Signs and Symbols

Jung distinguishes between the two.  

A sign is something that has a set meaning, such as a stop sign. 

A symbol is something which can provide many readings of itself. Furthermore, a symbol’s meanings depend on their context, in a story, in a dream, and does not provide a meaning independently. Jung takes symbols a little further, too, expressing possible mystical significance in their suggestion of mystery: "A symbol is a term, a name, or even a picture that may be familiar in daily life, yet that possesses specific connotations in addition to its conventional and obvious meaning. It implies something vague, unknown, or hidden from us."

Some objects are intentionally highly symbolic, such a Tarot cards. Some people call such objects ‘projection holders’: not only do they gather potential meanings via context of other cards, the reading go them also makes use of of the participant’s psyche and projections. 

Symbol making is one function of stories - certain objects or situations or motifs become imbued with extra meaning behind the things themselves. There is no one meaning; they gather complexity through contingencies.The Blindfold in Le Guin’s Gifts, the golden mongoose in The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, the oar at the end of the Oddyssey, the Boots in All Quiet on the Western Front.

In further discussion on symbols and signs, their difference can be understood as another quality which makes a story good or bad, and that is, does the story ask to be read, or is it delivered as statement. Are we, the audience, given the elements of reality to put together,

I think about this in terms of Lars Von Trier’s Nymphomaniac. The story’s structure and elements are great - the narrative frame is of the nymphomaniac telling her life story to an asexual witness, who provides interpretive, bookish digressions. We are constantly invited to unpack and interpret her story; sometimes the interpretations are interesting, sometimes they fail to capture her complex reality. We are given elements, and the story is arranging them so that we can interpret in relation to all the others.

It’s great. And then it sucks. In the ending, the Lars Von Trier stops inviting us to read a reality he’s built, and, dismissing much of the reality he’s built for us, forces his characters to do something out of character for a shocking ending. The man, who’ve known for the past four hours as deeply patient and kind and patently asexual, decides off screen that, in fact, he does want to have sex, and, why not, he will achieve that via raping his friend. And she decides to shoot him dead. This rough pulling the strings of the characters is, I suppose, Lars Von Triers wanting to make a statement, he, Lars Von Trier. He stopped making a story that functioned symbolically in order to make a sign: This is what I think. 

It is an valuable tension to think about in story writings.