RITUAL MAGIC

In this essay I pointed out the failings of Northrop Frye's attempt to rather rigidly schematize "narrative values" and "significant values" as he did in his 1951 essay "Archetypes of Literature." I should also point out that it's my impression that Frye did not maintain quite such rigidity in his subsequent criticism, particularly in his book WORDS WITH POWER, where he set down the way in which "secondary concerns" (such as the ones necessary to formulate an ideology) spring from those of "primary concern" (which are those that give rise to myth). I referred to this line of thought earlier here, and would add that the two sets of values on which he expounds in the "Archetypes" essay are roughly comparable to his two types of concern, and that in the later work he's more or less putting "the body" in the driver's seat, where before it was the "mind."

So it's quite possible that in later works Frye had more appreciation for the problems of separating the dancer from the dance, perhaps even similar to that of Theodore Gaster (whose 1950 book THESPIS is referenced in one of Frye's essays from 1960, though I strongly suspect Frye had read Gaster by the time he Frye wrote ANATOMY).

Although Gaster addresses himself to religious myth while Frye focuses upon literature, both deal with the problem of how a narrative articulates significance for its audience. Gaster is of course dealing with a type of narrative which, by its nature, could never have been "experimental" in a manner comparable to the verses of Rimbaud or the novels of James Joyce, but his explanation of the relationship of the narrative to its audience remains relevant to literature:

"Seasonal rituals are functional in character. Their purpose is periodically to revive the topocosm, that is, the entire complex of any given locality conceived as a living organism. But this topocosm possesses both a punctual and a durative aspect, representing, not only the actual and present community, but also that ideal and continuous entity of which the latter is but the current manifestation."-- THESPIS, p. 17.

It should go without saying that no literary critic, least of all Frye, believed that literature possessed the same functions as religious myth, but the discipline of myth criticism is oriented upon discovering the parallel between the "content" (Frye's word) shared by both.

Now, the ideal/real parallel is nothing new, nor was it when Gaster wrote this book. But I draw attention to the way Gaster's uses the linguistic terms "punctual" and "durative" to describe the relationship between the narrative acted out by present-day worshippers and the "significant value" which the narrative incarnates. In Gaster dancer and dance are far more intertwined with one another than they are in Frye's "Archetypes" essay. It might be surmised that it's more natural to separate the themes and/or "significant values" of literature out from the narrative proper, since literary works are generally acknowledged to be made by men rather than being passed down from God or the gods.

Yet, for all that the modern audience knows that the narrative it reads is a man-made artifact, the experience of the narrative can be every bit as engrossing as any sacred ritual. Whether the artifact has made for wide popular consumption, like the Lee/Ditko/Romita SPIDER-MAN, or for a coterie audience, like the Hernandez's various LOVE AND ROCKETS offerings, an artifact that possesses an engrossing narrative can draw a reader back into re-experiencing the story's occurences as much (if not more) than when the stories were fresh. Inevitably the experienced reader may have new meditations on "significant values," as when a re-reading inspires one with some new insight about the literary "topocosms" of this or that author. But those values do not take precedence over the values of pure narrative, which should be judged as a good in itself, rather than just a means to an end.