form of existence, one that blurs the boundaries between
literature and fact. Sherlock Holmes seemed such a part of reality that when Conan Doyle tried to make his creation disappear,
there arose among his readers a collective sense of trauma. Conan Doyle did not realize that for some readers the character
was decidedly not a matter of fiction—that his elimination amounted to an actual murder.
On this question of the boundaries between the real world and the fictional world there are essentially two contradictory
positions, with a number of intermediate positions between them. At one pole are those Thomas Pavel describes as “segregationists”:
Some theoreticians promote a segregationist view of these relations, characterizing the content of fictional texts as pure
imagination without truth value. 58
In the opinion of the segregationists, a watertight barrier exists between these two worlds, thereby limiting the freedoms
of fictional characters. For hard-line segregationists, statements concerning fictional characters must necessarily be void;
they can carry no inkling of truth, since the things that they speak of do not exist.
Pavel shows how segregationism has evolved since the beginning of the twentieth century and has become progressively more
fluid, even though it remains fundamentally intolerant toward the creations of the writerly imagination. According to classic
segregationists like Bertrand Russell, “there is no universe of discourse outside the real world. Existence [. . .] can be
ascribed only to objects of the actual world.” 59 But Russell is not content merely to question their right to existence; he also means to deny the possibility of truth in
any statement made about them. 60
Some more broad-minded segregationists take each sort of potential argument into separate consideration. For example, a sentence
like “The present king of France is wise” may either be subjected to true/false evaluation or simply rejected outright as
absurd, depending on the circumstances under which it is uttered—particularly given the current political system in France. 61 But segregationists are much more prudent in determining the truth of statements about beings like Sherlock Holmes, who exist
only in the realm of fiction.
By agreeing, however, that it is not possible to evaluate the truth of a statement without inquiring into the conditions in
which it was made, segregationists open a breach. And through that breach scurries a brigade of theoreticians who are both
more relativist in their view of the truth and more hospitable to alternate worlds and the creatures who inhabit them.
Other critics are less closed to fictional worlds; for them, Pavel offers the term “integrationist”:
[T]heir opponents adopt a tolerant, integrationist outlook, claiming that no genuine ontological difference can be found between
fictional and nonfictional descriptions of the actual world. 62
The “integrationists,” who likewise form a group made up of varied sensibilities, are ready to recognize a certain form of
existence both in fictional characters (they “assume that Mr. Pickwick enjoys an existence barely less substantial than the
sun or England in 1827” 63 ) and in the potential truth of statements made about them; they do not regard such things as inherently absurd speculations.
On the other hand, for the same reason that integrationists grant fictional texts a status comparable to nonfiction, they
tend to deny the latter its privileged place with regard to truth. Believing every statement obeys conventions, they are inclined
to undercut the distinction between fiction and the other types of discourse. 64
Pavel seems to have placed himself in this more tolerant group when he notes (following the example of John R. Searle especially)
that the fictional quality of a text can be changed according to the circumstances, and that “fictional texts enjoy a certain
literature and fact. Sherlock Holmes seemed such a part of reality that when Conan Doyle tried to make his creation disappear,
there arose among his readers a collective sense of trauma. Conan Doyle did not realize that for some readers the character
was decidedly not a matter of fiction—that his elimination amounted to an actual murder.
On this question of the boundaries between the real world and the fictional world there are essentially two contradictory
positions, with a number of intermediate positions between them. At one pole are those Thomas Pavel describes as “segregationists”:
Some theoreticians promote a segregationist view of these relations, characterizing the content of fictional texts as pure
imagination without truth value. 58
In the opinion of the segregationists, a watertight barrier exists between these two worlds, thereby limiting the freedoms
of fictional characters. For hard-line segregationists, statements concerning fictional characters must necessarily be void;
they can carry no inkling of truth, since the things that they speak of do not exist.
Pavel shows how segregationism has evolved since the beginning of the twentieth century and has become progressively more
fluid, even though it remains fundamentally intolerant toward the creations of the writerly imagination. According to classic
segregationists like Bertrand Russell, “there is no universe of discourse outside the real world. Existence [. . .] can be
ascribed only to objects of the actual world.” 59 But Russell is not content merely to question their right to existence; he also means to deny the possibility of truth in
any statement made about them. 60
Some more broad-minded segregationists take each sort of potential argument into separate consideration. For example, a sentence
like “The present king of France is wise” may either be subjected to true/false evaluation or simply rejected outright as
absurd, depending on the circumstances under which it is uttered—particularly given the current political system in France. 61 But segregationists are much more prudent in determining the truth of statements about beings like Sherlock Holmes, who exist
only in the realm of fiction.
By agreeing, however, that it is not possible to evaluate the truth of a statement without inquiring into the conditions in
which it was made, segregationists open a breach. And through that breach scurries a brigade of theoreticians who are both
more relativist in their view of the truth and more hospitable to alternate worlds and the creatures who inhabit them.
Other critics are less closed to fictional worlds; for them, Pavel offers the term “integrationist”:
[T]heir opponents adopt a tolerant, integrationist outlook, claiming that no genuine ontological difference can be found between
fictional and nonfictional descriptions of the actual world. 62
The “integrationists,” who likewise form a group made up of varied sensibilities, are ready to recognize a certain form of
existence both in fictional characters (they “assume that Mr. Pickwick enjoys an existence barely less substantial than the
sun or England in 1827” 63 ) and in the potential truth of statements made about them; they do not regard such things as inherently absurd speculations.
On the other hand, for the same reason that integrationists grant fictional texts a status comparable to nonfiction, they
tend to deny the latter its privileged place with regard to truth. Believing every statement obeys conventions, they are inclined
to undercut the distinction between fiction and the other types of discourse. 64
Pavel seems to have placed himself in this more tolerant group when he notes (following the example of John R. Searle especially)
that the fictional quality of a text can be changed according to the circumstances, and that “fictional texts enjoy a certain
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