Category Archives: literature

Enoch Soames and proto-pomo-lit

My brother’s recommending the short story “Enoch Soames“, and the anthology above looks like a nice place to read it in. The story is well-known for its clever and humorous use of the ideas of time travel and pact with Faust. Another good place to read it would be The Book of Fantasy (1940), an Argentianan anthology edited by Jorge Luis Borges, Adolfo Bioy Casares, and Silvina Ocampo. A site dedicated to Hunter S. Thompson has this:

Published in 1979 by St. Martin’s Press, this collection edited by Duncan Fallowell contains a number of stories, including “The Dinner” by Thomas Love Peacock, “Dr. Heidegger’s Experiment” by Nathaniel Hawthorne, “The Cask of Amontillado” by Edgar Allan Poe and “Enoch Soames” by Max Beerbohm. Hardly the kind of works you would expect “The Heat Closing In” by William S. Burroughs to be surrounded by. HST [Hunter S. Thompson’s] part is called “A Night on the Town” , the part from FFLV [Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas] where HST describes his encounter with an acid guru, when he lived near Michael Olay. —www.gonzo.org

My name, I believe, is Robert Jones

I am, that is to say I was, a great man, but I am neither the author of Junius nor the man in the mask, for my name, I believe, is Robert Jones, and I was born somewhere in the city of Fum-Fudge.

The first action of my life was the taking hold of my nose with both hands. My mother saw this and called me a genius:—my father wept for joy and presented me with a treatise on Nosology. This I mastered before I was breeched. ..

Who else but Borges could start a story by introducing a character who is unsure of his own name? The answer is Poe, the story is titled Lionizing (1835). It makes you wonder if there are any precedents of stories with characters who are unsure who they are.

I am currently reading Poe for the first time in my life. I’d written about Poe without ever having read one of his stories. Much like I had written about Baudelaire and Borges (and decided I was going to like them) without ever having read them. Recently, I found a rationale for my behaviour. It came by way of Oscar Wilde who supposedly said: “I never read a book I must review, it prejudices you so.”

I am reading Poe in Dutch, my native language. Poe is really too difficult for non-native speakers. I mean, how many native speakers know what vituperate means? In Dutch this translates as beschimpen, and while not a word I use every day, nor every month, maybe once every year, I do know what to make of it. Nevertheless, I enjoy difficult words and I learn every day. My main site Jahsonic helps me in this by providing context. Yesterday I came across arcane, I look it up at my place and at Wikipedia and at Answers.com. Roughly it means esoteric.

Then I remember Eric Losfeld and his Editions Arcanes:

Losfeld began secret publishing about 1949, and openly in 1952 when he established Editions Arcanes. For the following ten years or so his feet were planted firmly in the fields of both clandestine and open publishing. His open publications were certainly avant-garde and included works by Nelly Kaplan, Claude Seignolle, Boris Vian, Francis Picabia, Andre Pieyre de Mandiargues amongst others. —Patrick J. Kearney more…

Back to Poe. Please check this post with a very good illustration of Lionizing. And the superb The Nose by Gogol.

Totally unrelated is a Horace Andy track over at Sly and Robbie’s MySpace.

Excuse the rambling post. My name, I believe, is Jan Geerinck.

The common tendency to do exactly the wrong thing

For lack of a better illustration: Ligeia read by Vincent Price

The Imp of the Perverse is a metaphor for the common tendency, particularly among children and evildoers, to do exactly the wrong thing in a given situation. The conceit is that the misbehavior is due to an imp (a small demon) leading an otherwise decent person into mischief.

The phrase has a long history in literature, and was popularized (and perhaps coined) by Edgar Allan Poe in his short story, “The Imp of the Perverse“. It is a study in guilt or the human thirst for self-destructive behaviour.

