What makes a writing "Fiction" versus "History"?

[Paul the Uncertain]

Neil

In none of the quoted section does the author inform his readers of any third party source for his narrative.

Source for what? The incident? The author says it occurred in public and the spectators are portrayed as talkative. The afflicted man's mental state? His words are quoted; the reader may judge for herself. The synagogue goers' enthusiasm? First described, then blurbed.

Compare Pliny's source for the African story. He heard it. That's it. We haven't been informed of any third party source. The Greek ghost, same deal, except this one we're getting just as he heard it. Meaning what? That he improved the African story from what he heard - he heard something and made up the rest? Beats me; the point is we aren't being told. As I mentioned, Pliny's purpose for the device wasn't necessarily to tell us anything anyway. Which would work out neatly, because we sure as hell aren't being told much.

The author hides his presence from the reader and at no times hints that he learned or heard the story from X or Y.

Apparently we aren't reading the same passages, neither Mark nor Pliny. Or floor me. Who's Pliny's X or Y? Is X the same as Y, or are they two different sources? Please point me to the answer in the text.

The text itself gives not a single hint of any interest in "eyewitness reporting" nor any hint that these names relate to his source for the story.

Hint is a big place. The sons have no role in the story, they do nothing at all, they may not even exist yet at the time in question. The story is painfully short for the number of characters, settings and incidents narrated. But there are the kids. What's your theory of why they're there on the page?

You don't have to answer. My suspicion is facially tenable, was offered as a suspicion, and I don't need it to be more than that to carry my point.

Again, this is entirely speculative without any means of testing. We cannot read the mind of an author we do not know.

But I'm not reading anybody's mind. Mark wrote that a character earned and received praise for speaking the way Mark writes. That is an observation. The praise and the reason stated for it are on the page in black letters. We seem to agree that that's how Mark writes. There's no speculation here, no mind reading.

I don't know of any historical writing (recognized as such outside the field of biblical studies -- biblical studies is the exception so often!) comparable to the narrator-absence and absence of third party rhetorical references that characterize Mark.

How strange is it that an acknowledged genre-innovator should be in some ways different from genre-followers?

[There's a lot in the second post that doesn't call for a response from me. Largely we agree, or we disagree but have already covered that. If there's something besides the following you expected me to answer, then let me know.]

I am not clear on what is meant by "superior audience experience".

The author estimates what proportion of the audience will return to their seats after the interval. A higher proportion is superior.

Why were footnotes, endnotes and annotated bibliographies eventually invented, do you suppose? Could it have been to avoid the repeated interruption of the narrative in order to handle the typically distinct issue of authority for a statement?

If some of the authors who use footnotes, end notes or annotated bibliographies think of such interrruptions as something to avoid, then might not some earlier authors, practicing before these inventions were made, also have thought of such interruptions as something to avoid, if only they could think of a way? And back to the present day, has no author ever thought "Except for the tenure committee, who's going to read these notes?"

So, is it a stretch that an innovative and influential ancient author had both thoughts: (1) "sourcing interrupts my performance," which it does and (2) "almost none of my audience cares where I got the story," which he would know better than thee or me?

Can you think of some way that an author might craft his performance in the light of those two thoughts? Assuming he had them, of course - no mind reading required.

[neilgodfrey]

Neil

In none of the quoted section does the author inform his readers of any third party source for his narrative.

Source for what? The incident? The author says it occurred in public and the spectators are portrayed as talkative. The afflicted man's mental state? His words are quoted; the reader may judge for herself. The synagogue goers' enthusiasm? First described, then blurbed.

Compare Pliny's source for the African story. He heard it. That's it. We haven't been informed of any third party source. The Greek ghost, same deal, except this one we're getting just as he heard it. Meaning what? That he improved the African story from what he heard - he heard something and made up the rest? Beats me; the point is we aren't being told. As I mentioned, Pliny's purpose for the device wasn't necessarily to tell us anything anyway. Which would work out neatly, because we sure as hell aren't being told much.

