19 August 2008
March 3, 1964
"I feel that I've just about exhausted everybody's patience with delays and alterations, but, as I told Miss Athill I've always known that this book must be done as well as I could - (no margin of error) or it would be unconvincing. I reckon that I've spent about two and a half years on it. Working steadily I mean. Stopping so often was just bad luck ..." (Wyndham and Melly, 253).
March 27, 1964
"But have finally settled on Rio. It would be so lovely not understanding what anybody said - and I haven't a word of Portuguese. I've always wondered why people want to - so much better not. Very peaceful, I think." (256). (regarding a trip)
"I'm not mad keen on the title but all the others I think of like 'Solitaire' which is the French for our Mountain Whistler, or 'Before the Break of Day' or 'Speak for me' aren't attractive or they are 'used' or have the wrong number of letters (very superstitious about that)." (257). (regarding the title of the book, which at that time, was not yet Wide Sargasso Sea)
April 14, 1964
"Now about the book - I was rather down with this and that, so flew to writing poems. This I've always done (aged 12 or 10 when I started)" (261).
She wrote four, but one of them helped her finish the book. She included it in her letter after a long explanation. Here is the poem:
A night I seldom remember
(If it can be helped)
The night I saw Love's dark face
Was Love's dark face
"And cruel as he is"? I've never known that
I've tried my best you may be certain (whoever asks)
My human best
If the next morning as I looked at what I'd done
(He was watching us mockingly, used to these games)
If I'd stared back at him
If I'd said
"I was a god myself last night
I've tamed and changed a wild girl"
Or taken my hurt darling in my arms
(Conquered at last. And silent. Mine)
Perhaps Love would have smiled then
Shown us the way
Across that sea. They say it's strewn with wrecks
Few dare it, fewer still escape
But we, led by smiling Love
We could have sailed
Reached a safe harbour
Found a sweet, brief heaven
Lived our short lives
But I was both sick and sad
(Night always ends)
She was a stranger
Wearing the mask of pain
Bearing the marks of pain -
I turned away - Traitor
Too sane to face my madness (or despair)
Far, far too cold and sane
Then Love, relenting
Sent clouds and soft rain
Sent sun, light and shadow
To show me again
Her young face waiting
Waiting for comfort and a gentler lover?
(You'll not find him)
A kinder loving? Love is not kind
I would not look at her
(Once is enough)
Over my dead love
Over a sleeping girl
I drew a sheet
Cover the stains of tears
Cover the marks of blood
(You can say nothing
That I have not said a thousand times and one
Excepting this - That night was Something Else
I was Angry Love Himself
Blind fierce avenging Love - no other that night)
"It's too strong for Beke"
The black woman said
Love, hate, or jealousy
Which had she seen?
She knew well - the Devil!
- What it could mean
How can I forget you Antoinette
When the spring is here?
Where did you hide yourself
After that shameless, shameful night?
And why come back? Hating and hated?
Was it Love, Fear, Hoping?
Or (as always) Pain?
(Did you come back I wonder
Did I ever see you again?)
No. I'll lock that door
Forget it. -
The motto was "Locked Hearts I open
I have the heavy key"
Written in black letters
Under a Royal Palm Tree
On a slave owner's gravestone
"Look! And look again, hypocrite" he says
"Before you judge me"
I'm no damn slave owner
I have no slave
Didn't she (forgiven) betray me
Once more - and then again
Unrepentant - laughing?
I can soon show her
Who hates the best
Always she answers me
I will hate last
Lost, lovely Antoinette
How can I forget you
When the spring comes?
(Spring is cold and furtive here
There's a different rain)
Where did you hide yourself
After the obeah nights?
(What did you send instead?
Hating and hated?)
Where did you go?
