Sarah Hardilek
Feeling Sentimental?
Two young adults are sitting in a movie theatre watching
The Notebook. They have been dating
for a few weeks now, but this is the first time they have gone to see a movie
with such a high reputation as inescapable tear-jerker. Strangely enough, the
girl has stayed rather dry-eyed throughout the showing. The guy, on the other
hand, has had to cry silently and only sniffle during louder moments in the
movie, a task made all the more difficult with the approach of “that scene;” the
part at the end were the audience is forced to endure heart-wrenching scenes of
despair immediately followed by the impossibly happy scene that makes the entire
movie worth it. This is an example of sentimentality.
Sentimentality, often perceived as “cheesy” with an emphasis on the “easy,” is
the natural, emotional reaction to outside occurrences, such as watching a
kitten play with a ball of string or passing a wrecked car on the side of the
road. Critics of the concept argue that there is little to no reward for
sentimentality. If the reaction is already present and fully appreciated by the
characters, there is no journey to achieve that state and, thus, no reward for
achievement. With the scenario of the couple in the movie theatre, the guy and
the girl have had different experiences that lead to varying amounts of emotion
from the two. Perhaps the girl has had more sad experiences in life and has
become numb to the power of Nicholas Sparks stories. Or perhaps the guy has had
a bad experience and scenes like those of
The Notebook remind him of those experiences. It is because of differences
in reactions like these that make critics so hard on sentimentality. With no
clear reason for a child to appreciate life to the same degree as an 85 year
old, it is difficult to relate to the character’s unearned wisdom.
Despite this issue, it is reassuring to have characters who react perfectly to
every situation. The message is clearer with a character acting out the proper
response to every situation. It also gives the texts the feeling of a sort of
spiritual guide leading the text along. For example, Eva in
Uncle Tom’s Cabin is the
personification of literary sentimentality. Though only five or six years old,
Eva already had an air of grace about her. Upon discovering the chained men and
women of Haley’s gang, “she would glide
in among them, and look at them with an air of perplexed and sorrowful
earnestness; and sometimes she would lift their chains with her slender hands,
and then sigh woefully, as she glided away.” Since she has little experience
with cruelty, it is implausible that this tiny thing would be able to comprehend
the full implication of this situation. She mourns for them, though she should
be too young to understand why. In addition, after she falls overboard, Eva
recovers pretty much immediately, “exhibiting no traces of the accident
which had befallen her.” A typical child of her age would have at least had
tears of fright if nothing else. Since she has such a broad knowledge of the
world, her personal cares are hardly mentioned. Despite this unrealistic
portrayal of youth, the audience has no choice but to respect her. She is kind
to Tom and the oppressed and she is able to convince her father to buy Tom in
order for him to be under the care of a kinder owner.
Ellen from Wide, Wide World is more
realistically sentimental. When she is concerned for her mother and learns that
she will be separated from her because of her illness, Ellen naturally weeps
even violently it seems with the sentence, “she
threw herself again on her pillow, yielding helplessly to the grief she had
twice been obliged to control the evening before.” Not only does she have cause
to weep for her mother, Ellen is able to weep for herself since she is being
forced to pat from her. However, that natural selfishness is mare more
forgiving, if not as easily acceptable with the statement, “Yet love was
stronger than grief still, and she was careful to allow no sound to
escape her that could reach the ears of her mother … her resolve was firm to grieve
her no more with useless expressions of sorrow; to keep it to herself as
much as possible.” Although this sentence presents the sorrow as more noble, it
becomes harder for critics to accept this attitude as natural. After all, Ellen
can still love her mother and seek comfort from her mother at the same time.
While the character is more likeable by the reader with this clarification, the
critics will view this and a forced perspective of self-sacrifice.
As stated by Eric G. Wilson in his article “The science of rubbernecking,” there
is “an archive of all that we hate about ourselves, usually morbid impulses,
such as the propensity toward melancholy or suicidal and murderous urges” that
he refers to as “the shadow.” This “shadow” brings up the idea that
sentimentality truly is not controllable; reactions are immediate and based upon
more than noble conditioning. This concept supports the argument of the critics
that sentimentality in literature is far from realistic. Although critics do not
agree with the superficial perfection of sentimentality in novels, the work is
more enjoyed by the audience and the morals of the texts are more clearly
portrayed. Also, by having a character that reacts the correct way
instinctively, the plot is able to progress more quickly than with a character
who must work up to the deserved level of wisdom. Besides, literature is a work
of art, not a perfect rendition of the human psyche.
|