I learned of this book through Arnold Rampersad's very comprehensive biopgraphy of Ralph Ellison. Kenneth Burke was a good friend to Ellison, they met through Stanley Edgar Hyman (best known today as Shirley Jackson's husband, but also was instrumental in taming the beast that was the "Invisible Man" manuscript); but Burke was also a central influence on Ellison's own writing style: "Counter-Statement" being one of the most influential of Burke's writings. Written in the early thirties, C-S is a manifesto of sorts. Rather sloppy in theme, the essays jump from topic to topic in a desultory manner. But this isn't quite the drawback it would be for other essayist. This is because Burke is extremely well-read in different fields, from philosophy, to history, to politics; and anything Burke comments on, is done from the comfortable position of thorough knowledge. The main theme onto which the other essays losely attach, is an expansive explanation for how great works of art achieve their effect. Strangely, this essay is the last one in the book, which is somewhat disorienting, because the first few essays seem to base their arguements on principles explicated in the last essay. And while the last essay is very thought out, the arguement is rather tedious, as there is about twenty-five pages of term defining. This is, of course, all nessecary to make a coherent arguement, but that doesn't make it any more exciting.
One of the best essays of the collection is "Psychology and Form" where he talks about the shift from a disconneted writing which exists without knowledge of the audience to a "psychological" writing which understands what audience brings to a work of art and plays off of audience expectation. This is all familiar to lit theory students of the 21st century, but in 1930 these observations in the shift of authorial perspective had yet to be exhaustively investigated. Another brilliant essay entitled "The Poetic Process", explains the way in which greats works of art become timeless: how they take "universal forms" and individuate them to a specific circumstance. This essay more than any helps to explain the power of "Invisible Man", in that Invisible wasn't just a black man facing a crisis of identity in Harlem in the late thirties, but he was an existential everyman, struggling to validate his very exsistence every day. Of the remaining essays, "The Status of Art" is the most relavent today. In it, Burke argues that radical, or non-mainstream artists, take risks and push bounderies, developing new ways in which to tell human stories. And it is not until later, after these methods have been diluted, that they are offered to mainstream outlets, who then have no qualms with excepting what once was considered radical. This phenomenon can be seen in something like postmodernism, where a character can stop in the middle of a scence break the illusion of narrative and explain something more fully to an audience. The seeds of these methods were planted by Borges and Nabokov and then dutifully watered and pruned by the likes of Barth, Barthelme and Coover. And now, watching an episode of The Real World, the postmodern techniques are difficult to miss.
Today, Burke isn't all that well known. But this book is, as aformentioned, a manifesto, by which a struggling artist need pledge. As todays sea of options can easily sail a weak-willed writer into typical routes of artistic seafaring. And those routes are, as Burke would say, "utterance" rather than "evocation".