Body vs. Soul: Searching for the point of Patchwork Girl
“You don’t have a Soul. You are a Soul. You have a body.” –C.S. Lewis
Lewis’s definition of the human identity establishes an interesting idea; humans are the essence of themselves; the body is simply a container for the soul, and does not define the nature and personality of the individual. This presents an interesting dichotomy between body and soul, medium and meaning, form and function, especially when applied to not just humans, but works of art as well. Does the form through which the meaning is relayed affect how that meaning is interpreted? Shelley Jackson, considering the technologically dominated society of modern times, addresses this question in her hypertext Patchwork Girl, inspired by Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and other works by writers such as L. Frank Baum. Shelley’s computerized disc sent shock waves throughout the literary community, as it presented a new medium through which writers could present their works. Some, however, viewed this revolutionary new method with horror and trepidation, including critic Sven Birkerts. Birkerts points out the many fallacies of using hypertexts such as Shelley’s (though when referring to hypertexts, Birkerts is not particularly referring to Patchwork Girl; rather, he is speaking of his experience with hypertexts). This leads to the ultimate conclusion that while hypertextual literature is an innovative idea, the obscure organization of it detracts from the overall meaning presented.
One of the most frustrating issues for readers of texts such as Patchwork Girl is the organization- or lack thereof. In Patchwork Girl, there are many different sections to click; Journal, Graveyard, Story, Crazy Quilt, with many different sections stemming from those (please see figure 1). This in turn leads the reader to somewhere completely different and pulls them off the original track they were on, until they have lost comprehension of the story. In Jackson’s own words, “Hypertext is schizophrenic: you can’t tell what’s the original and what’s the reference.” Also, the format in which the sections may be viewed does not help to point the reader in the right direction. Often, the arrows point to several different boxes, even curving around erratically until there is no clear start or finish (please see figure 2). Thus, “A hypertext never seems quite finished, it isn’t clear just where it ends, it’s fuzzy at the edges, you can’t figure out what matters and what doesn’t, what’s matter and what’s void, what’s the bone and what’s the flesh, it’s all decoration or it’s all substance” (Jackson). Hypertext renders the story, and thence the meaning, confusing, because there is no direction or plot to follow. There are so many routes to follow (none of which are clearly designated) that no clear resolution is established, making the reader feel that there is no worthy point to text.
Part of this organizational chaos can be attributed to the lack of linear structure; in novels, the story is laid out in a series of pages to be turned, designating, physically visually, a beginning, middle, and end. Thus, every part of the story is identified and read, and the reader ends the book with a sense of resolution. “The order of print is linear, and is bound to logic by the imperatives of syntax… Print communication requires the active engagement of the reader’s attention, for reading is fundamentally an act of translation” (Birkerts 122). However, with hypertext, no clear direction is designated. “Hypertext doesn’t know where it’s going” (Jackson). Whenever a reader clicks a box, they are taken to another box or chart. The switch seems abrupt, and the new box often does not connect to the one previously read. Indeed, the text in various boxes of Patchwork Girl seems incongruous and random. Here are two excerpts from Patchwork Girl, taken from the Body of Text section and two separate “This” boxes. The first one reads:
I’m cross-legged on a dusty pillow in a tiny Middle-Eastern restaurant on Valencia in the Mission- the bronze tabletop clangs when I hit the keys hard- someone is peering at me through the curtain behind the counter. (Jackson).
The next one describes:
I’m in the back of an air-conditioned convenience store at a gas station in Iowa- a man with a protruding lower lip is staring at me between bags of potato chips- I push aside the bean dip to prop my portable on the shelf. (Jackson).
One moment, the speaker is the Middle-East; then the narration jumps to Iowa. There is no transition, no explanation, and no connection between the two narratives. Even if these two were placed in a novel, no comprehensive meaning would be established, because each section seems to be referring to a completely different event, time, and place. Thus, even the actual content is difficult to comprehend, along with the actual format. The erratic, constant motion of the hypertext also makes it difficult to fully commit to whichever section the reader has selected, because one is unsure whether or not they missed a crucial part of the story before their current reading. Indeed, one feels disconnected from the text; the reader is unaware of the basic plot in the story, and therefore does not feel any desire or drive to continue reading.
The responsibility of choosing the next section of the story can be overwhelming, as well. As Birkerts relates, “For the effect of the hypertext environment, the ever-present awareness of possibility and the need to either make or refuse choice, was to preempt my creating any meditative space for myself (Birkerts 162). Patchwork Girl is more active; it requires the reader to make decisions and click on sections. Novels are more passive; the pages sit quietly waiting for the reader to turn them. This does not place any pressure on the reader; thus, more space is created to absorb and reflect on what was read at the reader’s discretion. Because the story is laid out for the reader in a linear, irrefutable order, the reader can simply lay back and enjoy as the plot unfolds before them. With hypertext, so much concentration is focused on discovering where the story is supposed to lead the reader, that the actual content is subsumed beneath this need to work to extract any plot. Furthermore, hypertext is simply too transient and fleeting in its format, and this transience is transferred to the words themselves. Not only does any meaning garnered from choppy readings of Patchwork Girl fail to take hold in the reader’s mind, but the format itself distracts the reader from the actual subject. The many boxes of hypertexts similarly bewilder Birkerts.
I experienced constant interruption- the reading surface was fractured, rendered collagelike by the appearance of starred keywords and suddenly materialized menu boxes. I did not feel the exhilarating freedom I had hoped to feel. I felt, rather, an assault upon what I had unreflectingly assumed to be my reader’s prerogatives (Birkerts 162).
Birkerts describes how his very instincts as a reader were impaired; rather than feeling liberated by this revolutionary new format, he simply felt overwhelmed and confused. Reading, as traditionally defined, was obscured by brightly colored boxes, swerving arrows, and disjointed text.
The soul- or essence- of something can only find translation through the body through which it is presented. As Birkerts says, “Soul- a vast, elusive word” (Birkerts 212). Unfortunately, even the most profound and beautiful writing or observation will be stifled if the form is an ugly, muddled mess. Such is the case with Patchwork Girl; no meaning can be garnered because the medium of hypertext is confusing and difficult to navigate. The medium itself is so distracting, the reader loses focus on the actual meaning. The focus becomes simply trying to figure out how to read the text, not the meaning of the words themselves. Thus, not much meaning can be discussed because the hypertextual format obstructs any ability to grasp a plot or story line. The soul is, ultimately, subsumed beneath the body; clearly, the two are inextricably intertwined. Indeed, this effect is quite tragic, given, as Birkerts observes, that “Soul is our inwardness, our self-reflectiveness, our orientation to the unknown” (Birkerts 212). The soul is where one retreats for the meditation and contemplativeness needed to truly absorb meaning. To strip away the soul from a piece of literature, then, is to strip away the quiet place which conveys the essence of the story.
Appendix
Figure 1
Figure 2
Citation
Birkerts, Sven. The Gutenberg Elegies. New York: Faber and Faber, Inc., 2006.
Jackson,Shelley. “Patchwork Girl.” Watertowb, MA ed.Eastgate Systems, Inc.
Jackson, Shelley. “Stitch Bitch: the patchwork girl.” mit communications forum 20 Nov 2008
This was definitely the most difficult of all the papers we have written so far; I struggled to find a meaningful topic, because I did not like Patchwork Girl. I’m afraid maybe I did not elaborate on her enough; however, the point of my paper was to show that the medium was so confusing, no meaning could be extracted. I do feel that I use Birkerts effectively, however.
I abided by the Honor Code in writing this paper.
