Carl Sagan was not alone in thinking that “Imagination will often carry us to worlds that never were. But without it we go nowhere.” Indeed, imagination’s undeniable connection to art, innovation, and real-world problem solving has put the word on a pedestal. To some, it may even be the decisive characteristic which makes humans human. So what’s the downside to this core element of the human mind?
Not too long ago, Philip Roth announced his retirement. The Pulitzer Prize-winning author’s career produced 31 novels, but he would surely be apprehensive about labeling writing a profession. Writing was who he was. It’s how he breathed. This was a man who flourished in his own imagination, and he would not be the first to admit he paid dearly for his commitment to the craft.
A fundamental element of Roth’s work is his characters’ parallels to his personal life. The novelist Nathan Zuckerman’s smash-hit Carnovsky is a facsimile of Roth’s breakthrough Portnoy’s Complaint. Yet Roth takes stretches this motif a bit further. Zuckerman’s personal afflictions, namely relationship troubles, mimic what few know of the famous author’s own crises. In essence, Roth drags his real-world dilemmas into a fictional medium, leaving his actual problems unresolved.
It may be a stretch, but I have a hunch that Roth not only sourced his material from his own life, but also intended to deal with his problems on the page instead of the here-and-now. (I’m sure his ex-wives agree. I can imagine the scene: “Philip, why don’t you come to bed honey? I’m feeling extra naughty tonight.” “Sorry, dear, but I’m in the middle of writing a sex scene.”) So did drawing out his problems through his imagination’s puppets get Roth’s personal life back on track? Of course not. In fact, upon receiving the copy of an aspiring novelist’s book, Roth cautiously stated, “I would say just stop now. You don’t want to do this to yourself.”
Mind you, the aspiring novelist did not notice the presence of sarcasm in these statements. Roth is one miserable old man, despite his imagination’s best efforts to make sense of his state of melancholy.
But what if Roth had no intention of escaping the real world through his imagination? It is just as easy to say that his life was merely material for his novels; he may have had no intention to come to term with his afflictions through his fictional selves. Or maybe his novels served as reflections on his misery, a sort of discourse on the troubled human condition.
Well, if that’s true, then my Roth theory disintegrates. So let’s move on to another cultural fixture: me.
I used to watch television a lot, but now I’ve limited myself to movies and books. I live vicariously through these figments of other people’s imaginations, but that does not inhibit me from letting my own imagination flow. The other day, I imagined myself writing the next Oscar-winning screenplay. I use my imagination all the time, but all it seems to do is distract me from the real world. Once I finally apply myself, my imagination kicks in again and I picture a superior version of the project. So I stop applying myself. Imagination is really just procrastination’s partner in crime.
So do I use my imagination to escape my social and professional shortcomings? Without a doubt. In fact, there seem to be two Johns that exist at once: Famous John, whose path to success is already laid out, and Real-World John, whose ambitions are projected through Famous John. However, Real-World John thinks Famous John is going to do all the work when the time comes. Real-World John uses Famous John to feel superior to others, because he knows when Famous John says “Kiss my ass, so-and-so,” in his Oscar acceptance speech, he’ll have shown everybody who’s boss.
Famous John is basically a representation of my possibilities. He’s the hope that keeps me going. He’s the fuel to my fire. Unfortunately, this imagined self is not the same as motivation. My imagination is, rather, holding me back. It’s time for Real-World John to take center stage and escape the delusions of grandeur that Famous John reminds him of. So let’s go John, write that Oscar winning speech you’re so sure about. No? You don’t have time? Well kiss Famous John good-bye. You see, without Famous John around, I bemoan my unachievable goals. And I’m not motivated enough to raise my self-esteem through proactive efforts. Imagination is an enabler of laziness, but this imaginative, delusional laziness has a sweet veneer, unlike the raw, fuck-my-life licentiousness that possesses the Real-World John.
I’ll be alright. I still have time to change my ways, unlike Mr. Roth. Famous John is taking the back seat to the real John. I can see the Oscar already. Goddammit, I just imagined something. This might take some work.
