Should fiction be indexed? The
indexability of text
ABSTRACT: Considers what features of texts make them appropriate
or necessary to be supplied with an index, and distinguishes between
informational and literary text. Serious fiction is seen as comprising
elements of both types of text, and the particular difficulties
of indexing it, and the value of indexes to fiction, are considered.
Scholarly editions of literary fiction may come complete with critical
apparatus of introductions, footnotes, glosses and appendices-but
not indexes. Indeed, indexes to fiction are rarely produced, not
generally demanded, and often assumed to be unnecessary or inappropriate,
as, in 1989, Philip Bradley found in his survey of the views of
publishers and authors of the need for indexes to fiction. [1] Yet
nonfiction is almost standardly expected to be provideti with indexes,
and reviewers often complain if it is not. What makes the difference?
If there are texts for which indexing is considered necessaiy and
appropriate, then in what ways do these differ from fiction? What
type of text is indexable? How should we differentiate between types
of text?
Hard texts
I suggest that types of text can be seen as ranged through a continuum.
At one extreme lies STM (science, technical and medical texts),
particularly the technical manual. As an example of STM text, here
is a passage from Natural rubber science and technology (Oxford
University Press, 1988), from a chapter headed CHEMICAL MODIFICATION
OF NATURAL RUBBER, with a section heading, MODIFICATION RESEARCH,
and subheading, CLASS:
The effects on properties of functionalizing natural rubber with
chemical groups will clearly depend on the degree of functionalization.
Early modification methods, especially cyclization and cis,trans-isomerization,
were generally difficult to control and gave very heavily modified
materials. The more recent methods, which utilize the various types
of molecular reaction, give good control over extent of reaction
since reaction is confined to individual olefmic sites on the rubber.
In principal, then, it is possible to achieve any given degree of
modification. In practice, other factors limit the degree of modification
which may be achievable or desirable. Apart from purely chemical
considerations, such as increasing incursion of side reactions,
the primary factors are purpose and cost.
This is text composed entirely of hard facts, expressed in direct
statements, in the basic, barest, standard vocabulary of the discipline.
It is impersonal, with no attempt to individualize the perception
or make the expression artistic, the style pleasing; structured
in clearly defined sections and subsections, ready provided with
subheadings. The sole aim is clarity; it is purely information-bearing
text, and eminently indexable. Rules and standards can well be established
and applied to indexing this type of text, almost as templates.
To the skilled indexer of the appropriate specialism, the correct
index would be predictable.
Literary texts
At the other extreme of the continuum of text-type lies literary
text, in which meaning is conveyed or implied by deploying sound,
form, rhythm, imagery, association and symbolism. For example, this
sonnet by Gerard Manley Hopkins, 'The Starlight Night':
Look at the stars! look, look up at the skies!
0 look at all the fire-folk sitting in the air!
The bright boroughs, the circle-citadels there!
Down in dim woods the diamond delves! the elves'-eyes!
The grey lawns cold where gold, where quickgold lies!
Wind-beat whitebeam! airy abeles set on a flare!
Flake-doves sent floating forth at a farmyard scare!
- Ah well! it is all a purchase, all is a prize.
Buy then! bid then! - What? - Prayer, patience, alms, vows.
Look, look: a May-mess, like on orchard boughs!
Look! March-bloom, like on mealed-with-yellow sal-lows!
These are indeed the barn; withindoors house
The shocks. This piece-bright paling shuts the spouse
Christ home, Christ and his mother and all his hallows.
This is by no means meaningless. It holds much, dense meaning; but
the reader must derive his own meaning, responding personally. There
are few direct statements, and those not necessarily the most significant
parts. The text - contains and uses much more than mere information.
The vocabulary is chosen for its sound, freshness, and association;
basic, common or standardized terms are avoided. Here, description
itself is more important than the object described, and the form
is more significant than the content. Indexers fasten on content,
not form. This type of text I would consider quite unindexable,
let alone predictably.
