Monday, November 23, 2020

华兹华斯传

华兹华斯不仅关注“自我”,歌颂“自然”,也关心社会上最脆弱的人
新京报书评周刊  作者: 新京报书评周刊 11-22 11:00


每个时代都各有其“时代精神”,文学也不例外。上世纪三十年代后期,西南联大里有一群醉心西方现代主义文学的青年,他们无限推崇艾略特和奥登,反感英国浪漫主义诗歌,甚至约好一起不去上司各特的课。半个世纪以后,其中一位学术回想往事时,认为那时的行为中“七分是追随文学时尚,三分是无知”,并写出了厚达500多页的《英国浪漫主义诗歌史》。这位学生就是翻译家王佐良先生。当他作为诗人、翻译家和研究者贯通诗歌历史脉络后,给出结论:“浪漫主义是一个更大的诗歌现象,在规模上,在影响上,在今天的余波上。现代主义的若干根子,就在浪漫主义之中。”
博尔赫斯曾说,这句诗是好的,就永远是好的。这一点适用于所有诗,意即好诗歌不分时代与所谓流派和风格,诗(文学)只分好坏,而没有“过时”与“时髦”。某种意义上,“好诗”正是超越时代和流派的同义词,而对其欣赏接纳的能力则是它们不断向我们提出的多少有些苛刻的要求。
如果我们以现代主义审美的眼光看,认为浪漫主义文学的“过于优美”和“矫情”是一种窠臼,那是因为我们正站在新的窠臼中,眼前缭乱的意象截断、同时也缩小着我们的视线。事实是,当英国浪漫主义诗歌在十八世纪后期登上历史舞台时,恰恰是先锋的,甚至激怒了那些常年在装饰精美的客厅里谈东道西的高雅之士,认为那些文字不值一提,太没诗意,粗俗不堪。
英国浪漫主义诗人——以地道的农民彭斯起始,到短命的济慈抵达高峰——摧毁了古典主义理性至上、克制个人情欲的规范而鼓吹激情;摒弃已成定规的“诗意词藻”而从日常话语中采撷新的枝叶,朴素且清新。他们倚重想象力,关注自我,是“自我书写”的先声,为二十世纪诗歌开辟出新的道路。这些美学原则大都在华兹华斯《抒情歌谣集》第二版的序言中得到阐释,这篇序言也成为华兹华斯本人、乃至整个浪漫派的宣言。
本文出自11月21日《新京报书评周刊》“华兹华斯:朴素的勇气”专题B04-05版。
采写 |  张进
华兹华斯作为“浪漫时代的中心诗人”的重要性,建立在其诗歌的新语言、新内容、新韵律以及新情感之上。他写的田园不再是桃源般的牧歌,而是废毁的农舍;他歌颂自然,而拒绝空洞的夸饰言辞。他平和的愉悦情绪,自然地成为他诗歌的语调,只有在出现当权者时,他的音调才会如陡峰般突然升高,毫不留情地喊出出自人道主义意识的斥责:
  
/ /
       但政治家,不要觉得他是多余的!
  ……
  当你骄傲地思量着你的才干,
  权势,智慧,不要把这乞丐看作
  世上的负担。
  
        (出自《坎伯兰的老乞丐》)
  
/ /
《坎伯兰的老乞丐》以一种同情和愉悦混合的情感让人难忘。尽管华兹华斯给出了应有的同情,但在面对这样一个底层人的悲剧时并不忧愁,因为他同时看到这位老乞丐在世人身上引起的高贵情感:“他就这样维系着/村民的为善之心,否则岁月的流驶,/不完整的经验给予的不完整的智慧,/会让他们钝于感受,必会让他们/一步步屈服于自私和冷漠的思虑。”这几乎就是华兹华斯对自己写诗的目的的诗歌表达,等同于序言中的“捍卫人性”,“充分体会人的心灵的优美和高贵”。
  
实际上,华兹华斯想让这位老乞丐维系的不止“村民”的为善之心,而是整个人类的:诗人绝不是单单为诗人而写诗,他是为人们而写诗。老乞丐之所以可以做到这点,则源于自然之光的照耀。诗中的老乞丐行走在自然中,单纯地存在着,并随着诗的推进渐渐从一位有血肉之躯的社会边缘人,获得了与自然的同一性,成为自然的征象。诗的结尾,在谦卑的愉悦中,华兹华斯让这位老乞丐“如他在大自然的注视下活着,/就让他在大自然的注视下死去。”
  
大自然无疑是华兹华斯诗歌的核心、心灵最重要的给养,是他才华的泉源、无限歌颂的对象,也是他儿时的玩伴和少年的导师,甚至在他对自然描述得最好的时候,你几乎可以从中看到上帝的隐约身影。当然,对华兹华斯来说,脚踏尘世就已足够,世间的愉悦已让他满足。
  
华兹华斯
诗人向我们坦言,童年之后,“大自然成为了我的一切”。他生于乡下,长于乡下,换句话说,他生长于自然中,并持续生长。童年的林中探险在他敏感的心中留下不可估量的影响。就读剑桥时,他徒步欧洲,追寻阿尔卑斯山的雄伟。他踏上过欧洲的无数道路,最终成为了道路(自然)本身,并希望引领他人接近自然。
  
谨慎地说,华兹华斯描写自然的诗在后来者那里鲜有匹敌。他在自然中看到自然,更看到人的心灵与内在生命,他歌颂自然之美,即在歌颂人类具有崇高可能性的纯净心灵。大自然训诫他,也治愈他,让他重新寻回儿童式的愉悦的能力:
  
/ /
   (自然)使我回忆起已经忘却的愉快,它们对
  一个良善的人最宝贵的岁月
  有过绝非细微、琐碎的影响,
  一些早已忘记的无名小事,
  但饱含着善意和爱。不仅如此,
  我还靠它们得到另一种能力,
  更高的能力,一种幸福的心情,
  忽然间人世的神秘感,
  整个无法理解的世界的
  沉重感疲惫感的压力
  减轻了;
  ……
  我知道大自然从来不曾背弃
  任何爱她的心,她有特殊的力量
  能够把我们一生的岁月
  从欢乐引向欢乐
  (出自《丁登寺》)
/ /
  
即便我们从最功利实用的角度去靠近华兹华斯,他也向我们展示了这样一种能力,即一个人在自然中所获得的竟可以如此令人愉快和丰盈,而我们要做的,是尝试循着诗人的足迹,爬上高山,跨过溪流,停留在一片树林或田野中,听一只鸟儿的叫声,并将自己常日闭塞的心灵完全裸露,这时,万物在眼前自由来去,而你的脚步首先散乱自在起来,接着是腿、胳膊、脑袋,及至整个身心,松弛飘荡如一片初冬落下的叶子。这样,也许我们也能在片刻中恢复那个原初充满人性与生活热情的自己。这对困于疲惫和焦虑的我们总不会没有裨益。
01
对法国大革命的理想做出热烈回应
新京报:英国的浪漫主义诗歌是在什么样的背景下产生的?
  
斯蒂芬·吉尔:这是那些没有正确答案的问题之一。作用于第二代诗人(拜伦、雪莱、济慈)身上的力量与影响华兹华斯和柯尔律治的力量有所不同,但是当然——这一点很重要——作为第一代诗人,华兹华斯和柯尔律治是影响第二代诗人的极为重要的因素。
华兹华斯《我孤独地漫游,像一朵云》手稿
  
显然,英国浪漫主义诗歌由英国和整个欧洲十八世纪文化中的多种元素塑造而成。事实上,当我们审视英国浪漫主义诗歌的特点时,我们发现它异常丰富又有明显的混乱。于是:为普通人写诗/重新发现史诗和长篇叙事诗、理性的启蒙评价、怀疑主义、对未来的希望/对中世纪的再发现、古物主义(Antiquarianism)、过去、激进政治/对浪漫的热爱、普遍主义/民族主义,所有这些或多或少都存在于持续不断的欧洲战争这一大背景下。
  
新京报:华兹华斯对拜伦、雪莱、济慈这些第二代浪漫主义诗人产生了怎样的影响?
  
斯蒂芬·吉尔:拜伦和雪莱对华兹华斯诗歌的兴趣只持续了短暂的时间,后来他们把华兹华斯视为讽刺的对象。对济慈来说,则明显不同。我认为,济慈对一位真正诗人的生活之发展的感觉——就像在《睡眠与诗歌》和他的信中所概述的那样——是由华兹华斯的《丁登寺》塑造的,济慈的信中经常提及这首诗。他极为钦佩华兹华斯的《漫游》。
  
新京报:大致说来,法国大革命对整个浪漫派,尤其是华兹华斯的写作产生了哪些影响?
  
斯蒂芬·吉尔:法国大革命始于1789年。1793年,英法之间爆发战争,一直持续到1815年。从长远来看,战后对欧洲问题的处理所引起的麻烦,与第一次世界大战结束后凡尔赛协议引起的麻烦一样多。首先要说的是,英国被法国局势主导了长达30年之久,甚至更长。即使到了19世纪中叶,对另一场法国灾难的担忧仍无处不在。
  
华兹华斯和柯尔律治对法国大革命的理想做出了热烈回应。(但是)当法国人成为欧洲的侵略者时,两位诗人的态度发生了变化,他们的诗歌也相应地改变。面对拿破仑的入侵威胁,华兹华斯表达了自己对英国的爱国主义意识,尽管他依然深刻批判这个国家的政治体制。《序曲》在很大程度上记录了华兹华斯对自己政治观点之发展的追溯。
斯蒂芬·吉尔,牛津大学荣休教授。他编辑的《威廉·华兹华斯索尔兹伯里平原诗歌》(1975)开启了康奈尔权威版华兹华斯诗歌丛书。
02
柯尔律治敦促华兹华斯充分发挥诗人天赋
新京报:柯尔律治和华兹华斯都是英国诗歌史上的著名诗人,他们之间的友谊、彼此的鼓励(尽管后期破裂)对二者来说是弥足珍贵的。柯尔律治对华兹华斯对自己“诗人”身份的认识这一点上起到了怎样的作用?
  
斯蒂芬·吉尔:两位诗人相遇时,对英国诗歌传统有着相似的兴趣,两人都写了类似的冥想诗:(比如)柯尔律治的《风瑟》和《这椴树凉亭》;华兹华斯的《写在紫杉树下的座位上》。柯尔律治钦佩华兹华斯的戏剧诗《边界人》和长诗《废毁的茅舍》。我相信,在两人友谊的早期柯尔律治就确信华兹华斯是位卓越的诗人,是柯尔律治,敦促他的朋友充分利用他作为诗人的天赋来改善人类。
  
新京报:两人之间的友谊对华兹华斯的写作生涯产生了哪些影响?具体表现在哪些方面?
  
斯蒂芬·吉尔:柯尔律治敦促华兹华斯视自己为哲学诗人,两人一起构思了一部名为《隐士》的哲学著作。这部作品唯一完成并出版的是《漫游》(1814)。这是一部重要的作品。约翰·济慈认为它是“那个时代值得欣喜的三件事情之一”。尽管这并非柯尔律治所希望的那种(哲学)诗,但它的存在肯定归功于柯尔律治的敦促和鼓励。
  
新京报:我们应如何看待华兹华斯对柯尔律治《古舟子咏》的否定性评价,以及不愿让柯尔律治真正参与到第二版《抒情歌谣集》中的做法?这体现了两位诗人对诗歌有着怎样不同的认识?
  
