I've thought a lot about sense of place in literature and my conclusion is that it comes down to establishing the locus of love. Love is an essential element of story. Without love, there is no desire and without desire there is no striving, and without striving there is no drama. The first job of the author, then, is to establish what their characters love. That is not always place, but because so many stories involve journeys -- how many desires can be satisfied without a journey? -- leaving home is very common in stories, and what is poignant or dramatic about leaving home unless home is the locus of love?
Thus we see an extraordinary love of of place in writers like Steinbeck and Tolkien who begin with loving hymns to Monterey or The Shire. We can also see an extraordinary love of adopted places, like Brideshead, for Charles Ryder (in contrast to his unbearable home). It is not universal. There is not much love of place in Jane Austen. But that is because the locus of love is elsewhere.
Not every quest requires a journey, or at least, not an arduous one. But because desire so often forces one to journey, it so often makes dramatic sense to make setting the locus of love, and for that the writer must give the reader a strong sense of place and of a character's affection for that place. Indeed, I would suggest that "strong" in the phrase "strong sense of place" is entirely about love. It is love that make the sense of place, or indeed the sense of anything else, strong.
Katy, first, thank you for your kind and gracious attention to my little article. Second, a rousing YES to your line that "a tradition—whether artistic, spiritual, intellectual, or what have you—has its own topography". I think I turned a corner when I realized this. There can be a bit of...not sure how to say it, but perhaps inordinate attachment, to one particular idea of place, land, origin, tradition, which I myself have certainly been guilty of. For me it was a bit of a distraction, directing attention only to what I thought I didn't have, or ought to have had, etc. Everyone has spaces like this, I suppose.
Thanks Katy. There's much wisdom in what you say. The framework of orthodoxy opens the window of eternity and infinity. Strong roots lead to great writing. Blessings.
I've thought a lot about sense of place in literature and my conclusion is that it comes down to establishing the locus of love. Love is an essential element of story. Without love, there is no desire and without desire there is no striving, and without striving there is no drama. The first job of the author, then, is to establish what their characters love. That is not always place, but because so many stories involve journeys -- how many desires can be satisfied without a journey? -- leaving home is very common in stories, and what is poignant or dramatic about leaving home unless home is the locus of love?
Thus we see an extraordinary love of of place in writers like Steinbeck and Tolkien who begin with loving hymns to Monterey or The Shire. We can also see an extraordinary love of adopted places, like Brideshead, for Charles Ryder (in contrast to his unbearable home). It is not universal. There is not much love of place in Jane Austen. But that is because the locus of love is elsewhere.
Not every quest requires a journey, or at least, not an arduous one. But because desire so often forces one to journey, it so often makes dramatic sense to make setting the locus of love, and for that the writer must give the reader a strong sense of place and of a character's affection for that place. Indeed, I would suggest that "strong" in the phrase "strong sense of place" is entirely about love. It is love that make the sense of place, or indeed the sense of anything else, strong.
Katy, first, thank you for your kind and gracious attention to my little article. Second, a rousing YES to your line that "a tradition—whether artistic, spiritual, intellectual, or what have you—has its own topography". I think I turned a corner when I realized this. There can be a bit of...not sure how to say it, but perhaps inordinate attachment, to one particular idea of place, land, origin, tradition, which I myself have certainly been guilty of. For me it was a bit of a distraction, directing attention only to what I thought I didn't have, or ought to have had, etc. Everyone has spaces like this, I suppose.
Thanks Katy. There's much wisdom in what you say. The framework of orthodoxy opens the window of eternity and infinity. Strong roots lead to great writing. Blessings.
FYI - Fragile Objects is all over my notifications too. LOL Not just yours. It's, obviously, a good thing!