Leave 'Em Wanting More (Some Random Thoughts on Art and Life, Courtesy of Jerry Seinfeld)

Ha! Ha!

And, yes, my unnecessarily meandering reply to your post did strike me as amusing (after sending in the comment, of course). No need to fear that anyone was left wanting more after that! It's just fun to think and write about something so interesting and applicable in so many ways -- I got carried away. Please forgive me. :-)

So, I read these posts on

So, I read these posts on your website, and I have to sit on them and think for a while. Then, things will start seeping in, through reading and life, and I’ll recall your blog posts with your intriguing questions and, all of a sudden, I’ll feel compelled to comment.

I’m not sure if you’re aware, but there is definitely an overlap of Carolyn Arends fans and Jane Austen devotees. As a member of this elite group, I have pondered many a time why both artists satisfy so well that deepest human longing only filled by love, religion, and art (a temporal reflection of the Holy Trinity). It comes down, I believe, to the ability of both to use language in a manner both enchanting and masterful. And there is no realm to which I can more confidently apply the theory of “less is more” than creative expressions of language.*

Jane Austen exemplified in her writing this “less is more” theory. I think there is not one superfluous word in any of her slender novels. She so deftly and subtly constructs both plot and character, you never really notice until after the end how little she really reveals to bring both into full realization. I think this masterful device is what, ultimately, makes her books stand up in multiple re-readings. The reader’s imagination must supply so much that each time through, something new is emphasized or discovered. When I find myself liking a novel, it is usually because the author respects me enough as a reader not to lead me by the nose. There is an implied compliment in the artistic reticence that marks Miss Austen's work; I am no "dull elf."

In a genre on the opposite end of Austen’s realistic comedies of manners are the Christian mythmakers. I am thoroughly enjoying a book by Rolland Hein that examines modern Christian mythopoeia through the work of some favorite writers who have helped me immensely in my struggles to grasp at the hem of His robe. Apropos of your question, though it is not technically my realm (how I wish it were!), it is worth quoting this gem of a thesis from the introduction:

We are concerned in this study not with ancient mythologies as such, but with what is better defined as mythopoeia: stories that are composed in time, but which suggest (however dimly) something covert, but eternally momentous. “A story must be told, or there’ll be no story; yet, it is untold stories that are most moving,” Tolkein remarked. Successfully done, mythopoeic writing intimates something that cannot be told, but when fully known will be eternally satisfying. It confronts us imaginatively, if only in flashes, of something that is beyond time, inexplicable but thrilling. Many people are oblivious to the possibility of such experiences. But, if perchance their eyes are opened, the instances suddenly possess an incredible plausibility: “Yes! Yes! This is what my life has really been about! Here is where my meaning and my destiny lie!” [emphasis mine]

It seems to me that the “not fully telling, but fully knowing” aspect of mythopoeia and less epic kinds of literature and all forms of art is an application of “less is more.” Tolkein’s “untold stories” and Davis’s “unplayed notes” create the space which can be filled with Truth.

On a more personal note:
I wrote a short story for a class a few years ago. It was one that was in my head for years and years, and I had always planned it as an extensive tale with a lot of back story and a hearty crew of indelible characters. Then, for an assignment, I used the premise to incorporate a literary device we were studying, and had to limit the piece to a very restrictive count of words. My cast of characters was limited to one; my timeline condensed from hours to minutes; all scenarios cut to a one-room setting. I was glad to have written out the bare bones of the story, but always knew I would go back later to add the rest in and flesh it all out. But, when I read it several months later, I realized that I had said, under draconian restraints, all that I had wanted to say. I could not add a word without subtracting from its effectiveness. In writing, less is more.

I am currently training a five-year-old off the track thoroughbred. He has this deliciously sensitive mouth – what is often called a “soft mouth.” The soft-mouthed horse is a pleasure to behold; his immediate responsiveness to the slightest of cues leads to a gorgeous ballet wherein rider and horse are one being. But, a hard-mouthed horse never seems to merge with his rider in the glorious dance. Instead, it is a battle of wills; the ironic outcome of aggressive, thoughtless riders who, in spoiling once, find their only correction in continuing to spoil in escalating measures; for, every horse is born with a soft mouth. In riding, less is more.

I teach Kindergarten Sunday School, and my greatest teaching failures (and they call them Legion, for they are many) are from complicating the message too much. I have lots of thoughts and questions and struggles and enthusiasms with Scripture, and sometimes I let those leak into my lessons. Simple, simple, simple – sometimes I think that is God’s one-word answer to our modern cries of angst. The Grand Paradox is that the gospel distilled is simple enough for a five-year-old to understand, and complex enough to be a life’s study with no hope of completion. And yet, I don’t know, but I suspect that the result of an 80-year-old monk who has spent his life immersed in God’s Word will, at the end, find the same peace and simplicity in it as the child of five. Is it because I’m spiritually lazy that I want to believe that with theology, less is more?

I think I have found that the rule is “less is always more; except when it comes to adding garlic.” Oh, how I love garlic!

Carolyn, thank you for these wonderful posts and probing questions. I love how they make me think about things – and write about things. You bless your fans with much more than your music; though, your music would have been enough.

*Though, non-creative usage of language could also, I think, benefit from some “less is more” mentality. I’m thinking here of any sort of legal-speak, from legislation to legal briefs to product disclaimers. Of course, they merely use insurmountable language as a barrier to comprehension, or as Catherine Morland so charmingly and sharply observed, “I cannot speak well enough to be unintelligible.”