Considering the overlap between Jelinek's personal history and that of her protagonist here, the urge to approach it as an autobiography is strong indeed. If it is an autobiography, however, it is one of such brutal and explicit character that it is neither a wonder that it was censored as pornographic at the time of its publication, nor that Jelinek is on record discouraging such a reading. It would, in fact, be the fulfillment of Muriel Rukeyser's prediction that if a woman told the truth about her life, the world would split open. The book is so unforgivingly graphic that the word "obscene" seems to fall short.
Perhaps it is possible to read the book as autobiography without sacrificing the assumption of fictionality that alone preserves the world from splitting open, however. Erika's story can be Elfriede's story, even if Erika and Elfriede are not the same person. The book blends metaphor and narrative in a way that encourages such an approach, abruptly departing from the plot on flights of poetic fancy and returning as if nothing had happened. Where Elfriede's life ends and Erika's begins is no clearer than the distinction between what is said, what is merely thought, and what is simply the author's opinion of the goings-on in the book.
What is real, what survives the ultimately irrelevant question of fictionality, is Jelinek's gruesome portrait of human desire: so incisive that it would be impossible for her to have entirely invented it. And it is not only this desire that the author and protagonist presumably have in common; it is also the desire to capture and express it satisfactorily. "When a student asks her what her goal is, she says, 'Humanity'," could easily be applied to either party (13). But where Erika fails, Elfriede succeeds. She gives form to "the wish to penetrate thoroughly and be penetrated thoroughly" that I know, she knows, and presumably all humanity knows at the core of our id (169). Often for Jelinek, that form is a mouth that desires not to consume, but only to bite. She saturates the book with the image, in literal actions, in figurative speech, and, as is her habit, often not bothering to indicate which is intended.
And the book itself holds true to the image. It bites, tears, and chews the reader, but never swallows. It is a work of desire, after all; not of satiety. And if, when Erika/Jelinek end the narrative with a startling but meaningless gesture, the reader is left blueballed, begging for something more final, decisive, consuming. No such release is forthcoming, and the reader must look elsewhere for satisfaction. "He pleads with [Elfriede], but she refuses. He touches himself in order to complete [Elfriede's] handiwork . . . now he will never experience what he could carry out with her, what judgement, what sentence, if she allowed it" (181-2).
Monday, July 30, 2018
Tuesday, July 10, 2018
An American in Paris
In 2015, when I saw the Broadway show based on this movie, I came away thinking it was tedious, convoluted, and a little rapey. In 1952, I suppose it was common, though still unacceptable, for an adult man to chase a 19 year old girl around like a fawn, corner her, and badger her until she agreed to a date. Perhaps then it didn't set off any alarm bells, and maybe was even perceived as romantic. Perhaps it was normal for a wealthy woman to do the same to that man, using financial instead of social pressure. Serious scrutiny in power imbalances in relationships is rather a modern development, after all. The composer and his muse, the savior and his ward, the artist and his prey, the patron and her protege, every relationship in the musical was a study in harassment and coercion. Gross.
As tedious and convoluted as the musical was, at least the movie was not those things. But it was still a study in the relationships of horrible people. A suitable alternate title might be "A Fuckboi Gets a Taste of His Own Medicine". It was art, no doubt. The score, cinematography, performances (although Leslie Caron visibly struggles to hold her own in the longer sequences), choreography, all top notch. And in a movie from 1952, it's natural to see the unpleasant social practices of that decade reflected under the glamour. But of all the changes that were made for the musical, why preserve the one element that aged poorly, and falls on modern tastes like spoiled milk?
As tedious and convoluted as the musical was, at least the movie was not those things. But it was still a study in the relationships of horrible people. A suitable alternate title might be "A Fuckboi Gets a Taste of His Own Medicine". It was art, no doubt. The score, cinematography, performances (although Leslie Caron visibly struggles to hold her own in the longer sequences), choreography, all top notch. And in a movie from 1952, it's natural to see the unpleasant social practices of that decade reflected under the glamour. But of all the changes that were made for the musical, why preserve the one element that aged poorly, and falls on modern tastes like spoiled milk?
