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Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Subversive reading.
Subversive reading tends to proliferate wherever there is reader anxiety, or wherever there exists a strong conflict between reader approval and reader discontent. Works which simply offend do not inspire such readings; works which both offend and appeal do. Subversion is a symptom of deep reader ambivalence about the work as a whole; it represents a conflict between the reader's desire to engage fully in the text and his reluctance to do so, a reluctance often based in the feeling that certain aspects of the work are (or may prove to be) unsatisfying, disturbing, exclusionary, or even morally reprehensible. Subversive readings are the visible manifestations of that conflict Rebecca referred to earlier between authorial intent ("what is actually suggested by the text") and reader desire ("the way a reader imagines things ought to be").
Now, to some extent all reader speculation is subversive. Like fanfic, speculation represents a reader's attempt to assume, if only temporarily, the mantle of authorial power; it is therefore an intrinsically subversive act—as, for that matter, is immersive reader engagement itself. In order to engage with the text on an emotional level, we must insert ourselves into that space which lies between Absolute Canonical Fact and That Which Canon Does Not Prohibit; by doing so, we cannot help but impose our own desires upon the text. Some degree of subversion is inevitable whenever we engage deeply with a work of fiction.
When a work of fiction is presented in serialized form, as the HP books are, it even further encourages this subversive aspect of reading. The incomplete nature of the serial offers the reader an additional level of indeterminacy in which to imagine and to speculate—more room to "play," if you will—and also invites readers to trespass on grounds that are normally off-limits. Readers of Shakespeare, for example, may feel free to speculate about Iago's motivations, but they cannot debate the actions he takes within the scope of the play itself: these are already canonically set. Readers of serialized fiction, on the other hand, both can and do speculate about even those things which will eventually become canonical certainty; they are permitted to exercise their imagination over even those aspects of the text which normally fall firmly under the authorial aegis.
This is one of the reasons, I think, that serialized fiction (television shows, comic books, novels presented as parts of longer on-going series, and so forth) tends to attract 'fans,' while completed works are more likely to garner 'appreciators.' The difference between the two lies not only in degree of obsession, but also in style of engagement. 'Fans' read differently than, say, academics do. They immerse themselves into their chosen texts more deeply, more imaginatively, more personally—and far more subversively. Fan readings are often characterized by ambivalence and anxiety.
The serialized format encourages this because it invites readers to don the authorial mantle by entering into a highly active speculative relationship with the text, while simultaneously acknowledging that the mantle's 'rightful owner' may reclaim it at any time and (come the next installment) render the reader's participation in the construction of the text utterly invalid. This is practically a recipe for subversive reading, and fandoms—both of HP and of other works—are characterized by the strange blend of enthusiasm and anxiety that this dynamic inspires. Fan readings and speculations always tend toward the subversive end of the spectrum of canonical plausibility: this is one of the primary characteristics of 'fandom.'
Wherever there is reader anxiety, that is where subversive reading will be most evident. Because there are specific types of things that tend to cause readers unrest (internal contradiction, moral absolutism, rigid stereotyping, seeming exclusion of certain segments of the population, and anything religious or political are some of the Biggies), it is usually not too difficult to anticipate where the "fault lines" of a work might lie.
Some fault lines are common to all fandoms. Sexual preference and activity is one such line: both slash readings and speculation about the "hidden" lives of adult characters are popular across the board, in part because readers are made uneasy by the suspicion that in fiction, as in real life, certain aspects of the characters' lives are being glossed over, hidden from view, or possibly even lied about by the authorial voice. Sympathy For The Devil readings are also universally popular fan responses. Again, this reflects the fan's tendency to view the fictional world as possessing a reality outside of the text itself, combined with the suspicion that the Author May Be Not Quite Truthful, that the "real truth" is likely far more morally complex than the authorial voice is willing to acknowledge.
The fault lines specific to HP fandom fall in rather predictable places. Blood Will Tell vs. Choice Over Blood is one such fault line: internal thematic contradiction always inspires reader unrest. House Slytherin and its role registers consistently high on the Richter Scale as well, partly because it partakes of the Sympathy For the Devil dynamic, but also largely because of the inconsistency factor: adult readers tend to find Slytherin=Evil jarringly inconsistent with the books' generally high level of humanism and moral complexity. Snape and Draco are popular characters for both fan speculation and fanfic in part because they serve to personify reader unease with these aspects of the work (and, in the case of Snape, reader approval at signs of the series' growing movement away from the original source of anxiety and discontent).