I'll never see you now
I'll never know
For you left me - my truest Love
Edward Rochester or Raworth
Written in Spring 1842
April 28, 1964
"I have tried to show this man being magicked by the place which is (or was) a lovely, lost and magic place but, if you understand, a violent place. (Perhaps there is violence in all magic and all beauty - but there - very strong) magicked by the girl - the two are mixed up perhaps to bewildered English gent, Mr R, certain that she's hiding something from him. And of course she is. Her mad mother. (Not mad perhaps at all) So you see - when he gets this letter all blows sky high. And so - I've fixed up the letter, written in his interview with Daniel whom Mr R detests but believes. (Why) I could guess that too I think - because he wants to - that's why .... The slant has been altered. It is not so tame - that's all. Additions do it .... The love drink on Obeah Night merely releases all the misery, jealousy and ferocity that has been piling up in Mr R for so long. He pretends to think he's been poisoned - that's only to pile up (again) everything he can against her and so excuse his cruelty. He justifies it that way. (It's often done). I do not think that it justifies him at all. I do think it explains him a bit" (269).
Wyndham, Francis, and Diana Melly, eds. The Letters of Jean Rhys. New York: Viking Penguin
14 August 2008
"I have so far used the language of the mocking bird indeed. I read my garbled, gargantuan rhetorical prose: “He saw giant masses of black bodies, stinking by the foulairtake of each ignoble creature, herdedinchains, to enter the doors of hells, held ajar by the horned doots of Yama, himself in Yab-Yam embrace with yami, sweating the oil of sweat, above the blood that oozed from flesh lacerated by whips, fear-stricken at being pushed into the ocean of filth, which exuded the smell of death,” etc. Bathos! With the smell of Christian hell about it! And the fall! Infected by the neurosis of after the expulsion from the Garden of Eden!"
And here's how Anand described the process of Gandhi's editing of his work (this is from The Little Plays of Mahatma Gandhi):
Gandhi: Mocking bird with a vengeance! Such big big words! You don’t know, that Harijans sigh, moan, groan and say a few words! They never talk in such big words! You want to make them into Dr. Johnsons!
K.C. Azad: (Humbled) I have been following the method of James Joyce. Stream of consciousness of characters! He has coined a new language. With puns! Satirical words! Joined words! Poetic phrases! … I thought if I also use big words, and make puns, English people will think I have mastered the English language …
Gandhi: I thought the same in
K.C. Azad: I have no language. My mother tongue is Punjabi. But the Sarkar has appointed English and Urdu as court languages! … Except Bhai Vir Singh and Dhani Ram Chatrath Poets! Few of us write in Punjabi. The only novel writer is Nanak Singh. There are no publishers in Punjabi or Urdu. Even Dr. Muhammad Iqbal writes in Urdu and Persian not in Punjabi! No one can earn a living as a writer in Punjabi. In English—my novel may get published in
Gandhi: Acha! Write in any language that comes to hand. But say what Harijans say! And the poor say! Translate their speech literally. Don’t use ‘Thees’ and ‘Thous!’ Above all you must be sincere! Truthful! Write of life as it really is! … Of the poor! Few writers have written about the poor! Only Sarat Babu! And Prem Chand! – I hear!
In an essay entitled, Mulk Raj Anand's Passage through Bloomsbury, critic Kristen Bluemel suggests:
"...the gap between the reception in leftist circles of Anand's radical fiction and his radical nonfiction suggests that Anand’s diminishing reputation among leftists had less to do with any failures of the literary imagination, and more to do with many English leftists' allegiance to England's imperial identity and specifically its right to rule India..."
She goes on to say:
"...While it is true that Anand was influenced by many of the same intellectual and political texts that other modernists and intermodernists read, his 1930s fictions struck most readers of the time as radically different for the following reasons: they are exclusively about India and Indians, are the first examples of Indo-Anglian fiction to adopt outcastes or social pariahs as their heroes, they use English in a new way to communicate Indian idiom, and they integrate the political speeches of the period’s most prominent Indian political figures, Gandhi and Nehru. More generally, Anand's fiction is regarded as a cornerstone of the first generation of Indo-Anglian writers who came to represent independent and postcolonial India..."
You can check out the full article below --- definitely worth a read.
12 August 2008
Also, there is the scene in which Bakha remembers pretending to marry Ram Charan's sister when they were children -- "Ram Charan's little sister was made to act the wife because she wore a skirt. Bakha was chosen to play the husband because he was wearing the gold-embroidered cap" (86-87). And yet, the clothing does not make the marriage real, nor does it make Bakha an Enlgishman or a sahib. It almost seems as if the characters seek to identify themselves through their choices of clothing, but it ends up being more of a disguise.
