Major John J. Stonborough, a nephew of Ludwig Wittgenstein, wrote a damning review of W. W. Bartley's biography, Wittgenstein (Stonborough's review was 'Wittgenstein', The Human World, no. 14 [Feb. 1974]: 78-84). Stonborough said that Bartley and his publisher had "put out a book in which they pee on the graves of men whom honest and upright people admire and respect."
He labeled Bartley's book "a farrago of lies and poppycock." Bartley wore that last remark as a badge of honour, including it as a blurb on the back cover of the 2nd edition of his Wittgenstein biography (Open Court, 1986).
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Reflections on Der Schimmelreiter by Theodor Storm
I just read Denis Jackson's nice translation of Theodor Storm's Der Schimmelreiter (first published in 1888). For more about Storm, I recommend Jackson's great site about the author.
Storm’s novella contrasts two ways of responding to nature: there are the fanciful legends and superstitions of the community, and there is the more modern scientific and technological deployment of reason exemplified by the protagonist, Hauke Haien.
The story of Hauke’s life is told to a traveler by an old teacher, a ‘rationalist’ who doubts the supernatural elements of the tale. The teacher depicts Hauke as a great innovator whose engineering prowess gave him superior powers over nature, enabling him to design a better dyke to protect the community. The people repay Hauke with dark suspicion and rumors of his diabolical affiliation.
In the teacher's retelling of the story, the supposedly supernatural elements appear only ambiguously. So, e.g., there is a seemingly spectral horse, which is sold to Hauke by someone who laughs like ‘the devil’ (p. 72). But nothing much comes of this – the horse functions in the rest of the story like a natural though somewhat wild horse, one that only Hauke can tame (just as Hauke alone can tame the wild sea with better dykes). Then there's Trin Jans, who is presented not as a real witch but rather as ... well, as the sort of character who's a witch in more fanciful legends. There's also the suggestion that Hauke is cursed because he killed her cat (the cat came back, as it were). Thus, while the old teacher is aware of the supernatural aspects of the tale, he reigns them in to make them fit into a naturalistic interpretation.
The resulting narrative is in places quite eerie. Examples include the narrator's partly anthropomorphic characterization of some birds on the tidal flats (pgs. 22 & 99) and Trin Jans' uncanny story about a mermaid, which actually makes the mermaid seem terrifying, like something more and less than human (p. 98). In both cases the author embeds fragmentary human traits in what are ultimately strange, alien creatures that, like nature itself, efface humanity with a chilly indifference.
More generally, the tale charts a mundane landscape suffused with potentially supernatural elements that appear fleetingly in ambiguous forms, never quite surfacing as truly supernatural phenomena but, instead, appearing to be at home in the confines of nature. There is thus an ongoing juxtaposition of the world as (on the one hand) a natural order that fits the technical-scientific templates of reason and (on the other hand) a chaotic abyss from which wild, non-rational forces periodically erupt with cataclysmic effect.
These unpredictable natural forces find their echo within the human psyche. Hauke Haien, a paragon of reason, isn't alert to these destructive elements in his own soul, and so he's unaware of how they have eroded his own foundations over the years. Eventually, they catch him totally unawares, welling up from within and casting him into the abyss. Such a psychological reading is pursued in a meticulously Freudian direction by Anette Schwarz in her paper, “Social Subjects and Tragic Legacies: The Uncanny in Theodor Storm's Der Schimmelreiter” (The Germanic Review 73.3 [Summer 1998]: 251). Schwarz points out that neither Hauke nor his wife (Elke) has a mother who figures in the narrative (even though their fathers both loom large), and that Trin Jans stands in symbolically as the mother figure.
The most Freudian thing about Storm's novella, in my opinion, is its uncanniness. In describing the uncanny, Freud said that it characterizes fictional works that seem "to move in the world of common reality" but into which some strange, improbable or impossible events intrude. Freud focused on E. T. A. Hoffmann, but Storm's work seems a better epitome of Freud's theory.