::deep breath::
So. To get back to the original topic under discussion, I suppose that my real question regarding Snape's relationship with his 'old Slytherin gang' was this:
Given that canon is silent on this subject; and given that a case can be made for a supposition that Snape actually got on quite well with his old DE accomplices (it is not ruled out by the text, and there are a few places that would seem to support this reading); and given that this is, after all, a fan forum which specializes in borderline-subversive readings; and given that Sympathy For the Devil readings are a popular fan hobby in general; and given that Slytherin=Evil is one of the fault lines along which we tend to see reader speculation venturing into subversive territory in HP fandom in particular; and given that one of the major reasons that Snape is so popular in general is because in many ways he is himself a rather subversive character...
::very deep breath::
Given all of that, then WHY should "Snape really loathed those guys, always did" seem so overwhelmingly prevalent an assumption, while "He kinda liked them, actually" seemed so strikingly underepresented?
Or, to put it another way: "Given that Snape's popularity as a character is itself in some ways subversive—we like him largely because he stands in opposition to those aspects of JKR's work which strike us as annoyingly morally simplistic—why then would we prefer to fall back on those very aspects of the work which we found so unsettling in the first place when we try to imagine Snape's relationship with his old DE colleagues?"
That, at any rate, was what I meant by my original question. Since then, though, a number of people have crawled out from under their rocks to express their support for "Snape liked them," and I've been directed to a number of fanfics based on this hypothesis as well. So it would seem that "Snape liked them" was not, in fact, nearly as neglected a position as I had initially believed.
This discussion now seems to have become focussed on issues of canonical plausibility. That's fine. I'm perfectly happy to discuss that. Just to clarify, though, my original query was really more a question of popularity than plausibility—it was not so much "why do people think that canon suggests that Snape detested his old classmates" as it was "why do people seem to want to believe that Snape must have detested his old classmates"—which is not really at all the same thing.
So. A few Snape issues, looked at both from the point of view of plausibility and popularity.
Rebecca and I were speculating on the degree to which Snape was a loner in his younger days.
I cited as evidence for the notion that he was not always a loner Sirius' comment that he was "part of a gang of Slytherins," adding that: "You don't get identified as 'part of a gang' unless you hang out with the gang's other members on a fairly regular basis." I would also add to this Sirius' use of the word "famous" (rather than, say, "notorious") when he describes young Snape's reputation for curse-work: to my mind this suggests that Snape's facility with curses did indeed make him popular with at least certain segments of the student body—his fellow Slytherins, for example.
I also, in previous posts, suggested that both Snape's evident nervousness around Moody (who, it is strongly implied, killed his old classmate Rosier) and the very depths of his bitterness could support the notion that the ill-fatedness of his old gang came as a real emotional blow—that he had, in other words, continued to hold some affection for them as individuals even after abandoning their once-shared cause.
Rebecca countered by pointing out that Snape's obsession with the Marauders would seem to have been a solitary endeavor. Sirius' prank was directed at Snape personally, not at his entire gang, and no mention is ever made of the rest of the group snooping about after the Marauders or trying to get them expelled.
She also offered alternative, and perfectly reasonable, explanations for his reaction to Moody: Moody is an Auror, after all, and a hard-nosed and erratic paranoid to boot, so no particular personal history is really necessary to explain Snape's reaction to him.
As for the "gang" issue, she wrote:
OTOH hanging out with a gang doesn't necessitate really feeling a part of them, really feeling like a virtual family. It just seems to me that not only does the Snape of the books appear to be an irritable loner, but given the degree to which he seems to act alone and insist on handling things himself, it strikes me that it would be reasonable, based on canon, for someone to imagine that he never felt a part of any group as a youth. I'm just defending the people who would imagine it that way—it seems like one of many possible ways someone would take the canon and extrapolate.
Fair 'nuff.
