While an author is planning, writing, and revising a novel, the work may be said to be part of his life, in the sense that what he is doing is one of the many ongoing activities that make up his life. But once he has decided that his novel is finished – which means, in practice, that it is ready for publication – then it assumes a different status: it now stands outside his life and must make its way independently of him. Whether it survives or not is a question beyond his control – one ultimately to be determined not by himself but by his public. Having left the life of its author, the new novel depends for its fate on whether it enters the life of its readers.

When, therefore, we raise the question of the relationship of art and life, it would seem that we are asking how a work is related to its author and to its readers. Thus we could proceed in two directions: backwards, as it were, into the conception and genesis of the work, or forwards into its reception and survival. If we decided to move backwards, we could ask an increasingly complex series of questions.