Be forewarned: this is a tough exercise–one of my toughest–mainly because it is based on mastering some high-level conceptual material. But if you often fantasize about getting into an MFA program, you will quickly learn that those famous writers in their turtlenecks will force you to master this concept and get rid of this sin: the sin of SENTIMENTALITY.
Sentimentality is the gratuitous exploitation of emotions—the kind of stuff that pulls at your heartstrings, the kind of stuff that prompts you to cry or beat your chest: the image of a mother holding a child in a run-down shack–that is textbook Sentimentality.
The great Swiss psychoanalyst Carl Jung despised Sentimentality. And his indictment of it rested on the idea that it was hypocritical: masking a disturbing violence that sits like a bloody imp feeding upon the soul of humanity.
Confused? It’s best to illustrate Sentimentality with an example:
Recently, I’ve been getting these memes—short narratives distributed through Facebook—that are incredibly Sentimental. One recounted the story of a teacher who mistreated a student because he was a misfit–poor, dirty, withdrawn. The misfit gives her a gift—some perfume and a bracelet with missing rhinestones—and the teacher laughs. It is only later that the teacher realizes the kid is giving her his very best present. The punchline is this: both perfume and jewelry belonged to his recently deceased mother and we suddenly realize that the teacher is a total bitch who should be slapped in the face and frog-walked before the tribunal of the world so that she can be mocked and hooted at.
Of course, nobody in this story is real—not the student, nor the teacher. What is real is the story’s enduring popularity. The story was first published in 1974 in a religious magazine and has been edited, redacted, reworked, adapted, rearranged–all so many times that we know it has hit a nerve. What is real is the incredible violence that sits baring its teeth at the center of the story. In fact, Carl Jung might say that it testifies to a certain kind of blood lust in all of us.
Why? Ultimately, the story is about making an example out of people. And the hypocrisy is that one powerless member of society (the kid) is exchanged for another (the teacher) who becomes a whipping post for moral outrage– the dog we kick for shits and giggles.
Sentimentality appears everywhere in our lives because it is mass-manufactured. It is “kitsch”–cheaply produced and ready for mass-consumption. If you’ve ever purchased a picture of a soldier kissing a girl as he returns from war, you have invested in a piece of Sentimentality based on a brew of patriotism, heroism, romanticism. Such images are simply excuses to hide our true intentions—the glee that we feel in the violence enacted upon people in foreign lands and the violence we will enact on these “heroic” young men who are simply pawns of international diplomacy.
Aren’t We Glad We Dropped the Bomb on All Those Fuckers?
In Misery, we see how that master of horror turns sentimentality into a commentary of the crippled writer. If you recall, a famous writer, not unlike Stephen King, is captured by his adoring fan, Annie Wilkes, who holds him prisoner. This fan has a fantastic collection of little ceramic figurines–sentimental displays–arranged in perfect order. And when the author-figure tries to escape her clutches, he accidentally disarranges her little assemblage and she goes buck wild. She literally cripples him.
For the MFA workshop, Sentimentality is bad. But this is not to say that Sentimentality is bad in general—or even something absolutely to be avoided. If you are a copywriter in an advertising agency or a preacher at a pulpit or a politician on the campaign trail, Sentimentality is incredibly useful. In fact, if you are writing genre fiction—detective, romance, true crime—Sentimentality is a useful tool if you know how to manipulate it. Sentimentality is the bazooka that we carry in the knapsack of our hearts to pillage and maim and destroy while still looking human.
Poster advertising an International Philosophy Conference on Kitsch & Sentimentality. Yes, this is a field of study!
So here is the task:
- First, meditate on your favorite image of Sentimentality. If you don’t think you have one, you are wrong: they are the images that cause tears to come to your eyes.
- Then, Google that image. Why? Because it’s easier to study–to dissect–a concrete image that stands immediately before you. Try to figure out how the sentimentality plays you like a piano–how it turns on the waterworks and manipulates you.
- Finally, use that image as a launching point for a vignette that utilizes sentimentality to manipulate emotions.
This is a tough exercise. It may take some work. But I guarantee you that it is worthwhile: you will learn something about Sentimentality from the inside out. You will know what the bazooka is like when you hold it in your hands. And if you leave with nothing else from this exercise, you will at the very least learn about the kind of fiction that those turtleneck artsy-fartsy types don’t like in MFA programs.
Now, that’s a very valuable exercise, Khanh. I think too many people aren’t really aware of it when they are manipulated by sentimentality. But it is a very powerful tool, so it’s used – sometimes shamelessly – to accomplish a purpose. As you say, it’s not that sentimentality has to be a bad thing. But it doesn’t reflect three-dimensional reality.
Margot–Sentimentality went through a real small period when it became fashionable in academia–a moment in the 80’s when the super-high-flying intellectuals could find something interesting in it. Intellectuals like Jane Tompkins, who was at Duke University, were obsessed with its power to affect social change. But me: I’m just a plebe. I can’t stand too much sentimentality. This is why it’s hard for me to get through an entire album by that British singer Adele.