Viewed from the perspective of canonical "plausibility," I think that they are both reasonably plausible interpretations, myself. I agree that "Snape was always a loner" is a perfectly reasonable extrapolation from canon, and probably a somewhat more plausible one than "Snape was once a social creature."
As to why it should be the more popular interpretation, even among die-hard subversives, however...well, I can think of two possibilities.
The first (which Rebecca herself suggested to me in e-mail) is that those who identify on a personal level with Snape—and who are therefore those most likely to speculate at length about his teenage years—identify with him as he appears in canon. In other words, they identify with him as a loner. Imagining him as always having been a solitary creature thus allows readers to project their identification onto him in his younger days as well.
The second is tied to the next point, the general unpleasantness of Slytherins in general—and the DEs in particular—and the problems this can cause in imagining what Snape could have found to like about them.
Rebecca wrote:
See, if we are to imagine Snape really liking these people, then we have to have some reason to imagine them as likeable.
And later:
And I stick to my original point that if one imagines Snape to be contemptuous and dismissive of his old friends, then I suggest that JKR gave them the idea. She is contemptuous and dismissive of most of her DE characters. Even if they have charismatic (Lucius) or intriguing characteristics (Mrs. Lestrange, for sure) they still seem like villain archetypes. . . . So all we have to go on is Mrs. Lestrange, who, however defiant and loyal, still seems like a standard villains, evil-witch type, and Avery who seems to be a groveling toady. My argument is that JKR has portrayed them this way so far, with few or no humanizing, 3D qualities, so it's not out of whack for a fanfic writer or anyone else to imagine that Snape might have found them that way too. Again, it's one of several convincing ways to extrapolate from canon; diverging ways can be convincing too, but I'm defending this one.
That the weight of canonical suggestion rests overwhelmingly on the notion that Snape's old DE colleagues were indeed most unpleasant characters I do not deny for a moment. I would point out, though, that Snape himself, much as we might enjoy him, is really no charmer himself. He's a sadist, for starters: he actively enjoys others' pain and discomfiture. When he can get away with it, he is cruel and abusive to those over whom he holds power, and he really can be the most odious toady as well—his exchange with Fudge at the end of PoA is positively oily. (Until the poor guy snaps, that is, at which point he merely appears deranged.) And this is Redeemed Snape! How much more unpleasant might young DE Snape have been, and what might that say about the qualities that he appreciated or admired in others?
For that matter, with what characters does Snape seem to get along best in canon? Aside from Dumbledore, who is obviously a special case, the character he seems to me to have the most casual and easy relationship with is Filch—not a person I imagine most readers would find particularly likeable. But (snappish comments and that one sadistic smirk over Filch's grief for his petrified cat aside) Snape seems to get along with him all right, actually. Better than he seems to get along with most people, I'd say.
I still maintain that what Snape himself might have found "likeable" is not necessarily what we would find at all endearing or appealing. I also think that in terms of canonical plausibility, JKR herself probably does not imagine Snape to have very pleasant taste in companions. (She seems, overall, to like the character far less than many of her readers do.)
I can, however, readily see why those who identify with Snape might prefer to reject the notion that he could possibly have ever liked such people. They certainly do not, to our way of thinking, seem like terribly likeable individuals.
Although Mrs. Lestrange sure was sexy, wasn't she? I...er...
::blinks nervously around room, then retreats behind coffee mug::
Well...er, yes. Um...never mind.
::clears throat::
The issue of DE likeability is closely related to the last (and, to my mind, most vital) question—that of the perceived emotional inability of Slytherins in general, and DEs in particular, to form anything that we might consider real friendships.
I asked why people seem to find it impossible to imagine the future Death Eaters ever having formed friendships.
Rebecca suggested:
Maybe because JKR has yet to portray a sympathetic Slytherin other than Snape....Let's face it—JKR's Slytherin is the House of Bad Guys. Snape is the only exception so far.
When I then responded by expressing my doubts about the possibility of a full quarter of Britain's wizarding population being composed of murderous sadists or cowardly toadies with little or no redeeming qualities, Rebecca answered:
All I'm saying is that JKR has portrayed them like that so far. Yes, it seems unreasonable and I'm not crazy about it either. Here again, I need to make a distinction between canon and real-world reasonability. In canon the decency deck is stacked against the Slytherin grads.