“Guilt” should not be taken here in either the standard legal or moral senses. Poe’s characters usually do not feel “guilt” because they did a “bad” thing—that is, the story is not didactic (in his essay “The Poetic Principle” Poe called didacticism the worst of “heresies”); there is no “moral to the story.” Guilt, for Poe, is “perverse,” and perverseness is the desire for self-destruction. It is completely indifferent to societal distinctions between right and wrong. “Guilt” is the inexplicable and inexorable desire to destroy oneself eo ipso.

The Poe Decoder notes that “When Poe speaks of perverseness, he does not intend narrower denotations of the various forms of the word. He does not mean “perverted,” as in sexual miscreance. Though such deviancy may be perverse, it bears little resemblance to the examples of perversity which Poe elucidated in his tales.” As such, Poe’s interpretation of perverseness deserves a prominent place in the history of irrationalism.

In Poe’s words:

“… no reason can be more unreasonable; but in fact, there is none more strong. With certain minds, under certain conditions, it becomes absolutely irresistible. I am not more certain than I breathe, than that the assurance of the wrong or error of any action is often the one unconquerable force which impels us, and alone compels us to its prosecution. Nor will this overwhelming tendency to do wrong for the wrong’s sake, admit of analysis, or resolution into ulterior elements. It is a radical, primitive impulse–elementary.”

and

“We stand upon the brink of a precipice. We peer into the abyss – we grow sick and dizzy. Our first impulse is the shrink away from the danger. Unaccountably we remain… it is but a thought, although a fearful one, and one which chills the very marrow of our bones with the fierceness of the delight of its horror. It is merely the idea of what would be our sensations during the sweeping precipitancy of a fall from such a height… for this very cause do we now the most vividly desire it.”

The Imp of the Perverse is also masterfully exemplified in The Bad Glazier, a prose poem by Baudelaire collected in Paris Spleen:

Baudelaire’s prose poem “The bad glazier” is a marvelous example of the imp of the perverse; after a discourse on personality and action, a man calls a glazier up to his fourth-story apartment. He inspects the glazier’s glass, “discovers” that there is no colored glass in the man’s pack (which we sense he may have known all along), and sends the glazier back on his way. When the poor glazier reaches the ground floor and leaves the building, our protagonist throws a flower pot at him and breaks his glass. “And drunk with my madness,” the protagonist tells us, “I shouted down at him furiously: ‘Make life beautiful! Make life beautiful!'” Rachel Barenblat via www.webdelsol.com/InPosse/barenblat.htm

He was a sad dog, it is true, and a dog’s death it was that he died

Terence Stamp as Toby Dammit

From Never Bet the Devil Your Head — A Tale with a Moral (1841) by Edgar Allan Poe:

Defuncti injuria ne afficiantur was a law of the twelve tables, and De mortuis nil nisi bonum is an excellent injunction — even if the dead in question be nothing but dead small beer. It is not my design, therefore, to vituperate my deceased friend, Toby Dammit. He was a sad dog, it is true, and a dog’s death it was that he died; but he himself was not to blame for his vices. They grew out of a personal defect in his mother. She did her best in the way of flogging him while an infant — for duties to her well — regulated mind were always pleasures, and babies, like tough steaks, or the modern Greek olive trees, are invariably the better for beating — but, poor woman! she had the misfortune to be left-handed, and a child flogged left-handedly had better be left unflogged. The world revolves from right to left. It will not do to whip a baby from left to right. If each blow in the proper direction drives an evil propensity out, it follows that every thump in an opposite one knocks its quota of wickedness in. I was often present at Toby’s chastisements, and, even by the way in which he kicked, I could perceive that he was getting worse and worse every day. At last I saw, through the tears in my eyes, that there was no hope of the villain at all, and one day when he had been cuffed until he grew so black in the face that one might have mistaken him for a little African, and no effect had been produced beyond that of making him wriggle himself into a fit, I could stand it no longer, but went down upon my knees forthwith, and, uplifting my voice, made prophecy of his ruin.

