Only by suppressing, via the most ruthless means necessary, the gratuitous expression of the Subjective, or “nominative I”, can the writer (especially in his early years) establish himself as “objective”, which here means also balanced, patient, tragic, and even “artistic”, all of which increases his resilience to the deleterious effects of the many pitfalls that plague every first-person perspective, those which – while many do indeed assume an air of intimacy, honesty, frankness, and vulnerability – nevertheless betray too conspicuously the stultifying confines of one’s place and time of birth, one’s “age” and “epoch” if you will; stultification which naturally prevents a writer’s mind and his work from transcending the toilsome myopia that bodily life cannot help but impose upon the living and therefore must be overcome if a writer desires to break free from the constellations of his birth and maybe even alter their trajectory.
For Objectivity (particularly of the artistic type), notwithstanding the falsities and delusions it forces the objectifier to submit and subscribe when enthralled thereby, is the only mode of expression that has the power to keep a man from the quicksand of undue bias and delirious polemic; bias and polemic which – though necessary and inexorable to human expression, enabling (as only they can) a man to move forward with any shred of decisiveness – must be exercised only after an idea has already assumed a definitive form; all “beginnings” – if worthy to be continued unto completion – which must be as divorced as possible from the prejudicial conclusions and moral determinations that excessive bias, subjective idiosyncrasy, and didactic polemic naturally impose so that the trajectory of any beginning might attain the unhindered level of “art” or even beyond.
If a work of art fails to achieve objectivity as has been briefly described, such, of course, is not art nor ever can be, no matter the prodigious efforts of later revision, apology, repudiation, and so on; art which, as the primary medium through which nature’s “religiosity” is expressed via man, is the most primordial, highest, and no less only distinguishing purpose that man can claim for himself among the untold billions and billions of stars in yonder orbit.
Devil walks into bar. Orders drink. Asks Philosopher sitting next to him: “And what do you do?”