Departing from Form – A Review

Ruts. We’ve all got them to an extent. And I think, for the most part, they get a bad rap. To me, a rut is just a sign that something “works,” or is easy, and while that can be a bad thing, it isn’t necessarily a constant problem.

Standard ruts could be eating the same thing at the same place regularly, or always driving down a specific road to get to work. It could be the way you tie your tie, or lace your shoes. Or it could be the way you talk to someone, the way you interface and react to stress and your problems. They’re all parts of a “form” we get molded to. When we’re used to something, sometimes we just do it.

But there’s something to say about departing from these box-standard approaches. Other times, it seems like being flexible is a rut in its own right. Either way, there are moments where you just can’t act the way you normally do.

The same is true for content creation. Most artists stick to one genre. But plenty of them have departed from their usual form to critical success. It happens in every medium, for example: Taylor Swift went from country to pop; Childish Gambino moved from indie rap, to rap, to his new unique blend of soul music and the standard faucets of rap production; Ray Bradbury always stuck to Sci Fi, but his narrative style and foundations as a writer varied drastically; John Milton followed what scholars suggest is the pattern of the famous writers that came before him, the reasons vary, but the results don’t; and of course this is true for film and TV writers/directors as well, (think Kubrick).

Diverging from one’s usual approach can be met with criticism at first. One of my favorite rappers, Watsky (who has been mentioned on this blog before), released a single today that is completely different from his entire discography. And while most of the responses are whole-heartedly positive, some replies are saying its “not my style.” And I’m not one to judge taste, but I do know when I first heard the song I was like “wow, that’s different.” I’ve listened to it… oh… fourteen times now. Because I’m an addict. And I can certainly tell you, it’s a good different.

I can’t speak on why artists change, or why people change. My writing style has changed nearly daily, I haven’t had that “moment” where I connect to my voice that writers like the aforementioned Bradbury call clarity. I certainly have a voice, but it changes pitch and tone whenever. I don’t control it.

And there’s a lot to say about control. I’d like to guess that people change frequently because they feel like they’ve lost control, or they need to adapt because of something they couldn’t control.

But maybe people remain rigid for the same reason. Because the self is all they can control, everything else is changing in ways they can’t handle, and so they maintain a certain self-proclaimed standard.

I’m trying to parse through this because there are a lot of times where I’m really self-assured. But at any given moment the tide can rise and take that all away. If it hasn’t been clear, lately I really have felt like life has decided to affect me and I haven’t had the opportunity to affect life. Basically...I’m living at the discretion of decisions made by everyone else.

Whenever I think about this stuff, I think about the book Things Fall Apart, by Chinua Achebe and the Yeats’s poem that gives the book its name. The poem is called “The Second Coming,” and the it opens like this:

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity (Yeats 1-9)

I recognize the imagery sprinkled throughout the poem, it is reflected in my own life. And while it is probably relatable for everyone, he wrote this in 1919, during the post-war period that sparked the beginning of Ireland’s war for independence.

The entire poem is powerful, especially the first stanza. And while it’s quite different, the imagery Yeats presents in the second stanza is psyche shattering:

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.

The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi

Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,

A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,

Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it

Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again; but now I know

That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born? (Yeats 10-23)

Pay special attention to Spiritus Mundi, or the world’s collective soul. In this poem it’s described as a sphynx who gazes blankly and without pity, much like the sun. Just shortly after that, Yeats describes the desert birds by their shadows and ties their movement to the movement of the sphynx. Seems to be a theme forming here within the extended metaphor.

Things Fall Apart tells the story of a man who is broken by tradition. It’s commonly taught in High Schools, but I still will avoid spoilers for the novel as I think it is worth a read if you’re interested. So, from a distance, the book is almost a response to Yeats’s poem, at least that’s how I read it. Where Yeats mentions a “rough beast” whose “hour [has] come round at last,” Achebe describes a beast whose hour is passing. That isn’t to say there isn’t a new beast in Achebe’s book, in fact, the new beast is fully present and the main antagonist in part 2 and 3 of the novel. But part of the problem is that almost everything in the book is “falling apart.” Yeats uses the imagery of a rocking cradle, desert birds, and a beast being born to infuse the situation with an almost maligned hope. He admits that “The best lack all of conviction, while the worst / Are filled with passionate intensity,” but in doing so is at least mentioning the fact that there is “best” in this world, that good does exist, it’s just inactive. The same can’t be said for Things Fall Apart, but that’s not a bad thing, it’s just a perspective.

So, is change a rough beast? Is it something to be put down? Do you sometimes need to see what’s old and encourage it to step away gracefully? Or do you have to let it go out with a bang. I’m not sure. Culturally, there is a couple of ruts that humanity is scrambling to leave, and do those who have managed to escape the rut “early,” have a duty to respect the rut or to encourage people to leave? Or just ignore them? I don’t know if there’s a right answer. But I do know that yelling at a valley, begging for it to change, doesn’t always produce results.

So, I guess, much like life, actions are meant to be variable. The question is, does mankind decide to reflect that? Or fight against it.

To me? Change is something that we face head on. How we face it is different depending on the situation. Sometimes change is met with a warm embrace, and other times I play chicken. I stare the change down until it relents, or I do.

This gets me into trouble.

That’s all I’ve got for you today. For a news update!!!

I’ve found an apartment and I’ve signed a lease! Once it gets approved through the service I’m using, I’ve officially got a place to stay. But it’s looking like everything is kosher.

I always knew I’d survive it, the search. But I never knew how much sanity it’d take from me. So I’m glad it’s over.