Monday, July 09, 2018
허영만: 식객 2
요즘은 Samin Nostrat의 Salt Fat Acid Heat이란 조리법 책이 주목 많이 받고 있다. 그 책은 모든 식사에 네 가지 맛이 있어야 균형이 있다고 한다. 문학도 그렇지 안흘까? Shakespeare가 얼마나 비극적인 작품이라도 광대를 포함시키는 것을 보니 그렇다는 생각이 떠오른다. 사실, Shakespeare의 직품 중 낭만, 희극, 역사, 비극 모두다 드러가는 Henry V가 가장 완벽하다고 생각 한다. 그러나 낭만이 없어도 작품이 완벽할 수가 있죠. 완벽한, 균형이 잘 된 작품에 꼭 드러가는 요소는 뭣일까?
식객 1과 마찬가지로, 이 권에서 보이는 네 가지 요소가 결합해서 완벽하다고 할 수가 있다. 물론 장르에 적당한 솜씨가 있어야 하지만그것 밖에 없으면 작품을 보고 "촣네요"라고 하다가 작품을 바로 잊는다. 만화, 소설, 영화, 도화 모두 다 그렇다. 식객은 잘 만들기와 그 외에 감정, 휴머, 철학 다 들어가며 이 네 가지 "맛"에 절묘한 규형을 유지되어있어 원벽하다고 하며 내가 이 책을 잘 먹었다.
식객 1과 마찬가지로, 이 권에서 보이는 네 가지 요소가 결합해서 완벽하다고 할 수가 있다. 물론 장르에 적당한 솜씨가 있어야 하지만그것 밖에 없으면 작품을 보고 "촣네요"라고 하다가 작품을 바로 잊는다. 만화, 소설, 영화, 도화 모두 다 그렇다. 식객은 잘 만들기와 그 외에 감정, 휴머, 철학 다 들어가며 이 네 가지 "맛"에 절묘한 규형을 유지되어있어 원벽하다고 하며 내가 이 책을 잘 먹었다.
Tuesday, July 03, 2018
Nigel Hardwood (ed.): English Language Teaching Materials: Theory and Practice
This sort of themed collection invariably leaves me with the same impression as professional development conferences. Namely: 40% people who had something to say, but didn't know how to say it; 40% the opposite; and 20% people who both had something to offer and knew how to present it. Given the theme of the collection, one can't help but wonder if the chapters included here couldn't have benefited from a bit of the critical analysis of "materials" in general that it purported to offer.
But just as I often do at PD conferences, I walked away from this book with a few useful things for immediate application (some applications for corpus-based materials, open-ended narratives, and authentic source material), several potentially fruitful lines of future inquiry (meta-cognition in listening materials, use of "moves" in rhetorical analysis), and some grounding in current pedagogical viewpoints and terminology that can be used to shore up and refine my existing approaches (distinctions between "task" and "activity", and "principles of language acquisition" and "principles of language teaching"). So even though I had to suffer through a few "sessions" that left me resentful for my wasted time and engagement, it was still worth going to this little conference.
But just as I often do at PD conferences, I walked away from this book with a few useful things for immediate application (some applications for corpus-based materials, open-ended narratives, and authentic source material), several potentially fruitful lines of future inquiry (meta-cognition in listening materials, use of "moves" in rhetorical analysis), and some grounding in current pedagogical viewpoints and terminology that can be used to shore up and refine my existing approaches (distinctions between "task" and "activity", and "principles of language acquisition" and "principles of language teaching"). So even though I had to suffer through a few "sessions" that left me resentful for my wasted time and engagement, it was still worth going to this little conference.
Monday, July 02, 2018
Al-Baqarah 2
I'm beginning to get a feel for the shape of this book, and I definitely am going to need to reread the entire thing consecutively after picking apart the verses.
88: An absolutely fascinating choice of words here. Hulusi's choice to render غُلفٌ as "cocooned" is certainly defensible, but no more so that "wrapped" or "uncircumcised" in the other translations I'm consulting. Perhaps this last is the most evocative, considering the topic at hand, but it casts interesting light on the semiotics of circumcision as a cultural practice.
