 2005. 500 pages, ISBN 0-19-926365-5, £40.00 Hardback.
Reviewed by
State University of New York at Buffalo
The popularity of Daniel Goleman's book Emotional Intelligence notwithstanding, we have all known people who are simply not very good at "reading" people and social situations. Similarly, many of us have had the frustrating experience of excitedly telling someone about a particularly emotionally enthralling book or film only to be met with disappointment when we find that they simply did not "get" it. They were utterly unable to comprehend the motivations of the character, the logic of the narrative, or the seeming intentions of the creator.
Much to the satisfaction of those of us who have had this experience, Jenefer Robinson argues quite convincingly that emotional engagement is necessary for any meaningful understanding of certain genres of art, music, literature, and poetry. According to Robinson, just as individuals who lack emotional understanding display serious social deficits, those who apprehend emotionally charged works from a purely intellectual stance misunderstand the deeper message behind artistic creations. Without that visceral emotional component, we cannot fully apprehend the subtleties of many creative works.
Robinson does a fine job of methodically laying out her argument. Her argument is threefold. From the audience's perspective, Robinson argues that we are naturally inclined to pay attention to things in the environment that may impact our interests, desires, fears, etc. Emotions, then, are bodily responses to the environment, which is either threatening or conducive to these interests. However, the mechanism is more cyclical than linear in nature. For Robinson, emotions are processes. Non-cognitive appraisals of the environment are caused by "simple perceptions" as well as by complex thoughts and beliefs which, in turn, trigger physiological responses and vice versa. Moreover, studies indicate that this mental/physiological cycle of responses can occur regardless of the fact that we are cognitively aware that the situation is fictitious. Thus, we can respond emotionally to a work of art because we are capable of vividly imagining emotion in fictitious situations where our interests are at stake. The value of this kind of interaction comes when we reflect upon these experiences and are able learn about the complexities of emotional life that go beyond what our limited vocabulary is capable of articulating.
Secondly, emotion is equally important for the creator of the work. Although Robinson is careful to say that her theory does not apply to certain genres, she nonetheless defends a "new Romantic theory of artistic expression," whereby artists express emotion through their work by way of a persona that experiences the emotion/s depicted in the piece. Building on her theory of emotion, Robinson argues that works of representational works "are able to express an emotion by articulating the way the world appears to a person in that emotional state" (Robinson, 2005, 275). But this oversimplifies Robinson's argument. She fully recognizes that in many works of art, there are "layers of personae" that allow emotions to be expressed through fiction by way of narrators, via the way that narrators depict the characters, and through the self-expression of the characters themselves, while others—particularly conceptual pieces—resist application of her theory. Finally, Robinson explores how the very structure of the medium, particularly in literature and music, guides the audience to certain emotional responses to developments in plot and character. The fourth part of the book is devoted entirely to an analysis of the role of emotion in music appreciation and will likely have both lovers of Brahms, as well as new comers to his works, revisiting these pieces, book in hand. Lovers of Henry James' The Ambassadors, Tolstoy's Anna Karenina, Edith Wharton's The Reef, Shakespeare's Macbeth, and Ian McEwan's Atonement, will enjoy seeing these works analyzed here and those not familiar with them will likely wish to read these works afterwards. Robinson provides especially vivid examples of literary works that lend credence to her argument. Although one wishes that there were more depictions of the visual arts, the one painting selected, a haunting landscape by Caspar David Friedrich, is an excellent choice.
As a former social worker, I know from personal experience that, in training, it is not unusual for students of psychiatric social work to break down and cry during simulated counseling sessions. Thus, I found Robinson's explication of how we come to be affected emotionally by works we know intellectually are fictional particularly interesting. Her argument is simple, yet convincing. Anyone who has watched BBC's 1945 House and witnessed the teary-eyed mother panic in response to a fake World War II air raid knows that, evidently, we are not always fully in control of our emotional faculties, despite what our brains are telling us. Although she volunteered for this televised dramatization, hours later the mother was still tearfully explaining that the reason why she left the lights on, which in the real world would have alerted bombers to her location, was because she had to save her children's' lives. Thus, Robinson's examination of the role of imagination rings especially true and she grounds her observations on this disconnect between the "rational" and the emotional mind on her theory of emotion-as-environmental-response. Studies that reveal how subjects respond physiologically to environmental stimuli in which they have an emotional investment lend further support to her argument.
Also effective is Robinson's recasting of the disinterested aesthetic attitude first posited by thinkers such as Hutcheson, Hume, and Kant. While pointing out the many shortcomings of such a perspective, Robinson nevertheless argues that it has its place within her new Romantic theory. Although she argues that many works, particularly realistic novels, require the reader's emotional investment in order to fully understand them, disinterestedness plays an important, educational role by allowing rational reflection upon the emotions triggered by the work. As such, the aesthetic attitude can be seen, not as a lack of feeling or interest, but rather the "rational reflection on our passionate, interested, emotional responses" (Ibid., p. 133).