This extreme preoccupation with clothing and outward appearance is also present in all of Jean Rhys's novels. In Wide Sargasso Sea, for instance, Antoinette believes that Richard would have recognized her if she had been wearing her red dress, and she spends a great deal of time obsessing over the garment. Is this a common characteristic of British modernism?
09 August 2008
08 August 2008
07 August 2008
I was unsure of the change in format at the end where it looks like journal entries. What is the significance of this?
05 August 2008
The emphasize changes in the Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man to one person, Stephen. Although I have not finished Portrait, we are primarily in Stephen's mind then out. When we are out of his head we get descriptions of what is happening around him. It seems like we are looking at the world through his eyes.
I don't know which style I like better but both are challenging to read. One last thought, I wonder if the gender of the writer had an influence on the way the stream consciousness was written. I know Woolf wanted to write a book in the manner in which a woman would think. Did Joyce have the same motivation? Did he want to model his writing after the thinking of a young man?
04 August 2008
According to postmodernist philosopher Jean-François Lyotard:
"The postmodern would be that which, in the modern, puts forward the unpresentable in presentation itself; that which denies itself the solace of good forms, the consensus of a taste that would make it possible to share collectively the nostalgia for the unattainable; that which searches for new presentations, not in order to enjoy them but in order to present a stronger sense of the unpresentable."
If this is to be accepted as true, can we make a case that Nightwood is actually postmodern IN modernism? And why would this not also be true for Stein?
02 August 2008
In an earlier post I said I thought that Robin was trying to regain the innocence of childhood; she was, in effect, devolving back to childhood from adulthood. I think that is what the child, Sylvia, who mysteriously appears in that scene represents. That’s why she and Robin have such an immediate connection. Robin is drawn to her and, in a sense, takes control of her.
In the carriage, Jen, who is already in a near panic over the possibility of losing Robin, sees this connection and finds it unbearable. She lashes out at Robin. But it isn’t a fight at all; it is a violent, passionate, desperate act of love. Barnes can’t write a sex scene and still get the novel published. This “fight” is the closest she can get to the act of lovemaking between two women. I hesitate to call it a rape, but it certainly comes very close. Jenny “takes” Robin right there in the cab and they end up in a grotesque embrace with Jenny’s breasts covering Robin’s hands. When it’s over, the child speaks for Robin “Let me go! Let me go!”
Robin runs away but shortly after this event, she leavers Nora and goes away with Jenny. This more than anything else is what got me thinking about the fight as a metaphor for sex, rather than an actual fight.
I don’t quite know what to make of the English girl who is present during all of this. The best I can do right now is to suggest that she’s there as a cover, to make it appear that Robin’s interest is in an adult rather than a child. I know that's weak and I'd love to hear other ideas.
01 August 2008
- If anyone is interested, the plates of the first edition of Joyce's A Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man are available here.
- Anyone needing annotations to help them with reading Joyce might find this site useful.
- And here is the New York Times write-up of the Joseph Strick-directed, 1977 film-version of Joyce's novel.
- And a brief history of Joyce's process in conceiving the novel can be found here.
Early on she is described as having a childish face. Later the doctor describes her as someone who needs "permission to live" and someone to tell he she is an innocent (p.125) On page 155 he describes her as an innocent. Nora refers to her as a child and ultimately as her child (p.166) and raises the whole issue of incest again.
I think that may be why throughout the novel, Robin is increasingly driven to wander away from every adult relationship she has. And as the story progresses those wanderings become longer and more intense. Ultimately she wanders away from Jenny and returns to a place where where Nora - her mother- can find her. That scene with the dog reminds me more than a child playing with a dog than anything else.
Does this make sense to anyone else, or am I totally crazy.
31 July 2008
The other issue I've been pondering centers around their homosexuality/bisexuality, in particular the seeming lack of discussion around it. There seems to be more talk of D.H. Lawrence as sexually scandalous. I was surprised to hear that Gertrude and Alice were such popular celebrities and yet so out in their sexuality. Did people at the time look the other way? Would it have been much different for two men?
