A few years back, I learned that Vladimir Nabokov’s heirs were going to publish one of his unpublished, unfinished works. Another one, The Tragedy of Mister Morn, just came out. It’s not the first time heirs have published unfinished works, or even published texts against the author’s wishes. If Max Brod had obeyed Franz Kafka’s last wishes, The Trial, The Metamorphosis, The Castle, and all the rest of his works would have been burned after Kafka died. In the case of Nabokov, unfinished and unpublished might not mean that he didn’t want the books eventually published, but Kafka left clear instructions. I’m glad Brod ignored them, because how would we be able to talk about politics and work and life without the adjective Kafka-esque?
Next month, Knopf will be publishing The Selected Letters of Willa Cather. While Cather didn’t actually destroy her letters, it appears she really, really didn’t want them made public. Doug Barry over at Jezebel wrote an interesting piece about this recently and it started me to wondering about the ethical dilemma between honoring an author’s request for privacy versus the desire of scholars to learn more about texts and their creators. I’ve never thought that becoming famous meant that someone has to give up the right to their privacy, but knowing about an author’s life can be incredibly illuminating. In the case of Cather, knowing her sexuality could re-color how we read her stories and poems. One could easily make the argument that because Cather has been dead since 1947 that it probably doesn’t matter. Dead people don’t get embarrassed (as far as we know). And who is left alive that knew her personally? Not that this is an excuse to ignore that request for privacy. Hence, the dilemma.
So what about the argument that ignoring requests like this is in the interest of the greater good? After all, a world without Kafka would be hard to imagine. I would argue that having Kafka in our canon makes our culture richer and much, much more interesting. And learning more about Cather’s personal life and thoughts can help us better understand her books.
Emily Dickinson wanted her poems burned, too. I guess for me the question of why publish is important. Are Nabakov's heirs wanting to simply cash in? And do you own letters you send out to other people? And I guess if you really want your stuff to never see the light of day, destroy it.
It's hard to kill our 'children.' But it's also hard to feel they may no longer belong to us. I wonder about this too. An author's relationship to her work is complex and nuanced to say the very least. The same as art. What the reader or art enthusiast experiences is something else entirely. Which is the point. And also the dilemma. Do we write for someone else, or do we write only for ourselves? Then whose claim is stronger? That to privacy or that to greater knowledge and ideas?
Great post, Annie!!
Deb, I didn't know that about Dickinson, but it fits what I know about her personality. I don't know about Nabokov's heirs; you'd think there'd be enough royalties coming in from Lolita.
Carmell, thanks for commenting! That really sums up the dilemma, and gives me more to think about. On the one hand, authors should write for themselves, else they'll probably start to hate it. But they have to write something that other people will like, or they'll never be able to make a living at it.
Deb, you have an interesting point. If they really wanted their work destroyed, they'd take care of it. Though it breaks my heart to remember that Botticelli burned many of his paintings after being convinced to do so by Savonarolla.