Thomas Mann characterized Storm's achievement as "an art kind to the mystical and uncanny, the pagan northern art of [Der Schimmelreiter]. ... [I]t is precisely here ... that something of primeval power is finally achieved, some combination of human tragedy with the wild mystery of nature, something dark and heavy with the greatness and unknownness of the sea...." (Thomas Mann, 'Theodor Storm', 1930)
Update (Dec. 15, 2008): New York Review Books will re-issue James Wright's 1964 translation of this novella in early 2009. In their announcement of this upcoming publication, they quote from Kirkus Reviews the claim, "There is nothing better in German fiction prior to the work of Thomas Mann."
Storm’s novella contrasts two ways of responding to nature: there are the fanciful legends and superstitions of the community, and there is the more modern scientific and technological deployment of reason exemplified by the protagonist, Hauke Haien.
The story of Hauke’s life is told to a traveler by an old teacher, a ‘rationalist’ who doubts the supernatural elements of the tale. The teacher depicts Hauke as a great innovator whose engineering prowess gave him superior powers over nature, enabling him to design a better dyke to protect the community. The people repay Hauke with dark suspicion and rumors of his diabolical affiliation.
In the teacher's retelling of the story, the supposedly supernatural elements appear only ambiguously. So, e.g., there is a seemingly spectral horse, which is sold to Hauke by someone who laughs like ‘the devil’ (p. 72). But nothing much comes of this – the horse functions in the rest of the story like a natural though somewhat wild horse, one that only Hauke can tame (just as Hauke alone can tame the wild sea with better dykes). Then there's Trin Jans, who is presented not as a real witch but rather as ... well, as the sort of character who's a witch in more fanciful legends. There's also the suggestion that Hauke is cursed because he killed her cat (the cat came back, as it were). Thus, while the old teacher is aware of the supernatural aspects of the tale, he reigns them in to make them fit into a naturalistic interpretation.
The resulting narrative is in places quite eerie. Examples include the narrator's partly anthropomorphic characterization of some birds on the tidal flats (pgs. 22 & 99) and Trin Jans' uncanny story about a mermaid, which actually makes the mermaid seem terrifying, like something more and less than human (p. 98). In both cases the author embeds fragmentary human traits in what are ultimately strange, alien creatures that, like nature itself, efface humanity with a chilly indifference.
More generally, the tale charts a mundane landscape suffused with potentially supernatural elements that appear fleetingly in ambiguous forms, never quite surfacing as truly supernatural phenomena but, instead, appearing to be at home in the confines of nature. There is thus an ongoing juxtaposition of the world as (on the one hand) a natural order that fits the technical-scientific templates of reason and (on the other hand) a chaotic abyss from which wild, non-rational forces periodically erupt with cataclysmic effect.
These unpredictable natural forces find their echo within the human psyche. Hauke Haien, a paragon of reason, isn't alert to these destructive elements in his own soul, and so he's unaware of how they have eroded his own foundations over the years. Eventually, they catch him totally unawares, welling up from within and casting him into the abyss. Such a psychological reading is pursued in a meticulously Freudian direction by Anette Schwarz in her paper, “Social Subjects and Tragic Legacies: The Uncanny in Theodor Storm's Der Schimmelreiter” (The Germanic Review 73.3 [Summer 1998]: 251). Schwarz points out that neither Hauke nor his wife (Elke) has a mother who figures in the narrative (even though their fathers both loom large), and that Trin Jans stands in symbolically as the mother figure.
The most Freudian thing about Storm's novella, in my opinion, is its uncanniness. In describing the uncanny, Freud said that it characterizes fictional works that seem "to move in the world of common reality" but into which some strange, improbable or impossible events intrude. Freud focused on E. T. A. Hoffmann, but Storm's work seems a better epitome of Freud's theory.
Thomas Mann characterized Storm's achievement as "an art kind to the mystical and uncanny, the pagan northern art of [Der Schimmelreiter]. ... [I]t is precisely here ... that something of primeval power is finally achieved, some combination of human tragedy with the wild mystery of nature, something dark and heavy with the greatness and unknownness of the sea...." (Thomas Mann, 'Theodor Storm', 1930)
Update (Dec. 15, 2008): New York Review Books will re-issue James Wright's 1964 translation of this novella in early 2009. In their announcement of this upcoming publication, they quote from Kirkus Reviews the claim, "There is nothing better in German fiction prior to the work of Thomas Mann."