After going back through my notes, I wanted to leave you with these thoughts:
-Stein is not worried about making sense, but rather "how" to make sense
-Meaning is a byproduct of repeated encounters with her text
-Tender Buttons provides no answers, it's distinction being to establish relationships that we never knew existed
-Become aware that no 2 words are ever exactly the same
Finally, I found this quote by Wallace Fowlie published Dec. 22nd, 1956 in the Saturday Review most appropriate:
"For this is poetry about poetry...A word used by Gertrude Stein does not designate a thing as much as it designates the way in which the thing is possessed, or the way in which the thing is destroyed, or the way whereby the poets has learned to live with it."
I cannot help but wonder if Stein was published and rose to fame more because of who she was than because of what she was doing.
30 July 2008
29 July 2008
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.
When I first read this poem, I wasn't impressed. It was short, uncomplicated and it didn't even rhyme;but as we discussed it further in class it grew more interesting with each reading. I thought it was very clever to incorporate the title as part of the poem;by providing a place where the poem is occurring. There are no excess words, every syllable contributes to the picture Pound is creating. Next, I could visualize the metro and all the faces of the passengers start to blur and become ghosts before my eyes. Their features becoming hazy and they begin to resemble each other like the petals. The petals are not identical but they are so similar that it would be difficult to tell them apart. It is a very vivid image and I find it amazing since the description is so short. Then the metro and the bough are being compared. It's a very elegant comparison juxtaposing nature and machine against each other. I have grown to like this poem very much.
The poem has left an image on my brain.
25 July 2008
23 July 2008
"Yet as one who had never believed in liberalism, Romanticism or humanism in the first place, he was energised as well as alarmed by the cataclysm. It may have helped to put him into a sanatorium, but it also turned his thoughts towards a constructive solution. If civilisation lay in ruins, then there was a momentous opportunity to sweep away this heap of broken images and start afresh. Or rather, start once more with the good old things, moving forward to a classical, orderly, tradition-bound past in the face of that squalid cult of anarchic subjectivism, self-expressive personality, economic laissez-faire, Protestant ‘inner light’ and Bolshevik subversion which Eliot lumped together with cavalier indiscriminateness under the name of ‘Whiggery’.
"This Janus-faced temporality, in which one turns to the resources of the pre-modern in order to move backwards into a future that has transcended modernity altogether, is at the heart of Modernism. The pre-modern in Eliot’s poetry is a matter of Fisher Kings and fertility cults; in his prose it is a question of classical order, Tory traditionalism and the Christian church. In both cases, however, a discredited individualism must yield to a more corporate form of being, roughly at the time when laissez-faire capitalism was giving way to its international monopoly version. Whether as slain god or submissive Christian, the point of having a self is to give it away. It is the Romantic-humanist heresy which holds that we should nurture our egos rather than abnegate them. ‘Tradition’ is the order to which the poet must perpetually surrender his selfhood, and writing a poem involves an extinction of personality rather than an affirmation of it. It is no accident that Eliot wrote his doctoral thesis on the philosopher F.H. Bradley, late Victorian deconstructor of the autonomous self. As a rootless, sexually ambiguous American émigré turned pin-striped London banker, his own personal version of that entity had been in question for some time."
- Mauberley (1920)
- Hugh Selwyn Mauberley
- Cantos: 1, 2, 3, 9, 13, 38
- The River-merchant's Wife: A Letter
- The Garden
- The Coming of War
- Sestina: Altaforte
- Portrait d'une Femme
- In a Station of the Metro
I'm working off the New Directions Paperbook edition of Selected Poems of Ezra Pound, but you should feel free to work from any edition. Be wary of some of the on-line versions of the poems which are not always reliable.
22 July 2008
The situation was very different when it came to their sisterhood. They spoke to each other in clear, concise and meaningful language. They understood each other. The communication they shared between each other didn't have any double meaning or traces of hostility. They may have thought or felt some frustration with each other every now and then. But they respected each other enough to keep it to themselves. They would think before they spoke to each other. They didn't do this in any other instance with any other character in the book. They afforded each other kindness and consideration. They were there for each other through all the trials. They could depend on each other. Their relationship was the only example that came close to real love.