Robinson's analysis also brings up additional issues worth exploring. Virtually all of the artistic works Robinson refers to are considered "great" or "significant" works, as opposed to merely popular. Consequently, many of them continue to be significant because we still find much that speaks to us, despite the passage of time. As such, one area left unexamined by Robinson's Puzzles and Paradoxes in Chapter Five, is why some narratives resonate with some of us emotionally and why they fail with others. Arguably, many people who hate certain genres are already resistant to engaging emotionally with a work—a kind of cognitive monitoring beforehand. On the other hand, some works simply do not resonate with some. I can recall an acquaintance's negative reaction to Simone de Beauvoir's short story Age of Discretion. For this person, the main character's histrionics were illogical and too fantastic to be believable. However, as a former mental health practitioner, I can attest to the destructive emotional realism of the character, for I have met others so similarly situated. Although the character's sentiments are childish and irritating, her emotional journey nonetheless seems to follow its own logic: and herein lies the social value of good novels. According to Robinson, they "expand the list of those with whom we can sympathize."(Ibid., p. 110). As such, emotional realism in art can teach us both about ourselves and the world around us. Thus, part of the value of art derives from its ability to instruct us about certain emotional truths concerning the human situation through its depiction of complex emotions.
By contrast, when we engage in secondary appraisals that categorize our emotional responses, we are hindered by culture norms that govern how we talk about our feelings. Language simply fails to convey the gamut the emotions that we experience as human beings. For Robinson, immersing ourselves in the arts is far more instructive in terms of plumbing the intricacies of emotions than either philosophy or psychology. Nonetheless, it would also be interesting to tease out what elements are necessary for emotionally effective narrative. Why do some expressions seem timeless while others seem hopelessly dated? What is this "formula" that allows great works to stand the test of time? While part of the emotional impact on a work depends on what the audience brings to the table, so to speak, in terms of interests, values, experiences, etc, as students of the arts are well aware, the structure of the presentation often is designed to guide the audience to certain feelings and conclusions. Just where and how these two interact is unexamined here. Given Robinson's assertions, this is clearly an area that warrants further exploration.
My criticisms are few and relatively minor. Actor Gabriel Byrne once said that, in his estimation, the best actors didn't "act;" they simply allowed themselves to respond to the fictitious environment and expressed the emotions that were triggered from within. For Byrne, acting was a revealing, rather than concealing process. While I recognize that space necessarily restricts the amount of attention that can be paid to each art, analysis of the role of the actor in the emotional expression of drama would have been an welcome addition to her section on the new Romantic theory of expression. One also wishes that the attention paid to each of the arts was a bit more balanced in terms of length (e.g. painting is treated in five pages, sculpture and architecture are conflated into two pages, etc.) and, as such, these sections are less satisfying than the sections on literature and music.
Finally, while she is correct that many audience members may have felt angry at being manipulated into finding the shooting of a character "amusing," Robinson's brief assessment of Quentin Tarantino's film Pulp Fiction is a bit disappointing. In recent memory, after overhearing a rather rueful, true life story, my niece asked why it is that adults laugh at things that aren’t funny. "Because it's absurd," my sister responded. Robinson's quick disposal of the Tarantino example missed an excellent opportunity to discuss further the complexities of emotions that seem diametrically opposed, but that nonetheless exist simultaneously. Controversial and often cutting edge pieces, such as Pulp Fiction, frequently arouse ire and attention precisely because they express emotional incongruity in ways that challenge how we traditionally view and make sense out of such depictions. These are the pieces that many audience members simply don't get or are outraged by, while others laud the sheer "genius" of the work.
These minor points notwithstanding, it is still a thought-provoking joy to read and would make excellent required reading in a classroom setting. Robinson deftly illustrates the historical landscape of aesthetic theory, and emotion theory from philosophical, psychological, behaviorist, and neuro-physiological perspectives, and the book is surprisingly ambitious in the sheer number of thinkers whose works are discussed over the course of the book. Patricia Greenspan, Peter Kivy, Noel Carroll, Joseph LeDoux, Amelie Rorty, Robert Solomon, Antonio Damasio, John Watson, Paul Ekman, and many, many other contemporary and historic thinkers are examined here. Indeed, part of the appeal of the book lies with the fact that Robinson is able to provide both a broad, multidisciplinary overview of the state of emotion theory and the philosophy of art without sacrificing depth of analysis. In addition, the book is well-organized with chapter conclusions that bring us back to the previous premises and conclusions and tie everything up to that point together. As a philosopher, free-lance artist, and former paraprofessional psychiatric social worker, I found Deeper Than Reason to be a well-balanced, careful analysis that is appealing on many levels. Robinson has written a fascinating study of the role of emotions in the arts that will be highly attractive to both serious students of philosophy, emotion theory and the arts, as well as educated lay persons. Her style is both economical and engaging and she has managed to articulate what many of us have already felt at an intuitive level; without emotional engagement, some works of art simply cannot be understood. As such, Deeper Than Reason is a welcome arrival on the landscape of the philosophy of art and emotion theory.