Reader’s Choice

Do you solemnly swear that this was your choice and your choice alone to read the content of this post that hereby follows? The author claims absolutely no responsibility for your choice to continue to let your eyeballs fall on the letters she put on this page. She would like to say that she did not write this with you in particular in mind. 

I’m joking, obviously! Of course, I wrote this with an audience in mind – you, the readers of Arts at Michigan! But, in no way, have my words hypnotized you to read them (that would be amazing if they could!), and in no way, am I forcing you to agree with what I’m writing. You can exit the page at any time.

Still there? Good. 

This idea of “warning” your readers about bawdy content and reminding them of their choice to read it is centuries old. For example, Chaucer famously does so in the prologue to The Miller’s Tale – undoubtedly, the raunchiest story in The Canterbury Tales. (Let’s just say there are a few exposed rears that make appearances throughout the tale).

The narrator of the Canterbury Tales, generally named as “Geoffrey,” writes in the prologue,

Chaucer himself reminds his readers that they have the choice to read the tale or flip the page to a new tale or perhaps to close the book altogether. He renounces all responsibility for the reader’s choice. While some might call this a sell-out, his attempt to build a safety net for himself is commendable. Once the publication circulates into the public, the author himself has no control over who reads his work and what their specific taste in literature is like. It’s actually one of the smartest things that an author can do!

Another example comes from Daniel DeFoe, who writing the 1724 book, Roxana, about a mistress who “thinks herself a whore,” prefaced with the disclaimer, “If there are any parts in her story, which being obliged to relate a wicked action, seem to describe it too plainly; all imaginable care has been taken to keep clear of indecencies, and immodest expressions; and ’tis hoped you will find nothing to prompt a vicious mind, but every where much to discourage and expose it. Scenes of crime can scarce be represented in such a manner, but some may make a criminal use of them; but when vice is painted in its low-prized colours, ’tis not to make people in love with it, but to expose it; and if the reader makes a wrong use of the figures, the wickedness is his own.” 

DeFoe here echoes Chaucer’s “do not blame me” stance, and blames the reader for misinterpreting and misjudging the words put before them. Again, if they are offended by what they read, either it is their mind that is in the gutter or their error for not reading close enough to the meaning and psychology lurking between the lines.

But should these authors have to preface their work? Is not life itself often times dirtier, more violent, and more disturbing than anything we could read on paper? All material we read (other than schoolbooks) is consumed because we chose to read it. Maybe a friend recommended it to us. Perhaps it was praised by a critic. Maybe we were just intrigued by its cover. If we come to a part that doesn’t fit our fancy or unnerves us, we the readers are under no obligation to finish it, or indeed, read it ever again.

I’ve been wondering why books of today don’t come with these “trigger warnings” and “disclaimers” that they once used to. As a writer myself, I’m glad that I don’t have to preface my work. I wrote it because I wanted to. I wrote what came out of my head. I shouldn’t have to apologize for that. But then, why do other creative minds out there – inventors of video games and film – why must they label their products as PG or M or Explicit Content?

Even musical artists must warn their followers of explicit language, while no book I know ever has had to apologize for swearing. What’s so different about books, I wonder? And how did the Chaucer tradition of “don’t blame the author” fall out of style?

What’s your take on the issue? Should authors have to warn readers of their content?