By Joshua Glenn, 4/27/2003
IDEAS: At Radcliffe, you're now researching and writing a nonfiction book
titled ''The Morality of the Novel.''
SMITH: Well, let's just say that I'm re-reading a few of my favorite
20th-century novelists-including E.M. Forster, Vladimir Nabokov, Zora Neale
Hurston, Kingsley Amis, J.D. Salinger, and David Foster Wallace-with the notion
that their fiction reveals something of their own ethical ideals. Except for the
British critic James Wood, contemporary literary critics tend to avoid this
question.
IDEAS: There's a prevailing assumption that novelists like David Foster
Wallace or yourself, who write in a nervously intellectual, extremely
self-conscious style, must be amoralists-or at least relativists. Morality,
according to this view, is most likely to inhere in a straightforward narrative
style.
SMITH: If by ''morality'' you mean normative ethics, it seems to me that
moralistic novels aren't really literature at all-because whereas moral
philosophy aspires to a transcendent ''view from nowhere,'' every genuinely
literary style, from the high authorial voice to Foster Wallace and his
footnotes-within-footnotes, requires the reader to see the world from somewhere
in particular, or from many places. So every novelist's literary style is
nothing less than an ethical strategy-it's always an attempt to get the reader
to care about people who are not the same as he or she is.
IDEAS: In his review of ''The Autograph Man'' a few months ago, James Wood
wrote that ''Smith is interested in contemporary self-consciousness. Insofar as
she is a moralist, she is a moralist about this.'' Exactly how is today's
self-consciousness a moral problem?
SMITH: I do feel that acute self-consciousness has been an ethical problem
for my generation, but that's only because I'm attracted to the neo-Platonic
idea-one championed by the novelist Iris Murdoch-that we can't access the Good
that exists out there in the world unless we first escape from the cocoon of
ourselves, through an empathetic act of love, sex, or reading, for example.
Novelists like the ones I'm studying right now train us to be empathetic, it
seems to me, by requiring readers to experience what it's like to be someone
else. So extreme self-consciousness, which often stops me and others my age from
exiting our own heads, can actually prevent us from behaving ethically.
This story ran on page E3 of the Boston
Globe on 4/27/2003.