College Writing I

12/5/08

Persuasive Essay

The Freedom of Lying: Fiction vs. Non-Fiction

By KNRY

The derivation of the word "fiction" originates from the Latin word ficturn, meaning "to create." This etymology of the word has affected our conventional conjecture towards what one would deem "real" and "unreal," as far as the articulation in which commonplace writing is concerned. The importance of general ideas, in what we perceive as reality and fantasy is, today, very stapled in our culture and what we hold as an important part to our everyday lives. Nancy Milford delivers a more blunt transcription:

"...since the 18th century, there has been an uneasiness about the conflict between true story, based on verifiable facts, carefully ordered, in which you could believe and therefore trust, and one that was made-up, invented, a pack of lies and therefore untrustworthy-a fiction" (Milford, 1).

Technology, science, industry, and business seem to have no room for false settings, characters with made up personalities, and places that hold situations which do not exist. A person's perspective upon their lives is focused, and under the dismissal of any outside influence that hinders their path through what they deem "practical".

Yet the examination that I inquire is of the superiority of either the two: "fiction" and "non-fiction." What is their importance towards the human being? Does fiction have any distinction for our being other than facile entertainment? And how can we recognize biographies of the great distinctive men and women of our time, when there is no absolute assurance that very small parts or entire portions of their lives were/are contrived, while the reader remains completely under the assumption that the contents are complete fact?

The etymology of the word "fact" itself is in correspondence with fiction. It is likewise a Latin word, factum, meaning "a thing performed, finished, or done." This distinction between "finishing" something can be placed under the definition of "making", which requires "inspiration" from one's train of thought to conduct this completion of something. Altogether, the words are nearly ambiguous. So here, in the entrance of this examination, the words "fiction" and "non-fiction," each hold the conventional stereotypes that are so easily interpreted. Yet it is within them that the definitions cannot be pinned down so easily, not in the least, or rather under such vague proclamation.

Assumption is a constant word in either fact or fiction. Its definition is described as "something to be taken as true." And none could be more truthful than the instantaneous narrative that can grip the reader into losing themselves in a prose or an essay. This "loss of self", whether expected or not, constitutes with the interaction of "assumption;" one understands and in a sense, "sympathizes" with some form or part of the writer's words. It is in this content that the reader will lose his or her sense of self, and in a way, take part in the subject matter that the "creation" or "real life account" attests to. It is in this instance that an "automatic" assumption is made: 1. To grasp the concept or message that the author is "making" in order for the reader to understand. 2. To gain something from this message.

This "assumption" is important, because when it is applied, it becomes the equivalent of the "truth," either in practice, or beliefs from within one's self. It can also be a form of closure.

From within this dissection of what occurs when one reads something that has been written, we can examine the differences of "fiction" from "non-fiction."

Mark Twain has been quoted that "the difference between fiction and non-fiction is that fiction must be absolutely believable." In today's exemplified works, this testament distills a prominent example upon the content of fiction today, than of before. Accounts of lives that "never existed," or of people who are "not real;" characters made up to say, do, or go places, that hold no credible evidence that they occurred other than the text, and the one who wrote it, that it had never actually "happened or not."

Yet isn't this true for non-fiction as well? Just as much as evidence can be forged, can't there be cause for alteration of one's memory, or physical proof that these "events did occur, and that they stand as an existence in the reality that we live in?"

But these objections towards "existence" and "reality" cannot exist within the timeless, detached, and disowned form of writing. As Roland Barthes would place it, these works of fiction or non-fiction give premise to a "death of the author," a place where the writer does not exist. Thus, naturally, neither does our anchor with "existence" and "truth" fasten it to our world to that of non-fiction. It can be argued that with Barthes's argument that the author does not exist within the text, then neither would an author of a non-fiction account of either their life, someone else's life, or events that took place in human history. It can be argued that since all authors do not exist within their own writings, their credibility towards what we deem facts or truth, no longer exists as well.

An example of this would be Charles Simic's poetry. In its criticism, scholars, poets, and readers from around the world have argued in the confusion of what the poetry pertains to. Within the collection The World Does Not End, the piece "My Secret Identity Is..." is a short enigma of openly vague interpretation:

The room is empty/

And the window is open (Simic, 74).

In speculation of the meaning of this piece, one could argue that narrator is exemplifying that they are "non-existent" to writing, and in what we refer to as "reality." But that is still speculation. The title could have nothing to do with the poem itself, or it could. It could represent some part of the narrator's life, but then it couldn't. It is in itself unknown, and at the same time, not "existing" in the unknown.

