Thoughts on Longinus' "On the Sublime"

It is natural to us to feel our souls lifted up by the true Sublime, and conceiving a sort of generous exultation to be filled with joy and pride, as though we had ourselves originated the ideas which we read.

Though I’ve read quite a bit of ancient Greek/Roman literature, I don’t think I’d read anything by Longinus until this year. His On Good Writing was a suggestion on my Goodreads account, and when I couldn’t find that particular book in either a free e-book or at my local library (I don’t usually purchase books by authors I’ve never read before), I settled for one I did find: a free Kindle book called On the Sublime.

As it turns out, “Longinus” is sort of a placeholder in the author’s byline, as scholars aren’t really sure who wrote this book. Whoever the author was, the book was written in Greek during the first century A.D. (the date is more certain as the work was a reaction against another book of that time), and references other famous works and writers of Classical thought, including Plato, Homer, and Sappho.

…the Sublime, wherever it occurs, consists in a certain loftiness and excellence of language, and that it is by this, and this only, that the greatest poets and prose-writers have gained eminence, and won themselves a lasting place in the Temple of Fame. A lofty passage does not convince the reason of the reader, but takes him out of himself.

Initially the title seems to imply that this is an essay on some sort of deep and dry philosophical or metaphysical topic. In actuality this book is talking about the art of storytelling. “The Sublime” in this case is what Longinus calls that certain reaction a reader gets when the writing and story and words and feelings all coalesce into a moment of perfect enjoyment. It’s like a “moment of clarity,” except specifically for reading.

On the Sublime’s goal, then, is to investigate different types of literature, and to figure out exactly what sort of writing creates that “Sublime.” Although he goes through each in detail, Longinus outlines five principal sources from which almost all sublimity is derived:

1.      Grandeur of thought

2.      Vigorous and spirited treatment of the passions

3.      A certain artifice in the employment of figures, which are of two kinds:

a.      Figures of thought

b.     Figures of speech

4.      Dignified expression

a.      The proper choice of words

b.     Use of metaphors and other ornaments of diction

5.      Majesty and elevation of structure

Not only does he address this more philosophical side of storytelling, he gives concrete examples of these ideas put into practice by some of the more well-known authors and works of his time:

Observe how [Herodotus] takes us, as it were, by the hand, and leads us in spirit through these laces, making us no longer readers, but spectators.

My understanding is that Herodotus was a bit fast and loose with historical fact...but then again, there wasn't really much of a precedent of "history" writing so far, so no one from that time probably noticed.

…the lawgiver of the Jews, no ordinary man, having formed an adequate conception of the Supreme Being, gave it adequate expression in the opening words of his “Laws”: “God said”—what?—“let there be light, and there was light: let there be land, and there was.”

Just to note, Longinus misquotes Genesis here. But I still am intrigued that a Roman-era Greek actually used a Hebrew text as an example in his book about writing.

…whereas in the Iliad, which was written when his genius was in its prime, the whole structure of the poem is founded on action and struggle, in the Odyssey he generally prefers the narrative style, which is proper to old age. Hence Homer in his Odyssey may be compared to the setting sun: he is still as great as ever, but he has lost his fervent heat.

Apparently whoever this Longinus guy was, he liked war movies more than adventure tales.

Although this book would be most profitable for a writer wanting to hone their storytelling abilities, I think On the Sublime would be a good choice for any readers who want to pinpoint exactly why they like to read certain genres or writing styles. For example: 

…an exhibition of feeling has then most effect on an audience when it appears to flow naturally from the occasion, not to have been laboured by the art of the speaker.

When it comes to evoking sentiment in the reader, it's better not to attempt it at all, rather than do it poorly. This is why some older pieces (Frances Hodgson Burnett's Little Lord Fauntleroy comes to mind) come off as way too gooey and saccharine in today's readership: postmodern society is a lot more sensitive to any emotion that even hints at being forced or manufactured.

…the largest intellects are far from being the most exact. A mind always intent on correctness is apt to be dissipated in trifles; but in great affluence of thought, as in vast material wealth, there must needs be an occasional neglect of detail.

Is it not by risking nothing, by never aiming high, that a writer of low or middling powers keeps generally clear of faults and secure of blame? Whereas the loftier walks of literature are by their very loftiness perilous?

These two quotations remind me that, although being technically correct (such as using proper grammar, spelling, and punctuation) is important, sometimes great storytelling can only be achieved by breaking the rules. When he lacked words or figures of speech that accurately said what he wanted, Shakespeare made up words and coined phrases. Sometimes this fails spectacularly--in fact, I'd say it probably fails more often than it succeeds. However, experimenting with new writing styles and storytelling methods is all part of learning, even if the specific efforts aren't successful.

The use of mean words has also a strong tendency to degrade a lofty passage.

…petty words, introduced out of season, stand out like deformities and blots on the diction.

These two quotations are about using lofty language. Unfortunately in today's SEO-driven society where Clear and Concise is prized, using a more complicated vocabulary is actually discouraged. While I agree that it's extremely important to make sure what you write is understood correctly by the people who read it (and it's much easier said than done!), I also feel a little saddened that language is hampered by this. Thinking about English specifically, it's such a rich language with myriad words that mean the same thing, or have slightly different connotations on the same sort of thing. It would be nice to be free to use any of these words and be assured that if people don't understand the definition, they'll simply look it up in the dictionary rather than judge you as a confusing writer. 

Another thing these quotations made me think of was the problem of vulgarity or profanity in writing. I just finished a book that was obviously meant to be a profound exploration of the human condition and other lofty topics. However, his writing was so mired in references to bodily functions, sensuality, carnage, and swear words that all his philosophy was tarnished and I came away from the book confused as to what the author really wanted to communicate. If it was supposed to be a "beautiful" message, how come he used such ugly language so recklessly?

…by our fixing an eye of rivalry on those high examples they will become like beacons to guide us, and will perhaps lift up our souls to the fulness of the statue we conceive.

Like painters go to museums to copy the masters, imitation can be a big stepping stone in learning to write well. Aiming write something as good--or even competing to write something better--than our literary role models encourages us to become better writers.

On the Sublime can be dense and philosophical in some parts—and it certainly helps to have prior knowledge of Classical writers to understand Sublime’s examples—but I think that the idea of literary criticism can be useful to any bibliophile, since when we understand what we like and why we like it, it makes it that much easier to find similar books to enjoy in the future.

Even the whole world is not wide enough for the soaring range of human thought, but man’s mind often overleaps the very bounds of space.