So indexability seems to derive from the manner in which information
is presented and conveyed, and the type of language chosen to do
it in; it must be explicit, deliberate statement, to be indexed.
Indexing what is only implied or conveyed by artistic means would
be both presumptuously difficult to do and crudely destructive of
the author's intention to suggest, to evoke a personal response
in the reader.
Fiction as a text-type
Where on this range from the information-comprised to the almost-no-direct-information-conveying
text does fiction lie? I suggest that the best, serious fiction
includes elements of both, as a hybrid form. (I am not here considering
romantic, escapist, trivial fiction-easy indeed to index, but not
worth the doing.)
The facts in fiction
If fiction is comprised of both types of text, let us consider first
its informational content: the basic plots, conveyed in statements.
Fiction usually takes people as its subject, and describes their
development, events in their lives, and their social relationships.
This is the same informational material as that of histories and
biographies, which are usually indexed without question. All three
genres-history, biography and fiction-alike recount developments
in lives of individuals and societies, actual or postulated, and
these may equally well be indexed, in the same way, whether the
events and the individuals have in reality occurred or not. In a
letter to The Indexer commenting on Bradley's survey,' Anthony
Raven wrote: 'Within the context of a book, i.e. within the purview
of its index, all facts are equally factual, regardless of whether
they also enjoy a different kind of factuality beyond the book's
covers.' [2]
No biography or history can be completely accurate in all its details,
anyway; they must all partake to some degree of the nature of fiction,
as imaginary reconstructions.
So these informational elements need indexing in all genres. Specific
events in people's lives, and the characters they meet, may need
to be traced, whether the reader seeks references to Lawrence of
Arabia's college years and meetings with Thomas Hardy, or to Randolph
Ash's honeymoon and visit to the de Kercoz family-important events
in A. S. Byatt's Booker Prize-winning novel, Possession.
[3] If we are taking books seriously, we have the same needs for
information retrieval with regard to characters, places and events,
independently of what is truth?'.
In indexing five novels by A.S. Byatt, [4] I found that biographical
elements in these yielded indexes appearing little different from
those to normal biographies. Here is the entry for one of the characters
in Possession, Beatrice Nest, which could well come from
the index to a straightforward biography:
Nest, Dr Beatrice: appearance and image 112, 116-18;education and
career 113-16; work on EA's diaries 27, 31-2, 98, 114-15; private
life 116-17; and MC 111, 112, 119-20, 438-9; RM visits 117-20; MB
visits 2 19-22, 232-5; telephones MB 438-40; meeting at her house
476-86; at Hodershall 496-504; Helpmeets 31, 115-16
Demands for indexes to fiction
The publishers in Bradley's survey opposed indexes to fiction on
the grounds of increased costs and lack of necessity. [1] If indexes
are held necessary for histories and biographies, despite their
cost, then they are similarly necessary to the plot contents of
serious, lengthy fiction. The chief function of an index is to help
people find particular passages they want to. Why not make these
traceable in serious fiction as well as in any other serious work?
The demand for indexes to fiction has a long history. One of our
earliest literary critics, Dr Johnson, asked one of our earliest
novelists, Samuel Richardson, to compile an index to his novel,
Clarissa, published from 1747-9, so that 'when the reader recollects
any incident he may easily find it'. More recently, in 1991, Hans
Wellisch complained:
Don Quixote, War and peace, Gone with the wind, to name only
a few mighty tomes with dozens or even hundreds of characters, places
and events, lack indexes, and many other . . . voluminous and complex
novels would also benefit from them. . . . many readers, particularly
students who have to do assignments for literature courses, may
wish to return to a passage in which a certain character appears,
but find it difficult to do so for want of an index. [5]
The trouble with indexing fiction...
The plots and characters of fiction, then -- its informational aspects
-- may well be indexed in the normal way, as appropriately and as
necessarily as biography. Objections apply to the other end of the
scale, to those factors that distinguish fiction from factual texts:
the literary elements, treating language as material for subtle
art, vivid exercise of the imagination, association, individual
perception-all that is seen in the Hopkins poem. Indexing such creative,
imaginative writing, very much the personal world-view of the individual
author, could seem brashly intrusive.
