“Fact or fiction? What is the best way to handle a major event like 9/11?” – Michael Billington. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an Original Essay In the wake of the September 11 terrorist attacks, media and non-fictional responses were rife; the image of the burning Twin Towers has become ingrained in the global consciousness. However, among these “factual” representations, a new genre of narrative has emerged: the 9/11 narrative. Indeed, novelists, playwrights and poets came forward with their attempts to respond to tragedy through the medium of literary arts. Falling Man[1] by Don DeLillo and September 11, 2001[2] by Michel Vinaver are just two examples of these responses. However, 9/11 fiction is a remarkably problematic genre. The need to convey something beyond the spectacle, combined with the perceived obligation to present the event with respect, makes it a difficult task to tackle. Aimee Pozorski summarizes this perceived dilemma of the literary artist: “Those artists who choose beauty must answer for their aestheticization of violence. Artists who choose minimalism must answer for their reductive symbols. Those artists who choose nothing must answer for their silence”[3]. In light of this, it can be argued that fiction is incapable of acting as an adequate response to 9/11 and that nonfiction is the only viable means of doing so. Michael Billington, in his review of Rupert Goold's anthology of 9/11 comedies, asks the very question that underlies this discussion: “Fact or fiction? What is the best way to handle an event as important as September 11th?”[4]. It is tempting to argue that art, whether literary or otherwise, has no place in the response to 9/11. That the artist's attempts to capture the event are futile attempts to represent what cannot be represented. From this perspective, much of the “unrepresentable” issue surrounding 9/11 lies in the dilemma of attempting to recreate and represent human emotions. Certainly, the emotional provocation of 9/11 went far beyond those who experienced it firsthand; the television coverage of the event brought together all the spectators in the world. This sense of mass shock and grief can be argued to fall outside the scope of artistic representation, especially given the relatively recent age of the attacks. Sarah Lloyd suggests that September 11, 2001 represents a prime example of emotion lost in translation: "He overlays media reports and discourse in a precise, emotionless - even cold - way that makes the work difficult to approach"[5 ]. Vinaver, in fact, avoids the inclusion of captions and does not use punctuation. It offers no indicators regarding tone or action; gives nothing but the words themselves in a raw, undramatized state. While this is true throughout the entire work, the effects of this technique are particularly evident as Vinaver mimics key moments in the 9/11 timeline. Immediately before the depiction of the initial collision between Flight 11 and the North Tower, the actual last words of flight attendant Madeline Sweeney appear: “Oh my God oh my God”[6]. The absence of an exclamation point, or indeed any indication that the words should be imbued with emotion, seems to solidify the idea of ​​a distinct "coolness" underlying the work. In contrast, DeLillo's Falling Man is a novel that is predominantly focused on consequencesemotions of the survivor. Indeed, the fictional protagonist Keith Neudecker and his attempts to deal with his experience occupy the core of the novel. The plot opens with Keith in the midst of the attacks; we see the horror and chaos on the ground, but we only see it through the eyes of the protagonist. Christina Cavedon supports and expands this notion by suggesting that “DeLillo portrays the events and their aftermath solely in terms of trauma and PTSD”[7]. Here, Cavedon highlights the implications of seeing 9/11 through the eyes of a survivor, as it suggests that everything depicted is depicted through the lens of trauma. This is especially evident when Keith witnesses the fall of the North Tower, and the narrator states that ““He was the one who came down, the North Tower”[. 