A lot like the romance genre which focuses on the romantic relationships of people, can we consider a friendship genre which focuses on the platonic relationships of people? To borrow from Fowler’s concept of the “generic repertoire”: the unique repertoire—the array of congruent features of a genre, can have many characteristics (55). It is then possible that if the friendship genre came to exist, some of its many features could include: an account of a person trying to make a new friend, or, about a friendship which survives the test of time against all adversities. In a sense, we find both of these aspects in Montaigne’s essays, namely in “To the Reader,” and “On Affectionate Relationships,” which present an interesting space for textual or written friendships. Yet this brings up another set of questions: Is essay a genre? Can an essay be a form of friendship? These are the questions that I seek to answer in this paper.

To write is to always write for someone. Modern essays follow a systematic form of composition and are centred on well-structured arguments that employ rhetorical persuasion to convince the readers of the propositions that the essays are trying to make. Although persuasive, Montaigne’s essays defy the systematic structure of modern essays and are rather discursive in nature. This is best explained by the origin of the essay, which traces itself back to the Latin term exagium—“‘weighing’ an object or an idea, examining it from various angles, but never exhaustively or systematically” (Obaldia 2). Montaigne, himself, declares in “On Affectionate Relationships”: “what are these Essays if not monstrosities and grotesques botched together from a variety of limbs having no defined shape ...?” (206). Montaigne’s dialogic style of writing, which is evident from the aforementioned example, reflects his need to communicate in his essays. This can be justified from the fact that Montaigne was compelled to write his essays because of the absence of a living dialogue with his friend La Boetie. In other words, his essayistic practice is modelled after the shared quality of everyday verbal communication. What is more, etymological evidence shows “that the word ‘essay’ comes from the French essai and essayer, to attempt, to experiment, to try out” (Obaldia 2). This fundamental undecidability of the essay makes it a loose category with fuzzy boundaries. So, rather than confining essays to a particular genre, I argue that Montaigne’s essays are a dialogue through which he communicates with his readers about himself and his developing ideas, namely on ‘friendship.’ In writing his essays for his readers, Montaigne not only addresses them but also anticipates their participation in the hermeneutical circle created by the text. To borrow from Frow’s concept of the ‘rhetorical structure’ of a text, Montaigne’s engagement with his readers within the hermeneutical circle of the text forges a textual relationship between the two parties. In addition, Montaigne’s quest for self-knowledge in his essays intersects with and supplements his knowledge about his ‘perfect friend’ La Boetie. Borrowing from philosophical hermeneutics, particularly from Gadamer, and his dialogical method of interpretation, in this paper, I seek to elucidate that the idea of friendship in Montaigne’s essays is used by him as a figure to establish a textual friendship with the ‘other.’ The ‘other’ or the figurative friend could be the future readers of his essays, or his knowledge about his friend La Boetie, with whom Montaigne assays (old French variant of ‘essays’) to, or attempts to resume the dialogue that has been interrupted because of the death of his friend.

The notion of ‘friendship’ in philosophical dialogues dates back to authors like Plato and Aristotle, and Montaigne draws from classical philosophy on ‘friendship’ to model his essays. In its most basic sense, philosophy is about learning and learning to question things, and Montaigne’s proclivity towards the quest for self-knowledge and the knowledge of the ‘other’ is crucial in his endeavour to philosophise friendship. One might ask though: what prompted Montaigne to use the essays, in particular, to carry out this task? The essay as a form of writing occupies the middle ground between philosophy and literature. It is neither of them and both of them at the same time. “[T]he essay... [is] an autonomous form between philosophy and literature, ... it [is] ... a bridge linking the two .... [It] resists firm boundaries and strict categories” (Walker 61). The undecidability of the essay makes it a flexible genre, which resists the notion of genre itself. As Korhonen argues, an essay is an “antigenre with radically dissolving limits” (33). On top of that, philosophical hermeneutics insist that the process of understanding never reaches closure as an interpreter learns something new every time he tries to interpret an idea, or a text (Gadamer 190). Hence, understanding is an on-going process, and consequently, the ensuing conversation or the hermeneutical dialogue is a continuously evolving process. As a result, an essay, or the attempt to say something, is “never complete ..., and it never totally closes itself” (Korhonen 33). Montaigne’s essays are the result of the flexibility of the form of essay and its resistance to closure. This allows his essays to take the structure of continuously evolving experiments, or thoughts, namely on ‘friendship,’ which are expressed in a dialogic discourse that communicates Montaigne’s developing ideas to his readers—ideas, which mature in the process of writing them. His essays comprise his meandering thoughts, which grow in concentric circles around a common centre—his ‘self’ as the subject, who is trying to seek a friendly figure in the textual ‘other.’ As Korhonen insists “the most promising way of reading ... [Montaigne’s Essais] is to read it in some way “in between” philosophy and literature, as a text that continuously reworks the difference between its argumentative propositions and its textual play” (19). What is more, Montaigne’s quest for the textual ‘other’ employs an emotional element, which involves his desire to see the ‘self’ in the ‘other’—something pertinent to philosophy.

