10 Emerging Book Genres You’ve Probably Never Heard Of

Ref:

http://librarysciencedegree.org/10-emerging-book-genres-you%E2%80%99ve-
probably-never-heard-of/

To clarify, as the writer of this article was unsure, that I, Judyth Vary Baker, indeed
invented this new literary genre at the University of Central Florida, under the
direction of Prof. Pat Rushin. This article explains the provenance and development
of the genre, and why it is important in today’s uncertain world.

6.) Progression Literature

The true origins of this article stand as somewhat difficult to pinpoint given the number of spam blogs copying and
pasting it for search engine hits, but the one listed here seems to be the oldest of the lot. More than likely the original.
Here, Judyth Vary Baker pulls from sources as varied as Scientific American and the human experience to illustrate
the concepts behind progression literature. The genre attempts to create a perpetual dénouement that mimics how
people perceive time and events in their lives. Reality does not tie up all its loose ends, even continuing past the
death of the protagonists experiencing their own unique narratives. From this, writers of progression works seek to
build a more relatable piece of literature for audiences pining to know more. Each story concludes with open-
endedness, leaving readers to speculate and form their own ideas and opinions regarding the characters’ futures. At
its center lay the all-too-human pursuit of “truth,” understanding and clarity – every writer, every narrator pursues
answers that may or may not even come. It has postmodernism and poststructuralism (if not an earlier movement) to
thank for its philosophical roots, though its heavy emphasis on the past, the pursuit of an often subjective truth and
attempts to always stay suspended in a state of dénouement lead Baker to consider progression a genre or subgenre
in and of itself. How successful this experiment ends up is anyone’s guess, though it does hold considerable promise.
Professor Rushin’s mention of The Progressive Dinner concerns the first collection of short
stories written to provide a theoretical basis for developing the new genre of Progression
Literature.

At its heart, progression literature establishes denouement as a mere variation of the truth,
which may be perceived differently by different people according to what they get to “know.” In
a good series of related stories, the reader learns more and more of the ‘truth” but in fact, may
not have learned the truth at all. It depends on what is/remains available as “true”, not
what really happened.

A good example of how ‘truth’ can be reeled out and not be the truth at all is the now-ridiculous
official version of the Kennedy assassination embraced by the US government and its spin city
writers. These sources blamed the innocent “patsy” Lee Harvey Oswald as Kennedy’s assassin, a
man whom I knew personally [see my book Me & Lee: How I came to know, love and
lose Lee Harvey Oswald, (Trine Day) for more information.].

Not only was Oswald innocent: due to his efforts to stop Kennedy’s assassination, he himself was
eliminated within 48 hours of his arrest and the death of Kennedy while in the loving hands of
seventy Dallas police. It was the first live murder ever seen on TV, but a very necessary one to
hide the identity of the true murderers of JFK.

That event was the final blow that destroyed my career as a cancer researcher, since what I knew
about Oswald could terminate my life as well. I had to keep silent for 38 years. Only Oliver
Stone’s message ---that to remain silent was cowardly ---finally got to me. Speaking out
destroyed my career a second time: I lost my teaching positions and currently live in exile due to
threats and actual attempts to harm me, depending on donations to meet even everyday needs.
That hasn’t stopped me from declaring Oswald’s innocence—often against the odds.

Understanding and recognizing the evolution of misinformation masquerading as ‘truth’ in the

government’s official version of the Kennedy assassination can give informed citizens insight on
how we can only ‘know’ what we are told or experience.

New evidence and new witnesses have now provided ample evidence that Oswald was innocent,
but that does not mean that Wikipedia (its entries on the subject are infiltrated by
propagandists), and other websites devoted to pushing the official version, are changing their
tune. It is possible that the government itself will never admit that a Coup d’Etat occurred--
until forced to do so because its credibility has been so utterly besmirched.

Progression literature can also be used to update classic novels and short stories with ‘new’
information. The very nature of progression literature expands the cosmos of a writer’s choices
in revealing to the reader how very limited ‘experience’ and ‘the truth’ can be when more
‘truth’—whether actually true of not—is revealed.

A set of short stories demonstrating the framework of progression literature, and how it can be
used —“The Evangelist All” (see the series on SCRIBD) presents in the most succinct manner
possible how progression literature unfolds the “truth” and how the reader’s world can be, in
fact, turned upside down when more “truth” becomes available..

In the real world, a simple example of ‘progression’ in what is perceived as ‘true’ is the
declaration made that Saddam Hussein was known to have WMDs—weapons of mass
destruction-- ready to use against the people of the United States. Both US and British leaders
told their people that this was solid information. On TV, viewers were shown satellite photos of
where these dreadful weapons were stashed. Iraq was invaded, Saddam was captured and hung,
and at least a million Iraqui’s died—but no WMD’s were found. The new ‘denouement’ then
involved other reasons to attack Iraq. The ‘truth’ turned out to be something else entirely.