斯蒂芬·吉尔:华兹华斯的这一行为是不友善的,但我相信这是可以理解的。那时他为钱极度焦虑,知道《抒情歌谣集》的再版必须成功。但是柯尔律治没有产出他们两人都希望的东西,结果就是1800年的第二版《抒情歌谣集》名副其实地成为华兹华斯的作品。
  
值得注意的是,在随后的1800至1804年,华兹华斯和多萝西(华兹华斯的妹妹),最后还有玛丽·华兹华斯都在照顾柯尔律治,同情他的烦忧,柯尔律治也欢迎他们给予的这份爱。换句话说,尽管华兹华斯在第二版《抒情歌谣集》的事情上表现得不友善,但在当时并未影响两人的友谊。当华兹华斯于1805年完成《序曲》时,这首诗(直到最后一行)被描述为献给柯尔律治的爱。
《威廉·华兹华斯传》,作者:史蒂芬·吉尔,译者:朱玉,版本:广西师范大学出版社 2020年11月
03
弥尔顿的影响最重要
新京报:除了你在传记中特别强调的弥尔顿外,华兹华斯的写作还受到哪些诗人的影响?具体表现在哪些方面?
  
斯蒂芬·吉尔:华兹华斯从未忘记过那些对他很重要的诗歌。他广泛地阅读,包括拉丁诗。他声称自己可以记住亚历山大·蒲柏的几百行诗。当然,他敬重埃德蒙·斯宾塞(注:英国文艺复兴时期著名诗人)和莎士比亚。他钦佩乔叟,与罗伯特·彭斯(注:英国浪漫主义早期代表性诗人)有亲缘关系。我可以列出更多华兹华斯称赞的诗人。
威廉·柯珀一度与华兹华斯相近,华兹华斯和柯尔律治对他的素体诗《任务》都给予了很高的评价。但在这一切之上,弥尔顿是最重要的。他的宏伟主题是上帝与人之间的关系,华兹华斯试图在类似主题的诗歌中有所成就。华兹华斯的诗处理宏大的主题,正如弥尔顿所做的那样。
  
新京报:浪漫主义诗歌几乎都看重想象力在诗歌中的作用,语言上拒绝所谓“诗意词藻”而倾向于朴素、清新的日常用语,具有强烈的热情。除此之外,华兹华斯的诗歌有哪些独有的特点?
  
斯蒂芬·吉尔:华兹华斯的诗歌表现出高超的技巧。措辞的简洁性与宏伟主题相匹配;诗节和素体诗的语法异常灵活;在部分诗歌中使用谈话的语调,但在另一些诗歌中语调则是雄辩的。华兹华斯的素体诗,尤其是《序曲》,完全是他自己的创造,不像莎士比亚的诗,也不像弥尔顿的诗,但同样强大有力。
然而最重要的是,正如他在《抒情歌谣集》的序言中所强调的,在他的诗中,“是情感给予动作和情节以重要性,而不是动作和情节给予情感以重要性”。同样是在这篇序言中,华兹华斯宣称他尊重“我们本性中伟大而朴素的情感”。这就是为什么至今华兹华斯的诗依然在向我们诉说着什么。他饱含深情地处理的正是我们人类,以及我们生活的这个世界。
04
自然是上帝的语言
新京报:从童年开始,华兹华斯便痴迷于长时间的散步、在大自然中的探险,其诗歌也无数次表达了诗人试图从大自然中获取“真理”的渴望。华兹华斯有着怎样的自然观?“大自然”给予了华兹华斯哪些影响?或说,华兹华斯与大自然之间是怎样的关系?
  
斯蒂芬·吉尔:回答这个问题至少有三种方式。首先:在《丁登寺》中,华兹华斯表示他在大自然中发现了一个精神领域,“一种崇高感/源自某种弥漫深远的事物”。对于华兹华斯和柯尔律治来说,自然是上帝的语言。其次,华兹华斯视独处为冥想和创造力的基础,显然,他发现在山峰和树林中的这种独处最珍贵。第三,华兹华斯热烈地回应了大自然的美,并希望帮助其他人,与他人分享他认为是健康和生命之源的东西。他的《湖区指南》显示了他对自然界细节的敏锐洞察力,以及他描写这些细节的高超技巧。在这场新冠病毒大流行的危机中,建议我们都应该走进大自然,呼吸新鲜空气,在其中漫步。华兹华斯在两个世纪前就知道这一切。
  
丁登寺
新京报:华兹华斯写了许多自传性诗歌,包括其代表作《序曲:或一位诗人心灵的成长》。不过你在传记中也提到,华兹华斯对过往生活的书写和其真实生活经历存在出入。是不是可以说,华兹华斯的写作是对其过往人生的一种重塑?你如何看待诗歌和真实人生经历之间的这种不同?
斯蒂芬·吉尔:我认为比“重塑”更好的词是“解释”。华兹华斯不断地回望自己的人生,“回顾”它,以理解它,并通过在诗歌中这样做来帮助人们理解他们的生活经历。他渴望在其生活中找到某种连续性而非断裂,他同样渴望在其中看到发展与成长。
  
在他所有的回望中,出现两种模式。一是他坚信他已从《丁登寺》中所说的那种儿童时代的童真快乐状态成长为对成人人类体验(包括快乐与痛苦)具有明确认知的状态,但那些儿童时代的快乐经历是他存在的基础,也是他作为一个有用的诗人的基础。二是这样一种信念,当他意识到自己失去了什么时,他也可以看到补偿性利益。那些伟大的自传性诗歌都在表达这样一点:从损失中,我可以相信会有丰富的回报(《丁登寺》)。美妙的颂歌《曾几何时》和《皮尔城堡挽歌体诗节》也表达了相似的看法。
  
华兹华斯1790年夏徒步阿尔卑斯路线图
《序曲》讲述的正是华兹华斯的智力和情感生活,他相信自己所有的挣扎、损失和错误都因愉悦和爱而转化为积极的东西,当他回顾自己年轻时的生活时,他可以看到自己“被召唤”成为一个诗人,成为诗人是他的责任。
  
新京报:有些读者或许对浪漫主义诗歌存在一定的误解,认为浪漫主义诗人只关注“自我”,歌颂“自然”,热心革命,事实上,华兹华斯密切关注社会现实。在你看来,他的诗歌是如何应对社会现实的?
  
斯蒂芬·吉尔:在《格拉斯米尔教堂》有关对他的回忆中,华兹华斯被描述为一个始终关心穷人和卑微者的诗人。他的确是。他早期的诗歌《索尔兹伯里平原》中充满了最脆弱的人——流浪汉,老兵,寡妇和孩子——对这些人的关注贯穿华兹华斯的整个写作生涯。他最后一些诗中的一首写的是一个老人的悲伤寂寞。在他的一本被称为《未访耶罗》的诗集的跋中,华兹华斯抗议了旨在“处理”失业者和穷人问题的新法律。
  
新京报:当我们谈及华兹华斯,也许不得不提及他的妹妹多萝茜。多萝茜成年后几乎一直与华兹华斯相伴在一起,一起生活、远游、写作。多萝茜的陪伴对华兹华斯心灵的成长和生活的安定起到了怎样的作用?
  
斯蒂芬·吉尔:兄妹之间的纽带对他们两人都具有不可估量的重要性。他们在一生中最易受影响的时期分离了多年,因此当他们在1794年重聚时,他们决定让这一重聚持续一生。事实也的确如此。多萝茜为她的哥哥奉献了坚定不移的爱与忠诚,在他的婚姻中支持他,还持续支持他的写作,即使在华兹华斯作为诗人的声誉很低时。在《序曲》中向她致敬表明,华兹华斯相信如果没有多萝茜,他就不会成为他所成为的那个诗人。
  
《序曲:或一位诗人心灵的成长》,作者:(英)威廉·华兹华斯,译者:丁宏为,版本:北京大学出版社2017年10月
新京报:华兹华斯的写作有一个特点,即一生都在不断修改诗稿,这样做的诗人并不多见。你认为,华兹华斯这样做是出于什么样的心理?
  
斯蒂芬·吉尔:这样的情况也并不少见。比如W.H.奥登,对他的诗进行了如此多的修改,以至于它们被分册出版——最初版和修改版。丁尼生和W.B.叶芝修改了他们所有的诗。如果你仔细看,你会发现谢默斯·希尼也修改。
  