Pliny introduces himself by speaking directly to his reader by name and "you" and identifying his own personal presence with "I" and then remarking on a story he heard:

To Sura

THE PRESENT recess from business we are now enjoying affords you leisure to give, and me to receive, instruction. I am extremely desirous therefore to know whether you believe in the existence of ghosts, and that they have a real form, and are a sort of divinities, or only the visionary impressions of a terrified imagination. What particularly inclines me to believe in their existence is a story which I heard of Curtius Rufus.

Pliny is writing in an epistolary voice to his reader and identifies and speaks of himself directly, what he is doing at the time, what he wants, what he is interested in, why he tends to believe in something unusual. Very personal. And like countless believers in ghosts no doubt before and certainly since, others have told him of their experiences and he makes that particular source clear. He is not making his story up. He is throwing responsibility for the narrative back on to someone else.

In the second gospel we have no idea who the author is or what is his source for his story or why he wrote it or for whom. The author simply presents a narrative from an omniscient storyteller's perspective -- no different in technique from, say, the story of Cinderella. We certainly don't assume the details of the Ball in Cinderella were sourced from any of the many spectators and participants who were said to be in attendance there.

In the second gospel the incident (1:21-28) is a supernatural one -- involving talking demons and an exorcism by means of a mere word of authority -- and in the larger context of the gospel it serves an evident theological point: to identify Jesus as the supreme power over the spirit world who is able to free its human captives.

(There are other clues as to its artificial or fabricated composition but I am trying to focus on what I think is the main point of difference between us.)

Mark's narrative is as "authoritative" in its presentation as is, say, the narrative of the deliverance of the Ten Commandments in Exodus. It is an omniscient view of all that happened before millions of eyewitnesses, with the authority not derived from any mere human narrator but "as scripture" in this context; and not only as scripture, but scripture introducing and declaring the new divine authority himself. -- just as the way God commanded the Ten Commandments before millions of eyewitnesses was an authoritative tale told "just as it happened" without any blemish by reference to a fallible human narrator.

Pliny, on the other hand, is submitting his narrative personally, without the dogmatism and omniscience that we see in Mark or Exodus. Pliny allows his reader to question him directly on his source and details.

[neilgodfrey]

The author hides his presence from the reader and at no times hints that he learned or heard the story from X or Y.

Apparently we aren't reading the same passages, neither Mark nor Pliny. Or floor me. Who's Pliny's X or Y? Is X the same as Y, or are they two different sources? Please point me to the answer in the text.

Here are the critical passages in Pliny:

I am extremely desirous therefore to know whether you believe in the existence of ghosts, and that they have a real form, and are a sort of divinities, or only the visionary impressions of a terrified imagination. What particularly inclines me to believe in their existence is a story which I heard of Curtius Rufus.

Now the following story, which I am going to tell you just as I heard it, is it not more terrible than the former, while quite as wonderful?

This story I believe upon the credit of others; what I am going to mention, I give you upon my own

Let me desire you then to give this question your mature consideration. The subject deserves your examination; as, I trust, I am not myself altogether unworthy a participation in the abundance of your superior knowledge. And though you should, as usual, balance between two opinions, yet I hope you will lean more on one side than on the other,

Pliny as author is directly engaging his audience and declaring stories that others have told him, and that he compares then with an experience of his own. He is challenging his reader to question and interrogate the truth of what he is writing.

By contrast in Mark, the audience is simply presented with a "just so" story. "That's what happened" (no source, the audience is told what happened and that's that with no way within the narrative itself for them to question it - "take it or leave it" is the way it is delivered)-- with the same omniscient authority as the telling of the Exodus and the deliverance of the Ten Commandments, or the story of Cinderella, or a James Bond novel, or the story of Daniel in the Lions' Den.