89: Hulusi assumes that the "Book from Allah" mentioned here is the word of Muhammad, but this is rather convoluted semantically. It seems premature to state that the book itself has been rejected, when ostensibly only the first two books had been written.
90: Hulusi's additions here are of the less excusable sort. He removes the reference to the Jews' jealousy, and replaces it with a completely unjustified reference to his own, Sufi, assumptions. He definitely crosses a line here from interpretation to commentary.
91: Muhammad is no doubt unaware of the parallels between his own reasoning and Paul's. There are only so many things one can say to a group of people who are bound and determined to be "right", and insofar as Paul and Muhammad are really talking to the same group here, it's no wonder that their logic is similar.
92-93: Hulusi's observation--that the Jews' rejection of Moses' words and embrace of the idol is a metaphor for those who choose to believe their senses rather than their Rabb--is marvelous, and one that I am surprised I had not thought of before. It seems obvious and unassailable, in retrospect.
94: This is honestly a little inscrutable to me. Hulusi leaves it implicit that the command to "say", here and in 93, is to the writer of the book, although other translations see fit to clarify. If this interpretation is accurate, then this further complicates the above mentioned pronoun difficulties. We have multiple parties to this command: the speaker, previously assumed to Muhammad, is now understood to be merely the mediary.
95-96: The idea that those who wish most for life are those who know they must pay dearly for their sins begs to become an aphorism.
97: A merciful explication here, that reveals Gabriel as the first mediary of the message, and Muhammad as the second, which leaves the Jews of Medina as the audience, and the Jews of Israel as merely the topic.
98: It would be interesting to know of other references to the names transliterated as "Gabriel" and "Michael". The latter, at least, is certainly not a major character in the Hebrew scriptures. Would Muhammad have had access to the writings of Paul and John, where he takes a larger role?
99: The referent patterns are becoming clearer. This verse is addressed to Muhammad, and only tangentially to his readers.
100-101: The phrase "what was with them" here is so perfectly aligned with Hulusi's overall interpretation, I assumed it was another of his liberties. But no so: لِما مَعَهُم is translated the same in both of the other translations I'm referencing. All three sources agree that the commands given through the Rasuls are merely confirmations of what the hearer already knows and possesses within.
102: So much in this verse to wonder about, including why it was not divided into smaller passages. Who are Harut and MArut, and how much of their story is hearsay? What is that which, when learned, caused a split between man and wife? Why does the original text seem to double back on itself in the last sentences, declaring "surely they knew" and "if they only knew" with the same breath? And why does Hulusi here choose to obscure that seeming inconsistency with his rendering?
103: "If only they knew" seems rather an empty wish, when the whole invective is predicated upon their having known.
104: A fascinating linguistic note that raises the question of how far into the prophet's career this book was written, such that his audience would have already developed a pattern of thus mocking him.
105: The polytheistic background of the Meccan audience here gives a special flavor to الكِتابِ here, which is literally "those who associate partners with Allah", and is variously rendered "idolators", "polytheists", and "dualists" in the versions I'm referencing. Hulusi's conflation of their polytheism with a mistaken belief in separation from the divine resonates especially clearly with my personal theology.
106: A slightly opaque verse, which opacity may eventually be cleared up once I determine with certainty whether the prophet is here granting himself the plural, or still relaying the words of Gabriel.
107-108: Taken with the context of 104, the prophet is here refuting accusations that have already been likely levelled against him for years before the revelation of Al-Baqarah.
109: Given the inconsistency in rendering of قَديرٌ in the other two translations I'm referencing (powerful and competent, respectively), Hulusi's choice to leave it untranslated is probably for the best.
110: There is a certain appealing simplicity in the return here to الصَّلاةَ and الزَّكاةَ as the primary concerns of believers, and something could be made out of the contrast between the similar edicts of Christ (love God and your neighbor) and Paul (refrain some things sacrificed to idols and from fornication). Hulusi's explication is also welcome here, and especially so in that it is not done under the guise of textuality, as elsewhere.
