D a l l a s R o b b i n s

With Shit Like This...

People still get away with writing shit like this?  That seems to be the real tragedy.

"...that the repeated use of “flickering irony,” a doubtfully heard meaning which destabilizes the secure knowingness of the audience, combined with the precarious ironization of everyday words within a temporality of gradual and fragile recognition of the buried life of ordinary language, creates a peculiarly Sophoclean world of discomforted exchange, a world that contrasts both with the fierce, self-implicating metaphoricity of Aeschylus and with the pathetic interplay of cliché, reversal, and rhetorical self-awareness in Euripides. A more nuanced and more worrying Sophoclean irony, if you will."

More, if you dare.   

The mystery of unbelief...

James Wood, an avowed atheist and one of the best literary critics currently working, in a recent lecture tackles the New Atheism's simplistic explaination of religious belief.  Instead he encourages fiction as a better vehicle to explore the nuanced way belief and unbelief actually work in the lives of real people.  Good stuff.

Part of the weakness of current theological warfare is that it is premised on stable, lifelong belief – each side congealed into its rival (but weirdly symmetrical) creeds. Likewise, in contemporary politics, the worst crime you can apparently commit is to change your mind. Yet people's beliefs are often not stable, and are fluctuating. We are all flip-floppers. Our "ideas" may be rather as Woolf imagined consciousness, a flicker of different and self-annulling impressions and convictions...

An essay or work of polemic finds it hard to describe the texture of such fluctuation, whereas the novelist understands that to tell a story is to novelise an idea, to dramatise it. There is no need to make a tidy solution of belief; to the novelist, a messy error might be much more interesting.

I would agree to a certain extant.  In fact I may even go furthur, and suggest that great fiction helps explain the complexity of human nature and offers much wisdom in understanding our world and the people in it, more so than traditional non-fiction narratives.   What say you?

 

With Teachers Like These, Who Needs Enemies?

Another incisive essay about the decline of English depapartments. 

What are the causes for this decline? There are several, but at the root is the failure of departments of English across the country to champion, with passion, the books they teach and to make a strong case to undergraduates that the knowledge of those books and the tradition in which they exist is a human good in and of itself. What departments have done instead is dismember the curriculum, drift away from the notion that historical chronology is important, and substitute for the books themselves a scattered array of secondary considerations (identity studies, abstruse theory, sexuality, film and popular culture). In so doing, they have distanced themselves from the young people interested in good books.

I think that most of these type of essays have really great points, being myself averse to theory-dominated textual "studies".  But while much can be gained from the minority who are critical of the status quo, who is trailblazing new solutions for the future?  What solutions are there?

Books for Christmas!

 To me there is nothing better than getting books for Christmas.  Here's the skinny on what I received this year.  (Friends are awesome!)

Pen of Iron: The simple yet grand language of the King James Bible has pervaded American culture from the beginning--and its powerful eloquence continues to be felt even today. In this book, acclaimed biblical translator and literary critic Robert Alter traces some of the fascinating ways that American novelists--from Melville, Hemingway, and Faulkner to Bellow, Marilynne Robinson, and Cormac McCarthy--have drawn on the rich stylistic resources of the canonical English Bible to fashion their own strongly resonant styles and distinctive visions of reality. Showing the radically different manners in which the words, idioms, syntax, and cadences of this Bible are woven into Moby-Dick, Absalom, Absalom!, The Sun Also Rises, Seize the Day, Gilead, and The Road, Alter reveals the wide variety of stylistic and imaginative possibilities that American novelists have found in Scripture. At the same time, Alter demonstrates the importance of looking closely at the style of literary works, making the case that style is not merely an aesthetic phenomenon but is the very medium through which writers conceive their worlds.

 

What Even Happened to Modernism: The quality of today’s literary writing arouses the strongest opinions. For novelist and critic Gabriel Josipovici, the contemporary novel in English is profoundly disappointing—a poor relation of its groundbreaking Modernist forebears. This agile and passionate book asks why.

