The Waste Land

The Waste Land by T. S. Eliot is one of my favorite pieces of literature.  I always have trouble knowing what to call it: it's a book because published as a standalone, a poem of course, but it seems so much more than any one thing.  It is a volume of history, a sociological treatise, a psychological case study, an apologia, autobiography, mythology....a library of its own, in short.  The mystery of it amazes.

Earlier this year I underwent a series of tests for some rather annoying medical problems.  Through the process I was aware that my symptoms were consistent with a rather troubling possible diagnosis, but I did an excellent job (if I do say so myself) of compartmentalizing this and ignoring the possibilities.  However, on the morning of one of the more worrisome tests, I finally said to myself as I got dressed in the dark, "I might find out today that I am dying."  (I realize that we are all dying, but you know what I mean.)

I am a person who likes to think in logistics.  If there is a problem, I don't want to sit around and have feelings about it, I just want a plan for dealing with it.  So when considering my own potential demise, I mentally checked off children (life insurance--check), spouse (young--will move on; also life insurance--check); dog (will whine but will eventually find someone in the house to feed him--check).  Felt rather good about that checklist.  All in order.  But...

"I'll have to change my calendar for 3rd quarter.  I'd want to teach The Waste Land one more time before I die."  That was it, my great existential crisis.  One more time to teach The Waste Land.  One more time to read The Waste Land.   An upsetting thought. 

But I guess that's true of all of the books we live with and love.  Just like people, you never know when you won't get to read them again.  Imagine, the last time to read Jane Eyre or Pride and Prejudice or 100 Years of Solitude.  Or whatever your personal favorite is.  (I once knew a man who read The Old Man and the Sea every single year.  There's no accounting for tastes.)  It made me realize what a privilege each reading is and how, just like people, we sometimes take our favorite book for granted.  Forget to give it the attention it's due.  So if you have an old favorite you haven't visited with in a while, give yourself the pleasure of rereading it soon.  Savor it.  Remind yourself why it was (and is) so special to you.  I will be reading The Waste Land with a new eye this year.  I can hardly wait.

Heart of Darkness

I was discussing Heart of Darkness today, specifically the second section.  One of the ideas we were taken with was the idea of the half-caste employee of Kurtz and Kurtz's role as a half-caste himself, in a sense, half English and half French with all of the attendant conflict in culture and religion that that would entail to a 19th century reader.  This led to a discussion of historical and literary half-castes, Hitler and Voldemort in particular. 

I thought it was so interesting that this idea of otherness could create such an inner conflict.  We always think of the other and prejudice as exterior effects, but it seems to be a truth of contemporary literature that the conflict is internalized, to the great detriment of the one who experiences that feeling.  His own sense of internal conflict therefore is externalized and results in the victimization of the side of himself that he sees as alien or blameworthy.

Perhaps it is that sense of self-alienation in Conrad that makes him so contradictory and makes a coherent reading of him so difficult.  Achebe sees him as a racist while Clifford sees him as an anthropologist.  Can they both be right?  I would argue that they can, because Conrad is, like many of our greatest writers, such a contrarian and such a conundrum, so complex and so incapable of definition.  Eliot is similar--a man of depth and faith and startling erudition who abandoned his wife and espoused pro-Nazi views, a god as a poet and a devil as a person. 

I always say that great works of literature tell you far more about yourself than about the characters in the story.  It is what you bring to the story and to your reading of it that matters.  This is always my experience with Heart of Darkness.  It is so hard to read because it is so ineffable, resists answers, resists moralizing.  However, it is that complexity that makes it worth reading again and again.

The Hero's Adventure

For an overview of Campbell's ideas on the Hero, I looked at Chapter V of The Power of Myth.  This book is a conversation between journalist Bill Moyers and Campbell, and was published shortly after Campbell's death.  If you like the book, I would strongly recommend the DVD as well.  It is charming and both men are obviously so fond of each other.  Moyers is rather a fanboy, which is cute for someone of his stature.  It's nice to think that no matter who you are, there's someone you can look up to.

Campbell develops the idea of the hero as an analog for the journey of life.  Moyers asks, "Why are there so many stories of the hero in mythology?" and Campbell replies, "Because that's what's worth writing about."  I think that one of the things we forget, especially those of us who read and analyze literature at a high level, is that, ultimately, the author is trying to convey to us some truth about life, some piece of wisdom.  For me, that is the disconnect of post-modern literature.  Because it sees so little of truth left in the world, it fails to connect to the deep yearning for meaning and understanding.  As Campbell sees it, the hero's journey, whatever its initial purpose, is always ultimately a spiritually transcendent experience.  He refers to childbirth as a heroic journey.  To motherhood as a heroic journey.  Moving out of the known and out of convention in order to undertake a transformative journey.  

One of my favorite Campbell quotes starts this chapter: "Furthermore, we have not even to risk the adventure alone, for the heroes of all time have gone before us.  The labyrinth is thoroughly known.  We have only to follow the thread of the hero path, and where we had thought to find an abomination, we shall find a god.  And where we had thought to slay another, we shall slay ourselves.  Where we had thought to travel outward, we will come to the center of our own existence.  And where we had thought to be alone, we will be with all the world."

I hope that as you go through the day, you will find the hero in you.  Whatever your road of trials, know that there is a purpose and, hopefully, an apotheosis as well.  Campbell would say there is no "hopefully" about it.  This is the pattern.  It has been foretold.

Archetypal Theory

I think one of the most foundational works of literary analysis is archetypal theory.  Joseph Campbell developed this view of literary traditions across times and cultures and it really does seem to help organize the major works I've read.  The Hero's Journey, which is the particular archetype dealt with in THTF gives a fairly good shorthand for thinking about characters.

More than this, though, Campbell is really positing that these archetypal patterns are or can be a way of viewing the world.  It brings order to the chaos of daily life in a way that other analytical theories don't do.  Over the next few days I hope to look at this book and the different stages of the Hero's Journey to see what Campbell saw as well as to see how this book might help us all to bring a little more order to our lives.  (Or at least the illusion of order, which is a rather lovely thing, too.)

Welcome to The Bookmarm

I'm glad you've decided to stop in.  I love reading, writing, and talking about reading and writing.  Hopefully this will be a good place to come and think about books both new and old.