In Bradley's survey, these were the grounds of the authors' objections
to indexes to fiction. Authors expressed alarm regarding these aspects,
most cogently voiced by Jeannette Winterson, author of Oranges are
not the only fruit among other novels:
"Fiction is there to free us from the tyranny of our own perceptions,
to take us to another world where, for a time, the concerns of our
everyday lives are suspended. We need what magic remains in this
little life. Let'snot nail it down only to find it has disappeared."
[1]
And Iris Murdoch replied, when I had asked permission to index her
novels:
"I don't think I would like an index to be appended to, or
published in reference to, a particular novel. It would be difficult
to produce one of any length or complexity without introducing an
element of literary criticism, for instance indication of, or interpretation
of, symbols."
This area, the literary element, is the one where indexers feel
great diffidence in setting about their work. But they would not
necessarily have to wade in and lay about the symbolism, the metaphors
and the magic. Indexing could be deliberately restricted to names
and places, with no attempts to index abstract themes and metaphors.
In my index to Possession, in the entry for Beatrice Nest
quoted above, these lines from the novel, which are the stuff of
fiction, not biography, are not analysed in indexing terms, but
merely subsumed into the subheading, APPEARANCE AND IMAGE:
"If they thought of her harder, those few people who knew
her might add a metaphoric identity. Cropper thought of her in terms
of Carroll's obstructive white sheep. Blackadder, in bad moods,
thought of her as one of those puffed white spiders, bleached by
the dark, feeling along the threads of her trap from her central
lair. The femiftists who had from time to time sought access to
the Journal saw her as some kind of guardian octopus, an ocean Fafnir,
curled torpidly round her hoard, putting up opaque screens of ink
or watery smoke to obscure her whereabouts."
As for the treatment of symbols, which caused Iris Murdoch's gainsaying,
these surely could be indicated only by reference to the thing in
itself. Take as an example of these, the opening chapter of Murdoch's
novel, The Bell. [6] There, Dora, a young, irresponsible
art student, marries Paul, who is thirteen years older, and finds
him decisive, possessive, authoritative and violent: 'Something
gentle and gay had gone out of her life'. She leaves him and 'passed
the summer drinking and dancing and making love and spending Paul's
allowance on multi-coloured skirts'. She then decides to return
to him, and goes by train, very nervous. On the carriage floor she
sees a butterfly crawling; picks it up and holds it safely until
the train stops and she gets out and meets her husband who finds
she has left his property on the train, and 'His face was harshly
closed'. He asks her why she is holding her hands so oddly, and
she opens them 'like a flower'; the butterfly 'flew away into the
distance'.
Clearly this is a butterfly highly charged with symbolic value;
also, this is an interesting passage to find, read and ponder. I
see no harm or crudity in indexing it under B as: BUTTERFLY ON TRAIN,
or as a subheading under Dora's entry, FINDS BUTTERFLY ON TRAIN.
One would not, indeed, index it as BUTTERFLY ON TRAIN (REPRESENTING
SPIRIT OF GAIETY AND FREEDOM), nor under S as SPIRIT OF GAIETY AND
FREEDOM see BUTTERFLY. One would offer indication only: 'there
you will find the author's description or treatment of the object';
no attempt to interpret, expound and expose in the index. An entry
should be as value-free as a signpost, which tells you only 'It's
to be found there'; in which direction to walk to reach a named
place, not the qualities of its architecture or site.
After whether.. . how
It seems to me very much more difficult to index such perceptive,
creative, human-focused texts, than technical ones. Lancaster writes:
'The indexing of imaginative works is likely to be more subjective
and interpretative than other types', complicated further by their
essentially open-ended scope. [7]
Tact and sensitivity are required, first, in the selection of items
for emphasis. We must index only what is actually asserted, not
what is merely suggested by literary art; only the informational
content of the text. Secondly, we need to match our vocabulary to
that of the text, both in precisely conveying the nature of events
and in the tone, the attitudes implied.