Modernism, Josipovici suggests, is only superficially a reaction to industrialization or a revolution in diction and form; essentially, it is art coming to consciousness of its own limits and responsibilities. And its origins are to be sought not in 1850 or 1800, but in the early 1500s, with the crisis of society and perception that also led to the rise of Protestantism. With sophistication and persuasiveness, Josipovici charts some of Modernism’s key stages, from Dürer, Rabelais, and Cervantes to the present, bringing together a rich array of artists, musicians, and writers both familiar and unexpected—including Beckett, Borges, Friedrich, Cézanne, Stevens, Robbe-Grillet, Beethoven, and Wordsworth. He concludes with a stinging attack on the current literary scene in Britain and America, which raises questions about not only national taste, but contemporary culture itself.

 

The Word Exchange: The dazzling variety of Anglo-Saxon poetry brought to life by an all-star cast of contemporary poets in an authoritative bilingual edition. Encompassing a wide range of voices-from weary sailors to forlorn wives, from heroic saints to drunken louts, from farmers hoping to improve their fields to sermonizers looking to save your soul—the 123 poems collected in The Word Exchange complement the portrait of medieval England that emerges from Beowulf, the most famous Anglo-Saxon poem of all. Offered here are tales of battle, travel, and adventure, but also songs of heartache and longing, pearls of lusty innuendo and clear-eyed stoicism, charms and spells for everyday use, and seven "hoards" of delightfully puzzling riddles.

Featuring all-new translations by seventy-four of our most celebrated poets—including Seamus Heaney, Robert Pinsky, Billy Collins, Eavan Boland, Paul Muldoon, Robert Hass, Gary Soto, Jane Hirshfield, David Ferry, Molly Peacock, Yusef Komunyakaa, Richard Wilbur, and many others—The Word Exchange is a landmark work of translation, as fascinating and multivocal as the original literature it translates.

 

"There are some Russians who think Dostoevsky wrote badly..."

 

If you read any Russian literature, you have certainly come across the names Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky, those tireless translators, who also happen to be husband and wife.  I first came upon them when their translation of The Brothers Karamozov was released back in the early 1990s.  It was one of the most transendent reading experiences I've had. If you have not heard much about them, here's a New Yorker article that will get you up to speed.

Just wanted to point your direction over to Lapham's Quarterly, who has an interview with them in their "podcast" series.  The occassion is on the recent release of their new translation of Doctor Zhivago by Boris Pasternak, but they talk about all kinds of things, including the myth that Dostoevsky's prose style was poor.  And they even openly consider House of the Dead by Dostoevsky as their next project.  Great interview with some of the best literary minds of our time.

Here's a direct link to the audio. 

William Blake's America

When I tell people that I read a lot, and that what I read is usually prose written before the last century (though not all of course), I sometimes get the question, "are you taking a class?"  To keep it simple  I answer "no, I just like to read."  The usual comeback I get is "why?"  Why indeed!

Usually people are tied up in their busy lives to take a break and enjoy the pleasure of literature.  I don't blame them.  They do what they know.  And if they "really" want to know what's going on in the world, they'll turn on the cable news talking heads, watch the latest blockbuster smash-fest, or veg out to the latest episode of big brothers dancing with stars on a island.  They do what they know, but it is unfortunate. 

But if the person who asks me "why" really wanted to understand their lives, society, politics, war, death, or life, it would always serve one to look into the wells of literature.  I was reminded of this as I took in the election coverage last night, thinking to myself nothing new is under the sun.  The political sound bites, the manipulative cant, the cable commentary, has already been done to death a thousand times before, and offers me no real wisdom regarding the state of our union, or the character of the nation.  (Though it does provide plenty of easily ridculed personalites.)   I think it's simply beyond the grasp of news-makers, who sole purpose is to report any story that garners the most attention (regardless of accuracy or honesty), thereby increasing their bottom-line commercial ad-revenue.