Borrowing from philosophical hermeneutics, especially Gadamer’s ‘fusion of horizons’—a dialectical method of interpreting literary texts: human understanding can be conceptualised as ‘horizons’—it is as far as one can see and comprehend things (301, 304). When a reader approaches a text, he approaches it with a set of preconceptions that form his ‘horizon,’ but in the process of trying to understand the unfamiliarity of a text—in the dialogue between the text and the reader, his preconceptions get subtly altered by the ideas and knowledge presented in the text. This is the ‘fusion of horizons,’ which is achieved when the text and the reader reach a common understanding—the establishment of a common ground of meanings concerning the subject of interest (Gadamer 292). This philosophy of interpretation can be applied to Montaigne’s essay “To the Reader,” where he addresses his future readers and attempts to present himself as the ‘subject’ of his book: “Reader, I myself am the subject of my book” (lxiii). In doing so, Montaigne invites his readers to inhabit the hermeneutical circle created by his text, which has a self-portrait of Montaigne as its subject. When he writes that “I want to be seen in my simple, natural, everyday fashion, without ... striving ... or artifice: for it is my own self that I am painting” (lxiii), he allows a friendly encounter between the author and his readers. By inhabiting the hermeneutical circle, Montaigne hopes that his readers will become sympathetic towards the subject of his text because of the ‘fusion of horizons,’ and thus befriend the subject—Montaigne himself. To borrow from Frow’s concept of the ‘rhetorical structure’ of a text: “the speech situation organises relations of ... solidarity between speakers (or their textual representatives)” (82). Here, the speaker or the textual representative is Montaigne himself, who solicits his readers’ engagement in the dialogical discourse of his text, and on the basis of a shared understanding, Montaigne seeks to befriend his readers. In other words, Montaigne presents a dialogic self of himself in his essays who welcomes the participation of his future readers and potential friends in the textual space.

However, what if the future reader who confers with Montaigne through his essays does not accept all that he says? Does that make him an enemy? Does Montaigne’s idea of friendship model itself only on a mutual agreement? Montaigne desires to speak with people, who have ‘assayed,’ attempted, or evaluated what he is talking about (“On Affectionate Relationships” 216). This idea re-occurs in his essay “On Experience,” where Montaigne writes:

Words belong half to the speaker, half to the hearer. The latter must prepare himself to receive them according to such motion as they acquire, just as among those who play royal-tennis the one who receives the ball steps backwards or prepares himself, depending on the movements of the server or the form of his stroke (1234-1235).

This suggests that Montaigne wants his ideal reader to be as attentive, alert, and responsive as a tennis player is. Half of what he says in his essays belongs to himself but the other half belongs to his readers—his ‘hearers.’ Instead of being a passive reader or just a consumer of his essays, Montaigne grants his readers the liberty to interpret richer meanings which might have escaped Montaigne’s mind. He hopes that the reader—the ‘other’ and a potential friend will fulfil what his ‘self’ lacks. In doing so, he gives his readers and his potential friends the status of co-producers who are free to interrupt and contradict him, and only such an active reader is an ethical reader for Montaigne who qualifies to be the ideal candidate for friendship. To quote Montaigne’s words in his essay “On Affectionate Relationships”:

For each of them, more than anything else, is seeking the good of the other, so that the one who furnishes the means and the occasion is in fact the more generous, since he gives his friend the joy of performing for him what he most desires (214).

This demonstrates that in his quest for self-knowledge and learning—in his attempt to find the best version of his ‘self’ in the ‘other,’ that is, in his potential friend, Montaigne through his essays, does the moral work of becoming better. By providing liberty to his readers to interpret richer meanings of his essays, Montaigne does the moral work of becoming ‘generous.’ Through his writing, he cultivates a ‘self,’ who is capable of doing well. The essay is a medium through which Montaigne writes to right himself.

Montaigne draws from the idea that was prevalent in the old tradition, by which, people regarded books or their authors as friends. Like good friends, who often operate as moral counsellors, the moral values in books serve as the highest good for human beings. In the nineteenth and early twentieth century, people often turned to books for moral guidance, advice, pleasure and even consolation. Korhonen argues “in those days ... book friends were considered even more steady and reliable counsellors in all ethical problems than real-life friends” (49). The personification of books as moral guides is a concept that dates back to Cicero and Petrarch, whom Montaigne invokes frequently in Essais. Through the act of writing them, Montaigne’s essays transcend the temporal and spatial boundaries, and the readers get to befriend his ideas presented in the text in the present moment. In a sense, Montaigne himself becomes friends with his readers.