8]. By creating personal connections between Keith and the North Tower, it becomes clear that this novel is not concerned with the global, or even national, repercussions of 9/11. What concerns it most are the internal and emotional repercussions for the individual It is also notable that Keith is not the only character whose emotional journey underpins the narrative; the consequences for his ex-wife Lianne, despite only experiencing the event vicariously, are given much consideration. Adam Mars-Jones goes so far as to suggest that her journey is more saturated with emotional fractures than Keith's: “Lianne wasn't in the towers that collapsed, but she's the one who came close to collapsing”[9]. Indeed, she is obsessed with the media trying to come to terms with what happened, and adheres to sweeping generalizations that condemn all of Islam. This is evident when she attacks her neighbor, Elena, for playing Middle Eastern music too loudly, accusing Elena of doing so as a personal attack. The fragility of Leanne's mental state is outlined, as she loses the ability to distinguish between what is harmless and what demonstrates personal hostility. In contrast, Keith's "emotional consequences" are much less emotional, as a sense of disconnection serves as a coping mechanism. Interestingly, Leanne is depicted as the most emotionally damaged by the attacks, but never experiences them directly. In light of this, DeLillo seems to suggest that, in the wake of an unprecedented tragedy, all of America is entitled to its survivor's journey. Unlike Vinaver, DeLillo appears to successfully make the case for the representation of human emotion and trauma by converting the public spectacle of 9/11 into a deeply personal spectacle. Therefore, it can be argued that September 11, 2001 and Falling Man are two texts that respectively fail and succeed in addressing the issue of emotional representation. However, if 9/11 is truly "unrepresentable", then inferring that this question only applies to the imaginary answer is contradictory; non-fictional responses, particularly those produced by the media, are equally problematic. It is tempting to argue that direct recordings of the attacks and their aftermath, in both video and audio formats, represent an indisputable truth. However, this truth is limited to the visual aspect; it shows the aesthetic element of 9/11, but places it against the backdrop of a selective context. Jean Baudrillard, in his article “The spirit of terrorism”, alludes to this notion of context superimposed on the image: “In this case, therefore, the real is added to the image as a bonus of terror, as an additional thrill… before there is the image, then the thrill of reality is added”[10]. This is reminiscent of Badurillard's 1981 speech on hyperreality and the simulacrum, in which he argues that "reality" has become second to the image. Which is amalignant phenomenon that distorts and disarticulates the "real", until the image manages to "mask the absence of a profound reality"[11]. Indeed, he goes on to suggest that “Reality and fiction are inextricable, and the fascination with the attack is primarily a fascination with the image (both its exultant and catastrophic consequences are themselves largely imaginary)”[12] . Yet, it is this overlapping sense of “catastrophe” that pervades the image of 9/11; from Baudrillard's point of view, any deeper meaning or meaning was lost behind the "spectacle". Jean Genet, in his 1983 essay recounting his experiences in the refugee camp, makes a strong comment on the nature of media representations. Coming just two days after the Sabra and Shatila massacre, which saw the mass slaughter of Palestinian refugees by militant forces, it highlights the failure of media images to adequately capture “the flies nor the thick white odor of death”[ 13]. With a sense of broader relevance, he states that “A photograph has two dimensions, as does a television screen; neither can be crossed'[14]. Here, Genet embodies the idea that, when separated from the situational and emotional contexts of the "moment", an image becomes disjointed. In the absence of the original context, a void is created; this void is left open to exploitation by both the media and those with a political agenda. Indeed, Baudrillard outlines the tendencies of the media to pursue an agenda separate from the truth by stating that “There is no such thing as a “good” use of the media; the media are part of the event, they are part of the terror and they work in both directions”[15] In light of this, the style used by Vinaver during September 11, 2001 can be read in a new light. His omission of direction or punctuation acts as a component of the minimalist style that underlies the show. Written in the weeks following the attacks, and in the midst of the media storm, the emergence of this minimalist artistic response allowed for a sense of distance from this media-fueled "spectacle". By filtering all the emotional and situational context perceived from the events of September 11th and reducing them to a “precise, emotionless” state[16], Vinaver essentially reopens the “void”. It removes those elements of 9/11 that have so often been manipulated, but fails to offer a replacement; instead, it offers its audience the independence to interpret their own meaning. Giuseppe Sofo aligns himself with this vision when he suggests that "The "de-aestheticization" of Vinaver's theater is