The debate over what constitutes a human life is always an interesting topic. Some might say a heartbeat, others might say a soul, but no matter the definitive answer, the case remains it’s always a debate. Taking ideas and narrative from the introduction of “‘Not Like An Arrow, but a Boomerang,’ or The Lifecycles of African American Literary Papers,” I’ll question whether writing and other art forms serve the role of human life. And further, should posthumous works continue to be judged and released?
As is the nature of most actions, the author puts their time and effort into a work, and therefore, can call it their own. When it comes to publishing, a piece of that ownership is put to the test. Take an example from the narrative detailing Richard Wright’s experience, saying, “he wanted Wright to eliminate the discourse against fascism that lies at the heart of the novel [The Outsider].” Whether in support of his politics or not, the editor asks Wright to revoke his original intention. That intention is what his life decided, and an extension of himself. Whatever Wright decides to do is ultimately still up to him, but the point exists that it’s a discourse. For the most part, no decision will result unless both parties agree.
Like posthumous work, when the factor of discourse is taken away, the book loses its true intention. Though editors or archivists may try to piece together works and frame them in the “intended way,” like Arnold Rampersad with Wright’s work, citing that he “tried to give him back his book,” it’s inherently impossible to predict the author’s intention. For uncompleted works, it is important to recognize their existence, but another thing is to try and fill in the gaps. And for that reason, the life of the author may be gone from the work, but any other workers may have their effect.
When archiving, the reclamation of works mimics the judgment of purgatory. This metaphor comes from the narrative’s description of book “lifecycles,” saying, “it assists in determining which of them should be consigned to the ‘hell’ of the incinerator or the ‘heaven’ of an archival institution.” Similar to publishing, the book undergoes a judgment day that will determine its future; though unsimilar to publishing, no one can defend the work. No author stands to make revisions, answer questions, or further put themself into the work.
This whole issue has sparked a lot of controversy, especially in the music industry. With entire posthumous albums being released, some being regarded as clearly unfinished, the motives are then called into question. While works may be devoid of the life once effused, for that same reason, they should be withheld from future actions.