In life, these scenarios occur again and again, but have not been identified for what they are in
conventional literature. Surprise in a short story or novel depends, in fact, upon principles of
progression literature, but rarely is it fully developed so that the reader understands that the
possibility of the truth being other than everything learned also exists, and that ‘truth’ itself is
actually a matter of perspective in society.

This state of affairs in current human experience helps explain why I, myself, can be viewed by
some of my most vociferous critics as “untruthful,” based on what they have learned (or not)
about me, while others (especially if they have met me personally and interviewed me, and seen
my evidence files) conclude that I am a truth-teller (I am!). I have seen altered emails and
falsified statements attributed to me offered on the Internet as “truthful” material about me. one
of the strangest was a proclamation that I disliked my maiden name of “Avary” and changed it to
“Vary” when my book, of course, provides ample proof that my maiden name was Vary and
never was “Avary.” How can people state something as ‘true” without checking the facts for
themselves? It may be difficult to do so: we often rely on “authority”: in my example piece,
“Blessed Ballantyne,” a cold-blooded murderer is declared a potential saint in the Catholic
church: those who know how absurd this designation is nevertheless go along with the
declaration, since it’s financially or emotionally advantageous to them.

That doesn’t mean Ballantyne was “saintly” material, but who was going to argue with the Pope?
Millions were informed of Ballantyne’s new holy status, based on the “truth” they had accepted.
The reader of the short story series knows the ‘whole truth’ and experiences what I call
‘denouement’—the alternate name of the genre is THE LITERATURE OF DENOUEMENT. But
even the reader is aware hat yet another story could change tings again.

Any short story or novel could be extended and enriched with a sequel based on progression
Literature dynamics. The “literature of surprise” is can also place a whole series of such
denouement experiences within the confines of a single short story. Different viewpoints can be
contrasted with a central, omniscient one, or from a central, non-omniscient one -- or not.

My first story demonstrating the genre was written in 1971, called “I’m Looking Over…” and
later republished in newspapers as “The Wearing of the Green.” Here’s how this short story
uses the principles of progression literature, or denouement, as ‘the truth’ is revealed:

1. a man who married ‘money’ realizes his gambling and womanizing has been discovered by his
wife, and she might divorce him; he feels he’s simply a very unlucky man
2. he finds a four-leaf clover in the front yard of their large mansion, and displays it proudly to
his wife…he also has a good day at the roulette table, and feels his fortunes are changing

3. his wife shows him a four-leaf clover SHE has found, and a competition between the two
begins…

4. his wife accumulates dozens of four-leaf clovers---he cannot find another one….he even goes
out ,ate a night, hunting for one with a flashlight, he gets so exasperated…no luck

5. the ‘no luck’ syndrome increases…he becomes obsessed that somewhere in the several acres of
lawn around the big house, he’ll be able to find another four=-leaf clover—but he can’t!!!

6. meanwhile, his wife keeps finding them—and now has a binder full of them

7. with intense hatred, one night he sets the lawn aflame, beginning right at the front porch of
their mansion, using plenty of gasoline; the mansion catches fire and burns to the ground

8. the only thing saved was the binder full of four-leaf clovers that his wife had with her in the
car—for actually, she and her friends were collecting four-leaf clovers from all over town, just to
pique her philandering husband…insurance takes care of the fire because she had just filed for
divorce…she loses nothing…

9. he never learns the truth about the clover collection ---his version of ‘the truth’ remains
painfully different from reality, and he considers himself the unluckiest man alive…

Back to my own experience with the progression of “truth” as seen by others, in

real-life:

As for me, I protested that falsehoods were being generated about me, and that I had never
written, for example, that Lee Oswald had not been circumcised—a matter Sixty Minutes had
asked me about almost immediately a full nine months before the purported email message sent
to the person who later showed this message, in its altered form, to the world.

I can hope that the critic did not personally insert this falsehood into the email but that someone
else did so.

However, people were shown this false assertion, and told I was now changing my story. All I
could say was that Sixty Minutes would not have investigated me for fourteen months (only to
have their filming blocked by higher-ups) if I had told them such a thing about Oswald’s
anatomy, since his autopsy report was out there for the whole world to view, clearly indicating
he was circumcised, and in the hands of their investigators.
The same critic also accused me of simultaneously deeply researching my story, to nsert myself
into Oswald’s life story, ignoring the plethora of deliberately saved items bespeaking my
involvement with Oswald in new Orleans in the spring and summer, through to early Fall, of
1963.

If I had done so much research, why, indeed, would I have stated such an unlikely thing such as
that Oswald, a native of New Orleans, was not circumcised, when such a procedure was routine
and traditional in New Orleans area hospitals? The critic was creating his own version of the
truth and presenting it as an alternative to reality, and some people accepted his version. It’s a
good example, in real life, of what progression literature is all about.

Progression literature as a genre is currently being developed upon the mass of debris of
postmodern literature. It is my belief that, as the Phoenix, progression literature can rise up and
reinvigorate literature, bringing it again to the fore as a viable and worthy means of expression
of the human condition.

Judyth Vary Baker