This is a staple to the examination of the divergence of fiction and non-fiction. The credibility of a source is of the utmost importance when it comes to writing a non-fictional statement, or work. If there is a separation between the author and their writing, then how can we judge the difference between what is fact and what is fantasy? If evidence, or proof, that an event or person ever existed, can be manipulated or destroyed, and in the same right the one who creates the non-fiction be non-existent, how can a difference be made between the two?

The word "non-fiction" is also a curious word. The hyphen that separates the words "non" and "fiction" can have a meaning within itself. The etymology of the word "non" is an equivalent of the Latin for "no, or not." Added to a word, "non" represents the opposite of the word that comes after it. But the hyphen is what separates the two words from each other. Thus, it can be argued that the hyphen represents that non-fiction means "not created, or made." And, if it has not been made, whatsoever, then it cannot possibly exist. Thus, it can easily take the place of fiction, in being a "non-existent," and in turn make "fiction" become "fact". Non-fiction is then in the place of fantasy.

It can be taken a step further, in arguing that because the hyphen represents a separation between words, then there is a separation between the meanings of them as well. Because non-fiction is separated by a hyphen, then it can be argued that the meaning of "non" separates itself from the meaning of "fiction". Thus, the meaning would read that it is "not non-fiction."

It is obvious that even from the words themselves, either from etymology or grammar usage, there seems to be no crystal clear difference between the meanings of fiction and non-fiction. The contextual identity of both can also be written without the knowledge of the inside jackets of the books that state, "This is a work of fiction." If without this information placed within the first few pages of a book (where the copyright is located), or without a numbered decimal attached to the binding (more commonplace in public or private libraries), we would have no indication that the account written by the author (if it has been written by the author) is a fact.

A recent book published in 2003, titled A Million Little Pieces by James Frey, solicited a huge uproar of outrage and dismay. Published as a memoir, it was conducted through Oprah's Book Club, which led to its highest arc in popularity. In summary, it was an account of James Frey's life, a telling mostly of his drug addiction, criminal history, and alcoholism. It pulled many readers, of who turned to Oprah to enlist it within her club.

It wasn't until a certain website had posted its investigation into the contents of the book's testimonies, that the "truth" was revealed.

"When had revealed that James Frey had apparently fabricated, conflated and/or embellished parts of his bestselling A Million Little Pieces, the whole bookish world...were shock-shocked!-that not every single word of the book was verifiably "true"(Nelson, 1).

Hence being discovered, this memoir had contradicted with documented police reports of James Frey's criminal record, and the accident that he incurred earlier in his life. The media was a-flourish with heated need of an explanation, and not only was James Frey dragged upon the Oprah show, but also Larry King. Many were outraged at the fact that he "fabricated" A Million Little Pieces, and it remained in the public media for quite a while.

Although the public, Oprah Winfrey, and the angry readers emblazoned within their websites, gnashed their teeth angrily at James Frey's injustice for fabricating what they determined as "non-fiction," the contradiction truly lies now within all works of fiction from 2003 to the present day. Now that it is apparent that "one author" could "get away with" writing a work that (in speaking of Barthes) would have a correlation with his writing, and at the same time not be a part of it because he is disjointed from the work, promotes a double negative. If "non-fiction" is also "fiction," then the public, Oprah, Larry King, and the publishers have all completely wasted their time. Since the subject material within the memoir was "well written", described, and seemingly "realistic," the book was under the assumption of being non-fiction, along with the stapled printed letters from within the first pages of the book saying, "non-fiction."

So here, James Frey's book is an example of an even labeled account of non-fiction, proven by some means of a "contradiction" (whether the sources from the website were absolutely credible themselves or not), it is evident that even the labeled proclamation that the text was "non-fiction" wasn't even legit, and false in its own mistake. Yet in the time that readers took read the entire book, they were content with themselves in that time period that it was a good memoir.

Taking a personal side to this, I found the book myself one day at local library. I had examined its binding to find that it was still labeled a non-fiction book. Knowing the workings of the library's order of business, I knew that such a small insignificance such as this would stay overlooked, even if I protested to those upon the circulation desk up front that its present location was (supposedly) to be within the fiction department. So, in resignation, I slid the book back in its place. More or less, this action and circumstance can be taken as a statement in itself; as Time Magazine would strangely put it, when discussing the fraud of Frey, "does the truth really matter?" (Grossman, 58).

It is here that I attest to my closing statement. In either way, a story or a real life account that is documented is equally important, and labels such as "fiction" or "non-fictional" are only for our convenience. They should not be taken with incredulous sincerity of which is superior; together, incidentally, they are used as vessels of information. Ideas, thoughts, instructions, or lessons: all are deemed important, no matter what aspect or pertaining form, they appear in.