The fact is that his precocity in vice was awful. At five months of age he used to get into such passions that he was unable to articulate. At six months, I caught him gnawing a pack of cards. At seven months he was in the constant habit of catching and kissing the female babies. At eight months he peremptorily refused to put his signature to the Temperance pledge. Thus he went on increasing in iniquity, month after month, until, at the close of the first year, he not only insisted upon wearing moustaches, but had contracted a propensity for cursing and swearing, and for backing his assertions by bets.

Through this latter most ungentlemanly practice, the ruin which I had predicted to Toby Dammit overtook him at last. The fashion had “grown with his growth and strengthened with his strength,” so that, when he came to be a man, he could scarcely utter a sentence without interlarding it with a proposition to gamble. Not that he actually laid wagers — no. I will do my friend the justice to say that he would as soon have laid eggs. With him the thing was a mere formula — nothing more. His expressions on this head had no meaning attached to them whatever. They were simple if not altogether innocent expletives — imaginative phrases wherewith to round off a sentence. When he said “I’ll bet you so and so,” nobody ever thought of taking him up; but still I could not help thinking it my duty to put him down. The habit was an immoral one, and so I told him. It was a vulgar one- this I begged him to believe. It was discountenanced by society — here I said nothing but the truth. It was forbidden by act of Congress — here I had not the slightest intention of telling a lie. I remonstrated — but to no purpose. I demonstrated — in vain. I entreated — he smiled. I implored — he laughed. I preached- he sneered. I threatened — he swore. I kicked him — he called for the police. I pulled his nose — he blew it, and offered to bet the Devil his head that I would not venture to try that experiment again. —continue reading …

This post inspired by the ever excellent Ombres Blanches who notes:

When approached for the Edgar Allan Poe omnibus Histoires Extraordinaires (Spirits of the Dead) Fellini was initially reluctant to do it, but Toby Dammit turned out to be the film’s finest episode … Fellini chose to transpose Poe’s source story Never Bet the Devil Your Head to a contemporary setting …

Histoires Extraordinaires aka Spirits of The Dead (1968) – Louis Malle, Roger Vadim, Federico Fellini [Amazon.com]

Ombres Blanches points us to this wonderful clip of the Fellini short with an OST by Nino Rota. The live band are the Rutles. The scene is euro chic felliniesque.

Flaubert’s hatred for the bourgeois was at times almost maniacal

Yesterday I acquired Bohemian Versus Bourgeois at Demian bookstore, Antwerpen. It appears to be one of the earliest books on alienation in modern art, taking a sociological approach. Colin Wilson has done the same with a psychological approach in 1956 with The Outsider.

Bohemian Versus Bourgeois: French society and the French man of letters in the nineteenth century (1964) – César Graña [Amazon.com] [FR] [DE] [UK]

It’s in this book that one finds references to the group of French artists les bousingots, which is rendered bousignots in the index. Web references to this groups include: “Hugnet, Georges, 1906-1974. Bousignots, excentriques et isolés du romanisme, typed manuscript with handwritten corrections together with signed typed letter 1954 Oct. from L. Mollion of Radiodiffusion Français”. The book itself references Théophile Lavallée’s Histoire de Paris depuis le temps des Gaulois jusqu’en 1850 published by J. Hetzel, Paris, 1852. [Feb 2007]

César Graña bio

César Graña (1919 – 1986) was a Peruvian anthropologist who received his Ph.D. of sociology from the University of California. In 1942, he came to the United States.