The narrative voices and rhetorical techniques in Pliny and Mark are as different as chalk and cheese.

[neilgodfrey]

Neil

The text itself gives not a single hint of any interest in "eyewitness reporting" nor any hint that these names relate to his source for the story.

Hint is a big place. The sons have no role in the story, they do nothing at all, they may not even exist yet at the time in question. The story is painfully short for the number of characters, settings and incidents narrated. But there are the kids. What's your theory of why they're there on the page?

They are characters named in a narrative. We have no way of knowing what they meant to the author. If I am pressed for my suspicion (but my suspicion can never be an argument) I suspect that their function should be assessed against the functions of other names in the same gospel: so many of them are evidently symbolic, representations of some theological message, that I suspect ditto for A and R. Further in the context, our version of Mark seems to be redacted awkwardly in places so we are left wondering what its original form looked like. Take, for instance, Jesus healing the possessed by after the Transfiguration (Mark 9): crowds come to him "amazed" -- with no evident explanation in the text; then they come rushing to him again after we were informed, apparently, they had already reached him... or he them. What is missing from the original? What has happened to the text? It has to do with some message about faith, like that other curious passage about Jesus being angry in the context of faith. We are not reading an "original" text, I think. But names Peter, Judas, Levi, Jairus, Bethsaida, Bethphage, Capernaum, Jesus himself, Simon, Barabbas, Bartimaeus, .... all charged with theological significance. Why do the authors omit Sepphoris but choose (and even invent) places with theologically significant names.

If our evangelist were writing as a historian we would expect him to establish a means for his readers to grant him confidence in the authenticity of his narrative -- as historians, even ancient ones, tended to do. That is, we would expect him to inform readers why his account has some authoritative merit and at least identify himself and give some idea how he came by his information. The evangelist does nothing like that.

But I'm not reading anybody's mind. Mark wrote that a character earned and received praise for speaking the way Mark writes. That is an observation. The praise and the reason stated for it are on the page in black letters. We seem to agree that that's how Mark writes. There's no speculation here, no mind reading.

All we are told is:

Then they compelled a certain man, Simon a Cyrenian, the father of Alexander and Rufus, as he was coming out of the country and passing by, to bear His cross.

It seems to me to be special pleading to infer from this that Mark is hinting at sources for his narrative.

I don't know of any historical writing (recognized as such outside the field of biblical studies -- biblical studies is the exception so often!) comparable to the narrator-absence and absence of third party rhetorical references that characterize Mark.

How strange is it that an acknowledged genre-innovator should be in some ways different from genre-followers?

The Gospel of Mark is not a "genre-innovation" in the sense of creating anything totally new. We can recognize several different genres in the gospel. Authors have always innovated by combining various genres into new forms, in fields of music, visual arts as well as literature.

The Gospel of Mark, as Thomas L. Thompson has noted, is following the literary tradition of omniscient story telling and rewriting traditions and texts as we see in other Jewish canonical and extra-canonical narratives.

I am not clear on what is meant by "superior audience experience".

The author estimates what proportion of the audience will return to their seats after the interval. A higher proportion is superior.

Readers appreciate having basic expectations met when they read a text. A reader interested in a historical narrative, in the "what happened?" question, wants to be assured by a narrator that he can have some confidence in the answer to "what happened?" Authors meet that expectation by generally ensuring readers do know who they are and why they can have confidence in what they are about to write. Luke moves very slightly in this direction with his prologue, although there is much more to that story than I will spell out here.

Herodotus tells us that he visited the places he writes about and got his information from "sources in situ". Thucydides and others point out the reasons their sources and narratives are more reliable than those of their predecessors.

If an author does not meet basic expectations such as those above he is not considered reliable as a genuine historian and his work is not likely to survive as a valued historical account.

Can you think of some way that an author might craft his performance in the light of those two thoughts? Assuming he had them, of course - no mind reading required.