For those of you who missed class last week, we spent quite a bit of time talking about the relationship between technology, organic life, industrialization, and Lawrence’s own peculiar views about the relationship between sexuality, alienation, and life under industrialized, urban society. One of the complications and contradictions in
We spent some time thinking about what this contradiction means in places like Chapter 17 (The Industrial Magnate), where the problems of technology (mechanization, mindless repetition, inhuman organization) become closely related to Lawrence’s own project of writing and describing unalienated human life, in fact are only possible because Lawrence can feel (but perhaps not resolve) the tension between writing against modernity in the very terms of modernity, for audiences shaped by modernity, in a necessarily modern medium. The following passage was useful for thinking about some of those issues:
“Immediately he SAW the firm, he realised what he could do. He had a fight to fight with Matter, with the earth and the coal it enclosed. This was the sole idea, to turn upon the inanimate matter of the underground, and reduce it to his will. And for this fight with matter, one must have perfect instruments in perfect organisation, a mechanism so subtle and harmonious in its workings that it represents the single mind of man, and by its relentless repetition of given movement, will accomplish a purpose irresistibly, inhumanly. It was this inhuman principle in the mechanism he wanted to construct that inspired Gerald with an almost religious exaltation. He, the man, could interpose a perfect, changeless, godlike medium between himself and the Matter he had to subjugate. There were two opposites, his will and the resistant Matter of the earth. And between these he could establish the very expression of his will, the incarnation of his power, a great and perfect machine, a system, an activity of pure order, pure mechanical repetition, repetition ad infinitum, hence eternal and infinite. He found his eternal and his infinite in the pure machine-principle of perfect co-ordination into one pure, complex, infinitely repeated motion, like the spinning of a wheel; but a productive spinning, as the revolving of the universe may be called a productive spinning, a productive repetition through eternity, to infinity. And this is the Godmotion, this productive repetition ad infinitum. And Gerald was the God of the machine, Deus ex Machina. And the whole productive will of man was the Godhead.
“He had his life-work now, to extend over the earth a great and perfect system in which the will of man ran smooth and unthwarted, timeless, a Godhead in process. He had to begin with the mines. The terms were given: first the resistant Matter of the underground; then the instruments of its subjugation, instruments human and metallic; and finally his own pure will, his own mind. It would need a marvelous adjustment of myriad instruments, human, animal, metallic, kinetic, dynamic, a marvellous casting of myriad tiny wholes into one great perfect entirety. And then, in this case there was perfection attained, the will of the highest was perfectly fulfilled, the will of mankind was perfectly enacted; for was not mankind mystically contra-distinguished against inanimate Matter, was not the history of mankind just the history of the conquest of the one by the other?”
21 July 2008
It even shows up briefly in the brief relationship between Gerald and Pussum where Lawrencew observes that "Her (Pussum) being suffused into his veins like a magnetic darkness and concentrated at thye base of his spine like a fearful source or power."
Gerald draws power from Gudrun. He is renewed by making love to her in the Death and Love chapter "All his veins that were murdered and lacerated, healed softly as life came pulsing in...He was a man again, strong and rounded." he both loves and ultimately hates Gudrun for the power she has over him.
For her part, Gudrun is constantly at war with Gerald's power over her. In the Continentals chapter after the dance, although she teases him about the power he had over the young German girl, she is awed and frightened by the power he seems to have over women. "The deep resolve formed in her to combat him. One of them must triumph over the other." Leter as they were talking "she turned aside, breaking the spell. In some strange way, she felt he was getting power over her." Later it disturbs her to have him standing there watching her fix her hair and she resorts to a small ruse to get him to paw through her pourse looking for a small box. This in some way returned the power to her, "She had the whip hand," and later "And Gudrun slept strongly, a victorious sleep."
The Birkin-Hermione relationship was one where she was constantly bending him to her will, giving direction or jeering or mocking him. Lawrence observes that even with the male cat she has to assume the upper hand "It was always the same this joy in power she manifested, particularly power over every male being."