但我必须同意,华兹华斯的修改是他诗歌实践的核心。他对诗歌中的技术细节非常挑剔——声音、韵律、节奏、措辞——但我想他的修改比关注这些细节走得更深远。在我看来,华兹华斯从未想过将一首诗视为“已完成的”,因为这将意味着其生长能力的完结。他有这样一种感受,认为诗是一个有机整体,他的所有写作也是一个有机进化的整体。我的《华兹华斯的重访》专门讨论了这个问题。
本文原载于11月21日《新京报书评周刊》B04-05版。采写:张进;编辑:徐悦东;微博编辑:赵文朔;校对:翟永军。未经新京报书面授权不得转载。   
华兹华斯及其时代:当革命演变为流血与屠杀,诗歌如何启动心灵的目光
全现在  作者: 危幸龄 11-02 17:43 投诉阅读数:27274
作为英国浪漫主义运动的重要推动者,华兹华斯始终将人性作为其诗歌唯一主题。
华兹华斯被认为是英国浪漫主义运动中的重要推动者,其作品《抒情歌谣集》被誉为英国浪漫主义文学史上最重要的作品,序言也已成为英国浪漫主义宣言。正是因为这部作品,《西方正典》作者哈罗德·布鲁姆教授将华兹华斯与意大利文艺复兴诗人彼得拉克并列称为西方抒情诗的两位伟大革新者,并认为《抒情歌谣集》标志着现代诗歌的发端。
10月24日,广西师范大学出版社于上海举办了主题为“华兹华斯:人与诗人——重回英国浪漫主义文学源头”新书分享活动。本次对谈的两位嘉宾,分别是华东师大中文系比较文学教授金雯和中山大学英语系教授、同时也是《威廉·华兹华斯传》译者朱玉。在活动中,广西师范大学出版社编辑魏东,和金雯、朱玉两位嘉宾一起,从华兹华斯生平一些“有血有肉”的细节出发,回顾了英国浪漫主义源头,再纵观整个浪漫主义文化特点。
《威廉·华兹华斯传》[英] 斯蒂芬·吉尔著,朱玉译,广西师范大学出版社2020年11月版《威廉·华兹华斯传》[英] 斯蒂芬·吉尔著,朱玉译,广西师范大学出版社2020年11月版
《威廉·华兹华斯传》英文首版由牛津大学荣休教授斯蒂芬·吉尔所著,吉尔长期担任华兹华斯基金会董事,曾两度编辑牛津版华兹华斯诗文选。今年是华兹华斯诞辰二百五十周年,牛津大学出版社特意请吉尔教授修订,赶在4月7日华兹华斯诞辰之前出版了第二版。此次中译本是根据第二版翻译的,几乎与英文修订版同步,稍晚于英文版问世。从1989年的首版到如今的第二版,中途间隔了三十余年,补充了三十年来华兹华斯研究的重要发现,以及作者在此期间的思想变化,但唯一不变的是依然聚焦作为诗人的华兹华斯。用朱玉教授的话说,华兹华斯的一生或许充满裂痕,但作为诗人,他希冀通过诗歌来弥合断裂的人生,从痛苦与损失中汲取补偿。
在这场对谈中,朱玉和金雯谈论了华兹华斯生命中的女性,也谈论了华兹华斯和柯尔律治之间合作的友谊,以及风格如何成为两人合作的绊脚石?在华尔华兹身处的时代,印刷文化如何形塑了诗歌的语言革命,形成了浪漫主义诗歌的新听觉媒介?而在时代的危机面前,除去十八世纪所秉持的“同情的力量”之外,诗人们如何从自然中去寻找慰藉?当法国大革命演变成流血与屠杀之后,在个人痛苦和政治敏感之下,浪漫主义诗歌的视觉想象力为何能够启动人类心灵的目光?
《燕京书评》获出版社授权,将当天讲座内容进行了整理。
华兹华斯生命中的女性力量
朱玉:柯尔律治曾这样谈论华兹华斯:人与诗人之间彼此交融、互相发现,前者因后者而神圣,后者因前者而更具实质,他的诗体现了一种“沉思的悲怆”。我们由此也想到《丁登寺》中“那沉静而永在的人性悲曲”。
当我们回归浪漫主义文学的源头时,我们发现浪漫诗人们不仅是自然的歌者,更是人性的护卫;浪漫不是风花雪月,而是沉重的生存重压。华兹华斯说,人性是我唯一的主题;诗人乃对人类说话的人,更加深谙人性;诗人心灵的成长与他对人类悲苦的感知和共情是成正比的。济慈也逐渐从花神和潘神的冰冷田园转向了“人心的痛苦与挣扎”。
法国大革命作为“时代的精神”,既是英国浪漫主义文学的宏大背景,也是华兹华斯人生中最浓重的一笔。在六位主要的英国浪漫主义诗人中,华兹华斯是唯一一位亲历过大革命的诗人。在法期间,他还遇到了安奈特。事实上,第二版传记特别强调了华兹华斯生命中重要的女性。
在1790到1792年间,华兹华斯两度赴法。第一次徒步法国时,他感慨道,“法兰西正值最金色的时光/人性也似乎再次于世间诞生”。在此期间,他和好友罗伯特·琼斯翻越了壮美的阿尔卑斯山,留下“永不磨灭的记忆”。在第二次法国之行中,诗人邂逅安奈特,不出一两个月的光景,就成为一位准父亲,却在安奈特最需要他的时候返回英国,甚至没有亲眼见到女儿的出生。英法之间的紧张关系,无疑影响了两人的未来。
由于证据寥寥,我们无法确知他们之间究竟发生了什么。朱丽叶·巴克在《华兹华斯传》(2000)中猜测安奈特拥有法国姑娘特有的率真与随性,与英国传统淑女不同,或许因此吸引着年轻的华兹华斯。法国学者勒古伊在传记《威廉·华兹华斯与安奈特·瓦隆》(1922)中则将华兹华斯描绘成但丁与拜伦的交集,超脱,同时也有着火山般炽烈的欲望:“他对她的爱是狂热而盲目的,在爱情面前,其他一切都不复存在。看到窗边的安奈特,是一天中最幸福的时刻。”华兹华斯在此期间的书信,对于安奈特几乎只字未提;但安奈特写于1793年3月20日的信却让我们看到一位悲伤无助的女人,她开始害怕,怕自己已被抛弃。
书中指出,并非所有的异国旅行、感情牵绊或政治觉醒都会产生持久的影响,尤其当经历者年纪尚轻。然而,1787至1792这五年,即华兹华斯从十七岁到二十二岁这段时期,对他来说却至关重要。这五年以其孩子和她的母亲为他留下人证,无法像年轻的诗作那样任其重塑、甚至抹去。这五年是华兹华斯无法忘怀的岁月,然而,在自传体长诗《序曲》中,当他尝试厘清人生的轨迹,这些年月却令他感到棘手。诗中,一些事情被省去了,另一些则被淡化,时间顺序也被打乱,与安奈特·瓦隆的关系及其孩子的出生这段最痛苦的经历被边缘化,取而代之的是阿尔卑斯山间或斯诺顿峰之上充满想象的动人情景。五年之中,1792年是华兹华斯生命中最重要的一年,在这一年中,他成为一名父亲,以及法国革命的积极支持者。在1792年及随后的年月里,华兹华斯本人的生活经历了一场革命,它引起的阵痛和深刻省察促成诗人在1797到1804年间所有最丰饶的诗文。
除了安奈特之外,诗人生命中的重要女性,还包括安·泰森、多萝茜、玛丽、芬尼克小姐等。玛丽无疑是华兹华斯生命中另一位重要的女性。华兹华斯称她为“欢乐的魅影”。这本传记记载了诗人婚前、婚后与安奈特的两次重要重聚。两次都得到玛丽的包容与理解。
华兹华斯与玛丽华兹华斯与玛丽
第一次是1802年,华兹华斯在婚前奔赴法国,与安奈特见面。他相信,他与玛丽之间稳固的感情,足以容纳关于安奈特的一切。妹妹多萝茜陪同哥哥来法,落实经济状况。尽管他们在此逗留了一个月,但多萝茜的日记只是一笔带过这段重要时期。然而,有时缺席也是一种暗示。在此期间,诗人写下两首著名的十四行诗:一首是《作于威斯敏斯特桥》;另一首为九岁的小女所作。
第二次重聚发生在1820年,这是玛丽第一次见到安奈特和卡罗琳。玛丽以其一贯的宽宏和正直,像操心丈夫的所有家人一样,立刻关心起他的第一个孩子,希望能为“亲爱的卡罗琳”做些“实在的事”,卡罗琳结婚时,玛丽支持华兹华斯每年给她三十英镑,这笔慷慨的数目一直持续;直到一八三五年,华兹华斯给了她一笔财产。当玛丽说“愿上帝保佑卡罗琳,我会好好爱她的;如果必要,我愿与她共度余生”时,她是发自内心的。在这本传记的结尾,作者将几近失明的玛丽称为“孤独的逗留者”,坚强,智慧,忠贞,如果这本书有女主人公的话,非她莫属。
浪漫主义的一个重要主题就是“永恒的女性引领我们飞升”,女性代表了温慈的力量。
华兹华斯和柯尔律治:合作的友谊与风格的绊脚石
金雯:华兹华斯晚年非常地保守,对自己要留下一些精神遗产和文化遗产这方面非常执著。
朱玉:华兹华斯是比较幸运的一位,能够活着见证外界对自己的评价发生好转。到维多利亚时期,他往往被视为一位圣人和智者。他也非常看重自己对后人的影响。不过,他对自己作品的执著是由来已久的,他一生大部分时候都由自己来把关作品的出版,监督一切程序,确保万无一失。这本传记就写到,他曾是“出版商的噩梦”。在两卷本《抒情歌谣集》的出版过程中,华兹华斯不断提出修改意见,往往只是一个措辞或某个标点,编辑和印刷工人们都害怕他的来信。然而,诗集出版后,他反复强调的《迈克尔》一诗少了整整一节。华兹华斯深表遗憾。这个版本,也被视为史上重要文献的最严重错误,但很多人怀疑这是出版商的报复。
金雯:对生活,他有一种秩序的需求,希望自己生活还是井井有条,这方面还是有一些保守倾向。这个倾向也影响了华兹华斯与柯尔律治的友谊。柯尔律治好吸食鸦片,主要是因为身体的病痛,但即使在他发病之前也已经尝试通过吸食鸦片获取想象力。
朱玉:华兹华斯在人生早年就经历了生离死别和革命风云,所以特别希望能弥合生命的裂痕,重建生活的根基。他的很多诗歌都表达了化解矛盾、臻于和谐的愿望和努力。他与柯尔律治的伟大友谊造就了浪漫主义最重要的作品《抒情歌谣集》,然而,当柯尔律治渐渐暴露出放纵不羁的生活方式,比如酗酒、吸食鸦片,特别是他作为有妇之夫,却爱上华兹华斯妻子的妹妹萨拉这件事,诗人不能接受。
金雯:他们写诗风格上又不太一样,两个人合作出书籍,其中有一些诗歌本打算一起合作创作。大家比较熟悉的《古舟子咏》,本来也是打算两人合作的,但华兹华斯不太擅长写这种讲一个超自然故事的诗歌,所以他写不下去,后来完全都是柯尔律治完成的。
这首诗歌的道德寓意不是非常清楚,风格跟华兹华斯喜欢写的在自然中看到的风格完全不一样,华兹华斯在序言后专门写了一段说明,嫌弃这首诗风格古怪,不甘心把这首诗融合在诗集里面,当时柯尔律治对华兹华斯的嫌弃非常有怨念,幽怨地说:真正的诗人就是华兹华斯,我不过就是一个形而上学者而已(耽于幻想的人)。
朱玉:第一版《抒情歌谣集》体现了两人的合作和友谊,但两人的诗歌风格不同。华兹华斯关注平凡的生活和日常的奇迹,柯尔律治则擅长超自然的神秘诗。《老舟子吟》这首诗的许多重要元素,其实也来自华兹华斯的提议,比如杀死信天翁、幽灵对水手的迫害、死水手的导航——但在实际写作时,他却只能写出两三行。他后来回忆道:“我们尽力把这首诗合写下去,但事实证明,我们的风格迥异。我是这件事的绊脚石,若不主动退出,岂不太自以为是。”
金雯:华兹华斯和柯尔律治属于英国六大浪漫主义诗人第一代。第二代诗人对他有复杂的情感。雪莱写过《致华兹华斯》的诗歌,说他曾经是自然的诗人,是修补人心有革命倾向的诗人,但现在不是了,很令人遗憾。
朱玉:第二代诗人都受到华兹华斯的影响,尤以济慈最为显著。雪莱和拜伦都曾表达对华兹华斯的失望,认为他早年充满革命的激情和理想,晚年却找了一个印花税的工作。后来的勃朗宁也表达过类似的失望,说他为了“一把银两”而迷途。传记中也谈到这个问题,认为勃朗宁对华兹华斯恶语中伤。华兹华斯的效忠不是用金钱收买的。他的确拿了一把银两(也仅仅是一把微薄的银两而已),因为,工作是满足诗歌天职和家庭需要的体面途径。只有比华兹华斯更浪漫、更自私或更惯于有钱的人,才会说艺术的召唤本来就比家庭的需求更加重要。
另外,晚年的华兹华斯,的确不再像早年那样抱有激进的想法,不再盲信抽象的理念,而是关注具体的人性和情感,更看重习俗与传统,坚持“文化守成”。浪漫主义时期,人和诗人之间更加统一,不像维多利亚时代,诗人不得已戴上了面具,诗歌中交织多重语声,比如当时盛行的戏剧独白诗。相对来说,浪漫主义时期人与诗人的声音还是比较重合的。
华兹华斯画像华兹华斯画像
浪漫主义的新听觉媒介:印刷文化与语言革命
金雯:浪漫主义有很多特征,很难有简单的定位。不过,其中一个显著的特点,就是书写自我。大家都知道,华兹华斯最重要的诗作,最具有代表性诗作,就是一首长诗叫作《序曲》,用素体诗的形式回忆描绘自己的生平经历和感想,可以认为是“自传体长诗”。之所以叫作《序曲》,是因为华兹华斯同时也在创作对话体哲理诗《隐士》,这首《序曲》就是作为《隐士》的前言来写的。当然,后来《隐士》长诗只完成了一部分。《序曲》和《隐士》的写作,都是华兹华斯和柯尔律治两人讨论后共同创造出来的诗歌理念,他们想用这种新的史诗来超越同样用素体诗形式创作史诗的弥尔顿。
朱玉:书写自我,的确是浪漫主义的主要特征。华兹华斯最伟大的作品,当属十四卷长诗《序曲,或一位诗人心灵的成长》。诗人生前只是称之为“给柯尔律治的诗”,也不曾想出版这部长诗,因为他觉得一个人怎么能如此浩繁地谈论自己。在诗人去世三个月后,妻子玛丽为此诗命名并付梓。
1798年9月底,华兹华斯兄妹与柯尔律治一同前往德国。柯尔律治在文化中心哥廷根深造,华兹华斯则寄居在偏远的小镇戈斯拉尔。深深的乡愁使他写下《序曲》的开篇,追忆自己的童年,形成最初的1799年两卷本《序曲》。华兹华斯回首人生的初衷,是为了证明自己能胜任柯尔律治为他布置的作业——哲思素体诗《隐士:或关于自然、人类与社会的思考》。但这个主题过于抽象,并不是华兹华斯的风格。1798年,华兹华斯以一种快乐的沉重拥抱《隐士》设想。从那以后,这个计划就成了他对柯尔律治的亏欠,成为一种负担。
华兹华斯故居华兹华斯故居
金雯:书写自我这个事情,其实也不是始自浪漫主义,但浪漫主义诗人的创新在于用诗歌方式完成这件事情。书信体和自传体小说要追溯到十七世纪和十八世纪,在叙事体裁中的自我书写有更长的渊源,但在诗歌中书写自我始于浪漫主义。华兹华斯他们的《抒情歌谣集》有一个非常大的突破点,就是要让诗歌变成跟小说一样有穿透力、有感染力、有传播力的体裁。从这里可以至少看出浪漫主义的两个特性:首先当然是书写内心,但同时还有对于媒介的关注,试图用日常语言让诗歌成为口耳相传与小说一样广泛传播的艺术。
十八世纪开始阅读市场,阅读的公众数量急剧增加,读书市场变得非常强健。在这样一个印刷文化背景下,诗人肯定也在思考,诗歌用什么样一种方法与小说相匹敌。浪漫主义最流行诗人其实不是华兹华斯,他的《抒情歌谣集》等作品也经常有人嘲笑,他到七十几岁才被认可为“桂冠诗人”。最被人喜爱诗人,其实是拜伦和司各特,司各特今天是以历史小说著称,但当时也是写了很多诗歌,主要是叙事诗,拜伦也写了许多叙事诗。可见,叙事比抒情诗传播好得多,大家都喜欢读叙事。