Monday, February 4, 2008
Breakfast at Tiffany's by Truman Capote
Truman Capote's novella differs significantly from the great movie that was based on it. I first saw the movie in my late adolescence, and it's the characteristics and insecurities of that time in life that the story reflects.
The two main characters are outsiders. They are Holly Golightly ('Traveling' her card says) and the nameless narrator. Unlike the movie, there's no romantic tie between the two. Their connection is an asexual friendship, which facilitates viewing the narrator, an aspiring writer, as being a gay writer (like the author). His homosexuality, in that day, establishes his outsider status, while Holly's is secured by the fact that she's from a dirt-poor background and works as a call-girl. Both seem to lack stable relationships.
These features enable Capote to capture that moment in life when one has left home but has yet to mold an adult identity. The main characters' identities are malleable and in a state of flux -- neither one is known by a real name, and while not literally homeless they inhabit merely temporary lodgings. Neither character has found a place in the world.
Capote captures a stage in life when social connections have a transitory feel, when the members of one's cohort are all on their way to some vaguely dreamed of future. While this stage has its moments of joie de vivre, it is also marked by friends and acquaintances who all too soon withdraw into their diverse futures.
The two main characters are outsiders. They are Holly Golightly ('Traveling' her card says) and the nameless narrator. Unlike the movie, there's no romantic tie between the two. Their connection is an asexual friendship, which facilitates viewing the narrator, an aspiring writer, as being a gay writer (like the author). His homosexuality, in that day, establishes his outsider status, while Holly's is secured by the fact that she's from a dirt-poor background and works as a call-girl. Both seem to lack stable relationships.
These features enable Capote to capture that moment in life when one has left home but has yet to mold an adult identity. The main characters' identities are malleable and in a state of flux -- neither one is known by a real name, and while not literally homeless they inhabit merely temporary lodgings. Neither character has found a place in the world.
Capote captures a stage in life when social connections have a transitory feel, when the members of one's cohort are all on their way to some vaguely dreamed of future. While this stage has its moments of joie de vivre, it is also marked by friends and acquaintances who all too soon withdraw into their diverse futures.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy
Fans of thrillers will be disappointed by Cormac McCarthy's No Country for Old Men. In fact, they are likely to take it as an affront. I believe that's what McCarthy intended. His message seems to have been, "I know the rules for writing a thriller. Here, let me show you how it's done. And once I've lured you in, I'll change gears and disappoint your expectations, because in the end I don't want to write a thriller."
The first 240 pages (roughly) read like a great thriller in which McCarthy artfully builds up the tension. He carefully stokes the reader's expectations, sweeping one along towards what must surely be a climactic showdown between good and evil. But then McCarthy deliberately smashes it all up. After so many pages of buildup, carefully building the tension and anticipation, he cuts straight from the buildup to approximately 60 pages of anti-climax.
This will leave some readers feeling that they've been misled or tricked. For McCarthy exploits the formulas of this genre to feed the expectation of a classic 'good vs. evil' confrontation. There's the bad-a$# special forces guy (Wells), the hardworking 'nam vet (Moss), the virtuous old sheriff (Bell, a member of the 'Greatest Generation'). But none of these guys get to face off against the arch villain in any satisfying way. They're all cast aside, shown up as being no match for the great evil, the man without a history, Anton Chigurh, who sweeps past them like they're just so many yapping dogs. The climactic fight between good and evil never happens.
The author's message is one of hopelessness and desolation. By the end, all the Sheriff can feel is defeat. There's a Biblical allusion in the penultimate sentence, where Bell dreams of his father making a fire "out there in all that dark and all that cold." I think this alludes to a line in the gospel of John (ch. 1, v. 5: "The light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not"). However, this image of hope is crumpled up and discarded by McCarthy. It's just an illusion, part of a dream from which Bell awakens.
I've heard some people complain that McCarthy is too 'preachy' in this novel, but that's true only if you identify his views with those of Sheriff Bell. Bell keeps criticizing the times he's living in, contrasting Texas in 1980 unfavourably with how things used to be. However, I don't take McCarthy to share that outlook; if anything, he subverts it with his references to past wars. E.g., Moss and Wells are Vietnam vets and Bell is a WWII vet. While talking to his uncle near the end of the book, Bell discusses a deceased relative who fought in WWI, and another relative who fought against, and was killed by, native Indians in the previous century. There's also a mention in that conversation of 'Coffee Jack', a 19th-Century Texas Ranger who fought against the Indians and the Mexicans. Indeed, that old war against the Mexicans seems to have continued in the form of the drug wars. Earlier in the book, another sheriff tells Bell that he'd just as soon give all this land back to the Mexicans.