111: The People of the Book, so often referenced here, do not subscribe to any doctrine I'm familiar with. The Prophet must have been dealing with a very particular variety of them before writing this.
112: I am not sorry that I have subconsciously adopted Hulusi's approach to رَبِّهِ . When the other translations offer "Lord", I now automatically subsitute "one's essential reality" mentally.
113: This is much more in line with the People of the Book that I know. In all three translations, the interpretation is consistent: Those who split hairs over denomination may as well be polytheists. Worry about الصَّلاةَ and الزَّكاةَ and let Allah worry about the rest.
114: In contrast with this verse, where all three translations are wildly different. Hulusi seems to have inserted "Dhikr" in place of اسمُهُ, and without justification or notation.
115: More a warning than an ovation, especially when taken with the foregoing passages.
116: Another nice refutation of the separateness/plurality of the Divine. Just as there is neither East nor West in 115, and neither Jew nor Christian in 113, so is there no "son" of God. All creation is one Divine origin, and identity.
117: Again impressed with Hulusi's restraint in leaving بَديعُ transliterated as Badee, and leaving the idea that this means "Originator" rather than simply "Wonderful" parenthetical. If the other translations I'm referencing are any indicator, such is not typical.
118: Taken in context, the idea that Allah should be revealed in a sign is manifestly ludicrous, and betrays a stubborn adherence to the idea of the particular, individual, and specific nature of that which is in all ways general, universal, and indivisible.
119: A curious turn of phrase, but at least it reveals that Gabriel is still the speaker here, and not the Prophet.
120: Which makes this exhortation one to the Prophet himself, rather than one to his audience.
121: And just when Hulusi was adhering to admirable standards of scholarship, he inexplicably inserts himself into the text. "It" in this verse is very clearly referring to the revealed word, but Hulusi extrapolates unforgivably to refer it to "Hu" which appears nowhere in the text.
Hu is a potent and sobering concept, one that can be seen everywhere in this book, and as such does not need to forced into view this way.
122: The idea that the Divine somehow preferred the Hebrew nation above all other is a grating one, but the power of Abrahamic and Mosaic legend is undeniable.
123: A bold and definitive, though unsupported, refutation of that most insidious of Christian dogmas: the ransom.
124: If Rabb is taken, as I and Hulusi like to do, to be one's own divine nature, then the story of Abraham's trials becomes even more fascinatingly complex. And it's a nice touch that the Abrahamic covenant is here taken to have a few provisi.
125: It's tempting to take "The station of Abraham", as Hulusi does, metaphorically. But it's equally tempting to take it as a literal holy location. If Abraham was a literal man, and there is no reason to believe otherwise, then there must be a literal place where he prevailed against his Rabb.
126: One wonders what secular support there is for the city of Mecca being the actual location of Abraham's covenant.
127: If this literal house existed, and furthermore if its location is as advertised, how very convenient for Jews and Christians to not talk about it. Where would this have taken place in the Pentateuch? What parallel account does it embellish? It would have to be after Genesis 22, when Ishmael was sent away. But this is the last we hear of him in the Pentateuch. Which line of inquiry further begs the question, what was the test mentioned in 124? The sacrifice of Issac would have happened well after Ishmael's exile.
128: At least one of the other translations I'm referencing inserts "Muslim" into the verse, entirely without warrant. The question remains, though: if Abraham is with Ishamel, not Isaac, when this is taking place, then with what nation is the covenant?
129: At least the Prophet does not feel the need to identify himself in this verse. It remains open to interpretation who this messenger would be.
130: There is, as observed here, a primal divinity in Abraham, utterly free from dogma and ceremony. It is this experience of the Divine, more so even than that of Moses, that is at the heart of true religious experience.
131: Because Abraham's Rabb, and ours, is one and the same.
132: Hulusi's explication that "Muslim" means one who has submitted to the nature of reality brings the word rather closer to the meaning of "Enlightened" in the Buddhist sense.
133: In what sense was Ishmael Jacob's "father"?
134: Presumably "you" here is the Prophet's audience, not the prophet himself. I believe I'm getting a little better at tracking all the pronouns here.