So, I was pleased this morning to come across an essay by Mark Edmundson on William Blake's poem London and what it can tell us about ourselves, today in America.  From the beginning,

Sometimes you need some help to see what's directly in front of you: It's often the most difficult thing to see. Looking for a compressed vision of the state of America now, I'm inclined to turn not to any of our esteemed journalist-pundits or renowned public intellectuals but in the direction of the poet William Blake, who did his work 200 years ago.

If he were to recast "London," probably his best-known poem, for the uses of the present, he might be inclined to retitle it "New York" or "Washington" and update some of the diction. Other than that, I'm not sure that he would have to change all that much. Grandly, shockingly, the poem reveals us to ourselves.

Though I don't agree with everything in the essay, I encourage you to read the full piece.  It is well worth taking the time to think it over.  And maybe, just maybe, next time you want to get the low down on the latest "thing that's happening", instead of turning on the idiot box, maybe consider turning to a novel or poem that has lasted beyond it's moment, which may tell us more about ours lives than any pundit can profer.  Doing so can bring pleasures that our social media complex can only dream of.

What to read something disturbingly frightening for Halloween?

Everyone loves Peter Pan.  It’s a perennial childhood favorite, in books, plays, musicals, songs, art, films, the list could go on.  The recent film Finding Neverland in which J.M Barrie, Peter Pan’s creator, is played with the romantic charm of Johnny Depp, leaves the audience with a story of hope, imagination, and tenderness.  Mr. Barrie must have been such a wonderful person, and George Davies, the boy who inspired Peter Pan, what a plum lucky kid he must have been.

Awhile back I was browsing in the a local book store and came across Neverland: J. M. Barrie, The Du Mauriers, and the Dark Side of Peter Pan by Piers Dungeon.  After reading just the first few pages, I was gripped by a story I was not aware of.  Not enough cash on me at the moment, I went to the library to pick up a copy.  I hate to parrot a cliché, but I literarily could not put this book down, until . . .  well I’ll get to that later.  But here is the scope of the book,

 From Michael Dirda at the Washington Post:

There might be scarier books this Halloween season, but it's unlikely that any will be as luridly creepy as "Neverland." Even if you already know a little about the sinister background of J.M. Barrie's classic play, "Peter Pan," you will be in for a shock. In these pages Piers Dudgeon presents a multi-generational history of psychological domination and submission, unnatural family relations, predatory abuse and suicide. He also connects three great works of the popular imagination: George du Maurier's late-19th-century bestseller "Trilby" -- the novel in which the evil Svengali, through hypnosis, transforms a beautiful tone-deaf girl into a singing sensation but in the process destroys her soul; J.M. Barrie's death-haunted "Peter Pan," once titled "The Boy Who Hated Mothers"; and Daphne du Maurier's Gothic romance about spiritual possession, "Rebecca."

This book delves into the family histories of several people, exploring the fateful moments, deliberate manipulations, and pernicious abuse that occurred over decades, in which these literary creations were born from.  Even D.H. Lawrence once said after the passing of one Sylvia’s boys Michael, "J.M. Barrie has a fatal touch for those he loves. They die."  And I thought Lewis Carroll was a little creepy – he apparently can’t hold a stick to J.M. Barrie.

And it is not an easy read.  After reading for a couple days and getting to the midway point to the book, it had a dark disturbing effect on me.  I didn’t sleep well.  I would become slightly nauseous thinking about it during the day.  I think I even had a nightmare.  It was simply a grisly reading experience.  So after about halfway through, I had to force myself to stop.  I may one day go back and finish it, but at that moment I just couldn’t go on.  It seemed like a tragedy without any possible catharsis.  (The only other time I had to stop reading a book due to sleepless nights and disturbing dreams is Whitley Strieber's Communion, but that's another story for next Halloween.)