The Birkin-Ursula relationship has similar, thopugh more subtle, overtones. Early on Birkin sees power in Ursula "She was rich, full of dangerous power. She was like a strange unconscious bud of powereful womanhood." Initially Birkin refuses to tell her he loves her because he needs more than just conventional love. Ultimately he does her bidding just as he did Hermione's. In the Flitting chapter he not only tells her he loves her - in response to her prodding-- but like Gerald finds that he draws power and sustenence from her. "This marriage with her was his resurrection and his life."
"Language achieves a kind of presence through repetition, incantation, and refraction, evoking for the reader more meaning than is actually conveyed in the text...Lawrence says that he uses repetition to show how biorhythmic impulses are sublimated in thought or language..."
We can see an example of this in the following dialogue between the sisters:
"-He's got go, anyhow" [says Ursula of Gerald].
"Certainly he's got go," [says] Gundrun. "In fact I've never seen a man that showed signs of so much. The unfortunate thing is where does his go go to, what becomes of it?"
"Oh I know, [says] Ursula. "It goes in applying the latest appliances."
In this particular instance, the repetition of the word go suggests a sort of automation, hinting again at one of the central themes of the novel - industrialization. The phrasing represents Gerald's needless expenditure of energy in what machines could do better, the metaphoric substitution of iron for flesh and blood. According to Stewart, Gerald's one-dimensional will-driven quality is emphasized by redundancy.
From a writers' perspective, I think it is important to be aware of the limits of language and the different ways we can use style to communicate despite prejudice, interference or incomprehension.
18 July 2008
I'm sorry that I've been out of town for our last three classes but I'll be with you again this Tuesday. I wanted to respond to Brooke's post because her comments relate to, but also challenge, my own ideas about this book. (By the way, I wish I could say what "yellow" and "white" mean...though, suns and moons, and corresponding symbols for masculinity and femininity come to mind...as well as all of Birkin's references to stars when he speaks about love).
As I read, I think I have preconceived notions about men and women that this book challenges. For instance, the moon reference that Brooke mentioned: I always regard the moon as cooling, passive, feminine, gentle. And therefore, Birkin throwing rocks at its reflection does seem like a violent gesture. The women do seem to have many characteristics of the moon's symbolism. But in this book, the symbol of the moon itself also seems powerful and violent. For instance, the moon is constantly referred to throughout Ch. XIV, when Diana and the young man violently drown. This seems more significant since Diana's (female) body was found choking the young man's body in the morning. Throughout the book, when the sun is referred to it's sometimes dawning "faintly" (the end of Ch. XIV) or it is described as a "cold sunshine" (early on in Ch. IX), both of which seem like impotent descriptions in comparison to the moon.
Randomly, I was also interested in the way that Lawrence seems to go into great detail, suddenly, about animals in a scene. Maybe this isn't very significant, but it struck me that he would spend an entire paragraph (or more) describing a horse or a herd of cattle in the middle of a somewhat intense dynamic between the people in the scene. For example, Gerald spurring his Arab horse while Ursula screamed at him (Ch. IX) and Gudrun dancing towards the cattle, filled with intense emotion, before meeting Gerald and Birkin (Ch. XIV)...later, discussion of the cattle lead to Gudrun "lightly" slapping Gerald....
...which leads back to the beginning of this discussion: these British women seem more violent that the men, overall.
I wish I were there to discuss this book in class. I was also noticing all of his references to "forward" and "backward" motion, creation vs. destruction, and the way that he describes sections of society as almost subterranean...but I couldn't fit that all in one post.
17 July 2008
There were a couple of things that I wanted to talk about that either didn't seem to fit in with our discussion tonight or for which there wasn't enough time. I'm not sure if this has anything to do with modernism (probably not), but I was intrigued by Lawrence's reference to the color of characters' gazes -- white and yellow. He always seems to use white to imply anger (in fact, white seems to be a sinister color overall), but I have no idea what yellow means. Anybody have any ideas? If not, I'm going to shoot you all white looks on Tuesday.
Also, the notes in my edition explained that Ursula was named after the goddess of the moon. I didn't read that until after I had finished the novel, but I got to thinking about that scene where she goes down to the pond in the middle of the night and watches Birkin throwing rocks into the water to obliterate the reflection of the moon ... which, of course, was white. I thought that was an interesting touch of symbolism. Perhaps Birkin was subconsciously acting out violence against Ursula? Incidentally, she seemed perfectly happy to sit there and spy on him doing this until he started talking to himself, at which time, she thought him a ridiculous fool. Yet more of that distrust of language, I think.
