Reading Aesthetics: The Importance of First Impressions in Literature
Graphic by Margeaux Rocco. Images via Amazon and Readers.
I haven’t read much, but what I have read I have definitely liked.
Lately, I’ve decided to get back in the habit of reading after letting it go for a while. I rediscovered just how important the first impressions of characters are, and I’ve grown to appreciate the art of putting them together: the unique, precise words, a beautiful simile, the surrounding environment, the clothes they wear, the expressions that form their face. I’ve collected a few examples that stuck with me, molding my impression of the characters throughout the whole book, and that I even recall now, as my idle consciousness prances across the vast fields of my mind and memories.
That aesthetics and appearances matter is a truth of life that one would be hard pressed to challenge. We experience it everyday, whether we see it on social media, on our way to class, or at some sort of social gathering. People make careers out of it, and sometimes it even propels careers that don’t really have anything to do with aesthetics (whether you think that’s right or wrong). As is clear with the halo effect (which is a psychological phenomenon in which we ascribe positive qualities to people just because they are attractive), aesthetics definitely impact our impressions of people–this is most definitely the case in literature as well. Your first impression of a character, through aesthetics alone, has the power to drive what you think of them throughout the whole novel. Additionally, the aesthetics of a character can definitely impact several assumptions we might make about them, and our propensity to relate to, or feel identified, by them. Hence, such as in real life, first impressions matter, and aesthetics really do go a long way in how we perceive people.
Natsume Soseki’s Sanshiro
“Sanshiro” is a classic of Japanese literature. Originally serialized in 1908 and later published in book form in 1909, it is a coming of age story following Sanshiro, a country boy, who attends graduate school at the University of Tokyo. It is a story of different worlds colliding and finding one’s path in life, and it follows a unique group of friends, old and young, as their lives intertwine. The description that stuck out to me the most in this novel is that of a girl Sanshiro sees as he is resting by an oak tree on the University of Tokyo campus.
“One of the women, uncomfortable in the glare, held up a stiff, round fan to shade her eyes. He could not see her face, but the youthful colors of her kimono and obi shone brilliantly. She wore sandals, their thongs too narrow to show color at this distance, but revealing white split-toed socks at the hem of the kimono. The older woman was dressed entirely in white. ”
At this point in the novel, we do not yet know that the woman will be introduced as the beautiful and progressive Mineko. The reader does not even get to see her face, but the vibrant shining of her kimono and the round fan she carries convey an elusive charm that persists as they get to know Mineko more. As I read this wonderful novel, the sight of the awesome, shining white figure near the oak tree was recalled time and time again, defining my perception of Mineko.
F. Scott Fitzgerald’s
The Great Gatsby
We all know “The Great Gatsby” — it is a classic of literature and boasts a high-profile film adaptation with the likes of Leonardo DiCaprio headlining the cast. It follows Nick Carraway as he meets his eccentric party-throwing neighbor Jay Gatsby, a man with a glamorous life and a deep longing for a certain woman from his past. From this book, however, I am most interested in the introduction to the lovely Daisy. Nick gets the chance to reconnect with Daisy, as she married an old classmate of Nick’s from his time at Yale.
“The other girl, Daisy, made an attempt to rise—she leaned slightly forward with a conscientious expression—then she laughed, an absurd, charming little laugh, and I laughed too and came forward into the room. “I’m p-paralyzed with happiness.” She laughed again, as if she said something very witty, and held my hand for a moment, looking up into my face, promising that there was no one in the world she so much wanted to see. That was a way she had. She hinted in a murmur that the surname of the balancing girl was Baker. (I’ve heard it said that Daisy’s murmur was only to make people lean toward her; an irrelevant criticism that made it no less charming.)”
Without even a hint at Daisy’s appearance, an image of astute delicacy is conjured in my mind. A polite and thoughtful character is given to Daisy with just this exchange, as her words and eyes disarm everyone she meets. Within Daisy brew a potential mischievousness that is hidden in her interactions with her husband, Tom Buchanan, but that nevertheless remains a part of her disposition and is attached to her forevermore. This is why I cherish this attempt by F. Scott Fitzgerald to introduce us to Daisy Buchanan in the opening of his greatest masterpiece.
Hermann Hesse’s Demian
“Demian” was originally published in 1919 under the pseudonym Emil Sinclair. This novel tells the story of young Emil Sinclair, a sheltered and wealthy boy who learns the truths of life and how to manage the “light” and “dark” worlds, which refer to the positive and negative things in life (mostly from a Catholic viewpoint). An integral part of his journey is meeting Max Demian, a kid only a few years older than him but many years wiser. Demian instantly makes an impression on Sinclairby freeing him from the darkness of his encounters with Franz Kromer, a local troublemaker.
“...I glanced over at Demian many times (his face had a strange fascination for me), and I saw that clever, bright, unusually mature face bent over his work attentively and intelligently. He didn’t look at all like a schoolboy doing an assignment, but like a scholar pursuing his own research. I didn’t find him pleasant, to tell the truth; on the contrary, I had something against him; he was too superior and cool to suit me, I found him too provokingly self-confident by nature, and his eyes had that grown-up expression that children never like, a little sad, with flashes of mockery in it. And yet I had to look at him again and again, whether I liked him or not; but when he glanced at me once, I immediately looked away in fright. When I think today about his appearance then as a schoolboy, I can say: in every respect he was different from the rest; he was thoroughly original and individual, and attracted attention that way—yet, at the same time, he did all he could not to attract attention; he bore and behaved himself like a prince in disguise in the midst of farmboys, making every effort to resemble them (Hesse Loc 380-389).”
Emil Sinclair’s first impressions of Demian, as presented to us by Hermann Hesse, incite a hunger in the reader to find out more information about Demian. A mature, confident, precocious kid, in front of young innocent Sinclair, who has been pampered his whole life—it seems like Demian has all the answers. He certainly appears as an authority and is, in a way, someone whom many people want to be. Rumors instantly spread about the new boy who is more clever than the teachers, drives off the bullies, and holds controversial, yet solid, perspectives on the religious literature that is presented in class. Demian instantly becomes the focus of the book, and t with every word that Demian uttered, I knew I was learning an invaluable piece of philosophy. This introduction makes you excited to live vicariously through Sinclair, as he learns and develops his philosophy through Demian.
I, hence, persist in my belief that first impressions and appearances provide value that is very great and often goes unnoticed. My experiences with first impressions and appearances in literature serve as proof that even in the written word, where one can’t actually experience people’s aesthetics visually, these still have a great impact in the conscious and unconscious attitudes that govern our ideas of people.