In terms of the plot, there's no need for all these references to past wars. McCarthy throws them in to undermine Bell's nostalgia, the point being that violence and destruction are the way of the world, and that's how it's always been.
The first 240 pages (roughly) read like a great thriller in which McCarthy artfully builds up the tension. He carefully stokes the reader's expectations, sweeping one along towards what must surely be a climactic showdown between good and evil. But then McCarthy deliberately smashes it all up. After so many pages of buildup, carefully building the tension and anticipation, he cuts straight from the buildup to approximately 60 pages of anti-climax.
This will leave some readers feeling that they've been misled or tricked. For McCarthy exploits the formulas of this genre to feed the expectation of a classic 'good vs. evil' confrontation. There's the bad-a$# special forces guy (Wells), the hardworking 'nam vet (Moss), the virtuous old sheriff (Bell, a member of the 'Greatest Generation'). But none of these guys get to face off against the arch villain in any satisfying way. They're all cast aside, shown up as being no match for the great evil, the man without a history, Anton Chigurh, who sweeps past them like they're just so many yapping dogs. The climactic fight between good and evil never happens.
The author's message is one of hopelessness and desolation. By the end, all the Sheriff can feel is defeat. There's a Biblical allusion in the penultimate sentence, where Bell dreams of his father making a fire "out there in all that dark and all that cold." I think this alludes to a line in the gospel of John (ch. 1, v. 5: "The light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not"). However, this image of hope is crumpled up and discarded by McCarthy. It's just an illusion, part of a dream from which Bell awakens.
I've heard some people complain that McCarthy is too 'preachy' in this novel, but that's true only if you identify his views with those of Sheriff Bell. Bell keeps criticizing the times he's living in, contrasting Texas in 1980 unfavourably with how things used to be. However, I don't take McCarthy to share that outlook; if anything, he subverts it with his references to past wars. E.g., Moss and Wells are Vietnam vets and Bell is a WWII vet. While talking to his uncle near the end of the book, Bell discusses a deceased relative who fought in WWI, and another relative who fought against, and was killed by, native Indians in the previous century. There's also a mention in that conversation of 'Coffee Jack', a 19th-Century Texas Ranger who fought against the Indians and the Mexicans. Indeed, that old war against the Mexicans seems to have continued in the form of the drug wars. Earlier in the book, another sheriff tells Bell that he'd just as soon give all this land back to the Mexicans.
In terms of the plot, there's no need for all these references to past wars. McCarthy throws them in to undermine Bell's nostalgia, the point being that violence and destruction are the way of the world, and that's how it's always been.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Quotation Collage -- 'Vulgar Materialism'
Pierre Cabanis: "The brain secretes thought as the liver secretes bile." 1802
John Elliotson: "thought ... seems as much function of organ, as bile of liver." c. 1840
Karl Vogt: ‘The brain secretes thought as the stomach secretes gastric juices, the liver bile, and the kidneys urine.’ 1852
G. F. Stout: 'When we say that digestion is a function of the stomach, we mean that digestion is the stomach engaged in digesting. ... But if we describe the brain at work, there is no need to mention consciousness at all. ... If consciousness is supposed to be produced by the nervous process, the production is simply creation out of nothing.' 1899
Update (Oct. 19, 2009) -- John Searle: 'On the view of mental states adopted in this essay, mental states and processes are real biological phenomena in the world, as real as digestion, photosynthesis, lactation or the secretion of bile.' 1987
John Elliotson: "thought ... seems as much function of organ, as bile of liver." c. 1840
Karl Vogt: ‘The brain secretes thought as the stomach secretes gastric juices, the liver bile, and the kidneys urine.’ 1852
G. F. Stout: 'When we say that digestion is a function of the stomach, we mean that digestion is the stomach engaged in digesting. ... But if we describe the brain at work, there is no need to mention consciousness at all. ... If consciousness is supposed to be produced by the nervous process, the production is simply creation out of nothing.' 1899
