Perhaps, I can paraphrase the questions in this manner: "Can we define and categorize such-and-such and so-and-so, thus allowing us to allot them differing degrees of x?"

I hesitate to approach works in this way, because this method may persuade us to see creative works as more or less "improvements" on one another--like something extra was merely added. It's like one can attain Greek tragedy by merely adding enough ingredients to, say, Naruto.

Imagine that I have a cookie in my hand. If I add whipped cream to it, that addition does make it something extra, but does it make the cookie something essentially different? If I add chocolate shavings to it, is the cookie one step closer to becoming a Black Forest Cake? Perhaps if I add the cherry on top, my cookie becomes said cake. If that's the case, then I can firmly say that my cookie becomes a Black Forest Cake when I add enough elements to it, and I may be able to discern when I have made a cake from my cookie, given the "right" criteria.

Well, I have to say that I don't think this method will help me too much when finding the value and significance of a creation. Rather, it presents me with some sort of mere additive method, which should--when following the "recipe"(!)--enable me to progress from "angst" to "tragedy". From here, my problem becomes more difficult and convoluted than it initially seemed.

After finding "the method", I find that I now have to define (and possibly classify) what the terms "angst" and "tragedy" mean. (e.g. "Is angst a state of emotional being, and is tragedy something which happens to an individual?") Following from that, if the terms are commensurable or not, a possible solution to the problem can go either way. If I still choose to adhere to this method, my "solutions" may be as follows:

(1) "The terms are commensurable. I am left with the task of drawing-the-line. Will my line, then, be arbitrary?"

(2) "The terms are not commensurable. What is the relation between the two, for it seems intuitively clear that they are related."

I can't help but notice that all of that work led me into a circle! I wanted to find meaning and value of the creation at hand, but, instead, I've fiddled with terms and extra question--which led to non-solutions. So much for my method. To the flames with it!

What if I ask the following question, which was implicit or innate in my method. "What value, significance, or satisfaction do I derive from the work?" And with this, I have my "Eureka!" moment. I ought not to try and classify the work, for that leads to needless difficulties. Instead, I ought to inquire if the experiences delivered and revealed to me are in the proper context, i.e. if the story deems it correct to display x rather than y, in situation P. "Is Sasuke's angst an indication of a past tragedy, and to a possible future tragedy? How does this affect the current situation? Does it enhance it, or distract from it?" In a sense, I have to accept the terms of the work at hand before I can assess it. I can't compare Naruto to Othello (fun as that may be), so, instead, I have to figure out what the creator is aiming it. From there, I find that my reading or viewing experience can be much greater than it was, if I were to remain in the classification model.

On a side note, this allows me to retain my right to enjoy both my cookie and my cake for what they are.

Now, I'm aware that the questions are meant to provoke our thoughts on this issue, so I intend this comment to be read as exactly that--my thoughts on how one might approach an issue or question. I hope this will be useful if anyone reads it. I sure had fun thinking it through!

I agree with Dagger. In most cases, it depends on the world you are building, the story you are trying to tell and the characters in the story.

To me, tragedy suggests a hardship that is completely identifiable -- one that strikes the reader in the gut because it fits with everything presented in the story and is something that can legitimately hurt a person in a completely serious way. Whereas angst, as it's used a lot of the time, suggests something that is over-the-top and silly -- something discordant to the story, world and characters that is nonetheless presented as actual tragedy (without irony, mind lol).

As for realism vs. everything else, personally, unless it's done very carefully, realism can seriously bog down a story. I have no problem with trying to remain faithful to certain people, places or times, but much of the time the sheer exercise of remaining completely realistic just demeans the entire reason stories exist in the first place. Stories exist in another reality; they can be realistic, but they will most likely never completely replicate the real thing. The potential of the "unreal" is so much greater to me, anyway.

I'm not sure if this quite answers the question, but the way I see it, this is comparable to, say, the level of realism in dialogue. There are stories (usually literary) where it's desirable to have dialogue that is *actually* realistic--with all the warts and bumps and uhs and pauses--as opposed to dialogue that simply rings true when you read it.

Similarly, there are stories (also usually literary) where it's desirable to include a truly realistic portrayal of grief or tragedy, rather than one that feels true enough to create an emotional connection between the reader and the characters.

But in both examples, the proportion of stories that have or even need to have true realism is very small IMO.

In most fiction, you need to have tragedy to even begin the angst.

But in this case tragedy is a powerful pain that happens when a character loses something precious to him/her.

In angst, you could be in so much pain that all you can do is be angry, and that itself is a tragedy.

I believe one of my famous quotes says it best,

"Depression is anger, only with less enthusiasm." ~Noelle~