英国浪漫主义诗人,包括抒情歌谣集想要做的事情,就是要调动一种新的媒介,即听觉来与叙事对抗。小说还是靠阅读和书籍这种纸媒传播,但诗歌可以被听到、被传诵;在印刷文化之外,诗歌还有很多传播途径。比如在学校课程中有诗歌朗诵环节。浪漫主义诗人敏锐地感觉到,可以让诗歌变成以调动听觉想象力为重的体裁,使诗歌能够跟注重视觉想象力的小说和其它叙事题材进行一个博弈。
所以,浪漫主义诗人的语言非常口语化,这点尤其在华兹华斯身上体现明显,也使得我们今天为什么谈及湖畔诗人时浪漫主义会与使用普通人话语的诗歌理念联系在一起,这表明浪漫主义在“浪漫”之外还有许多其他特点。
浪漫主义这个词来自于“罗曼司”,一开始表示用罗曼司语言(指拉丁语衍生而来的欧洲语言)写作的长诗,如法语西班牙语意大利语,中世纪有很多传奇故事,都称为“罗曼司”。到了十九世纪初,德国和英国有很多诗人被称之为浪漫主义诗人,法国后来也出现了浪漫主义诗人。这里所说的“浪漫主义”(这个名称是由德国施莱格尔兄弟和席勒等建立起来的)肯定跟前面罗曼司语义上有很多相关地方,也是指对现实的悖理或者蔑视,视线不是向外,而是向内,这肯定是浪漫主义一个很重要的特征。但除了内转之外,浪漫主义也在试图创造一种新的听觉媒体,这一点很多人了解不够,华兹华斯诗歌为什么使用口语化表达,要接近普通人使用语言?为什么这个也成为浪漫主义的特征?这个一定要放在当时印刷文化背景下了解。
朱玉:《抒情歌谣集》这个题目本身包含一个悖论。“歌谣”首先是以叙事为主的,“抒情”则呼应了序言中的观点,即“是情感的生发使事件变得重要,而不是反之”。华兹华斯认为,这样的诗歌比以往任何时候都更加必要:“因为,人类的心灵无需粗俗和强烈的刺激就能兴奋;若对此一无所知,更不知道一个人之所以高于另一个就在于这种能力,那么,他对于心灵的美与尊严一定知之甚微。对我而言,在任何时代,作家的最佳职责之一就是致力于培养或扩大这种能力。然而,这一职责,尽管在一切时代都很重要,在今天却尤为如此。因为,史无前例,在我们的时代里,众多因素正在以一股合力钝化着心智的鉴赏力,使心灵不能发挥任何主动性,乃至退化到一种蛮荒的愚钝状态。这其中最显著的因素就是那每天发生着的国家大事和城市中急剧增加的人口,单调乏味的工作使人们产生对特别事件的如饥似渴,而信息的高速传播又能随时满足人们的需求。”
这个强烈谴责成为十九世纪和二十世纪初英国文学史上的重要时刻。1802年春,华兹华斯着手准备第三版《抒情歌谣集》的序言,对1800年版序言做了大量修改。他曾批判当时流行的矫揉造作的“诗歌语言”,如今他在一篇附录中为自己的观点辩护,主张诗歌应诉诸人们真正使用的日常语言。
在时代危机面前:同情的力量与自然的慰藉
金雯:拜伦非常欣赏十八世纪新古典主义的诗人。
朱玉:拜伦是充满悖论的诗人,他虽然自由不羁,但他的诗却坚守传统的形式和规整的韵律,比如他非常喜欢蒲柏的英雄联韵体。
另外,你刚才提到“自我”,这确实是浪漫主义最典型的特征。浪漫主义还有另一个重要的维度,即“忘我”。比如济慈就说过,诗人没有自我。这涉及济慈的重要诗学思想,即消极能力。“消极能力”的“消极”暗示着一种积极的“自我消解”,一颗开放并善于想象的心灵,一种对复杂现实的高度包容性:“诗人没有自我——他必然是上帝创造的所有生物中最无诗意的一个。”
十八世纪中晚期的一个重要传统,就是同情的力量。在浪漫主义时期,同情与想象密不可分——“同情成为想象力的一种特殊力量,使自我得以逃脱自身的藩篱,以便与他人认同;或者以一种新的方式观察事物,培养一种审美鉴赏力,将主观的自我与客观的他者融为一体。”
浪漫主义诗人们在书写自我的同时,也在反省过度的自我中心主义。比如华兹华斯的《写在紫杉树座椅上的诗行》、雪莱的《阿拉斯特:或孤独的灵魂》都反省了自我封闭的倾向,指出一个人若只关注自我,他的生命是渺小且虚度的。
金雯:自我意识到十八世纪末变成一个命题:精神和痛苦的来源。我们知道,在西方历程中,自我意识跟西方现代性是同时生成的,一般定位在十八世纪。十八世纪是启蒙时代,是现代诗萌芽,是西方自我意识完全建立的时期。十八世纪的主体观,是个人与他者并重的;不仅讲究保护个人权利和私人空间,肯定个人内心和情感,也很讲究人和人之间情感的共鸣和连接,“同情”这个概念是十八世纪道德哲学和小说,包括美学中的显性概念。那时候,个人的权利、个人的隐私、个人的情感跟与他人之间情感连接当中没有矛盾的,也就是说在十八世纪文化想象当中,一个人可以敏锐感知自身情感,但是这个不影响他跟别人产生非常强烈的共鸣。
所以,十八世纪的人认为,人与人之间可以凭借自身力量构造一个有序的社会,个人和社会在十八世纪文化想象当中,至少在想象当中——不是在现实当中——是比较和谐的。这种和谐到了十八世纪末工业革命后被打破,阶层和种族冲突日益明显。浪漫主义诗人都非常清晰意识到这一点,并将时代所感受到的文化撕裂体现在个体内心的矛盾痛苦当中。所以,我们在浪漫主义诗人里面,包括华兹华斯里面看到对于心灵痛苦和疲惫的各种表述。这种痛苦表征其实在十八世纪诗歌里面相对少一点,十八世纪托马斯·格雷(《墓园挽歌》)和库柏等诗人也有很多关于死亡的书写,但这种对于死亡的思考往往导向一种宗教慰藉或者将死亡的而痛苦消解于死亡是最公平的事这个理念中。然而,十八世纪末期这种死亡想象失灵了,华兹华斯在他的诗歌中表现出挥之不去的忧郁。
威廉·华兹华斯诞辰250周年邮票威廉·华兹华斯诞辰250周年邮票
很多浪漫主义诗歌革命的原因,就告诉我们,其实这个社会矛盾比我们想象要深得多。这种矛盾体现在个人内心强大不可挥散的痛苦当中,一切美好、自如生活状态都没有了,在这种强大失落感压迫下,华兹华斯开始寻找一种比宗教、社会和他人更可靠的慰藉,那就是自然。自然中所有的细节,自然中内在的一种和谐让我们显示出来神的存在,所以说自然就是印证了它的存在,这就是最可靠的一种慰藉。
在这个方面,我们当然可以说华兹华斯所找到这慰藉,不像雪莱想象那样,要靠聚集民众反抗压迫,而是要真正打开心灵中的眼睛,接受在自然里面蕴含神的信息。这种立场当然相对保守,但是,至少华兹华斯从情感层面感受到了这个时代危机,感受到了人们普遍感受到挥之不去内在的痛苦,这是进步的。
个人痛苦和政治敏感:当大革命演变为流血与屠杀……
朱玉:前面说过,华兹华斯认为,在他所处的时代,众多力量使心灵迟钝,这些因素包括英法战事、城市化、人口激增、工业革命等,单调乏味的生活使人们迫不及待向外寻求刺激,心灵渐渐麻木。《永生颂》,即哀悼了想象力的丧失和辉光的逃遁。华兹华斯的很多诗歌都包含一种“失与得”的机制,他总是在损失中寻求收获与补偿:
尽管昔日灿烂耀眼的光芒
如今永离我的视野,
尽管什么都无法挽回
草叶的华彩与花朵的光辉,
我们不会悲伤,而是找到力量,
它来自那残留的余烬;
来自始于生命本源的同情心,
一旦萌生则永不消泯;
来自从人类的苦难创伤
涌出的慰藉人心的思想;
来自看破死亡的信念;
来自培育哲心的流年。
在《永生颂》的结尾,落脚点既不是外在的自然,也并非隐身的上帝,而是在于人心:
感恩我们赖以生存的人心,
感恩它的温柔、欢乐和忧惧,
那盛开的最最卑微的小花,
常带给我泪水所不及的深刻思绪。
同样,在《序曲》的结尾,诗人说,人类的心灵比其居住的大地美妙千百倍。最后的最后,浪漫主义总是回归人。
华兹华斯手稿笔记华兹华斯手稿笔记
金雯:同样关注人性,不同浪漫主义诗人他们会有不同的态度和立场。说到跟自然关系,在华兹华斯看来,《丁登寺》中描述了有一种运动,有一种精神,推动着世间一切,运动精神就是神的存在。这是他对自然的看法,自然最终是人们所能依靠终极的慰藉,但到了雪莱他们写《西风颂》,也是写自然这个里面强调自然元素就是像风一般摧枯拉朽,改造一切。我注意到《西风颂》有意识地与《丁登寺》进行对话,不是歌颂永恒的精神和人类最终的情感慰藉,而是将自然想象为一种不断躁动的力量,可以不断推动变革。同样关注人性,关注自然如何能够帮助诗人表达人性,但是不同浪漫主义诗人对于人性理解,对于自然的理解都是非常不一样的。
朱玉:《西风颂》里的“风”,首先是一种摧毁的力量,但同时也是一种催生的力量。风扫荡落叶,但也焕发创造力,催生新的诗叶。《丁登寺》也提到感官与外界的交流,强调“耳目所及的强大世界,一半是感知,一半是创造”——浪漫主义诗人不允许自然绝对控制心灵,一定要使感官参与其中,发挥心灵的创造性。布莱克对自然的态度则更加不同,他极力反对华兹华斯对自然的崇尚。对他来说,外部自然是一种障碍,一如脚上的尘土。
浪漫主义诗人都喜欢阿尔卑斯山。拜伦在游记中说山川瀑布都是我的一部分,我也是它们的一部分,体现了人与自然的交融。华兹华斯也有类似的表达。雪莱也去过阿尔卑斯山,在他身上——永远攀登那永远攀升的高峰,体现了无尽的追求和无尽的绝望,是为浪漫主义的反讽。
金雯:雪莱思想里面这个裂痕比华兹华斯要深重多了,华兹华斯还是能通过自然弥合灵魂中所感受到的裂痕,到雪莱这种弥合不太可能了。雪莱语言比较抽象一点,但总之,雪莱已经在思考一个跟我们所说的唯物主义相关的一个问题,毕竟华兹华斯还有一种“泛神论”支撑他,雪莱的有些思想称为“无神论”。
雪莱在牛津学习期间上过化学课,对现代唯物主义理念有过接触。他对怎么样用一个化学眼光来看待自然元素是有科学认识的,从雪莱在《麦布女王》里面对自然的描绘中可以看出。雪莱不能确定自然界能与人真正形成精神上的沟通?《勃朗峰》里体现得很明显,自然的存在不需要依靠人的观察,而自然不仅启迪诗思,也是一种具有威慑力的存在,人和自然关系是有些疏离有些紧张的。 当然,雪莱也没有放弃从自然中找到超越性理想的可能性,所以可以说他在唯物思想和浪漫主义对于这种超越的追求之间不断摇摆。
朱玉:与第一代浪漫主义诗人相比,第二代出生在法国大革命失败所引发的普遍幻灭感中。十九岁的华兹华斯在攻打巴士底狱那年写道,“能活在那样的黎明已是至福,/若再加年轻,简直就是天堂!”他对世界充满希望,但第二代诗人则充满绝望与怀疑。这种怀疑和反抗情绪,在雪莱身上尤为明显。维多利亚时期的思想家阿诺德对雪莱的评价导致了致命的伤害,他说雪莱是一个美丽的天使在空中徒劳地击打着巨翅。“空”、“徒劳”都暗示了雪莱的理想与绝望。
金雯:华兹华斯也是有革命理念的。他第一次去法国,事后回忆那段时光时也说得很清楚,当时他处于一种迷茫的境界,看到各种派系斗争在法国引起很多的混乱,也不知道如何看待这件事情。但后来,他看到路上有一个小女孩在地上捡东西吃,他认为法国革命是有道理的,就主张说立法的权力应该更多放在人民的手中。
华兹华斯在诗歌中能够对于个人痛苦进行书写,将个人痛苦和政治敏感联系在一起,这是很有开创性的写法,对后面诗人也有很多开创性。
朱玉:当华兹华斯和法国军官博布伊指着小女孩说“我们就是为此而战”时,眼前的法国大革命才变得真实。后来,当大革命演变为流血与屠杀,华兹华斯非常痛苦,他坦言自己的错误,后悔之前的立场,但有一点始终不变——他坚称,尽管如今认识到年轻时的诸多错误,但他从未放弃希望,即“人类能挣脱泥土中那毛虫般的生存状态,/尽展自由的彩翼,/做自己的主人,在无扰中享受欢愉”。
希尼在《华兹华斯诗选》序言中指出,直到叶芝出现,我们才遇到另一位诗人,同样完美地将情感的敏悟、思想的力量、心性的灵明、政治觉醒、艺术自知和诗意表达结合起来。
视觉的想象力启动心灵的目光
金雯:要跟十八世纪启蒙时代个人主义道别,将个体融入自然当中,或者将个体投入到革命洪流当中去等,就是一种忘我的形象。这个自我和忘我的回旋或者悖论,怎么跟感官联系在一起的?
活动现场活动现场
朱玉:自我与忘我是我非常关注的一个话题。华兹华斯的《序曲》讲述一个诗人心灵的成长,但诗人也指出,心灵的成长与忘我/共情的能力是成正比的。这种共情能力(sympathy)往往体现在诗中大量的倾听活动中。英语单词“sympathy”(共情,同情)兼具“共鸣”、“和谐”之意。在《牛津英语字典》中,有关“sympathy”的解释也借用了很多与音乐有关的词语,如harmony(和谐、和声)、 consonance(一致、协和)、 concord(和谐)等。音乐是用来听的。这仿佛暗示着,在同情、音乐与倾听之间存有某种潜在的关联。倾听最容易使人沉浸于忘我的状态,是设身处地与他者认同的前提。同时,倾听也是一种媒介,连结着想象与理解,是引起共鸣的基础。在法语中,“听”(entendre)这个单词就兼具“听见”与“理解”(comprendre)之意。华兹华斯《丁登寺》中的著名诗行——“常常听到 / 那沉静而永在的人性悲曲”(hearing oftentimes / the still, sad music of humanity)就体现了倾听能力与同情性想象的紧密联系,同时也是华兹华斯诗歌的基调。
华兹华斯的很多诗歌都包含倾听活动。浪漫主义时期的其他诗人也不乏类似例子。华兹华斯曾在《序曲》第十二卷写到“视觉的专制”,柯尔律治也说过同样的话。回溯十八世纪,会发现视觉的专制渗透到各个领域,包括哲学、文学、美术甚至最无形的音乐领域。最典型的例子是1735年法国耶稣会信徒、物理学家兼哲学家卡斯特尔发明的“视觉风琴”(visual organ),或称“色彩风琴”(color organ),即在一架普通的羽管键琴上安装一个方形的框架结构,该方框由60扇小窗组成,不同的小窗具有不同颜色的彩色玻璃,窗上还带有窗帘,经由滑轮与琴键相连。这样,当琴键被奏响时,与其连接的窗帘随之开启,闪露出相应的窗玻璃颜色,听众就可以“看到”色彩音乐。所以,人们不再是“听音乐”,而是“看音乐”。当时还盛行一种做法,将七种音阶对应七种颜色,认为凡是耳闻的音乐都可以用眼见的色彩来表示:“do为蓝色,因为具有内在的庄严气度;re为绿色,使听众感到自然、乡土、活泼的田园风格;sol为红色,使人感到战争的色彩……” 歌德的《色彩论》曾包含此类思想,舒曼、李斯特也都曾记录过音乐中的色彩,据说莫扎特的手稿中也曾充满不同的颜色。
当音乐这种最为无形、最贴近精神的艺术经由视觉而物质化的时候,诗人们开始反思视觉的霸道,希望诉诸其他感官(以听觉为主)来制衡视觉对心灵的压迫,最终,心灵才是真正的主人。与华兹华斯同年出生的黑格尔在《美学》中说,音乐是最高的艺术,因为它最接近精神、反映内心。浪漫主义的基本特征,就是音乐性。
金雯:《丁登寺》里面提到,眼前看到很多实在景物,同时会有很多回忆涌到自己脑海中来,回想过去时候好像一个盲人的眼睛,不是内在视觉,而是想象的眼睛,华兹华斯可以说是想将听和想象联系在一起,取代取材于视觉的想象力。

