Many years ago man named William Miller read the Book of Revelations, made some calculations, and prophesized that the world was going to end. People gathered to him, believed his prophecy, and followed his end time words, but he was wrong like all apocalyptic soothsayers fore and hence. Not to be discouraged, Miller merely proclaimed that he had made a mistake in his calculations, reexamined his figures, and reconfigured his prophecy for a later time. Even more people stood behind him, even more followers believed his words as though being mistaken the first time lent more weight to them. Yet of course things did not go as he foretold as the world still stands, but ironically so did his followers. Even though Miller was utterly wrong on two separate occasions, he had amassed a congregation of people willing to live off his every word. Eventually, they became known as the 7th Day Adventists, a religion/denomination based on a false prophecy.
You probably think my fascination with this stems from the “7” and the “Advent” in the title, but you would not be entirely correct. Yes, it is true those things opened the door to my interest, but what was found there took the door off its hinges. How could people be so stupid as to build a belief system off of a false prophecy? Their founder…the father of their belief was wrong on not one, but two separate occasions, and yet they chose belief over cynicism…hope over despair.
I am finding that it is not the result of the situation but rather the interpretation of the situation itself that is most valuable. The journey over destination philosophy per se. I have been reading both negative and positive reviews of things that I honestly think are brilliant, and have come to the conclusion that no two people can ever experience the same thing. What one thinks is prestigious another will see as presumptuous.
“It’s too smart for it’s own good.” (Cabin in the Woods)
“It’s so overrated.” (Final Fantasy VII)
“He does nothing new with the fantasy genre.” (A Song of Ice and Fire)
“It’s does nothing but lead up to the main character transfixing women on and with his magic sword.” (Sword of Truth)
I believe the reader claims a bit of authorship within interpretation. The author himself not only dies once his work is presented to the eyes of the public discourse, but he also relinquishes a portion of claim to this phenomenon. But to balance the reader turned author must also suffer a little death for in speaking of signs and sigils, themes and theory, he becomes a subject to the same criticism the author must endure for in meta-critique he must defend his point of view.
What one finds fascinating another finds nauseating. What I see as revelation another sees as farce. Flame wars have burned websites done for far less subjectivity. But what I take from this brings me to realize and accept the subjectivity of critique. Where one says my words rewrite language into a genius lexicon of my own making, while another states I need to retake Grammar 101. A story is just an object presented for interpretation and the author is just a prophet, false or true in metaphor of the meaning so found.