C h a r a c t e r5 7encountered before, they would be unintelligible. A completely
original literary figure would slip through the net of language,
leaving us with nothing whatsoever to say. A type, however, is not
necessarily a stereotype. It does not follow from this argument that
Aristotle is right when he remarks that it would be inappropriate
for an artist to portray a woman as clever. Stereotypes reduce men
and women to general categories, whereas types preserve their
individuality but lend it some broader context. A cynic might take
this to mean that Irishmen are forever engaged in drunken brawling,
but that each does so in his own unique way.
It is true that literature, and perhaps poetry above all, can make
us feel as though we are in the presence of the irreducibly specific.
Yet this involves a certain sleight of hand. Nothing is absolutely
specific, if by this one means that it defeats all general categories.
We can identify objects only in language, and language is general
by nature. If it were not, we would need a different word for every
rubber duck and stick of rhubarb in the world. Even terms
like ‘this’, ‘here’, ‘now’ and ‘utterly unique’ are generic. There is no
special word for my particular pair of eyebrows or fits of sulkiness.
To say ‘octopus’ is to imply that this specific octopus resembles
others. In fact, there is nothing that does not resemble something
else in some respect. The Great Wall of China resembles the
concept of heartache in that neither can peel a banana.
In any case, the view that literary works deal in the tangible and
immediate, rather than the abstract and general, is of fairly recent
vintage. It comes to us mostly from the Romantics. Samuel
Johnson, writing in the eighteenth century, thought it a lapse of
good taste to concern oneself overmuch with the specific. For him,
the universal was a good deal more enticing. For some people
today, this would be almost as bizarre as finding trigonometry