朱玉:华兹华斯在《丁登寺》中写到,虽然阔别已久,但这些景象并非“盲人眼中的风景”。另外,华兹华斯在“静观自然”时能“聆听”到人性的悲曲——从“静观”(look on,而非look at)到“聆听”的转化,从“自然”向“人性”的过渡,也体现了心灵的成长。乔伊斯在《一个青年艺术家的肖像》中也说,“Shut your eyes and see”,闭上眼睛去看,这也是启动心灵的目光。 

Monday, November 16, 2020

Who's Afraid of Theory? - The Millions

 

Who's Afraid of Theory? - The Millions

The Millions · by Ed Simon · October 29, 2020

Who’s Afraid of Theory?

October 29, 2020 5 books mentioned 13 min read

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In a pique of indignation, the editors of the journal Philosophy and Literature ran a “Bad Writing Contest” from 1995 to 1998 to highlight jargony excess among the professoriate. Inaugurated during the seventh inning of the Theory Wars, Philosophy and Literature placed themselves firmly amongst the classicists, despairing at the influence of various critical “isms.” For the final year that the contest ran, the “winner” was Judith Butler, then a Berkeley philosophy professor and author of the classic work The selection which caused such tsuris was from the journal Diacritics, a labyrinthine sentence where Butler opines that the “move from a structuralist account in which capital is understood to structure social relations in relatively homologous ways to a view of hegemony in which power relations are subject to repetition, convergence, and rearticulation brough the question of temporality into the thinking of structure,” and so on. If the editors’ purpose was to mock Latinate diction, then the “Bad Writing Contest” successfully made Butler the target of sarcastic opprobrium, with editorial pages using the incident as another volley against “fashionable nonsense” (as Alan Sokal and Jean Bricmont called it) supposedly reigning ascendant from Berkeley to Cambridge.

The Theory Wars, that is the administrative argument over which various strains of 20th-century continental European thought should play in the research and teaching of the humanities, has never exactly gone away, even while departments shutter and university work is farmed out to poorly-paid contingent faculty. Today you’re just as likely to see aspersions on the use of critical theory appear in fevered, paranoid Internet threads warning about “Cultural Marxism” as you are on the op-ed pages of the Wall Street Journal, even while at many schools literature requirements are being cut, so as to make the whole debate feel more like a Civil War reenactment than the Battle of GettysburgIn another sense, however, and Butler’s partisans seem to have very much won the argument from the ‘80s and ‘90s—as sociologically inflected Theory-terms from “intersectionality” to “privilege” have migrated from Diacritics to Twitter (though often as critical malapropism)—ensuring that this war of attrition isn’t headed to armistice anytime soon.

So, what exactly is “Theory?” For scientists, a “theory” is a model based on empirical observation that is used to make predictions about natural phenomenon; for the lay-person a “theory” is a type of educated guess or hypothesis. For practitioners of “critical theory,” the phrase means something a bit different. A critical theorist engages with interpretation, engaging with culture (from epic poems to comic books) to explain how their social context allows or precludes certain readings, beyond whatever aesthetic affinity the individual may feel. Journalist Stuart Jeffries explains the history (or “genealogy,” as they might say) of one strain of critical theory in his excellent describing how a century ago an influential group of German Marxist social scientists, including Theodor AdornoMax HorkheimerWalter Benjamin, and Herbert Marcuse, developed a trenchant vocabulary for “what they called the culture industry,” so as to explore “a new relationship between culture and politics.” At the Frankfurt Institute for Social Research, a new critical apparatus was developed for the dizzying complexity of industrial capitalism, and so words like “reify” and “commodity fetish” (as well as that old Hegelian chestnut “dialectical”) became humanistic bywords.

Most of the original members of the Frankfurt School were old fashioned gentlemen, more at home with Arnold Schoenberg’s 12-tone avant-garde then with Jelly Roll Morton and Bix Beiderbecke, content to read Thomas Mann rather than Action Comics. Several decades later and a different institution, the Center for Contemporary Cultural Studies at the University of Birmingham in the United Kingdom, would apply critical theory to popular culture. These largely working-class theorists, including Stuart HallPaul GilroyDick Hebdige, and Angela McRobbie (with a strong influence from Raymond Williams) would use a similar vocabulary as that developed by the Frankfurt School, but they’d extend the focus of their studies into considerations of comics and punk music, slasher movies and paperback novels, while also bringing issues of race and gender to bear in their writings.

In rejecting the elitism of their predecessors, the Birmingham School democratized critical theory, so that the Slate essay on whiteness in Breaking Bad or the Salon hot take about gender in Game of Thrones can be traced on a direct line back through Birmingham. What these scholars shared with Frankfurt, alongside a largely Marxian sensibility, was a sense that “culture was an important category because it helps us to recognize that one life-practice (like reading) cannot be torn out of a large network constituted by many other life-practices—working, sexual orientation, [or] family life,” as elucidated by Simon During in his introduction to For thinkers like Hall, McRobbie, or Gilroy, placing works within this social context wasn’t necessarily a disparagement, but rather the development of a language commensurate with explaining how those works operate. With this understanding, saying that critical theory disenchants literature would be a bit like saying that astronomical calculations make it impossible to see the beauty in the stars.

