I originally intended to write a post about the hyper-rigidity of fantasy and science fiction fans. I’ve read my fair share of theoretical analyses of fictional works, and generally speaking, all theories are beholden to a canonical standard in their analysis – no suppositions can be made outside of what is officially accepted and sanctioned by the author – the creator. The text is fixed with copyright laws, and the story is fixed by the veneration of a fandom. Movie adaptations are harshly judged on their adherence to the canon, and anyone who takes up a story element without explicit credit is derailed for “stealing” from the canon, as though the derivation constituted heresy.
I don’t put a lot of store in the sacredness of fictional canon. I don’t mind when movies alter the story to fit the medium of film (though I do mind when they alter the story and make it worse). It’s a modern convention to apply this standard to contemporary works of fiction while our contemporary authors freely borrow from the ancient past without mention. In the Ancient/Medieval/Renaissance traditions, the opposite was true. Authors venerated their forebears as creative authorities, and then borrowed freely from their own contemporaries without so much as a note in the margin. Originality wasn’t a concern for Chaucer, Boccacio, Dante, and the like, as they happily drew from folk tales and from other authors and poets. Likewise, myths could be used and reused, as they belonged not to any one author, but to a culture of people.
And even then, they made changes. Even the most venerable of ancient myths show up in a variety of forms throughout ancient and medieval literature. Myths are living texts, designed to grow and change through the retelling. While there is an almost canonical cultural identity unifying myths, they’re often conceived as “cycles” that allow for variations on central themes, divergence of details, and even contradictory accounts of the same events. The Irish Fionn mac Cumhaill has several death stories, all of which “count” (including one theory that suggests he’s still alive). All of which suggests to me that treating a piece of fiction as a concretized, canonical source is an utterly limited way to view stories and storytelling.
But then I thought of Cuchulainn, another Irish mythological hero, and suddenly my thoughts were more complicated. In particular, I thought of this statue in the Dublin Post Office:
And then this mural in Belfast:
And I’m conflicted. I’m no expert on the topics of Irish mythology or the conflict in Northern Ireland (and there are plenty of places to find a better analysis of this controversial mural), but it just feels wrong to see Cuchulainn with a Union Jack. The UDA’s use of the Irish Achilles isn’t just a variation on a theme – it’s a radical recasting. It feels like it shouldn’t count.
I don’t bring this up to start a political debate, but to instead suggest that perhaps there’s a reason to strictly protect characters, images, and stories, and that my desire to allow for new versions of a story to “count” may not be as simple as it originally seemed to me.
Stories & Soliloquies 
12 thoughts on “Meditations on Canonicity”
Steve Morris
I have no idea who Cuchcuainn is, but I love the idea of reworking myths and folk stories. They come with instant resonance, because they are already known to the reader, and bring a whole culture with them
Michelle Joelle
So true!
Brenton Dickieson
I think your argument works anyway. For you to say there are a range of ways to rework a text is not to say that none of the ways are legitimate.
But I do understand your tension. Love this piece.
Michelle Joelle
Thank you!
rung2diotimasladder
Reworking myths also brings about a different perspective on them. I just read a post about this subject and I was going to show it to you, but now I can’t find it. In any case, I tend to like things that are “stealing” or “derivative”! Of course, it’s got to be intrinsically good, but there’s nothing about retelling a story in itself that makes the work less valuable.
Michelle Joelle
I agree, completely!
stephencwinter
May I begin by saying how much I liked this piece. I agree with your critique of the literary canon. All canonicity tends towards the self-referential although when it has been around long enough it gains a certain weight that is worthy of attention. The reason for that is that so many stories have been woven into the making of a canon that respect is required as it is on each occasion when we encounter the Other.
When I read your reflections on the use of the Cuchulainn myth I was totally gripped. I had no idea that Ulster Loyalists had used the myth to legitimise their cause. I say “their” but my mother grew up in the heart of Ulster Protestant culture. Irish workers came to various parts of Britain in the 19th century and brought their cultural divide with them. Most of our great industrial cities (Birmingham, Manchester, Liverpool etc.) were battlefields as were the villages of the West Cumbrian coalfield where she grew up. I still remember staying with her family over summers in the 1960s and being asked by boys in the village whether I was a Cat or a Proddy-Dog. My mother had moved to the south of England after the war where she raised her children to be as far as possible from the cultural wars of her childhood. I did not understand the question and when boys fought in the street I was told to go home to my aunt as they knew the battle was nothing to do with me. In my adult life I have only been to Ireland twice, speaking about work I had done in Africa in churches there. The hospitality of my hosts was wonderful but I always felt a foreigner. That was true even though I stayed with Protestant families. I guess where I want to end is that the Union flag does not act as a symbol of unity for me. I know that the image of Cuchulainn in Dublin Post Office is intended to exclude me, and it does so, but the image with the UDA logo in Ulster does so just as much. I did not want Scotland to leave the Union in the recent referendum there but begin to wonder what will hold the islands that I love so much together. What images can hold humanity together?
Michelle Joelle
Thank you so much for your thoughtful comment and perspective. I studied abroad for a semester in Ireland, where I studied the Finn cycle. I learned about Cuchulainn from Irish friends, who also reprimanded me sharply when I mentioned I would be going out of the country – to Northern Ireland – for the weekend. I only meant that my phone wouldn’t work once I crossed the border so they couldn’t reach me, but it very clearly struck a nerve. Then when I saw the UDA mural, I was very surprised.
Perhaps the disparate uses of Cuchulainn’s image do accurately reflect the contemporary cultural identity of Ulster. I don’t want to overstep and speak to an experience that is not my own, but your comment has gotten me thinking about this further. Thank you again for sharing your experience.
SelfAwarePatterns
Reblogged this on SelfAwarePatterns and commented:
Michelle Joelle ponders the evolution of fictional (and mythological) stories, which I found particularly interesting given some of the discussion on the previous post.
SelfAwarePatterns
An excellent post! Stories evolve and change over time. How much can we change a story and still present it as the same story?
This reminds me of the last Robin Hood movie that came out starring Russell Crowe, which was a decidedly grittier take on the story; many were not pleased, seeing the Errol Flynn type depictions as the canonical version, which is why the Kevin Costner film in the 90s, which hewed closer to the Flynn type canon, wasn’t controversial. Of course, the Robin Hood story has a centuries long tradition of being added to and modified.
I also think about the Battlestar Galactica series when it was rebooted with a “rethinking” of the basic premise. At first I hated it, but I came around, mostly when I stopped thinking of it as a remake of the old 70s series and a unique series in its own right.
So, how much can you change a story? There’s no right or wrong answer. It depends on people’s conception of that story, it’s place in culture, and how it’s handled. Definitely an art, not a science.
Michelle Joelle
Excellent example! I think it’s interesting that this obsession with canon plagues fantasy and sci-fi more than other forms of literature, when both traditions owe so much myth cycles.
Sable Aradia
Reblogged this on Confessions of a Geek Queen.