I argue in this book for the value of reading microsocially. I demonstrate how adopting this approach in analyzing certain types of novelsânamely those that fall under the umbrella of psychological realismâopens them up to intriguing, illuminating readings. By employing a perspective that microsociologist Erving Goffman (1922â1982) elaborates on in works such as The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life and Stigma: Notes on the Management of Spoiled Identity , I examine Nathaniel Hawthorneâs âThe Ministerâs Black Veil: A Parable,â Jane Austenâs Pride and Prejudice , Edith Whartonâs Ethan Frome and The Age of Innocence , and George Eliotâs The Mill on the Floss and show that despite scholarsâ references to Goffman, theatricality, performance, and moments of embarrassment, and their ample focus on the âsmallâ world of social interaction in these and other literary works, the articulation of the microsocial in reading literary texts has barely begun .
I focus in this book on the microsocial to elaborate on a heretofore-overlooked aspect of fictional meaning making, simultaneously offering new vocabulary with which to discuss what we often know only intuitively or miss altogether because of the obscuring familiarity. Being able to recognize the norm that requires individuals to respond in a backstage manner when they are accosted in a backstage tone, for example, contributes significantly to what can be perceived in literary reproductions of such norms exerting their inexorable influence on individualsâincluding on readers. In other words, my microsocial critical methodology and the thematic content of this book, the topics of this introductory chapter, are intertwined.
I am mostly interested in structures of interaction. As this book will illustrate, one particularly rich sphere of investigation in looking at them is that of personal intimacies, including romantic ones. However, I must assert from the outset that not all personal intimacies are cordial. Although knowledge of, and an accompanying sense of familiarity, closeness, and identification with, an object of intimacy invariably accompanies intimate relations, intimacy itself need not be warm or friendly.1 For one, identification with others tends to be an automatic response rather than an outcome of liking or similarity. For another, intimate understanding can be motivated by envy, suspicion, or dislike. As social thinker George Herbert Mead (1934) asserts, whenever individuals are face to face with one another, they instinctively âtake the attitude of the otherâ (134) toward themselves to gauge how they appear to this other and fashion their responses accordingly. Such gestures, when repeated frequently, can generate a sense of intimately knowing an individual, which can be pleasingâor unpleasant, occasioning emotions such as jealousy, suspicion, or disgust. This phenomenon relates to the first reason I use the term âintimaciesâ in the plural. Using the term âintimaciesâ allows me to discuss peopleâs various close relationshipsâwith friends, rivals, colleagues, lovers, nemeses, spouses, siblingsâas âexhibit[ing] fuzzy, overlapping boundariesâ (Cupach and Spitzberg 2004, 22), so that they might be aligned in a kind of existential continuum, irrespective of their formal classifications.
In viewing intimacies this way, I adopt philosopher Martha Craven Nussbaumâs (2001) understanding that âlove, while an emotion, is also a relationshipâ (473; emphasis in original)âthat is, social. In my microsocial view, however, emotion is also social and not merely a personal affect that flows outward from within. It is regulated by the requirements of oneâs macro/microsocial position, the context of the interaction, oneâs personal history, and the availability of a valid reason for feeling and then expressing the emotion. For example, in Eliotâs The Mill on the Floss , miller Luke Moggâs dispassionate resignation to his lot, Prissy Jakinâs cheerful but shy submissiveness, and the small allowance stigmatized individuals such as hunchbacked Philip Wakem have to express their resentment or unhappiness tend to be considered unexceptional, even typical. Readers must empirically know, even if they are unable or unwilling to articulate the understanding, that emotions are not democratically distributed, as rhetorician Daniel M. Gross (2006) asserts: emotions are âmarkers of social distinction rather than ⌠expressions of a human nature essentially shared by allâ (178). The way in which passions, such as impatience, annoyance, and indignation, are methodically âhoarded and monopolizedâ by those who feel qualified to feel and then express them ultimately generates âselves of a certain sortâ (126). This is likely true of those on the receiving end of such passions as well. And if an individualâs emotional response seems spontaneous, this is in all likelihood because it has become part of the individualâs stock of ready-made responsesâlike habit, which uses âpreviously formed sensory paths,â to borrow Kristie M. Allenâs (2010, 835) expression.
In short, while the requirements of oneâs macro and microsocial position tend to prescribe oneâs emotional responses, the expressive responsesâor performancesâreify oneâs social identity. At this juncture, I need to clarify the use of the term âperformanceâ in this book. Microsociologically, performances are not limited to dramatic, intended, or deceptive forms of display. Ostensibly natural or unconsciously displayed behavior is no less performative in âgiv[ing]â or âgiv[ing] offâ impressions (Goffman 1959, 2; emphasis in original) that, regardless of intent, convey an individualâs claim to an identity, or what Goffman (1967) calls âface,â the âpositive social values a person effectively claims for himself by the line others assume he has taken during a particular contactâ (5). To modify philosopher Judith Butlerâs (1990) definition of genderââ gender is not a nounâ but is instead âperformatively produced and compelled by the regulatory practices of gender coherenceâ and is âalways a doing, though not a doing by a subject who might be said to preexist the deedâ (34; emphasis in original)â identity is similarly expressively produced and regulated by the requirements of identity coherence. As Goffman (1959) earlier asserted, âA status, a position, a social place is not a material thing, to be possessed and then displayed; it is a pattern of appropriate conduct, coherent, embellished, and well articulatedâ (75). With this, sociologist Candace West (1996) would agree, when she writes that men and women ââ[do]â genderâ and âpowerâ (359).
A commitment to microsocial reading complements the pursuit of an understanding of literary works within a larger historical context, and vice versa. The microsocial face-to-face realm, however, has yet to be fully acknowledged and understood. As I explained elsewhere (Wakana 2009, 3; 8), the face-to-face sphere is regulated by tacitly shared rules that exist alongside those that govern hierarchical relations in the larger sphere. The microsocial sphere and the more âmacroâ sphere are not just extensions of one another. While power relations defined by such macrosocial factors as money, gender, and class influence face-to-face interaction processes,2 a separate set of microsocial norms that govern an interaction order âsui generisââa term sociologist Ann Rawfield Rawls (1987) uses to describe Goffmanâs microsociological model of societyâcan challenge or undermine those relations (136). And yet, as Goffman (1983) asserts, âTo speak of the relatively autonomous forms of life in the interaction order ⌠is not to put forward these forms as somehow prior, fundamental, or constitutive of the shape of macroscopic phenomenaâ (9). When individuals are viewed as existing in such a complex world, in real life and in imaginatively reproduced versions of it, they become the loci of frequently competing moral claims. Morality, explains sociologist Gregory W. H. Smith (2006), is âbuilt right into the detail of interactionâ (100) that is regulated by microsocial rules of civility, including everyday etiquette.
One such microsocial rule is individualsâ need to observe what Goffman (1967) calls the ârule of self-respect and the rule of consideratenessâ (11), which etiquette writers have discussed in modified form. In Letters of Advice to His Son, Philip Dormer Stanhope, better known as Lord Chesterfield ([1774] 1792), writes that speaking with a monarch should be as uncomplicated as speaking with a servant: âWere you to converse with a King, you ought to be as easy and unembarrassed as with your own valet de chamber: but yet every look, word, and action, should imply the utmost respectâ (3:186); Arthur Martine ([1866] 1996) asserts that âeven courtesy has limits where dignity should govern it, for when carried to excess, particularly in manner, it borders on sycophancy, which is almost as de...