A third strain influenced “Theory” as it developed in American universities towards the end of the 20th century, and it’s probably the one most stereotypically associated with pretension and obfuscation. From a different set of intellectual sources, French post-structural and deconstructionist thought developed in the ‘60s and ‘70s at roughly the same time as the Birmingham School. Sometimes broadly categorized as “postmodernist” thinkers, French theory included writers of varying hermeticism like Jacques DerridaMichel FoucaultGiles DeleuzeJean LyotardJacques Lacan, and Jean Baudrillard, who supplied English departments with a Gallic air composed of equal parts black leather and Galois smoke. Francois Cusset provides a helpful primer in the best single volume introduction on the subject. He writes that these “Ten or twelve more or less contemporaneous writers,” who despite their not inconsiderable differences are united by a “critique of the subject, of representation, and of historical continuity,” with their focus the “critique of ‘critique’ itself, since all of them interrogate in their own way” the very idea of tradition. French theory was the purview of Derridean deconstruction, or of Foucauldian analysis of social power structures, the better to reveal the clenched fist hidden within a velvet glove (and every fist is clenched). For traditionalists the Frankfurt School’s Marxism (arguably never all that Marxist) was bad enough; with French theory there was a strong suspicion of at best relativism, at worst outright nihilism.

Theory has an influence simultaneously more and less enduring than is sometimes assumed. Its critics in the ‘80s and ‘90s warned that it signaled the dissolution of the Western canon, yet I can assure you from experience that undergraduates never stopped reading Shakespeare, even if a chapter from Foucault’s Discipline and Punish might have made it onto the syllabus (and it bears repeating that contra the reputation of difficulty, the latter was a hell of a prose stylist). But if current online imbroglios are any indication, its influence has been wide and unexpected, for as colleges pivot towards a business-centered STEM curriculum, the old fights about critical theory have simply migrated online. Much of the criticism against theory in the first iteration of this dispute was about what such thinkers supposedly said (or what people thought they were saying), but maybe even more vociferous were the claims about how they were saying things. The indictment about theory then becomes not just an issue of metaphysics, but one of style. It’s the claim that nobody can argue with a critical theorist because the writing itself is so impenetrable, opaque, and confusing. It’s the argument that if theory reads like anything, that it reads like bullshit.

During the height of these curricular debates there was a cottage industry of books that tackled precisely scholarly rhetoric, not least of which were conservative screeds like Allan Bloom’s The Closing of the American Mind: How Higher Education has Failed Democracy and Impoverished the Souls of Today’s Students and E.D. Hirsh Jr.’s The Dictionary of Cultural Literacy. Editors Will H. Corral and Daphne Patai claim in the introduction to their pugnacious Theory’s Empire: An Anthology of Dissent that “Far from responding with reasoned argument to their critics, proponents of Theory, in the past few decades, have managed to adopt just about every defect in writing that George Orwell identified in his 1946 essay ‘Politics and the English Language.’” D.G. Myers in his contribution to the collection (succinctly titled “Bad Writing”) excoriates Butler in particular, writing that the selection mocked by Philosophy and Literature was “something more than ‘ugly’ and ‘stylistically awful’… [as] demanded by the contest’s rules. What Butler’s writing actually expresses is simultaneously a contempt for her readers and an absolute dependence on their good opinion.”

Meanwhile, the poet David Lehman parses Theory’s tendency towards ugly rhetorical self-justification in in which he recounts the sundry affair whereby a confidante of Derrida and esteemed Yale professor was revealed to have written Nazi polemics during the German-occupation of his native Belgium. Lehman also provides ample denunciation of Theory’s linguistic excess, writing that for the “users of its arcane terminology it confers elite status… Less a coherent system of beliefs than a way of thinking.” By 1996 and even Duke University English professor Frank Lentricchia (in a notoriously Theory-friendly department) would snark in his Lingua Franca essay “Last Will and Testament of an Ex-Literary Critic” to (reprinted in Quick Studies: The Best of Lingua Franca) “Tell me your theory and I’ll tell you in advance what you’ll say about any work of literature, especially those you haven’t read.”

No incident illustrated more for the public the apparent vapidity of Theory than the so-called “Sokal Affair” in 1996, when New York University physics professor Alan Sokal wrote a completely meaningless paper composed in a sarcastic pantomime of critical theory-speak entitled “Transgressing the Boundaries: Toward a Transformative Hermeneutics of Quantum Gravity” which was accepted for publication in the prestigious (Duke-based) journal Social Text, with his hoax simultaneously revealed by Lingua Franca. Sokal’s paper contains exquisite nonsense such as the claim that “postmodern sciences overthrow the static ontological categories and hierarchies characteristic of modernist science” and that “these homologous features arise in numerous seemingly disparate areas of science, from quantum gravity to chaos theory… In this way, the postmodern sciences appear to be converging on a new epistemological paradigm.” Sokal’s case against Theory is also, fundamentally, about writing. He doesn’t just attack critical theory for what he perceives as its dangerous relativism, but also at the level of composition, writing in Fashionable Nonsense: Postmodern Intellectuals’ Abuse of Science that such discourse “exemplified by the texts we quote, functions in part as a dead end in which some sectors of the humanities and social sciences have gotten lost.” He brags that “one of us managed, after only three months of study, to master the postmodernist lingo well enough to publish an article in a prestigious journal.” Such has long been the conclusion among many folks that Theory is a kind of philosophical Mad Libs disappearing up its own ass, accountable to nobody but itself and the departments that coddle it. Such was the sentiment which inspired the programmers of the Postmodern Essay Generatorwhich as of 2020 is still algorithmically throwing together random Theory words to create full essays with titles like “Deconstructing Surrealism: Socialism, surrealism and deconstructivist theory” (by P. Hans von Ludwig) and “Social realism and the capitalist paradigm of discourse” (by Agnes O. McElwaine).

Somebody’s thick black glasses would have to be on too tight not to see what’s funny in this, though there’s more than a bit of truth in the defense of Theory that says such denunciations are trite, an instance of anti-intellectualism as much as its opposite. Defenses of Theory in the wake of Sokal’s ruse tended to, not unfairly, query why nobody questions the rarefied and complex language of the sciences but blanches when the humanities have a similarly baroque vocabulary. Status quo objections to that line of thinking tend to emphasize the humanness of the humanities; the logic being that if we’re all able to be moved by literature, we have no need to have experts explain how that work of literature operates (as if being in possession of a heart would make one a cardiologist). Butler, for her part, answered criticism leveled against her prose style in a (well written and funny!) New York Times editorial, where she argues, following a line of Adorno’s reasoning, that complex prose is integral to critical theory because it helps to make language strange, and forces us to interrogate that which we take for granted. “No doubt, scholars in the humanities should be able to clarify how their work informs and illuminates everyday life,” Butler admits, “Equally, however, such scholars are obliged to question common sense, interrogate its tacit presumptions and provoke new ways of looking at a familiar world.”

To which I heartily agree, but that doesn’t mean that the selection of Butler’s mocked by Philosophy and Literature is any good. It costs me little to admit that the sentence is at best turgid, obtuse, and inelegant, and at worst utterly incomprehensible. It costs me even less to admit that that’s probably because it’s been cherry picked, stripped of context, and labeled as such so that it maximizes potential negative impressions. One can defend Butler— and Theory—without justifying every bit of rhetorical excess. Because what some critics disparage about Theory—its obscurity, its rarefied difficulty, its multisyllabic technocratic purpleness—is often true. When I arrived in my Masters program, in a department notoriously Theory-friendly, I blanched as much as Allan Bloom being invited to be a roadie on the Rolling Stones’ Steel Wheel Tour. For an undergraduate enmeshed in the canon, and still enraptured to that incredibly old-fashioned (but still intoxicating) claim of the Victorian critic Matthew Arnold in Culture and Anarchy that the purpose of education was to experience “the best which has been thought and said,” post-structuralism was a drag. By contrast, many of my colleagues, most of them in fact, loved Theory; they thrilled to its punkish enthusiasms, its irony laden critiques, its radical suspicion of the best of which has been thought and said. Meanwhile I despaired that there were no deconstructionists in

I can no longer imagine that perspective. It’s not quite that I became a “Theory Head,” as one calls all of those sad young men reading Deleuze and Félix Guattari while smoking American Spirit cigarettes, but I did learn to stop worrying and love Theory (in my own way). What I learned is that Theory begins to make sense once you learn the language (whether it takes you three months or longer), and that it’s innately, abundantly, and estimably useful when you have to actually explain how culture operates, not just whether you happen to like a book or not. A poet can write a blazon for her beloved, but an anatomist is needed to perform the autopsy. Some of this maturity came in realizing that literary criticism has always had its own opacity; that if we reject “binary opposition,” we would have to get rid of “dactylic hexameter” as well. The humanities have always invented new words to describe the things of this world that we experience in culture. That’s precisely the practice attacked by John Martin Ellis, who in his jeremiad Against Deconstruction took on Theory’s predilection towards neologism, opining that “there were plenty of quite acceptable ordinary English words for the status of entrenched ideas and for the process of questioning and undermining them.” All of that difference, all of that hegemony, and so much phallologocentricism… But here’s the thing— sometime heteroglossia by any other name doesn’t smell as sweet.

Something anachronistic in proffering a defense of Theory in the third decade of the new millennium; something nostalgic or even retrograde. Who cares anymore? Disciplinary debates make little sense as the discipline itself has imploded, and the anemic cultural studies patois of the Internet hardly seems to warrant the same reflection, either in defense or condemnation. In part though, I’d suggest that it’s precisely the necessity of these words, and their popularity among those who learned them through cultural osmosis and not through instruction, that necessitates a few statements in their exoneration. All of the previous arguments on their behalf—that the humanities require their own jargon, that this vocabulary provides an analytical nuance that the vernacular doesn’t—strike me as convincing. And the criticism that an elite coterie uses words like “hegemonic” as a shibboleth are also valid, but that’s not an argument to abandon the words—it’s an argument to instruct more people on what they mean.

But I’d like to offer a different claim to utility, and that’s that Theory isn’t just useful, but that it’s beautiful. When reading the best of Theory, it’s as if reading poetry more than philosophy, and all of those chewy multisyllabic words can be like honey in the mouth. Any student of linguistics or philology—from well before Theory—understands that synonyms are mythic and that an individual word has a connotative life that is rich and unique. Butler defends the Latinate, writing that for a student “words such as ‘hegemony’ appears strange,” but that they may discover that beyond its simpler meaning “it denotes a dominance so entrenched that we take it for granted, and even appear to consent to it—a power that’s strengthened by its invisibility.” Not only that, I’d add that “hegemony,” with its angular consonants hidden like a sharp rock in the middle of a snowball, conveys a sense of power beyond either brute strength or material plenty. Hegemony has something of the mysterious about it, the totalizing, the absolute, the wickedly divine. To simply replace it with the word “power” is to drain it of its impact. I’ve found this with many of those words; that they’re as if occult tone poems conveying a hidden and strange knowledge; that they’re able to give texture to a picture that would otherwise be flat. Any true defense of Theory must, I contend, give due deference to the sharp beauty that these sometimes-hermetic words convey.

As a totally unscientific sample, I queried a number of my academic (and recovering academic) colleagues on social media to see what words they would add to a list of favorite terms; the jargon that others might roll their eyes at, or hear as grad school clichés, but that are estimably useful, and dare I say it—beautiful. People’s candidates could be divided in particular ways, including words that remind us of some sort of action, words that draw strength from an implied metaphorical imagery, and words that simply have an aural sense that’s aesthetically pleasing (and these are by no means exhaustive or exclusive). For example, Derrida’s concept of “deconstruction,” a type of methodological meta-analysis that reveals internal contradictions within any text, so as to foreground interpretations that might be hidden, was a popular favorite word. “Deconstruction” sounds like an inherently practical term, a word that contractors rather than literary critics might use, the prefix connotes ripping things down while the rest of the word gestures towards building them (back?) up. A similar word that several responders mentioned, albeit one with less of a tangible feel to it, was “dialectics,” which was popularized in the writings of the 19th-century German philosopher George Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, was mediated through Karl Marx, and was then applied to everything by the Frankfurt School. As with many of these terms, “dialectics” has variable meaning depending on who is using it, but it broadly refers to an almost evolutionary process whereby the internal contradictions of a concept are reconciled, propelling thought into the future. For the materialist deployment of the term by Marx and his followers, the actual word has an almost mystical gloss to it, the trochaic rhythm of the word itself with its up-down-up-down beat evoking the process of thesis-antithesis-synthesis to which the term itself applies. Something about the very sound of “dialectic” evokes both cutting and burying to me, the psychic struggle that the word is supposed to describe.

