C. Wright Mills, in one (or more?) of his works on sociology, lists (listed if you consider the man in time and place, dead alas of a motorbike incident, though we are speaking of books, or more properly, writing of books, or rather a book, which is speaking or ought to speak to us from infinite time, but of course I digress) three means or routes to power—coercion, authority, and manipulation.
Coercion and manipulation—force and fraud—are the basis of comedy or so I read somewhere, perhaps Maurice Charney? Or not. Anyway, if that is the case, then perhaps the exploration of authority and how characters relate to it is the basis of tragedy?
Quick examples: Hamlet—yes; the Œdipus plays, yes; Romeo and Juliet—yes. Any counterexamples?
Hm. Something to think on.
Although, come to think of it, there is proper, condign, acknowledged power—authority—in comedy, as well. Midsummer Night’s Dream. But in such plays as those proper authority is subverted by force or fraud: say, by pixie dust in the eyes and a merry Robin Goodfellow. Twelfth Night has an authoritative power who is brought low by the power of love; its exercise never comes up. The hijinx occur due to fraud (cross-dressing, ghostwritten letters) and force (bullying and mockery).
Tragedy seems to depend on some defiance or loss of authority. One thinks of one of the progenitors of the form, Prometheus Bound. In Romeo and Juliet the two warring families defy the Prince. Or perhaps tragedy originates in the violation of authority, where something is wrong with the natural order, and people try to put it right: Hamlet. Or there is a conflict between the exercise of authoritative power and the natural order: Elektra.
9:20:49 PM 
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