The Argonauts Analysis

It is imperative that, from the outset, you appreciate the fact that “The Argonauts” was, in all likelihood, not meant for a reader of your ilk. Secondly, it is not extraneous or bad to admit this. Quite apart from being pejorative or make certain unfounded presumptions, it is possible that, assume you are one of the audience for whom Maggie Nelson wrote “The Argonauts”, then you likely never came across such content other than your first-hand perusal of the work. There is no doubt that, after reading it, a reader will seek information on educational websites about the meaning of it all since, if we discount irony, that is unequivocally the underlying purpose of the so-called “information superhighway”. By what means do you verify that you are the calibre of individual for whom “The Argonauts” was authored? Anyway, one reliable frontier exists nearly at the outset of the book; the author calls to mind a scenario that has been repeated almost ad nauseam in books and films. It is that point in an intimate relationship when a significant other first declares his or her love to the other. Throughout its depiction on screen or written as fiction (and “The Argonauts” is not), it is roughly a forgone conclusion that the reply later on by the paramour who uttered the declaration is in line with what Nelson has described: “A day or two after my love pronouncement, now feral with vulnerability, I sent you the passage from Roland Barthes by Roland Barthes in which Barthes describes how the subject who utters the phrase `I love you’ is like `the Argonaut renewing his ship during its voyage without changing its name.’” The commonplace everyday people do not do this. As matter of fact, the only class of individuals capable of thinking in this direction is most likely the people who ran a programme on English degree in college as that is by far one of the few places where one could come across, read and relish the books and theories of Barthes. However, the proportion of Barthes’ fans that do this is likely infinitesimal comparative to those who pursue that stage of indecisiveness that comes in the wake of an impromptu profession of love by dispatching to their sweetheart a citation from the author as a measure to allay their disquietude. There is no gainsaying the fact that “The Argonauts” is Maggie Nelson’s personal memoir. However, as an author, she has carved a niche for herself as a description-steeped freak whose can hardly be classified on any other basis. All the same, there is a yawning distinction between slanting a detective story to give it a sprinkling of a science fiction or of altering the conventions of 19th century love affair to incorporate meat-eating zombies. To slant literary genre is feasible, acceptable and great inside the confines of fiction, but raises a horde of challenges when applied to non-fiction. As regards the convoluted realism that currently defines the phrase “alternative facts” which is not amenable to instant scorn or refutation, it seems all the more perilous to slant the genre of memoir or, perhaps, delicate than was the case in 2015. Since, in line with what the entire globe is already at home with, all about realities and truth that was treated with levity in 2015 would no longer be relevant an ordinary two year thereafter. Elements of writing, including the form, the content and the method of uniting these two components in order to tell a story in “The Argonauts” all add to rendering it a lot more challenging to establish a true story for the ordinary reader than should be the case. Admittedly, the content is extraordinary and bizarre which is why it is reasonable for the structure to tally with the content and this no doubt is the case for the category of readers for whom the work was authored. This audience, however, does not need to look up Roland Barthes in order to know him. Neither do they need to worry about consulting Wikipedia to know who Maggie Nelson and Harry Dodge are. It is hardly contestable that “The Argonauts” merits all its awards and analytical tributes and great scores, but this neither implies that it is for everybody nor that its innate difficulties to accurately vouch for itself for what it represents are unworthy of contesting. A work does not have to be for everyone. However, it is hypocritical of its advocates and devotees that this is the case and that they do not belong to some clandestine group. On the whole, “The Argonauts” is precisely the manner of work which furnishes websites such as this one all it needs to attend to the demands of its visitors. It is not a thing of shame if a reader declares that they are not a part of the audience for whom a book was authored just as there is no shame in an author admitting that their work was designed for a certain educational category or people of a given ethnic orientation or those who were raised within a strictly delineated region. Note: In the story, there is another barrier that equally proves efficacious in ascertaining if the book was written for the reader category to which you belong. The writer cites the roundly famous Schwarzenegger movie of the 1980’s, “The Terminator” before saying of it: "If you want an original relation to the mother/son, you must turn (however sadly!) away from the seduction of messianic fantasy." In case that sentence and “The Terminator” appear to belong together in one paragraph, then it is likely that you are the kind of individual that Nelson has written for.