135: Hulusi seems to think حَنيفًا loses something in the translation here, and leaves it as "Hanif", as does another translation I'm referencing. It may well lose something in English, but it occurs to me that 正 might do it justice. At any rate, the distinction between monotheism and the more accurate antipolytheism here is well taken. The idea of a "deity-god" is guilty of the same innacuracy as that of multiple gods.
136. The subtlety of النَّبِيّونَ that required it to be rendered "Nabi" instead of "prophets" here escapes me.
137. Presumably, Hulusi's rendering of شِقاقٍ as "fragmented" here, as opposed to "defiant" or "dissenting" elsewhere has some linguistic basis, and is not merely intended to shore up his focus on unity. In this case, at least, the more accurate translation happens to also be the one that .supports Hulusi's thesis.
138: What a lovely way of expressing the divine light. The "Hue" of the divine is, as above, more accurate linguistically and metaphysically. One begins to trust Hulusi a little more.
139: This might be my new favorite verse. If only more people followed it.
140: Equally relevant. You cannot escape your Rabb, nor can I escape mine, for they are the same. What use it it to anyone to police the divine?
141: A nearly exact repetition of 134, and almost my exact sentiment about all religions.
142: It's almost ecumenical. What direction do you face while praying? The East and the West are equally divine?
143: In light of which, the Prophet seems to be going back upon himself. If the East and the West are both divine, why with the same breath command one over the other? If all are accountable to their own Rabb, what need is there to draw distinction between them?
144: Which, in turn, makes Hulusi's assumption the only rational one: that one must turn neither East nor West, but inward.
145: The only possible intepretation of this in that light is that everyone should mind her or his own تَبِعوا. There is no turning another in your direction were they not already leaning in it.
146: I wonder if there is a holy book without this particular admonition. It seems contrary to the commands above (and below) to mind your own worship, and be concerned about the sincerity of others'. Perhaps the best interpretation is "be careful whom you listen to".
147: Some disagreement among translations about whether the Truth mentioned here is self-referential, or external to the book in which it is mentioned. Hulusi's interpretation that it is an internal Truth is, as ever, compelling.,
148: Another very ecumenical verse. All have their own facing direction, which cannot exclude them from pursuit of the Divine good.
149: The context certainly suggests a metaphorical interpretation here. After repeatedly drawing attention to the fact that there is neither East nor West for Allah, and that each person is responsible for her or his own path, it would be inconsistent to follow it up with a command to face in a particular direction. The Sufi interpretation becomes more appealing with every verse.
150: The verbatim repetition here would tend to argue against that though.
151: The most obvious interpretation here is that the "You" here is the incipient Muslim community, and the Prophet from among them is Muhammad. I am aching to know, however, if the interpretation that "You" is Muhammad and the messenger is his own Rabb is possible in the Arabic.
152-153: We seem to beginning a series of generic pious admonitions here, indistinguishable from those in other religious texts.
154: A potential first mention of the immortality of the soul! Far more explicit than anything in the Hebrew Scriptures, though it is supposed that the idea was well established among Jews by the time of Muhammad.
155-157: I have a problem with this notion in all religious texts where it is found: that the difficulties we endure are not simply part and parcel of this nasty, brutal, short existence, but rather a purposeful test from above. Surely life is difficult enough, and there are plentiful opportunities to exercise patience without adding to them.
158: Another tantalizing addition to the legend of Ishmael here. What remains unexplained is when Abraham returned to these hills to raise the Kaaba.
159-160: The first real serious "thou shalt not" that I have noticed. There are other guidelines, but this one comes with a specific curse attached.
161: A Sufi reading of this verse would argue that separation and belief in duality is its own punishment. A more literal reading would assume that there is an additional curse on top of that. But one wonders what "curse of the whole of humanity" could exist above and beyond the curse of our own existence?
162: The afterlife is predicated here, for those who have died in a state of duality in 161 are here condemned to continue in that state after death.