The question of the language to be used for indexing is much discussed.
Technical indexers are told that they must use thesauri to avoid
inconsistency and to control synonyms, keeping to 'preferred terms'.
This may well be necessary in dealing with multi-author works and
rigid subject-disciplines; but, in literary terms, there are no
synonyms in our language: there are subtle variations of terms.
A literary writer will make a deliberate choice to use a specific
term, le mot juste for them, and it would be impertinence
for indexers to PREFER another one. Indexers must not presume to
exercise limitation or control over the language of creative writers;
our range of vocabulary must be sensitive and subtle to match their
own.
The terms used in a literary index tell the reader, 'this is what
you will find in this quite original, unique work', Those in a subject-discipline
index convey, 'this is what you will find in this catalogued item
to meet your predetermined search'.
Subheadings -- summarizing developments in the characters' lives
-- require particularly delicate choice of terms. Standardized terminology
must be avoided, as the opposite of creativity, of the exercise
of imagination, of individual perception and expression. The idea
of controlling the vocabulary and standardizing the terms of a creative
writer would reduce the highest literature to 'formula fiction',
and wholly justify the authors' alarm and antagonism about indexes.
The value of indexes to fiction
I found the indexes I compiled to Byatt's novels of value in helping
to understand them and to appreciate the author's skill. The plot
of Possession was highly complex, and in indexing it I found
a tight underlying structure-no weakness or inconsistency exposed,
as often happens in indexing non-fiction works. In the indexes,
variations on a theme are clustered. For instance, Melusine, the
subject of a major literary work by one character in the novel,
is a water-spirit seen in an important mythological scene in her
bath. Six other bathrooms are described in the book in detail, matching
the varying characters of their owners -- a valuable contrast to
establish by listing them together in the index. Proserpine is a
significant figure through the book, and the index shows how she
appears in several different ways, including as a mythological figure
studied by Vico; painted by Leighton; and depicted in a poem by
the hero of the book. Parallel events in the modern period in which
the main characters live and the earlier one they are studying are
brought out, as with the successive visits to places in Yorkshire.
The recurring theme of the stones found at Boggle Hole by both travelling
couples, specimens of which are brought home by the earlier heroine
to use as paper-weights, then taken by her friend to aid suicidal
drowning, and subsequently referred to in a seance, becomes clear
when indexed. And I was able to appreciate the 'sudden wit' attributed
to the character who remarks on page 429, 'Cropper is the Ankou',
by finding in my index an earlier reference to the Ankou on page
179. (It is indeed a witty remark.)
So serious fiction appears to me to combine an indexable element
of normal biography with a literary treatment best left unassailed
by indexers. Indexes to fiction are valuable, so the extra difficulty
and delicacy required in attempting to compile them are worthwhile.
References
1. Bradley, Philip. Indexes to works of fiction: the views of producers
and users on the need for them. The Indexer 16(4) Oct. 1989,239-50.
2. Raven, Anthony. Indexes to works of fiction (letter). The
Indexer 17 (1) April 1990,60-1.
3. Byatt, A.S. Possession. Chatto & Windus, 1990.
4. Bell, Hazel K. Indexing fiction: a story of complexity. The
Indexer 17 (4) Oct. 1991, 251-6.
5. Wellisch, Hans H. Indexing from A to Z. H. W. Wilson Co.,
1991.
6. Murdoch, Iris. The Bell. Chatto & Windus, 1958. Chapter
1.
7. Lancaster, Wilfred. Indexing and abstracting in theory and
practice. Library Association, 1991.
We acknowledge with thanks permission to quote extracts above granted
by A. S. Byatt, Iris Murdoch, Hans H. Wellisch, Chatto & Windus,
Peters Fraser & Dunlop, and the Malaysian Rubber Producers'
Research Association.
Paper first presented at a meeting of the Society of Indexers,
London, 19 March 1992.
-- by Hazel K. Bell, in The Indexer Vol. 18 No. 2 October
1992