transmitted through the aesthetic choice of leaving art outside of art, of transforming the author into a translator of reality, rather than a creator, and allowed him to re-represent a reality that had been drowned in his own overexposure”[17]. Indeed, the "artistic" nature of Vinaver's work is interesting, as his aesthetic lies in what he removes rather than what he adds. What this achieves is essentially a reverse abstraction; everything that survives his minimalist filter is what was indisputably true in the beginning. Sarah Lloyd, whilst initially disagreeing with this view and commenting on the way in which Vinaver conveys 'coolness', goes on to counter this, suggesting that: “in doing so, it requires viewers to participate in the production by bringing their emotions and imagination at play”[18]. As a result, he realigns with the idea that, through the omission of solid emotions, he allows for a new level of personal emotional contemplation. Although this means of fictional response is no more “realistic” than its nonfictional counterparts, its honesty allows it to adhere more strongly to a sense of ethical responsibility. Art, aunlike the media and other "nonfiction" mediums, it is aware of its own artifice; it does not attempt to present itself as a work of pure truth. Returning to Sofo's words mentioned above, he concludes his statement by referring to 9/11 as “a reality that had been drowned in its own overexposure”[19]. Indeed, media responses to 9/11 seem to revolve around one key image: smoke rising from the World Trade Center, as a second plane approaches for collision. This image is the one that flooded the public after the attack and, to a lesser extent, continues to do so to this day. Here Sofo questions the effectiveness of this flood. Anneke Smelik joins Sofo's idea, also offering an explanation of the reasoning: "an impressive image only has an effect when we no longer see it, because the repetition of these images has a dulling or paralyzing effect"[20]. Both Sofo and Smelik suggest that the over-circulation of the aforementioned image of the plane and smoking twin towers, rather than continually increasing public response, actually begins to diminish it. In September 11, 2001, after chronicling the final moments of passenger Todd and flight attendant Madeline, the inevitable scenes of destruction are visually excluded. In their place there are simply audio effects that echo the sounds of the impact; these are indicated by the closest thing to the captions of the entire show: “SOUND: THE CRASH OF AN AIRPLANE”[21]. In light of the concept that the intensity of a constantly repeated image has diminished, along with Sofo's hypothesis that 9/11 became subject to "overexposure"[22], Vinaver's omission of the actual impact between the planes and the towers takes on a powerful meaning. Indeed, Vinaver intentionally avoids any direct visual representation of either incident. In this way, he prevents his work from contributing to the “overexposure” of this image, and forces the audience to experience events in a way to which they have not become “numb”. On the other hand, although he does not directly describe the collision, DeLillo describes the subsequent devastation. As Keith passes through the “smoke and ash,” the “stink of burning fuel,” and the “figures in the windows a thousand feet up, falling into free space,” the image presented seems to fit the smoking towers of the image leader of the media. . However, what DeLillo tries to do is avoid the inconveniences of photography and the television screen, as Genet points out. In fact, he strives to write a fictional novel that can actually be "travelled"[23]; the “thick white smell of death” is exactly what DeLillo manages to recreate. Perhaps the most poignant example of this occurs during the final chapter. The narrative returns to the day of the attacks, albeit at a slightly earlier point in the timeline, and graphically describes the death of Keith's friend and colleague Rumsey: "Something came out of the corner of Rumsey's mouth, like bile... . He saw the marks on his head, an indentation, a gouge mark, deep, exposing raw tissue and nerves”[24]. DeLillo, while not omitting the “overexposure” symbol in the same way as Vinaver, actually presents it in alternative way to the media. It does not reopen the void of the context, it simply reinvents what the media has instilled by attempting to create a three-dimensional reality. DeLillo transmits this reality through the eyes of a survivor, whose imaginary nature makes him a malleable figure be manipulated as needed to explore multiple layers of 9/11 devastation Another problem facing the post-9/11 literary movement is thepossibility of undermining the world narrative by placing an exaggerated amount of attention