Then there are the words that are fueled with metaphorical urgency, short poems in their own right that often appropriated from other disciplines. Foucault used words like “genealogy” or “archeology” when some might think that “history” would be fine, and yet those words do something subtly different than the plodding narrative implied by the more prosaic word. With the former there is a sense of telling a story that connects ideas, trends, and themes within a causal network of familial relations, the latter recalls excavation and the revealing of that which remains hidden (or cursed). Deleuze and Guatari borrowed the term “rhizome” from botany, which originally described the complex branching of root systems, now reapplied to how non-hierarchical systems of knowledge propagate. “Rhizome” pays homage to something of beauty from a different way of understanding the world—it is not filching, it is honoring. The Italian Marxist Antonio Gramsci similarly borrowed the term “subaltern,” later popularized by Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, for whom it came to designate communities of colonized people who are simultaneously exoticized and erased by imperial powers. The word itself was a term used for junior officers in the British colonial service. Finally, I’m partial to “interiority” myself, used to denote fictional representations of consciousness or subjectivity. Yet “interiority,” with its evocation of a deep subterranean network or the domestic spaces of a many-roomed mansion, says something about consciousness that the more common word doesn’t quite.

My favorite critical jargon word, however, is “liminal.” All of us who work on academic Grub Street have their foibles, the go-to scholarly tics marking their prose like an oily fingerprint left on Formica. We all know the professor with their favored jargon turn (often accompanied by an equivalent hand movement, like an intricate form of Neapolitan), or the faculty member who might be taken to yelling out “Hegemonic!” at inopportune times. Thus, I can’t help but sprinkle my own favored term into my writing like paprika in Budapest goulash. My love for the word, used to designate things that are in-between, transitioning, and not quite formed, has less to do with its utility than with the mysterious sense of the sounds that animate it. It’s always been oddly onomatopoeic to me, maybe because it’s a near homophone to “illuminate,” and makes me think of dusk, my favorite time of day. When I hear “liminal” it reminds me of moonbeams and cicadas at sunset; it reminds me that the morning star still endures even at dawn. An affection for the term has only a little to do with what’s useful about it, and everything to do with that connotative ladder that stretches out beyond its three syllables. I suspect that when we love these words, this jargon, it’s an attraction to their magic, the uncanny poetry hidden behind the seemingly technocratic. The best of Theory exists within that liminal space, between criticism and poetry; justifying itself by recourse to the former, but always actually on the side of the latter—even if it doesn’t know it.

Image Credit: Wikipedia

Ed Simon is the Editor-at-Large for The Marginalia Review of Books, a channel of The Los Angeles Review of Books. A regular contributor at several different sites, his collection America and Other Fictions: On Radical Faith and Post-Religion will be released by Zero Books this year. He can be followed on Facebook, his website, or on Twitter at @WithEdSimon.

On Epigraphs

Andrew Tutt March 11, 2010 5 books mentioned 6 min read
Should epigraphs be thought of as part of the text, a sort of pre-modern, post-modern device, like tossing a newspaper clipping into the body narrative? Or are they actually a direct invitation by the author, perhaps saying, “Look here, for from this inspiration came this tale?”
Andrew Tutt 5 books mentioned 6 min read
  

In Defense of the Mom Book: Picks for Olive Kitteridge Fans

Edan Lepucki July 13, 2009 5 books mentioned 3 min read

In the comment section of our most recent The Millions Top Ten post, I wrote that Olive Kitteridge, this year’s Pulitzer Prize-winning collection of linked short stories by Elizabeth Strout, was beautiful and moving, and that it caught me by surprise. What surprised me, I guess, was that I liked it at all. I’d only read it because because of a book club – this is a group that pays me to attend and facilitate the discussion (not a bad gig!) – and I assumed Olive Kitteridge wasn’t for me. After all, it’s a collection of quiet stories either directly about, or tangentially related to, its eponymous character: a gruff, retired math teacher in Maine. In other words, it sounded like a “mom” book – a book meant for women older than me, women different from me. I’ve written about this phenomenon before:I catch myself viewing such books (written by women, and read mostly by women) as somehow not important or challenging enough, even though when I’ve given in and read, say, Ann Patchett’s Bel Canto, I’m met with something both ambitious and moving, and I need to check my attitude.I have a complicated relationship to this question of the Mom Book. It’s sexist, for one, as it assumes that mothers have uniform reading tastes, and that books that are popular among women are suddenly embarrassing, or not worthy of serious discourse. All untrue, obviously. I understand that these are my own weird beliefs and assumptions, and that I must be careful, as someday, I might be a mom, wearing my Mom Jeans, reading (and writing!) my Mom Books. I should be so lucky. For the record, my own mother reads everything from John Irving to Lisa See to Phillippa Gregory. She read Mason and Dixon. In hardcover. (From now on, I’m going to refer to Thomas Pynchon’s books as women’s fiction, and see what happens to his reputation.)I understand, after having read Olive Kitteridge, that it is a Mom Book, if a Mom Book is one that’s interested in the lives of women, and if it’s emotionally affecting. There’s also little irony in Olive Kitteridge, which is probably absent from a lot of Mom Books. If Strout’s book errs on the side of sentimentality once or twice, well, I can forgive that, because nowadays it’s easy to be ironic, detached, cynical, and merely intellectual. It’s harder to be lyrical without slipping into overly purple prose. It’s harder to write about feelings. And I guess, in the end, Mom Books want you to feel something.But I’m getting away from the original purpose of this post, which is to recommend other books to those Millions readers who enjoyed Olive Kitteridge (all you mothers out there!). Since writing reviews takes the fun out of reading for me – I can only handle the bookstore clerk’s “hand sell” recommendation model – I’ll say only this to those of you who haven’t yet read it: Strout has created a thoroughly flawed, compassionate, vulnerable, frustrating character. In the world of this book, people commit suicide (or don’t), they grow old and die on you, and your children grow up and leave you. The moments of connection between characters, or those connections that are recalled after-the-fact (which “day after day are unconsciously squandered”), are at once fleeting and immense. It’s a lovely book.Stories like “Pharmacy,” about Olive’s husband’s infatuation with his much younger employee, were reminiscent of Joan Silber’s work, for it covers time in the same efficient, fluid way. I recommend Silber’s Ideas of Heaven, which, like Olive Kitteridge, is a collection of stories linked by character (though not always the same one, and the eras and locations change.) Still, you’ll get that same zing! when a character from a previous story appears in the next one.Olive Kitteridge also reminded me of Alice Munro’s work. Like Munro, Strout values backstory; for her characters, the past resonates in the present, and shapes it. And like Munro’s work, Strout’s stories aren’t predictably structured. I often wasn’t sure where her tales were taking me; I’m not referring to plot – I mean that I was uncertain of a story’s purpose, of what it wanted to tell me about its characters and their lives, and maybe my own, until I’d reached its end. Alice Munro is the master of this kind of storytelling; it echoes what Flannery O’Connor once said, (and I’m paraphrasing), about good fiction having not abstract meaning, but experienced meaning. You’ve got to move through the stories in Olive Kitteridge if you want to be changed by them.And… let’s see…I’m trying to think of other writers whose work is similar to Elizabeth Strout’s, and I’m drawing a blank. This is a good thing, certainly. I will try to think of more… but first, I have to read Loving Frank for the aforementioned book club. Oy vey.

Edan Lepucki 5 books mentioned 3 min read
 
  
  

The Transcendent Power of Triangular Fiction

Chigozie Obioma February 20, 2017 5 books mentioned 5 min read

Like most other art forms, fiction has undergone many configurations over the years, but its core has remained, as always, the aesthetic pleasure of reading. When we read, we connect to the immaterial source of the story through its outstretched limbs. The “limb” or variants of it are what the writer has deemed fit for us to see, to gaze at and admire. It is not often the whole. But one of the major ways in which fiction has changed today — from the second half of the 20th century especially — is that most of its fiction reveals all its limbs to us all at once. Nothing is hidden behind the esoteric wall of mystery or metaphysics.

The writers who do well to divvy up their fiction into fractions of what is revealed to the reader are the writers who tend to achieve transcendence, which, according to Emmanuel Levinas is recognized “in the work of the intellect that aspires after exteriority.” In fiction, a form of art expressed through letters, exteriority in this sense approximates meaning. For the writer endures himself to turn that which is interior inside out for the reader to see. Writing, then, is an act of turning out that which is in. The triangular writer then is he who projects meaning relentlessly yet systematically to the reader, and in the process of which readers glimpse something else. And then, something else. They see a man standing on the top of a cliff about to descend to his death, but they also see a cause — perhaps a nation’s communist past — standing there, about to plunge to its end.

When, in a text written more than 2,000 years ago, a character says, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up again,” the percipient reader hears at least two things: (a) In keeping with His miracles to this point, the said temple could be destroyed and this man, Jesus, can raise it up again with his miraculous power; (b) Once one has read to the end of the gospel of Matthew, one understands that “the temple” in fact means the man himself. It is he who will be killed, and he who will be raised again. This multi-layered meaning is, in the biblical concept, necessary because of the spiritual property of the book, and hence deemed “exegetic.” But the writers of triangular fiction achieve this in their fiction too. This is because the “divvying up” into fractions or parts that eventually become one and whole often works to more than one level of interpretation. The works of fiction that achieve transcendence are those works that lend themselves to this multi-layered interpretation.

I believe that fiction should work on at least three levels of interpretation: The personal, the conceptual, and the philosophical. In other words, the shape of the core of great works of fiction must be triangular — it must be emotional, cerebral, and sublime.

The personal level of interpretation is that basic level where the story meets the reader at his most human level. I will prop up three novels by some writers of this kind of fiction, Toni Morrison (The Bluest Eye), Vladimir Nabokov (Lolita), and Chinua Achebe (Things Fall Apart).

A young black girl in Jim Crow America who desires blue eyes. We know such a child has existed, and probably still does, and we cringe at the futility and even folly of such a desire. But we cannot deny its unvarnished humanness. A middle-aged man who has a crushing desire for a young pubescent girl whom he names his “nymphet.” We appreciate the humanness of his lust, and are disturbed/moved by it. Or a pre-colonial strongman of an Igbo village who has risen through hard times and established himself, his small kingdom, his traditions, and all that exist within the boundaries of his compound — and even beyond — “with a strong hand,” and then an encounter with a group of foreigners destroys all of that and brings him to become the lowest among his kinsmen, an akalaogoli, who cannot be accorded the common honor of a burial.

We can understand these characters and their stories as the writers, Toni Morrison, Vladimir Nabokov, and Chinua Achebe have created them on this personal level. But we can see, too, that much more lies behind these personal stories. The marigolds blossom, desire the bleak sun, and die, and in their protracted destinies share equivalent fate with Pecola. We see that the lust that fuels and drives Humbert Humbert, the lust in which he is imprisoned, is revealed in the thickets of language in which he is caught. But the aggregate meaning of the entire enterprise stretches beyond the page to the authorial intention expressed in the account of the monkey who, on being given a paper and pencil and taught the human art of drawing, draws the first thing in its mind: the bars around its cage. From this bar, its existence is enclosed and constrained. It cannot leave it. Its desire to leave comes and dies, unfulfilled, in futility, until it again surrenders to the reality that it will remain imprisoned. This is the distinct quality of the lust that possesses, and eventually destroys, Humbert Humbert and Lolita.

In Things Fall Apart, we can see, too, the ascension and power that Okonkwo acquires, and its flourishing when, at its peak, he receives various titles, and even has his daughter wedded. Then, an internal crisis erupts within him and slowly tears him apart. As he breaks down because Nwoye, his first son, has joined the ranks of the enemy, we also see — simultaneously — the villagers of Umuofia trying to understand what to do with their own brothers who have joined the white man’s religion and ways, causing the tribe to fall part. It is at this point that it becomes clear that Okonkwo isn’t merely an individual; he is Umuofia, he is an entire civilization, and it is not he alone but everything that falls apart.