163: All three translations make the mistake of distinguishing the God that exists from the gods that do not, either by overexplication (Hulusi) or by mere capitalization. There does not seem to be any justification for these additions in the original text however. It's altogether reminiscent of the ways in which Christianists overexplicate John 1:1 in their texts to fit their theology. A more consistent reading would identify this God, not as "one" descriptively, but as Oneness.
164: There is an implicit grammatical and discursive connection between this verse and the preceding, but it is not made clear. The evidence referred to here is implied to evidence of that preceding truths, as though such were self-evident. But the connection between the two has missed a step.
165: Here is an attempt at the connection that was missing in 164. All creation bears testament to the divine unity. And the evidence for that unity is in the results when one fails to recognize it.
166: A reference to something that eludes me here. In what sense are these followers cut off? It seems to specific to be a general principle.
167: To follow at all is the mistake here, because following predicates a belief in duality and a possible existent other. The mistake is, when the severance from that which we followed is revealed, to look for another connection, rather than to perceive the impossibility of such a relationship in the first place. Indeed, all creation, if looked at perceptively, would reveal the lesson that could prevent the pain of perceived severance.
168: "What is clean" has not yet been specified yet, but what is most interesting is that "Satan" tempts us by his example--partaking of anything at all that pleases him in the moment.
169: Hulusi's insertions here are unforgivable. بِالسّوءِ is very clearly simply "evil" here, and Hulusi's extrapolation that this means "things that will strengthen your ego" should have remained parenthetical.
170: A verse that seems ignored by modern Muslims. The fact that our predecessors believed something is meaningless at best, and likely counterindicative.
171: And this truth is, at least in a Sufi reading, that which is revealed by the nature of existence--not from our ego, or our programming.
172: Again, insufficiently specific. Perhaps later the Prophet will identify for us what exactly is "clean".
173: Bingo. But the most fascinating thing here is that these dietary restrictions are framed as guidelines, and that no sin accrues to him who is forced to ignore them--in direct contrast to Sharia readings.
174: I'm clearly missing something of the discursive powers of إِنَّ here. I have been assuming that it predicates a logical relation to the aforementioned, but this is not the first time it has been used used to bring in an entirely unrelated topic.
175: Not unlike Sartre's "bad faith", these are aware of the unity of existence, but invest instead in duality because it is easier/more pleasant/less fearsome.
176: The Book here could not mean the (at this point yet uncompleted) Quran. It seems more consistent to read it as the book followed by the frequently mentioned "People of the Book", namely the accumulated revelations of all holy traditions. But a divergent reading is also made possible by the context: the Book as all of reality.
177: Hulusi seems to be taking a liberty when he forcefully inserts reference to his obsession with the letter بِا, but there is definite textual support. The reference to Allah here is manifestly different than in above verses, and one wonders about the powers of this phoneme--even if merely syntactically.
178: I'm beginning to get used to this Semitic discourse pattern. A sudden shift from the duties of the believers to a delineation of punishments for murder seems abrupt. But I'm confident that the topic will recurve on itself, and make the connection clear in the following verse.
179: This feels like it needs explication. The connection between the system of retribution mentioned in 178 and "life' is not explained.
180-182: A very clearcut process, and correspondingly immune to interpretation. Unless . . . this is related to the process mentioned above, of retribution: of the repayment for death bringing benefit. but that seems a a bit of a stretch.
183, 184: Another procedural directive, and one that on the surface seems straightforward. But the "if only you knew" at the end makes Hulusi's parenthetical interpretation that such fasting is to be done, not as a social or religious duty, but "to reduce corporeality" into a ritual with real spiritual value to toe practitioner.
185: Hulusi returns to his substitution of "HU" for اللَّهُ here, an obsession which continues to detract from the credibility of his translation.
186: The experience of the Divine is here phrased as a dialogue, with Allah answering the call, but the servant also responding to the answer.
187: This is a lovely metaphor for intercourse, and indeed intimacy of all sorts. The one is not a garment for the other; rather, they are garments for each other: each party at once adorned and adornment.
188: A sensible and loving directive, even out of context.
189: The connection between the phases of the moon, and the metaphor of using the front door here is unclear. One interpretation is that "there are no shortcuts in keeping to prescribed times."