I agree that right now, this does indeed seem to be the case. Ever since my experience with my "subversive" Snape-the-Recanted-Voldie-Supporter theory, though, I've been decidedly leery about writing off JKR's apparent moral simplicity too quickly. It seems possible to me that the series might continue its forward motion into the realms of moral ambiguity, in which case this aspect of canonical suggestion might well start to shift even further than it already has away from Slyth=Evil. Only time will tell.
For now, though, I certainly agree with you that the text encourages us to read Slyth grads—and particularly Death Eaters—as people who are not capable of true friendship, possibly not even capable of any real form of affection. They're Dark Wizards, they're deeply spiritually corrupt, they are selfish people who at heart can care for nothing but themselves. I agree that as things currently stand, this is indeed the most canonically plausible interpretation.
I still do find myself troubled, however, by the fact that even readers who firmly reject this aspect of canonical suggestion when it comes to other speculations and conjectures seem to fall right back into it when they start speculating about Snape and his old Slytherin gang. This gets back to a question of reader desire, rather than of canonical plausibility. Why do people seem to want to imagine things this way? It strikes me as weirdly inconsistent with the reading habits of the fandom in general, and of Snape fans in particular. Where did all of those subversive tendencies suddenly disappear to? What on earth happened?
It is this, it is this that oppresses my soul.
I still maintain that the most likely answer to the question is simply that people feel the need to paint the other DEs blacker than black, so that Snape's grey can seem lighter in comparison. And frankly, I find that a bit disappointing.
For one thing, if Snape really was always a cut above all of the other DEs—morally, ethically, spiritually, intellectually, or what have you—then to my mind that seriously devalues his eventual defection to the side of Good. It makes it a matter of essentialism, rather than existentialism: he was always better than all the rest of them by his very nature, and so he made a choice that none of the rest of them could ever have made. I find this idea...oh, I don't know. Distasteful, I suppose. Both distasteful and severely disappointing.
Snape is by far my favorite character in the books, and he is so largely because he seems to stand in opposition to what otherwise comes across as a disturbingly essentialist fictional universe.
Yes, yes, I know what Dumbledore says about the importance of individual choice and all of that, but when it comes right down to it, JKR's universe still seems to be strongly essentialist. Children resemble their parents; bad people are either (a) ugly or (b) attractive, but only in a slick, unwholesome, dubious sort of way; and by God, if Daddy was a Death Eater, you're stuck in House Slytherin and surely headed straight down the road to damnation.
Snape appeals because from an essentialist perspective, everything about the man is just completely and utterly wrong. He is unattractive and unwholesome-looking, his office is filled with nasty dead things that smell bad, and he is temperamentally inclined to bitterness and envy and cruelty. He is not, shall we say, exactly one of the Elect.
And yet, he is permitted to have made correct choices, thus breaking out of the mold that the universe otherwise seems to impose on its inhabitants. Snape is really the series' only compelling proof that the existentialist ethos Dumbledore proclaims is at all true.
So while canonical plausibility may indeed weigh against a reading of the Death-Eater-to-be members of Snape's old gang as anything but utterly worthless human specimens, I don't really find that enough of an explanation. Fan speculation is subversive by nature, and it does seem to me that the fan culture as a whole shares my sense of discomfort with the books' essentialist tendencies. Canonical plausibility weighs against Redeemable Draco as well, and yet that is an immensely popular fan reading. Fans are not known for their tendency to balk at subversion.
So I confess to finding the immense popularity of "Snape never really liked his old DE colleagues—how could he have, after all? Unlike him, those guys were really bad!" to be not only profoundly unsatisfying, but also just plain puzzling. I don't deny that it can be readily defended in terms of canonical plausibility, but I can't help but wonder why on earth so many people who seem otherwise perfectly happy to engage in subversion seem to like it so very much.
—Elkins, wondering if she's made things any more clear, or merely muddied the waters with far, far too much verbiage.
Posted to HPfGU by Elkins on February 6, 2002 5:49 PM
3 comments (link leads to main site)
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