The marigold, the monkey, the village of Umuofia — these become philosophical images on which these writers have constructed the personal stories of individual characters. On these things and on the vested characters, these triangular writers make profound philosophical statements while carrying through with strong, engaging plots. They are able to achieve this synchrony of vision because of the conceptual layer of their narratives. Morrison’s introspection into the head of her primary character is matched with an unblinking gaze from the outside through a girl her age, in Claudia. Thus, we are looking into Pecola, and looking at her at the same time. Humbert Humbert’s story is itself caged in bars. The writer within the story has died by the time the story is being published, and thus cannot change or touch anything in the manuscript. He cannot answer for anything that has been said, nor make restitution for anything that may require restitution. And within the precincts of the story itself, he is enslaved by an effusive, unguarded language as fecund as a wasteful forest, within which he himself gets lost. It is an imbroglio that yields, nonetheless, affecting flights of lyricism and ambient prose. And on the man on whom a poor beginning had been bequeathed, his rise is chronicled through a third person voice that intermittently strays into the omniscient. We see the knife that tears him within as it slides through the civilization of the Igbo people.

It is thus too difficult to not say, most definitely, that these three novels — The Bluest EyeLolitaThings Fall Apart —were conceived because their writers had diligently set themselves “the design of rendering the work universally appreciable” according to Edgar Allan Poe. Poe provides in that seminal essay that he had hoped to achieve this by seeking to “contemplate” the “beautiful,” a literary esotericism reached only by focusing on the effect of that which inspires beauty, and not the commodity of the beautiful itself. This is because “when indeed, men speak of Beauty, they mean, precisely, not a quality, as is supposed, but an effect — they refer, in short, just to that intense and pure elevation of soul…”

This is the trajectory by which writers of triangular fiction approach literary truth. For, in their works, that which is personal is at the same time a philosophy, and at the same time a conceptual/artistic conceit. And as we read, we can not help but notice the transcendent power of triangular fiction.

Chigozie Obioma 5 books mentioned 5 min read
 

In Defense of Politics

 

In Defense of Politics

Boston Review · by Michael Gecan · October 30, 2020

Politics

The only antidote to despair over national politics will be to generate and expand new solutions at local, state, and regional levels.

October 31, 2020

Oct 31, 2020

10 Min read time

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The only antidote to despair over national politics will be to generate and expand new solutions at local, state, and regional levels.

If timing is everything, I’m in trouble. As a lifelong organizer with the Industrial Areas Foundation, I made a habit of instigating trouble for those who tried to exploit the leaders in the communities I worked with, but rarely made trouble for myself.

Can we retrieve and expand an appreciation of meaningful politics that is locally based and locally generated in a time of intense national polarization and division?

Yet now I am choosing to write a piece defending politics a few days before a national election roils the nation and troubles the world. This is a moment when the words ‘politics’ and ‘politicians’ are usually spoken as curses, smears, charges, indictments, not as descriptions, much less as constructive activities and urgent titles.

I’m also writing in another, albeit less immediate, shadow cast by a short book of approximately 270 pages written by the late British social critic Bernard Crick, In Defence of Politics. The book was first published in 1962, when the catastrophic shadows of the holocaust alongside the horrors of totalitarian fascism and communism were still the stuff of our daytime dread and our 2:00 a.m. nightmares.

I should say up front that Crick was a socialist. I am not a socialist—I never was and I never will be. Despite this obvious difference of opinion, Crick’s book remains one of the most penetrating and important critiques of ideology and ideologues. Even as Crick aligned himself with socialism, he simultaneously tried to convince his fellow socialists of the errors of their ways. I recommend his book to all of my fellow non-socialists, and even anti-socialists.

Crick’s book begins with a table of contents listing matters that politics, as he defines it, must be defended from: “ideology,” “democracy,” “nationalism,” “technology,” and “false friends.” These defenses come between an opening chapter on “The Nature of Political Rule” and a closing chapter titled “In Praise of Politics.”

Let me start with Crick’s definition of what politics is and what politics isn’t. He writes:

Politics is too often regarded as a poor relation, inherently dependent and subsidiary; it is rarely praised as something with a life and character of its own. Politics is not religion, ethics, law, science, history, or economics; it neither solves everything, nor is it present everywhere; and it is not any one political doctrine, such as conservatism, liberalism, socialism, communism, or nationalism, though it can contain elements of most of these things. Politics is politics, to be valued as itself, not because it is ‘like’ or ‘really is’ something else more respectable or peculiar. Politics is politics. The person who wishes not to be troubled by politics and to be left alone finds himself the unwitting ally of those to whom politics is a troublesome obstacle to their well-meant intentions to leave nothing alone… Politics arises from accepting the fact of the simultaneous existence of different groups, hence different interests and different traditions, within a territorial unit under a common rule… For politics represents at least some tolerance of different truths, some recognition that government is possible, indeed best conducted, amid open canvassing of rival interests. Politics are the public actions of free men, freedom is the privacy of men from public action.

• • •

About a year ago, I was sitting in the Bossard Library in the small river town of Gallipolis, Ohio. I had been exploring the possibility of working with local leaders in the region to create a new citizens power organization in a mostly rural corner of the state. In my travels, I had met interesting, complicated, innovative individuals trying to cope with the challenges of daily life—opioid addiction, decades of job loss, limited or no broadband access, lack of affordable housing, and, of course, others still. As a result of those meetings, the head of the library, Debbie Saunders, along with a small team of leaders that included an Episcopal priest, a specialist in addiction recovery, and an evangelical pastor, decided to host a meeting with other local institutional leaders to discuss the broadband issue. We reached out to one of the five Federal Communications Commission commissioners, Geoffrey Starks. He agreed to attend.

People with different beliefs can gather, engage, debate, and focus on a common challenge. This is the starting point from which meaningful change can occur.

So there we were, in the heart of Trump country, in a well-run and inviting local library, with about forty hospital administrators, school superintendents, librarians from seven counties, ministers, addiction service professionals, community college deans, and many others, discussing how to remedy the lack of broadband access in that region. The gathering was a textbook example of how people with “at least some tolerance of different truths, some recognition that government is possible” could gather, engage, debate, and focus on a common challenge. Geoffrey Starks is an African American man and a Democrat, appointed during the Obama administration. No one in that room cared. Nor did he care that the majority of people in that room, if polled, would have probably confessed to voting for Trump in 2016 and considering voting for him again in 2020.

This gathering, receiving no media attention, was “politics”—the public action of free women and men.

A month ago, about 2,000 leaders and members gathered virtually for an assembly sponsored by another Industrial Areas Foundation affiliate, New Jersey Together, to discuss issues of criminal justice reform, education, and affordable housing. The leaders of the group—among them Pentecostal bishop Dr. Joshua Rodriguez, Episcopal priest Rev. Laurie Wurm, Baptist pastor Dr. Alonzo Perry Sr., Lutheran minister Rev. Jessica Lambert, and housing leader Uche Akpa—had invited the five most powerful elected officials in the state. The two considered the most progressive—Governor Phil Murphy and U.S. Senator Cory Booker—did not attend. The three considered more moderate (and even conservative)—Senate President Steve Sweeney, Assembly Speaker Craig Coughlin and U.S. Senator Robert Menendez—all made appearances and responded to the discussions raised by the group.

So there we were in Biden country—in a virtual setting, with 2,000 residents of the state who represented almost every point on the political spectrum, with political figures who were not the darlings of the left or progressive wings of New Jersey—trying to find common ground on challenges that affected every resident who lost a driver’s license for a trivial reason, or who could not find an affordable home or apartment if making less than $100,000 a year, or who had a family member or friend trying to connect with society and find employment after a stint in jail. This, too, was “politics”—mixed, messy, unpredictable, and partial, sure, but also real—the base and starting point from which meaningful and long-term change could occur.

Two weeks ago, 1,000 leaders gathered virtually in East Brooklyn, New York. Last week, 3,000 leaders held a founding virtual assembly in Wake County, North Carolina. In November, 1,500 leaders will do the same thing in Queens, New York, followed in February by a similar number in Prince Georges County, Maryland. In every one of these gatherings, “different groups, hence different interests and different traditions” engaged with one another before expressing shared concerns to a set of elected officials. These gatherings are examples of “politics.” These gatherings are the public actions of free women and men.

• • •

In 2013 I wrote a piece about the history of radical education expansion and improvement in the United States. It began in the 1820s, when religious organizations founded a set of small colleges in the Midwest. These organizations were abolitionist, open to women, and creative in their melding of social values and pragmatic scientific and mechanical instruction. In the twentieth century, local communities founded and funded thousands of new high schools, followed by hundreds of community colleges. This produced a large part of the infrastructure of mass public education that we now take for granted—and it was locally supported and locally driven. The history of this institutional innovation and maintenance is largely hidden as well. Why? Perhaps because it simply does not conform to the ideological constructs of the market promoters or the progressive activists. Perhaps because it occurred, for the most part, in the center of the nation—the so-called fly-over states—not in the two coastal regions favored by the elites. Perhaps because it took so long to unfold, at least 150 years, that we simply don’t have a lens wide enough to take in the breadth and depth of these trends. Whatever the reason or reasons, this tendency to ignore the productive social work done by local U.S. leaders is dangerous. It’s as if the teaching of former House Speaker Tip O’Neill—that all politics is local—has been turned on its head. What is local is not perceived as real or meaningful politics; only that which happens on a national stage is really seen as politics.

There is a dangerous tendency to ignore the productive social work done by local U.S. leaders and to disregard local politics in favor of the national. But people do not have to choose between local and national politics.

Can we retrieve and expand an appreciation of meaningful politics that is locally based and locally generated in a time of intense national polarization and division?

This would require, in part, an act of faith in the capacity of people to relate to those unlike themselves, people with different interests and from different traditions. That is something that can only happen, in my opinion, on a local level, where people maintain relationships that are mixed by their religious, work, recreational, and neighborhood lives. This would also be based on the notion that good government, with all its limitations, is possible. This notion is best tested in local and regional settings, where there are more opportunities to hold public and private sector players accountable. Local politics would test the proposition that Crick’s “open canvassing of rival interests” could lead to better and more long-lasting solutions. And it would challenge the assumption that fundamental change occurs from the top down, rather than from the bottom up.

But people do not have to choose between local and national politics. Indeed, the events and leaders I mentioned earlier clearly have not. However, I would argue that the balance has radically shifted, in both traditional and social media, away from local social change toward a focus on national policy and personalities. That leaves most Americans divided into two corners—one group completely frustrated if the national outcome does not go its way, while the ‘winning’ group assumes that the new national leadership will ride to its rescue.

Finding a better balance would allow millions of Americans to engage in the practice of politics that Bernard Crick described as “a way of ruling in divided societies without undue violence… inventive, flexible, enjoyable, and human.” No matter what the outcome on November 3, the American people must draw on the long but hidden history of healthy, complicated political activity. They are still doing it today, although in not nearly enough places and less and less in the middle of the country, once the quiet innovator of constructive civic solutions.

If Joe Biden wins, this civic culture will still need to deepen and expand. Biden, like former President Obama, cannot generate this kind of politics alone—even if he wants to. If Trump wins, the only antidote to despair will be to generate and expand new solutions at local, state, and regional levels.

No matter what the outcome on November 3, the American people must draw on the long but hidden history of healthy, complicated political activity.

In short, no national figure or party can start or stop this kind of politics—the public actions of free women and men. But it will take two things to reinvigorate this politics. First, an act of profound civic irreverence—a weaning away from the assumption that Washington is and should be the center of all power and influence. Second, a new generation of pragmatic leaders who do not consider local politics as a “poor relation” to national political activity, but who reclaim it fully as U.S. civic politics.

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October 31, 2020

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