Luke-Acts functions as just such a bums-on-seat bait. All the rhetorical devices of a popular Hellenistic Romance are marshalled (as shown in detail by Richard Pervo) and it is worthless as history as a consequence. The work is evidently a rewriting of earlier gospel and other Second Temple texts. The prologue that appeared at first to hint at some promise of historiography is proved by the subsequent narrative to be a sham.

But bums beneath heads interested in genuine history would not return to learn about "what really happened in real history". They would return to enjoy a bit of light-hearted entertainment, miracles, court appearances and momentous decisions at grand assemblies, life and death adventures, etc. The appeal of Luke-Acts is not primarily to a sophisticated or educated audience.

[neilgodfrey]

Luke-Acts functions as just such a bums-on-seat bait. All the rhetorical devices of a popular Hellenistic Romance are marshalled (as shown in detail by Richard Pervo) and it is worthless as history as a consequence.

I mean that the story content of its narrative is worthless as history; like Shakespeare and Aeschylus as discussed earlier, it does have its historical value, but that value is derived from examining it as a literary artefact of its own time, not from embracing its narrative content at face value.

[Ben C. Smith]

But names Peter, Judas, Levi, Jairus, Bethsaida, Bethphage, Capernaum, Jesus himself, Simon, Barabbas, Bartimaeus, .... all charged with theological significance.

Are there attested contemporary Jewish names which would resist theological significance?

[neilgodfrey]

But names Peter, Judas, Levi, Jairus, Bethsaida, Bethphage, Capernaum, Jesus himself, Simon, Barabbas, Bartimaeus, .... all charged with theological significance.

Are there attested contemporary Jewish names which would resist theological significance?

It is not the names per se but their application or function in the narrative. We don't just as readers imagine what double meaning a name might possibly have. That would be as pointless as reading tealeaves. It is the application of names in their context. Jairus is probably the most prominent one. Jairus's name is significant because of its context in a narrative about a girl sleeping who is awakened.

Barabbas would not work as the name of the father of the girl in that context; nor would Jairus work as the name of the prisoner Pilate released in place of Jesus.

[neilgodfrey]

Reading Mark is sometimes like reading Genesis: guess who the first man is: Adam, which means....! guess who the mother of mankind is: Eve, which means....! guess who is the father of many nations: Abraham, which means....! Guess where it was that God confused the languages: Babel, which means....!

[Ben C. Smith]

But names Peter, Judas, Levi, Jairus, Bethsaida, Bethphage, Capernaum, Jesus himself, Simon, Barabbas, Bartimaeus, .... all charged with theological significance.

Are there attested contemporary Jewish names which would resist theological significance?

It is not the names per se but their application or function in the narrative. We don't just as readers imagine what double meaning a name might possibly have. That would be as pointless as reading tealeaves. It is the application of names in their context. Jairus is probably the most prominent one. Jairus's name is significant because of its context in a narrative about a girl sleeping who is awakened.

Barabbas would not work as the name of the father of the girl in that context; nor would Jairus work as the name of the prisoner Pilate released in place of Jesus.

Okay, context is queen. I do not think I buy the Jairus thing, incidentally, and feel that the Barabbas thing may have other, better explanations than just its "son of the father" value, but I agree with your main point here; it is all about the context.

[neilgodfrey]

I do not think I buy the Jairus thing, incidentally, and feel that the Barabbas thing may have other, better explanations than just its "son of the father" value, but I agree with your main point here; it is all about the context.

I don't know what you mean by "not buying the Jairus thing". (The existence of the pun is a textual fact I have never known anyone to dispute.)

People may have different explanations for the pun. We may say it is mere coincidence. That's fine. Maybe it is, but that explanation begins to look strained when we note so many other similar coincidences.

As for Barabbas, the existence of multiple functions of expressions literature is standard practice, ancient literature included. No-one is suggesting that there is but one narrow point to Barabbas and there is no more.