On Description (by me and Hamon)

This is an excerpt of some musings I wrote the other night before I set out to read Philippe Hamon's book Du Descriptif (Of the Descriptive)

On Description

First, my own thoughts (as they ramble, babbling through my head);

To describe is to attribute qualities to something, it is to make it (that something) an object of thought and a subject of discourse, and in doing so, to differentiate it from other things—to make it no longer some thing, but a particular thing, distinguished as an individual entity, or, as part of a larger group that is different from other groups . Above all, description is expansive in nature. It enlarges the footprint that a particular entity occupies in our imagination. To a character in a novel, it may bestow certain qualities whilst depriving others, and similarly, when describing a friend, we are attempting to create a picture of that person and communicate it to someone else. The colloquial phrase, “can you give me a picture of it,” hints at part of what is at stake: we are not simply supplying a list of attributes and expecting that to suffice, but instead, we also supply or assume a coherency as all of the attributes are bound by the context of being applied to a particular person or thing (or idea). A good description should bring its object to life, therein making it a subject. To describe then is often already to assume existence, either as an existing object with duration and extension, or as an imagined possibility, that nonetheless has some sort of coherence. We should be careful to not always assume this to be the case. Indeed, many modern novelists have employed descriptions in ways that directly challenge our attemps at coherency [this needs thought in particular needs work]. By "coherency" in the last sentence I mean an a priori belief in things existing as they are in a manner (roughly) synonymous with things as we perceive and understand them. [This las sentence need flushing out to be sensible]

As a particular category in literature, description has traditionally been opposed to narrative (advances in the story). In this view, description is that which does not advance the plot, and was thus sometimes seen as superfluous. Characters’ actions comprised the story, and depictions of their demeanor or physique, or of the place they inhabited, were taken to be exterior to the story. If we limit a story and its importance to what might be conveyed by the simplest of point form fabulas, this could seem almost correct. However, even in the choice of verbs with which the action is represented, there is a process of differentiation. At its basis, description is the creation of difference, without which a particular thing could not be perceived to exist.


Now on to Hamon’s introduction (“Du Descriptif”, 1993):

“The essence of description (“du descriptif”), if there must (“devait”) be one, its effect, would be in one effort: an effort to resist the constraigning linearity of the text,…” p.5

This is surely one of the effects, and perhaps principal uses, of description, and it suggests the traditional notion of the descriptive as separate from the plot driven (actions and events), but it ignores the many ways in which description can appear within a linear progression. For example, take the sentence, “Natas overheard Chris talking on the phone”. Depending on the reader’s familiarity with “Natas”, it may carry very little or a great deal of meaning as the subject of the sentence. If we are partway through the story, then all our acquaintance with Natas thus far has the potential to affect our understanding of this sentence. The reader may also recognize “Natas” as being “Satan” spelled backwards, and then wonder if the author meant to ascribe to Natas some sort of satanic sense of being. Next, we might imagine that the author had simply written “heard” instead of “overheard”, or perhaps “listened to” or “eavesdropped on”. Each of these verbs carries different connotations, and thus differs in the way it describes the action undertaken by Natas. Again, the proper name “Chris” may invoke particular associations, which is just to say that even the choice of a proper name can be an aspect of description. To take an example from literature, the character “Bottom” from Réjean Ducharme’s Dévadé has a name that umistakably conveys two aspects of the character’s life, which are also themes of the novel (Bottom’s name is important both for its being in English in an otherwise mostly French novel written by a francophone Canadian, and for the actual meaning of the English word). We might also substitute different verbs for “talking”—yelling, screaming, whispering, chatting—many come to mind, but the point is that in choosing a word we make a choice amongst many other possibilities, and if we accept Saussure’s idea of diffentially established meaning [cite, syntagmatic v. paradygmatic axis, or Jakobson’s metonymy v. metaphor], which I do, then we will agree that even word choice involves a process of differentiation, which is then mirrored (though not precisely, more to say on this, though it may not be relevant) by the reader while deciphering the text.