We will, though, be focusing on the following poems:
14 July 2008
Notes from Thursday’s discussion.
- We are moving back to St. Mary’s Hall – we decided that it was too cold to have class outside.
- We made several of the assignments for presentations – please email me ASAP and let me know what text you would like to do if you have not already signed up for something.
Discussing The Outcry:
The controversy over art at the turn of the century
- Because of the declining fortunes of the aristocracy in England (and the needs of the state to deal with the recession at the end of the nineteenth century as well as the growing cost of empire, taxes were raised on the aristocracy), aristocrats began to sell off their art to American industrialists.
- The most famous of these sales (though, in the end the sale never went through) was the Duke of Norfolk who put up his Hans Holbein for sale.
- See the NY Times for more details: http://query.nytimes.com/gst/abstract.html?res=9E02E5DC1E31E733A25752C3A9639C946897D6CF
The fast-paced changes taking place in England that are reflected in the novel
- There are at the beginning of the 20th century, some 370 bicycle factories in London (and a growing class differentiation between those who can afford cars and those who drive bicycles)
- Electricity was being introduced to the domestic space (the electric bells, for instance)
- The tube and the tramways (which facilitated the ease of transportation within and without England)
- The rise of London as an international center of global finance and banking
- And the remarkable growth of a reading public with access to newspapers
The main themes of The Outcry
- Are the aristocracy the appropriate guardians of the nation’s “art-wealth”?
- If art doesn’t originate in England, is it still part of the nation’s “art-wealth”?
- What is the difference between American “theft” of English art and English theft of Italian art?
- What are the relationships (ideological and material) between the marriage market and the art market?
- Why does James use similar vocabulary to describe the marriage plot and the art-sale plot?
- What makes The Outcry a comedy, in general, and a Shakespearean comedy, in particular?
- Why is there a particular panic about the size and scale of American wealth?
- What can we determine about the nature of the reading public, its ideological investments in this “epidemic,” and James’ particular understanding of the problem of the sale of art from close readings of the novel?
Some of the passages we talked about:
- From Chapter 2: "Mr. Bender had six feet of stature and an air as of having received benefits at the hands of fortune. Substantial, powerful, easy, he shone as with a glorious cleanness, a supplied and equipped and appointed sanity and security; aids to action that might have figured a pair of very ample wings--wide pinions for the present conveniently folded, butthat he would certainly on occasion agitate for great efforts and spreadfor great flights. These things would have made him quite an admirable,even a worshipful, image of full-blown life and character, had notthe affirmation and the emphasis halted in one important particular.Fortune, felicity, nature, the perverse or interfering old fairy at his cradle-side--whatever the ministering power might have been--had simplyoverlooked and neglected his vast wholly-shaven face, which thus showed not so much for perfunctorily scamped as for not treated, as for neitherformed nor fondled nor finished, at all. Nothing seemed to have been done for it but what the razor and the sponge, the tooth-brush and the looking-glass could officiously do; it had in short resisted any possibly finer attrition at the hands of fifty years of offered experience. It had developed on the lines, if lines they could becalled, of the mere scoured and polished and initialled "mug" rather than to any effect of a composed physiognomy; though we must at the same time add that its wearer carried this featureless disk as with the warranted confidence that might have attended a warning headlight or a glaring motor-lamp. The object, however one named it, showed you atleast where he was, and most often that he was straight upon you. It was fearlessly and resistingly across the path of his advance that Lady Sandgate had thrown herself, and indeed with such success that he soon connected her demonstration with a particular motive. "For your grandmother, Lady Sandgate?" he then returned."