on an event while obscuring both its prelude and procedural contexts. This expansive context is emphasized by Baudrillard when he suggests that the issue of terrorism “goes far beyond Islam or America, on which efforts are being made to concentrate the conflict in order to create the illusion of visible confrontation and strength-based solution”. [25]. Here, Baudrillard suggests that the image of 9/11 discussed above is one that only accounts for a disjointed spectacle; presents the impossibility of an effect without a cause. It also implies that this spectacle is intentionally used to divert attention from a cause in order to offer an illusion of justice for the attacks. But Baudrillard also underlines the futility of this diversion: “we can say that they did it, but we wanted it. If this is not taken into account, the event loses all symbolic dimension"[26]. For Baudrillard, the failure to understand the symbolism of the image in light of its broader context serves to instigate further acts of terror and war. Writers of fiction and drama occupy a position that allows for discussion and exposition of this broader context; therefore, 9/11 fiction may once again offer a more valuable means of response than nonfiction. A key aspect of Vinaver's work is the use of multiple angles from which to view the event, and this is what allows him to fulfill his "responsibility" in examining the importance of cause and effect. This is perhaps most evident when he overlays the political voices of Bush and Bin Laden on top of each other. Their speeches intersect, with each leader delivering alternating lines. The rapid pace of these shifts in focus forces the audience to consider each man's words in light of the other's and reveals distinct parallels between them. In doing so, Vinaver recognizes that the seeds of terrorism germinate on both sides of the conflict. For example, both leaders perceive that their people have been wronged and both seek punishment and justice. Indeed, Vinaver suggests an echo of Baudrillard's position on the “War on Terror”: “This is terror against terror”[27]. Furthermore, through the use of this layering technique, Vinaver instills a sense of irony in their words. Immediately after Bin Laden uttered the words “May God protect us”[28], Bush says “May God continue to bless us”[29]. These are taken from actual speeches by the two leaders, both delivered immediately after the attacks. Taking both of these excerpts and placing them side by side, Vinaver outlines the absurdity of the conflict. While Bin Laden is motivated to wage war on America's "infidels" on behalf of God, Bush turns to the same God and asks for his continued "blessing." Perhaps, in terms of the world narrative, this implies that both Bush and Bin Laden are using God as an excuse to pursue more selfish agendas. However, Pankaj Mishra argues that most post-9/11 works fail to utilize the concept of writer's power; who escape their responsibility to explore the roots of such acts of violence and expose the integral world narrative in a way that the media does not. Indeed, in his article “The End of Innocence,” he questions the ability of the 9/11 narrative to discuss the event in terms of long-term political and ideological factors: “Composed in the narcissistic heart of the West, most part of 9/11 fictions seem incapable of recognizing political and ideological belief as a social and emotional reality in the world – the kind of fact that cannot be reduced to the individual experience of anger, envy, sexual frustration andconstipation”[30]. In particular, Mishra criticizes the novelist's focus on the survivor's domestic consequences as he asks the question, "Should we think of domestic discord as a metaphor for post-9/11 America?"[31]. DeLillo appears to subscribe to this charge in Falling Man. Indeed, its focus on domestic consequences has become the subject of significant criticism. Following the attacks, Keith and Lianne's relationship begins to fracture; this is often read as an attempt to reflect post-9/11 America's fractures, both within itself and with the rest of the world. By contrast, in DeLillo's initial, nonfictional response to 9/11, published in Harper Magazine three months after the event, he explicitly acknowledges the complexity of the larger global narrative: “The response to terrorism is a narrative that has developed over the years, only now becoming inevitable”[32]. However, In Falling Man, seems to ignore this concept, opting instead to focus on Keith and Lianne's "individual experiences"[33]. Mishra draws on this initial, non-fictional response from DeLillo to inform his reading of Falling Man as he argues that he "remains strangely indifferent to their pasts and their societies, and makes little attempt to analyze, in light