190-194: Everything in this verse hinges upon the translation. There is only a hairsbreadth here between "Mind your own religion, unless someone tries to stop you," and "Kill all unbelievers." It is easy to see how modern Islam has chosen the less subtle of the two.
88: An absolutely fascinating choice of words here. Hulusi's choice to render غُلفٌ as "cocooned" is certainly defensible, but no more so that "wrapped" or "uncircumcised" in the other translations I'm consulting. Perhaps this last is the most evocative, considering the topic at hand, but it casts interesting light on the semiotics of circumcision as a cultural practice.
89: Hulusi assumes that the "Book from Allah" mentioned here is the word of Muhammad, but this is rather convoluted semantically. It seems premature to state that the book itself has been rejected, when ostensibly only the first two books had been written.
90: Hulusi's additions here are of the less excusable sort. He removes the reference to the Jews' jealousy, and replaces it with a completely unjustified reference to his own, Sufi, assumptions. He definitely crosses a line here from interpretation to commentary.
91: Muhammad is no doubt unaware of the parallels between his own reasoning and Paul's. There are only so many things one can say to a group of people who are bound and determined to be "right", and insofar as Paul and Muhammad are really talking to the same group here, it's no wonder that their logic is similar.
92-93: Hulusi's observation--that the Jews' rejection of Moses' words and embrace of the idol is a metaphor for those who choose to believe their senses rather than their Rabb--is marvelous, and one that I am surprised I had not thought of before. It seems obvious and unassailable, in retrospect.
94: This is honestly a little inscrutable to me. Hulusi leaves it implicit that the command to "say", here and in 93, is to the writer of the book, although other translations see fit to clarify. If this interpretation is accurate, then this further complicates the above mentioned pronoun difficulties. We have multiple parties to this command: the speaker, previously assumed to Muhammad, is now understood to be merely the mediary.
95-96: The idea that those who wish most for life are those who know they must pay dearly for their sins begs to become an aphorism.
97: A merciful explication here, that reveals Gabriel as the first mediary of the message, and Muhammad as the second, which leaves the Jews of Medina as the audience, and the Jews of Israel as merely the topic.
98: It would be interesting to know of other references to the names transliterated as "Gabriel" and "Michael". The latter, at least, is certainly not a major character in the Hebrew scriptures. Would Muhammad have had access to the writings of Paul and John, where he takes a larger role?
99: The referent patterns are becoming clearer. This verse is addressed to Muhammad, and only tangentially to his readers.
100-101: The phrase "what was with them" here is so perfectly aligned with Hulusi's overall interpretation, I assumed it was another of his liberties. But no so: لِما مَعَهُم is translated the same in both of the other translations I'm referencing. All three sources agree that the commands given through the Rasuls are merely confirmations of what the hearer already knows and possesses within.
102: So much in this verse to wonder about, including why it was not divided into smaller passages. Who are Harut and MArut, and how much of their story is hearsay? What is that which, when learned, caused a split between man and wife? Why does the original text seem to double back on itself in the last sentences, declaring "surely they knew" and "if they only knew" with the same breath? And why does Hulusi here choose to obscure that seeming inconsistency with his rendering?
103: "If only they knew" seems rather an empty wish, when the whole invective is predicated upon their having known.
104: A fascinating linguistic note that raises the question of how far into the prophet's career this book was written, such that his audience would have already developed a pattern of thus mocking him.
105: The polytheistic background of the Meccan audience here gives a special flavor to الكِتابِ here, which is literally "those who associate partners with Allah", and is variously rendered "idolators", "polytheists", and "dualists" in the versions I'm referencing. Hulusi's conflation of their polytheism with a mistaken belief in separation from the divine resonates especially clearly with my personal theology.
106: A slightly opaque verse, which opacity may eventually be cleared up once I determine with certainty whether the prophet is here granting himself the plural, or still relaying the words of Gabriel.
107-108: Taken with the context of 104, the prophet is here refuting accusations that have already been likely levelled against him for years before the revelation of Al-Baqarah.