Montaigne’s quest to seek a friend in the textual ‘other’ also involves his knowledge about his dead friend La Boetie. In other words, Montaigne seeks to relive his friendship with La Boetie through his essayistic practice, which is supplemented by the knowledge that he has of his friend. Montaigne’s idea of ‘friendship’ is a spiritual endeavour that is transcendental in nature, where the textual ‘other’ is a transcendental object of desire. His insistence on such an intimacy, facilitated by the seamless union of souls can be read as a form of spiritual longing. Korhonen argues that “cosmic harmony ... [or] friendship ... between two souls ... [is] something sacred and spiritual,” and “[t]he long tradition of essayistic friendship draws heavily upon these meanings” (18). Whilst trying to encounter the friendly ‘other’ in the textual space, Montaigne also wants to make his ‘self’ known through his writing. This is essentially his attempt to reclaim the ‘self’ that he has lost because of the loss of his ‘perfect friendship’ with La Boetie. He writes: “Since that day when I lost him, ... I ... feel I am no more than a half ... [A]ll my soul is buried with you” (“On Affectionate Relationships” 217-218). Evidently, Montaigne’s idea of friendship has some inconsistencies. This is because, although Montaigne claims to have lost his other ‘half,’ but while describing his ‘perfect friendship,’ he writes:  “For the perfect friendship which I am talking about is indivisible: each gives himself ... entirely to his friend” (215).This suggests that Montaigne’s ‘self’ is not different from his friend, that is, the ‘self’ and the ‘other’ are the same. Nevertheless, in the process of grieving for his friend La Boetie in his essayistic practice, and by engaging in a philosophical dialogue with the knowledge that he has of his friend, Montaigne seeks to recuperate his friend in himself, that is, he seeks to revive the ‘other’ in the ‘self’: “who is not another: he is me”(215).While the former act of trying to reclaim the ‘self’ is an example of Montaigne’s narcissism, the latter depicts his sense of altruism. This “tension between the ideal of altruistic friendship on the one side and the recognition of the egocentric and narcissistic basis of actual relationships on the other” is central to Montaigne’s essayistic friendship (Korhonen 17). In his essay “On Affectionate Relationships,” Montaigne writes:

In the friendship which I am talking about, souls are mingled and confounded in so universal a blending that they efface the seam which joins them together so that it cannot be found. If you press me to say why I loved him, I feel that it can only be expressed ... by replying: ‘Because it was him: because it was me’ (211-212).

Quite clearly, Montaigne is philosophising his friendship here. Montaigne’s ‘perfect friendship’ is almost atemporal; it is based on the spiritual fusion of two souls. However, this altruistic friendship between two men, who are in perfect union, gets disrupted with the death of La Boetie. This fuels Montaigne’s desire to assay a dialogic discourse to seek a friendly figure in the textual ‘other,’ which illustrates Montaigne’s self-seeking rationale that is based off his need to have an actual friendship with the textual ‘other.’

So is it right to conclude that an essay can be a form of friendship? In a sense, yes—as I have argued, Montaigne’s essays are a form of written or textual friendship. Does it entail that friendship is a genre? To quote Frow’s words on the theory of genre and its interpretation:

Genre is neither a property of (and located ‘in’) texts, nor a projection of (and located ‘in’) readers; it exists as a part of the relationship between texts and readers, and it has a systemic existence. It is a shared convention with a social force (112).

This indicates that genre theory occupies the central position in the world of discourse, which facilitates the meaning-making process and allows their social structuring. The notion of ‘friendship’ in Montaigne’s essays is not merely an idea articulated by Montaigne in his finest prose, but rather, in expressing it, as I have argued, he intervenes in and takes part in the construction of a social relationship with his readers. His non-verbal, and yet dialogic discourse takes part in the social construction of the meaning of ‘friendship.’ Since genre theory plays a key role in the social organisation of meanings, it can be argued that ‘friendship’ is, or should be a genre in theoretical terms. However, instead of claiming that Montaigne’s essays belong to the ‘friendship’ genre in the strictest sense, which might be a stretch, it is imperative to consider the relationship between the text and the situations which occasion it, that is, Montaigne’s friend’s death and his need to converse with a friendly figure. In his essays, genre mediates between the text and the social circumstances surrounding the text through which, genre becomes cognizant of certain features of the situation and assumes the recognisable form of ‘friendship.’

Works Cited

"Assay, n." OED Online. Oxford University Press, September 2019. Web. Accessed 16 October 2019.

Fowler, Alastair. “Chapter 4: Historical Kinds and the Generic Repertoire.” Kinds of Literature: An Introduction to the Theory of Genres and Modes. Oxford University Press, 1982, pp. 54-74. Print.

Frow, John. Genre, Routledge, 2014. ProQuest Ebook Central. Web. Accessed 11 October 2019.

Gadamer, Hans-Georg. Truth and Method. 2^nd ed., trans. by Joel Weinsheimer and Donald G. Marshall, Continuum Publishing Group, 2004. Print.

Korhonen, Kuisma. Textual Friendship: The Essay As Impossible Encounter—From Plato and Montaigne to Levinas and Derrida. Humanity Books, 2006. Print.

Montaigne, Michel de. The Complete Essays., trans. and ed. by M. A. Screech, Penguin Books, 2003. Print.

Obaldia, Claire de. “Literature in Potentia.” The Essayistic Spirit. Clarendon Press, 1995, pp 1-38. Print.

Walker, Boulous. M. “Chapter 3: Situating the Essay: Between Philosophy and Literature?” The Palgrave Handbook of Philosophy and Literature, ed. by Barry Stocker, and Michael Mack, Palgrave Macmillan, 2018, pp 61-79. Springer Link. Web. Accessed 2 October 2019.