For me, the biggest theme or idea in the readings we’ve done has been how to write about the intimate sufferings of other people while combating the drive of readers to consume the work for a sort of pleasure that leaves them complacent and plays into already existing power dynamics between those suffering and those reading about suffering. There are many ways in which consuming work about injustices and suffering can provide perversely pleasurable feelings for writers. Boyer discusses the pleasure of voyeurism and of accessing the intimate sufferings of another person. Drnaso’s work also presents people’s feeling of entitlement to see gruesome acts or intense pain felt by others. Boyer also talks about our desire to read a coherent narrative, treating a human being’s suffering as a sort of story that ought to contain the traditional, emotionally satisfying aspects of a narrative. Agee brings these types of voyeuristic pleasures to light and also mentions how reading about the suffering of others often gives us the satisfaction of feeling like informed, sympathetic, thoughtful citizens. But it does this without driving us to necessarily “do” anything about the power structures making it so that we read about the intense suffering of others in the comfort of our own homes or on our commute to work.
The pieces we read all seemed to deal with this truth (and attempting to push back against it) in some artful way. Boyer refused to provide a traditional narrative structure for her personal account of her “cancer journey.” Drnaso refused to show us the most intensely gruesome part of his story, despite the story revolving around images (and despite the fact that the characters in the story saw and reacted to the video of Sabrina’s murder). Agee made his own biases as a conscious writer presenting the life of others apparent through inserting his own self into the narration to remind us that he was not presenting some “ground truth,” and to force us to think about why we, as readers, consume this type of material. Keenes opened up room for readers to see the interiority of a historically unrepresented character, Carmel, but refused to present us with her complete thoughts because it would be false to suggest another person from a different historical time could access them completely.
Question:
My question is sort of related to the things I discussed above. In Boyer’s The Undying, she claims that “visibility doesn’t reliably change the relations of power to who or what is visible except insofar as the prey are easier to hunt” (159). How can we make injustice visible (through writing) in a way that incites action, or at least fails to submit to the traditional power structures implicit between those who suffer and those who read about it?