In Short: Belly Dancing and Oral Narrative

Here are some insanely obvious observations: The above is a video. It is not a short story. But the content of this video is a man telling a story. A short story. Right, then. Moving on to less obvious observations...

While this isn't a short story in the traditional sense (a published piece of writing made available for the independent enjoyment of a reader), I have decided to consider it a short story for several reasons which I will now explain. Ahem. 

The act of reading a text is markedly different from the experience of hearing a story performed aloud: the former is a solitary act that requires the reader to consume and process content separated from external influences, while in the latter, an audience is expected to laugh or cry at the same junctures during a story’s oral performance. So how can I say that this oral narrative (the video above) can be considered the same as a short story if the impact on the audience is so different for textually and orally constructed stories? 

The critic, B.W. Ife, comments on the impacts of a story's medium on its audience in his book Reading and fiction in Golden-Age Spain (1985): 
What an orator is to an assembled audience, an author is to a dispersed one. ... It is likely that a reading public consuming literature in an atmosphere of contemplative solitude will be much more individualistic in its response than a hearing public moved perhaps more readily by mass emotion.

This has all kinds of important implications for critics, readers, writers, storytellers, and audiences everywhere-- especially as a new medium emerges: the Internet offers a hybrid medium that allows for both oral dissemination of a story as well as private consumption of that story. I listen to the storyteller and watch him perform, but I do so alone in my reader's studio. In a way, what we have here is the possibility for both oral and textual markers to coexist, and thus balance the semblance of a living, participatory dialogue (oral narrative) with an official, resolved permanence (texts). Do you see why I want to call Shlomo Bellydancer a short story now?

Socrates gives the stank eye
to the practice of writing.

A debate over the efficacy and reliability of either texts or oration began in antiquity with the advent of systems of writing (alphabets) and a particular philosopher (Socrates) who gave the stank eye to the practice of writing. Walter Ong has summarized Plato’s Socrates’ position on the debate (Socrates favored orality, viewing writing as an intrusive technology that dulled man’s mind) in his book Orality and Literacy (1982), emphasizing one of the main arguments offered in orality’s favor: the unresponsiveness of a text. "…Plato’s Socrates also holds it against writing that the written word cannot defend itself as the natural spoken word can."

But here again, the Internet has resolved the the conflict that Socrates points out-- once the video is posted, the audience consumes it privately and can begin to argue with it or praise it via the comments section... and the storyteller can respond there, too, speaking on behalf of his message or performance. 

So. We have just placed this short story squarely in the interstices of textuality and orality-- in a place called Internet. No one can stop me from calling it a short story because in many ways this video is like a text. By the same token, its distinctly participatory qualities and, well, oral presentation make it inseparable from its connection to oral narrative.

I've been thinking a lot about this intersection of writing and performing as made possible by modern technology. Expect to see more of it as I develop dissertation ideas!

Oh! And by the way, don't you just absolutely love this guy's story?!?!?!?

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Until next time, fair petticoat rustlers-- keep rustling!

Internet Oral Narrative and the Pirate of Love

The mysterious oral narrative of Daniel C, The Pirate of Love

I am fascinated by the way the Internet's interminable open forum allows stories to be passed from person to person, critiqued, recontextualized, and propelled into unexpected realms of narrative existence.

Over time, I have been monitoring the emergence of animated literatura de cordel poems on YouTube and marveling at the way the stylized woodblock prints come alive to the musical recitation of this poetry that, until the advent of the Internet, could only be partially experienced outside of Brazil (because it is a hybrid poetic form that incorporates woodblock visual art and the recitation aloud of the poem to the accompaniment of guitars). The Internet made it possible for a regional art form to become available to an international audience.

Very recently, I came across another example of the way this Internet open forum can turn very small, local narratives into an oral history of global importance. This is not an exaggeration, this is The Pirate of Love...

"Will you ever know my love?" 

A CD of music by an unknown composer began circling the party scene in Canada, and along with it came several stories that people told one another, an almost requisite part of passing on the music, with each person claiming that their story was the "real" story of the man behind the songs. But no one knew for sure; this mysterious voice singing lonely (and at times quite poignant) lyrics with the accompaniment of an electronic keyboard became a faceless legend whose fame rapidly spread to Iceland, Russia, and the United States.

Short film about the Pirate of Love by Sara Gunnarsdottir

The CD and the stories that went with it constructed a narrative through the lonely voice of an immigrant man, cryptically known as Daniel C. He supposedly lived in Canada and sang songs of love to a woman named Sherry, but most thought that the love was unrequited. Daniel C's narrative resonated with enough people on opposite sides of the world that filmmaker Sara Gunnarsdottir decided to make a short film, documenting the Pirate of Love phenomenon and the multiple oral narratives that were passed around along with the CD as it continued to get shared.

Her film reached an even greater audience, and swept several prestigious awards at various film festivals, both for the bizarre and touching narrative but also for her beautiful animations of the stories and the songs. This film then rushed through the cyber community after being published on Vimeo (the film is not available on YouTube-- to view the short 10 minute film CLICK HERE).

The speculation on who this Daniel C could be and what his intentions were when he wrote and recorded his music swelled as the size of the audience grew. I think that listeners felt a special connection to this anonymous man who, most likely, had no idea anyone besides "Sherry" was listening to those songs.

This little CD, with the help of a filmmaker and the Internet, has begotten a series of beautiful and tragic love stories that were constructed by thousands of strangers' imaginations.

Today, however, I discovered that the real Daniel C has been uncovered. Sara the filmmaker is planning on making a follow-up video of The Pirate of Love-- one that uncovers the true story of this mystery man. Daniel C was told by his boss at the trucking company that he'd found a video on the Internet that talked about him. The trucker boss got in touch with the filmmaker and put her in touch with the real Daniel C. Cool... I guess?

And herein lies my dilemma with the Internet... it never stops. This is often a good thing, especially when stories like the Pirate of Love are being passed around, speculated on, and turned into a modern day trucker fairytale. But then... do I want to know the "real Daniel C" after having invested so much in the communal construction of his narrative? I mean yes, on some level I imagine that this guy's "true story" is every bit as bizarre as I imagined it (I heard he is now MARRIED to Sherry) and that he is a unique and mysterious guy, even when all the "facts" are known. But I can't help but think that the Internet has found an incredible way of connecting art and oral narrative and wonderment... at the same time it threatens to replace all of that imagination with "reality."

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What are your thoughts about this dilemma of the Internet, dearest rustlers of petticoats? Until next time, keep rustling!