of the greater discovery never seen." terrorist atrocity, origin and fascination of political violence”[34]. Here Mishra highlights the contrast between DeLillo's two responses; the comparison suggests that his political understanding of 9/11 is lost in translation from nonfiction to fiction. However, in contrast to Mishra's view, DeLillo does not entirely ignore the broader meaning of extremist terrorism; he grapples with the need for cause and effect. Similar to Vinaver's depiction of Bin Laden, he does so through the implementation of the terrorist as a point of view character. Whether implementing real-life characters or superimposing fictional representations, the characterization of those responsible for such suffering is difficult to pinpoint. If handled incorrectly, writers become susceptible to accusations of misplaced sympathies or disrespect for the dead. DeLillo himself expressed a conflict between his reluctance to consider the terrorist's point of view and his perceived “novelistic responsibility”: “I didn't think I could tell the whole story without the presence of at least one of the men - or a fictional character. version of one of the men – who was involved in those attacks”[35]. Here DeLillo challenges any notion that it is unethical to consider the terrorist's motivations; instead, he believes that it is a necessary step towards understanding the attacks. Of course, without recognition of cause and effect, 9/11 is reduced to a senseless tragedy; to examine it as a product of this cause and effect is to make sense of it. In fact, DeLillo describes Hammad's character. He is the fictional counterpart of the terrorists who hijacked the planes and parts of the narrative take place from his point of view. In contrast to the two-dimensional portrayals of “evil” attackers almost universally presented in the media, DeLillo attempts to humanize the terrorist. It does so by offering an insight into the conditions that lead to committing such an extreme act of violence. It is clear that Hammad believes that Islam is under attack and seems to sincerely believe that what he is doing is for the good of his people. He is influenced by Mohammed Atta, one of the few real-life characters to appear in the novel and one of the leaders of the September 11 attacks. Atta tells him that “The world changes first in the mind of the man who wants to change it”[36], and encourages him to focus on his 'mission'. That ishighlights the ability of young people from countries saturated with violence to be influenced by the promise of belonging and the charm of the afterlife of a martyr. Baudrillard emphasizes the need for exploration of characters like Hammad, who offer a glimpse into the private world of the terrorist: “The prodigious success of such an attack presents a problem, and if we want to understand it, we must abandon our Western perspective to see what happens in the terrorist organization and in their heads”[37]. In addition to placing Bin Laden's words against Bush's, Vinaver also gives voice to the terrorist. Like DeLillo, Vinaver casts Atta as the terrorist to whom he grants this voice. While he makes little attempt to humanize him the way DeLillo humanizes Hammad, he conveys the ritual nature of his preparation for his own death. This solidifies the idea that 9/11 is much more than a senseless, self-contained act of violence; rather, it is part of a much larger picture of religious fundamentalism and cultural unrest. Lee Essif actually suggests that Vinaver's terrorists are more united in their goals than the American people: “Vinaver's 9/11 presents a radio projection of a voice of America, the disjointed narrative of a spectacle that is unpresentable if not through newspaper headlines, and the only sense The community in the polylogical narrative of the text develops as a primitive, fundamentalist, terrorist narrative”[38]. A primary issue for writers attempting to capture the essence of a real-life act of violence is the portrayal of its victims and survivors. Here DeLillo and Vinaver follow two opposite, but both potentially problematic, literary paths. Throughout September 11, 2001, Vinaver uses real victims as characters; this contributes to his imitation style, as he attempts to recreate the events of the day. In fact, it goes further, aestheticizing the documented speeches of the real victims of 9/11. A case in point occurs as, as briefly mentioned, the work echoes the last recorded words of American Airlines flight attendant Madeline Sweeney. Vinaver condenses the recording of the phone call Sweeney made to his manager moments before Flight 11 crashed into the North Tower: “I see water and buildings/ Oh my God oh my God”[39]. Furthermore, the last recorded words of Flight 93 passenger Todd Beamer, spoken before