César Graña’s best known work was based on the sociology of art. He wrote Bohemia vs. Bourgeois: French Society and the French Man of Letters in the Nineteenth Century, which was published in 1964, this work is also known as Modernity and its Discontents. In 1989, he released Meaning and Authenticity. On Bohemia: The Code of the Self Exiled was published in 1990. In 1994, Fact and Symbol was published and it was nominated for a National Book Award. Graña died on August 24, 1986 in a car crash. —[1]

An excerpt from cultural relativist Roger Sandall’s The Culture Cult:

In his 1964 study Bohemian Versus Bourgeois César Graña shows how [the bohemians] claimed a more natural sympathy with other cultures than the bourgeoisie could possibly possess. They regarded the lives of the French commercial and professional classes as utterly degrading. Graña describes Stendhal’s horror of the lowness and meanness of the middle-class, and how “anyone who acquired a routine social obligation or worked at a profession received from Flaubert either casual scorn or mocking sorrow”. This same contempt for the routine world of paid employment was pushed to an extreme by Baudelaire, whose attitude—“to be a useful person has always appeared to me to be something particularly horrible”—expressed pure aristocratic disdain.

Flaubert’s hatred for the bourgeois was at times almost maniacal. After completing his second novel Salammbo in 1862 he wrote that “It will: 1) annoy the bourgeois; 2) unnerve and shock sensitive people; 3) anger the archaeologists; 4) be unintelligible to the ladies; 5) earn me a reputation as a pederast and a cannibal. Let us hope so.” While research into sexual behavior is a normal part of anthropological inquiry, it was a personal interest in erotic experience—romantically justified as self-fulfilment—which drove literary bohemia on its escapades. — Roger Sandall via http://www.culturecult.com/culturecult/bohemia.htm [Jun 2006]

See also: Flaubert – Stendhal – Baudelaire – bohemia – bourgeois – genre theory

It takes about a year and several hundred injections to make an addict

“You don’t wake up one morning and decide to be a drug addict. It takes at least three months’ shooting twice a day to get any habit at all. And you don’t really know what junk sickness is until you have had several habits. It took me almost six months to get my first habit, and then the withdrawal symptoms were mild. I think it no exaggeration to say it takes about a year and several hundred injections to make an addict.” —Junky (1953) – William S. Burroughs

The possibility of a literary canon

On the Possibility of Conservative Literary Criticism

via Acephalous by Scott Eric Kaufman on Feb 27, 2007

Actually, Scott’s post is more about the possibility of a literary canon tout court. He says: “few believe that Shakespeare, Tolstoy or Melville shouldn’t be taught—that’d they’re somehow inadequately “literary” in some regard—only that they should be taught alongside Behn [amatory fiction, women’s lit], (George) Eliot [women’s lit] and Stowe [Uncle Tom].” He recognizes place and time constraints: “Practical issues obviously abound. I’m talking about the hypothetical canon here, not what can be covered in a ten or eighteen-week survey.”

Shakespeare is universal because he embraced cultures and traditions outside his own—although his argument suffers here from being too quick on the triumphalism. …But then there’s the problem of what else should be included in the canon. We all agree that Shakespeare should, but what about all those books written by brown people who live on islands we’ve never even heard of. Can they possibly produce great literature. …

there’s absolutely no reason [Erna] Brodber‘s Jane and Louisa Will Soon Come Home couldn’t be a work of “universal” genius. Were someone to argue that “our” cultural tradition isn’t represented, the claim to universality could be wielded as a multicultural cudgel: It doesn’t matter, we could say, swinging, because it tells a universal story, as applicable to us and our lives as any native Jamaican.

….

none of the usual critics of academia have attempted to define the literary in such a way that Shakespeare and Dickens are in, but Brodber and the rest are out. Or, they could have the courage of their convictions and say that if Shakespeare and Dickens are in, so are Brodber and the rest …

In this respect, I think the multiculturalist have cornered the cultural traditionalists, forcing them into a position either visibly incoherent (the false universalism of Shakespeare) or spectacularly racist (Dead and White, That’s What’s Right! Dead and White, That’s What’s Right!). ….

To conclude Scott asks: Where do they go from here?

Essentially, Acephalous is in search of a postmodern canon. A canon that gives a place to the other; the queer, the postcolonial. He’s not denying the justifiability of the Western canon, but wonders how big a place should be reserved for the ‘other’ within that canon, without deviating too far from the what-is-ness of things. I look forward to reading more.