Update (Oct. 19, 2009) -- John Searle: 'On the view of mental states adopted in this essay, mental states and processes are real biological phenomena in the world, as real as digestion, photosynthesis, lactation or the secretion of bile.' 1987
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Tillich & Kierkegaard on irony
I knew that Paul Tillich anticipated some of the recent expressions of dissatisfaction with pervasive irony (inspired by David Foster Wallace's critique [pdf]). I finally found the quote. Here it is:
"The word ‘irony’ means that the infinite is superior to any finite concretion and drives beyond to another finite concretion. The ego of the romantic in Schlegel’s sense is free from bondage to the concrete situation. … Romanticism drives beyond any particular actualization of the infinite in a finite situation. Now this romantic irony breaks through the sociological forms, for instance, … the idea of the family, … the political stability, etc. All these forms now become questionable. … [Irony] always says ‘no’ as well to a concrete solution to life’s problems. … But if this happens, then with the loss of concreteness a sense of emptiness sets in. Schlegel had the feeling that by undercutting the forms of life, the beliefs, the ethical ties to family, etc., a situation arises in which there is no content, no obligatory contents. This results in a feeling of emptiness with respect to the meaning of life. … It is this dissatisfaction with any concrete situation, this ironical undercutting of everything, not in terms of a direct revolutionary attack, and not in order to transform reality …, but in terms of questioning, undercutting, etc. …" -- Paul Tillich (History of Christian Thought, pp. 385-6)
Update: Tillich must have been influenced by Kierkegaard's critique of pure irony. Here are some relevant passages (with citations at end of post):
'In irony, however, since everything is shown to be vanity, the subject becomes free. The more vain everything becomes, all the lighter, emptier, and volatilized the subject becomes.' (pp. 258-8)
'[Pure] irony is no longer directed against this or that particular phenomenon, against a particular existing thing, but … the whole of existence has become alien to the ironic subject and the ironic subject in turn alien to existence, that as actuality has lost its validity for the ironic subject, he himself has to a certain degree become unactual.' (p. 259)
'In order for the acting individual to be able to accomplish his task by fulfilling actuality, he must feel himself integrated in a larger context, must feel the earnestness of responsibility, must feel and respect every reasonable consequence. Irony is free from this. It knows it has the power to start all over again if it so pleases; anything that happened before is not binding.' (p. 279)
'Boredom is the only continuity the ironist has.' (p. 285)
All quotes are from Kierkegaard’s The Concept of Irony, with continual reference to Socrates (ed. and trans. H. V. Hong and E. H. Hong [Princeton University Press, 1989]); quotes are taken from Brad Frazier, ‘Kierkegaard on the Problems of Pure Irony’ Journal of Religious Ethics, 32 (2004): 417-47.
"The word ‘irony’ means that the infinite is superior to any finite concretion and drives beyond to another finite concretion. The ego of the romantic in Schlegel’s sense is free from bondage to the concrete situation. … Romanticism drives beyond any particular actualization of the infinite in a finite situation. Now this romantic irony breaks through the sociological forms, for instance, … the idea of the family, … the political stability, etc. All these forms now become questionable. … [Irony] always says ‘no’ as well to a concrete solution to life’s problems. … But if this happens, then with the loss of concreteness a sense of emptiness sets in. Schlegel had the feeling that by undercutting the forms of life, the beliefs, the ethical ties to family, etc., a situation arises in which there is no content, no obligatory contents. This results in a feeling of emptiness with respect to the meaning of life. … It is this dissatisfaction with any concrete situation, this ironical undercutting of everything, not in terms of a direct revolutionary attack, and not in order to transform reality …, but in terms of questioning, undercutting, etc. …" -- Paul Tillich (History of Christian Thought, pp. 385-6)
Update: Tillich must have been influenced by Kierkegaard's critique of pure irony. Here are some relevant passages (with citations at end of post):
'In irony, however, since everything is shown to be vanity, the subject becomes free. The more vain everything becomes, all the lighter, emptier, and volatilized the subject becomes.' (pp. 258-8)