his attempts to overpower the hijackers, are also imitated by Vinaver: “let's roll.” Guy Gavriel Kay compares writers' implementation of real-life characters to a “contemporary pandemic”[40]”, characterized by “a general erosion of the ethical value of privacy and a parallel emergence of a widespread sense of right to watch – or to make use of – the life of others”[41]. In light of this, the depiction of Beamer and Sweeney's last words can be seen as an intrusion; the last moments of another human being's life are perhaps the most private of all. However, it should be noted that these moments undergo minimal changes. For the most part, Vinaver simply imitates, creating a collage of reality in its rawest form. Since his sources are drawn primarily from the media and other non-fictional responses, the notion of his "intrusion" has diminished. DeLillo, on the other hand, veers more towards the fictional as he avoids explicit depictions of real-life characters. Instead, it dilutes the representation of fact with enough fiction to increase its palatability. However, the inclusion of fictional characters such as Keith Neudecker and his girlfriend, Lianne, can be seen as a shift in focus from the suffering of real victims in favor of producing wholehearted charactersround whose identity can be manipulated to achieve any desired dramatic effect. However, Sofo rejects this idea, as he suggests that “If type characters have steadily lost ground to round characters in the theater over the past few centuries, the real world has sometimes done the opposite”[42]. Here, Sofo implies that the real world promotes those two-dimensional individuals who fit the “mold” of social expectations. In the case of 9/11, focusing on such easily malleable survivors allows the media to propagate its own ideas about the event. However, by choosing to place fictional characters rather than real-life characters within the 9/11 setting, DeLillo goes beyond the real-life promotion of these "type characters", in order to portray those "round characters" who can act and perceive things differently. . Furthermore, DeLillo's fictional protagonist allows him to evade the anonymizing effect that artistic representations can have on the individual in real life. Indeed, the reduction of those who experienced 9/11 – both survivors and victims – to “artistic representations” can be seen to obscure their humanity. By contrast, in the case of Falling Man, DeLillo attempts to reverse the anonymization of "factual" responses to 9/11, which are often more focused on the emotional response of the viewer rather than the commemoration of the victims. As for the novel's title, DeLillo draws inspiration from Richard Drew's infamous photographic image, similarly titled "The Falling Man." Published just a day after the attacks, the image appeared in the New York Times along with a caption by journalist NR Kleinfield: “A person falls headfirst after jumping from the north tower of the World Trade Center. It was a horrible sight that was repeated in the moments following the impact of the planes on the towers”[43]. This caption, although combined with a "real" image, embodies the anonymization effect of an event even in the case of mass casualties. Laura Frost both supports and expands this notion as she argues that “The Falling Man” ends up becoming a generalized memorial to anonymity, a cenotaph or an “empty tomb,” while the viewer's reaction becomes particularized”[44]. Indeed, Frost juxtaposes the anonymization of the photograph's subject with the caption's attention to the mass of observers; the “horror” evoked by the image is attributed to the man's sight as opposed to his own experience. John Freeman also adheres to this vision as he suggests that "the human component has become secondary to that of the spectacle he created" [45]. In light of this, DeLillo's depiction of a fictional but fully realized survivor of 9/11 takes on a deeper meaning. It attempts to reassert a sense of individuality and identity for those who, much like "The Falling Man", have been reduced to a "monument" for mass experience. Please note: this is just an example. Get a custom paper from our expert writers now. Get a Custom Essay Artistic responses to 9/11, in all their breadth, strive to achieve a number of things: political protest and reconciliation of the trauma among them. However, they rarely attempt to directly recreate the event. Even in the case of September 11, 2001, Vinaver's work serves as a model for the imagination. His precise collage of real-life speeches, audio and media headlines illustrates the event as if stripped of all emotion; it does not attempt to recreate 9/11, but rather to make sense of an event by removing the conflicting interplay of emotions. Likewise, DeLillo, 180-20