And while Dungeon’s exploration probably reveals more truth than not, it is a little on the sensationalist side.  Since I am not an expert in the area of Edwardian children's literature and literary scene, I'm unsure which historical arguments are tenuous and which are more grounded.  The book has been criticised for being too high on emotion and low on some particular details.  But even if half of what is revealed in this book is accurate, it’s tragedy enough.  

Regardless, I highly recommend this book.  It reveals very interesting aspects of later Victorian and early Edwardian culture and customs.  It gave me a deeper respect of Daphne duMaurier as a writer and turned me on to her short story collection, Don’t Look Now.  But most importantly it reveals a story that needs to be told.  Hopefully another writer in the future will expand on Dungeon’s good work, correcting his mishpas, while having a more academic approach.  Even so, it couldn’t be no less disturbing a story than before, and is one helluva frightening read for Halloween.  As one critic has summarized, "I defy you not to be captivated."

The Book of Genesis Illustrated by R. Crumb

In the latest Sunstone, a special comics-themed issue, I have contributed a review of R. Crumb's The Book of Genesis.  An excerpt::

With his singular artistic vision, Crumb, godfather of the “underground comix” movement during the late-60s and 70s, has inspired literally thousands of comic artists.  Having such characters as Mr. Natural, Devil Girl, Felix the Cat, and Joe Blow, his comic stories didn’t simply push the boundaries of good taste, they ignored them.  Many of his stories are filled with pornographic perversities, earthy obsessions, racial stereotypes, social satire, or just plain indecent fun where censorship is the only offense. With such a long history of unscrupulous sequential art, Crumb’s turn to Genesis may seem odd.  But in the introduction, Crumb shares what attracted his drawing pen to the first book of Moses,

“…I, ironically, do not believe the Bible is “the word of God.”  I believe it is the words of men. It is, nonetheless, a powerful text with layers of meaning that reach deep into our collective consciousness, our historical consciousness, if you will.  It seems indeed to be an inspired work, but I believe that its power derives from its having been a collective endeavor that evolved and condensed over many generations…”

One of Crumb’s primary sources on Genesis, Robert Alter, provides additional reasons for the irreligious to take the book seriously,

 “Nowhere else in ancient literature have the quirkiness and unpredictability of individual character[s?] and the frictions and tensions of family life--sibling rivalry, the jealousy of co-wives, the extravagance of parental favoritism--been registered with such subtlety and insight.”

To read the full review pick up an issue of Sunstone today.  There's lots of good stuff in this one.

Re-Creating the Bible

 
In the latest issue of Dialogue, I have a review of The FOB Bible.  From the intro:

Lately the Bible has been getting a bum rap. Christopher Hitchen's calls it a “nightmare,” and blames it for much of humanity’s suffering - everything from sexism to genocide.  At the same time, literalist approachs to the Bible has produced narrow theology and tendecious unscientific speculation.  With these sorts of extremes touted by reductionist pundits and preachers, people are left with a false dichotomy of Biblical proportions.  Historian of religion Karen Armstrong reminds contemporary readers that, “…many modern assumptions about the Bible are incorrect.  The Bible did not encourage slavish conformity…From the first, the Biblical authors contradicted each other and their conflicting visions were all included by the editors in the final text.”

Pick up a copy to read the full review.

Frank Kermode, dead at 90

Frank Kermode, one of the greatest literary critics and scholars, has died in Cambridge at the age of 90.  I'm sad.

From his publisher Alan Samson,

"He's probably the greatest literary conversationalist I've ever known - it wasn't just the lectures and the monographs and the books, it's the fact that just talking about a writer he'd say incredibly pithy, intelligent things which would prompt you to go and read them again . . . He knew he had exceptional gifts, but there was a modest manner about him. He knew he was smarter than everyone else, but he was this pipe-smoking, beguiling man who listened to what you had to say ... It's the wreath of pipe smoke, and the benign smile and wisdom, which I'm really going to miss."

If you have never read Kermode, please do yourself a favor.