American Psycho redux

Patrick Bateman: Do you know what Ed Gein said about women?
David Van Patten: The maitre ‘d at Canal Bar?
Patrick Bateman: No, serial killer, Wisconsin, the ’50s.
Craig McDermott: So what did he say?
Patrick Bateman: “When I see a pretty girl walking down the street, I think two things. One part wants me to take her out, talk to her, be real nice and sweet and treat her right.”
David Van Patten: And what did the other part think?
Patrick Bateman: “What her head would look like on a stick…”
[laughs]

It’s American Pyscho Day over at Dennis Cooper’s blog courtesy of SYpHA_69. Patrick Batemen would, I believe, be proud, says The Laughing Bone, who adds:

“After many years working in bookstores, I found there were a few titles that inspired a certain “persistent interest”: Naked Lunch, Stranger in a Strange Land, The Secret History, Perfume and Gravity’s Rainbow, … “obsessive fanaticism” such as Catcher in the Rye, Dune and Lord of the Rings. American Psycho, perhaps endemic to the current cultural climate, holds a tenuous middle ground between such interest and fanaticism. In the late 90s, I met quite a few budding Patrick Batemans who would use lines from the book like a secret language for the initiated. Little Holden Caufields gone all the way through the rye.”

My first exposure to American Psycho was a newspaper article mentioning that the original publisher had declined to publish the book after reading the manuscript. Enough to pique my curiousity and read it as soon as it came out. I haven’t re-read the book since but once started reading the 19th century version of it, Against the Grain by French writer Huysmans; which I stopped reading because of the overly long description of material goods — just like in American Psycho.

Here are links to all Cooper’s posts:

The 2000 film

I haven’t seen the film yet, and I’m not sure if I’ll ever see it unless catching it on television. In the meanwhile here is the trailer and here is a mash-up of the same. In case you’re wondering what a mash-up (actually a détournement in this case) is, it’s a musical genre which, in its purest form, consists of the combination (usually by digital means) of the music from one song with the a cappella from another. Technically a mash-up is a remix. Video can also be ‘remixed’, only it’s usually called ‘re-edited’ or ‘re-cut’. Another video mash-up is this version of Scarface, with only the fuck segments. Pulp Fiction underwent the same treatment.

That everyone can learn to read will ruin …

Friedrich Nietzsche

Two superb sentences in the ‘Of Reading and Writing’ chapter of Friedrich Nietzsche’s Also Sprach Zarathustra, presented here in a 1961 translation by R.J. Hollingdale. The second quote confirms John Carey’s stance in Intellectuals and the Masses that Nietzsche was a philosopher to the cultural elitist and pessimists, the first quote shows Nietzsche as a great prose-poet:

Of all writings I love only that which is written with blood.
That everyone can learn to read will ruin in the long run not only writing, but thinking too.

Leaving some of the original text to show through

A page of A Humument

A Humument: A treated Victorian novel is an illustrated book by British artist Tom Phillips, first published in 1970. It is a piece of art created over William Hurrell Mallock’s 1892 novel A Human Document.

Phillips drew, painted, and collaged over the pages, while leaving some of the original text to show through. The final product was a new story with a new protagonist named Bill Toge, whose name appears only when the word “together” or “altogether” appears in Mallock’s original text.

A Humument was begun in the 1960’s. In 1970, Tetrad Press put out a small edition. The first trade edition was published in 1980 by Thames and Hudson, which also published revised editions in 1986, 1998 and 2004; future editions are planned. Each edition revises and replaces various pages. Phillips’s stated goal is to eventually replace every page from the 1970 edition.

Phillips has used the same technique (always with the Mallock source material) in many of his other works, including the illustration of his own translation of Dante‘s Inferno, (published in 1985).

This post was inspired by the comments section to this post by Il Giornale Nuovo.

One more image from the latest entry to that superb blog:

Detail of a woodland scene dominated by an anthropomorphic tree-figure
by Pietro Ciafferi (1600-54).