'[Pure] irony is no longer directed against this or that particular phenomenon, against a particular existing thing, but … the whole of existence has become alien to the ironic subject and the ironic subject in turn alien to existence, that as actuality has lost its validity for the ironic subject, he himself has to a certain degree become unactual.' (p. 259)
'In order for the acting individual to be able to accomplish his task by fulfilling actuality, he must feel himself integrated in a larger context, must feel the earnestness of responsibility, must feel and respect every reasonable consequence. Irony is free from this. It knows it has the power to start all over again if it so pleases; anything that happened before is not binding.' (p. 279)
'Boredom is the only continuity the ironist has.' (p. 285)
All quotes are from Kierkegaard’s The Concept of Irony, with continual reference to Socrates (ed. and trans. H. V. Hong and E. H. Hong [Princeton University Press, 1989]); quotes are taken from Brad Frazier, ‘Kierkegaard on the Problems of Pure Irony’ Journal of Religious Ethics, 32 (2004): 417-47.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Falling in love with an automaton
I revisited E. T. A. Hoffmann's The Sandman, which Freud discussed in his paper on the uncanny. Written in the early 1800's, Hoffmann's tale anticipates more recent fiction involving automata. E.g., in The Sandman, a character falls in love with Olympia, whom he then discovers to be a robot. Freud notes that this strand of the narrative isn't the source of the story's uncanniness, and that, if anything, Hoffmann puts the automaton to a humorous, satirical use. E.g., once Olympia is exposed, Dr. Spalanzani, one of her designers, has to flee to "escape a criminal charge of having fraudulently imposed an automaton upon human society," a crime that sows "an absurd mistrust of human figures." Indeed, to be sure they're not dating robots, men start requiring their girlfriends to demonstrate their human imperfection by singing and dancing out of time, which is a very different male response from the one in Ira Levin's The Stepford Wives (where the realization that one is dealing with an automaton is uncanny). A similar motif animates one of the best episodes in the 1960's TV series The Outer Limits. This 1964 episode, 'Demon With a Glass Hand' (written by Harlan Ellison & starring Robert Culp), presents a woman's response to the discovery that she's fallen for an automaton -- she screams and runs away.Update (Sept. 26, 2009): According to this Wiki article on the 'Uncanny Valley', real automata inspire only revulsion.
Update (Sept. 27, 2009): Unsurprisingly, there's also an old Twilight Zone episode featuring a relationship between a human person and a automaton. It's called 'The Lonely'.
Update (Oct. 4, 2009): And of course there's a Star Trek episode (from the original series) to be cited. It's called 'What are little girls made of?' It featured several 'androids', the best one of which was the obvious robot, Ruk (who was played by the same guy who played Lurch in the Addams Family).
Me here and there on web
My academic website includes my publications and conference papers.
I have a list of neat philosophical quotations, as well as a minimal YouTube location (which consists mostly of my favourite music videos).
I have a catalogue of my books online along with some reviews. I have additionally posted at Chapters/Indigo some reflections on books that I've read (generally not the philosophy books). Also, I'm on Amazon, Tumblr and LiveJournal.
My doctoral dissertation is accessible via the National Library of Canada's site. A couple of on-line articles that I co-authored with Andrew Brook are available here and there.
Here's a comment of mine on how to interpret Gilbert Ryle (at B. Weatherson's blog, Thought Arguments and Rants), as well as a comment on causal overdetermination at the same blog.
Finally, here's me speaking up for Jaspers and Dilthey at Brian Leiter's blog (Leiter Reports).
I have a list of neat philosophical quotations, as well as a minimal YouTube location (which consists mostly of my favourite music videos).
I have a catalogue of my books online along with some reviews. I have additionally posted at Chapters/Indigo some reflections on books that I've read (generally not the philosophy books). Also, I'm on Amazon, Tumblr and LiveJournal.
My doctoral dissertation is accessible via the National Library of Canada's site. A couple of on-line articles that I co-authored with Andrew Brook are available here and there.
Here's a comment of mine on how to interpret Gilbert Ryle (at B. Weatherson's blog, Thought Arguments and Rants), as well as a comment on causal overdetermination at the same blog.
Finally, here's me speaking up for Jaspers and Dilthey at Brian Leiter's blog (Leiter Reports).
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