The Idea of Order

“A mythological universe is a vision of reality in term of human concerns and hopes and anxieties: it is not a primitive form of science. Unfortunately, human nature being what it is, man first acquires a mythological universe and then pretends as long as he can that it is also the actual universe” (Frye 14) Just as the universe of myth is centered around man, so too was the tangible universe believed to revolve around man, the mortal inhabitant of an indifferent world that is so fond of his stories. Stories offer escape from this reality, if only to create the illusion of understanding and order by reordering the tangible world of a man into art.

I feel that I’m not alone in assuming that when many readers hear the word romance, awful images come to mind. Most involve the seediest of second hand bookstores overwhelmed by the presence of every Nora Roberts and Nicolas Sparks that has happened upon their shelves. Tattered and creased with use, these little sections of paperbacks are either studiously avoided or openly mocked by customers. Formulaic “escape fiction” is hardly the fare of serious readers. However, the concept of literature governed by formulas and the need for escape through art is not an odd concept. As Frye points out, the same building blocks and conventions reoccur throughout a wide tradition of literature beyond my shallow modern conception of romance. Perhaps the art that deals with romance—with the grand adventures, the interplay of light and dark, and even the most misunderstood element (love)—is art irrevocably linked to the elements of reality that man most wants to understand and structure. In displaying the elements that most demand our attention to escape to, the threads of myth and stories betray the preoccupations and needs that weigh most heavy on the collective mind of mankind. On this great adventure, we all want the same thing: the happy ending.

“Happy endings must come at the end of something…if they happen in the middle of the story, or an adventure, or the like, all they do is cheer things up for a while” (Rushdie 202). I agree with Jill’s sentiments: give the reader a little bitter with the sweet in the best mirrored image of this world. The best of art reflects life, beautifully. Let art have the promise of happy endings, if only we realize that happy is as temporary as the hard times and our tapestry of life and art must hold true to its nature of chiaroscuro. As Soraya says, “There is a limit to how much rain a person can enjoy” (Rushdie 210). We need a balance of both; a time of hardship to feel happiness, a time of silence to enjoy song.