- From Chapter 6: "Lord Theign, confessedly and amiably interested, had accepted these intimations--yet with the very blandness that was not accessible to hustling and was never forgetful of its standing privilege of criticism. He had come in from his public duty, a few minutes before, somewhat flushed and blown; but that had presently dropped--to the effect, we should have guessed, of his appearing to Lord John at least as cool as the occasion required. His appearance, we ourselves certainly should have felt, was in all respects charming--with the great note of it the beautiful restless, almost suspicious, challenge to you, on the part of deep and mixed things in him, his pride and his shyness, his conscience, his taste and his temper, to deny that he was admirably simple. Obviously, at this rate, he had a passion for simplicity--simplicity, above all, of relation with you, and would show you, with the last subtlety of displeasure, his impatience of your attempting anything more with himself. With such an ideal of decent ease he would, confound you, "sink" a hundred other attributes--or the recognition at least and the formulation of them--that you might abjectly have taken for granted in him: just to show you that in a beastly vulgar age you had, and small wonder, a beastly vulgar imagination. He sank thus, surely, in defiance of insistent vulgarity, half his consciousness of his advantages, flattering himself that mere facility and amiability, a true effective, a positively ideal suppression of reference in any one to anything that might complicate, alone floated above. This would be quite his religion, you might infer--to cause his hands to ignore in whatever contact any opportunity, however convenient, for an unfair pull. Which habit it was that must have produced in him a sort of ripe and radiant fairness; if it be allowed us, that is, to figure in so shining an air a nobleman of fifty-three, of an undecided rather than a certified frame or outline, of a head thinly though neatly covered and not measureably massive, of an almost trivial freshness, of a face marked but by a fine inwrought line or two and lighted by a merely charming expression. You might somehow have traced back the whole character so presented to an ideal privately invoked--that of his establishing in the formal garden of his suffered greatness such easy seats and short perspectives, such winding paths and natural-looking waters, as would mercifully break up thescale. You would perhaps indeed have reflected at the same time that thethought of so much mercy was almost more than anything else the thought of a great option and a great margin--in fine of fifty alternatives. Which remarks of ours, however, leave his lordship with his last immediate question on his hands."
09 July 2008
08 July 2008
2) We've eliminated the following texts from the syllabus (in order to produce a more manageable reading list):
- Conrad's Heart of Darkness
- Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway
- Yeats' Selected Poetry
- Achebe's Things Fall Apart
- Braithwaite's Selected Poetry
British Modernism, or Late-Imperial Literary
NDNU: Summer 2008
TTh 6:30-9:30 PM
In recent years, the term “British Modernism” has come under intense scrutiny. The inadequacies of the term are legion: its main practitioners were not British; the period in question was better characterized by a series of literary and philosophical debates between its members rather than developments within a current; and its beginnings and its ends have yet to be fully or satisfactorily marked. These interventions have demonstrated three itineraries for modernism: the first, heading out towards the continent (usually Paris) and circulating with developments in French, German, Russian, and Italian letters; the second, coming from America, using London as an entrepot occasionally for all things European, but mostly for Englishness proper; and the third, heading out towards and back from the Caribbean, African, and Asian colonies. That traffic had as its consequence certain changes to aesthetic and literary conventions which marked out modernism as a style and a period, but these conventions have been called into question by asking whether what counts as modernism in
- Achebe, Things Fall Apart
- Anand, Untouchable
- Barnes, Nightwood
- Braithwaite, Selected Poems
- Conrad, Heart of Darkness
- Eliot, Selected Poems
- James, The Outcry
- Joyce, Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man
, Selected Short Stories Lawrence
- Pound, Selected Poems
- Rhys, Wide
- Stein, Selected Poems
- Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway
- Yeats, Selected Poems
- July 8, 10: Introductions and fin-de-siecle literary
London(from decadence to modernism); also Why did Modernism begin outside of ?: Conrad and James England
- July 15, 17: Homegrown modernism; or Reactions to the growth of the world’s first mega-city: Lawrence and Woolf
- July 22, 24: American Anglophilia; poets in search of new homes: Eliot and Pound
- July 29, 31: American women, French locales, British modernism: Stein and Barnes
- August 5, 7: Irishmen and their English masters: Yeats and Joyce
- August 12, 14: The colonial subject in the metropolis: Anand and Achebe
- August 19, 21:
CaribbeanEnglish: Braithwaite and Rhys
- Contributions to the course blog 10%
- Class Presentations 30%
- Write-ups of presentations (3-4 pages) 10%
- Final paper (15-20 pages) 50%