109: Given the inconsistency in rendering of قَديرٌ in the other two translations I'm referencing (powerful and competent, respectively), Hulusi's choice to leave it untranslated is probably for the best.
110: There is a certain appealing simplicity in the return here to الصَّلاةَ and الزَّكاةَ as the primary concerns of believers, and something could be made out of the contrast between the similar edicts of Christ (love God and your neighbor) and Paul (refrain some things sacrificed to idols and from fornication). Hulusi's explication is also welcome here, and especially so in that it is not done under the guise of textuality, as elsewhere.
111: The People of the Book, so often referenced here, do not subscribe to any doctrine I'm familiar with. The Prophet must have been dealing with a very particular variety of them before writing this.
112: I am not sorry that I have subconsciously adopted Hulusi's approach to رَبِّهِ . When the other translations offer "Lord", I now automatically subsitute "one's essential reality" mentally.
113: This is much more in line with the People of the Book that I know. In all three translations, the interpretation is consistent: Those who split hairs over denomination may as well be polytheists. Worry about الصَّلاةَ and الزَّكاةَ and let Allah worry about the rest.
114: In contrast with this verse, where all three translations are wildly different. Hulusi seems to have inserted "Dhikr" in place of اسمُهُ, and without justification or notation.
115: More a warning than an ovation, especially when taken with the foregoing passages.
116: Another nice refutation of the separateness/plurality of the Divine. Just as there is neither East nor West in 115, and neither Jew nor Christian in 113, so is there no "son" of God. All creation is one Divine origin, and identity.
117: Again impressed with Hulusi's restraint in leaving بَديعُ transliterated as Badee, and leaving the idea that this means "Originator" rather than simply "Wonderful" parenthetical. If the other translations I'm referencing are any indicator, such is not typical.
118: Taken in context, the idea that Allah should be revealed in a sign is manifestly ludicrous, and betrays a stubborn adherence to the idea of the particular, individual, and specific nature of that which is in all ways general, universal, and indivisible.
119: A curious turn of phrase, but at least it reveals that Gabriel is still the speaker here, and not the Prophet.
120: Which makes this exhortation one to the Prophet himself, rather than one to his audience.
121: And just when Hulusi was adhering to admirable standards of scholarship, he inexplicably inserts himself into the text. "It" in this verse is very clearly referring to the revealed word, but Hulusi extrapolates unforgivably to refer it to "Hu" which appears nowhere in the text.
Hu is a potent and sobering concept, one that can be seen everywhere in this book, and as such does not need to forced into view this way.
122: The idea that the Divine somehow preferred the Hebrew nation above all other is a grating one, but the power of Abrahamic and Mosaic legend is undeniable.
123: A bold and definitive, though unsupported, refutation of that most insidious of Christian dogmas: the ransom.
124: If Rabb is taken, as I and Hulusi like to do, to be one's own divine nature, then the story of Abraham's trials becomes even more fascinatingly complex. And it's a nice touch that the Abrahamic covenant is here taken to have a few provisi.
125: It's tempting to take "The station of Abraham", as Hulusi does, metaphorically. But it's equally tempting to take it as a literal holy location. If Abraham was a literal man, and there is no reason to believe otherwise, then there must be a literal place where he prevailed against his Rabb.
126: One wonders what secular support there is for the city of Mecca being the actual location of Abraham's covenant.
127: If this literal house existed, and furthermore if its location is as advertised, how very convenient for Jews and Christians to not talk about it. Where would this have taken place in the Pentateuch? What parallel account does it embellish? It would have to be after Genesis 22, when Ishmael was sent away. But this is the last we hear of him in the Pentateuch. Which line of inquiry further begs the question, what was the test mentioned in 124? The sacrifice of Issac would have happened well after Ishmael's exile.
128: At least one of the other translations I'm referencing inserts "Muslim" into the verse, entirely without warrant. The question remains, though: if Abraham is with Ishamel, not Isaac, when this is taking place, then with what nation is the covenant?
129: At least the Prophet does not feel the need to identify himself in this verse. It remains open to interpretation who this messenger would be.
130: There is, as observed here, a primal divinity in Abraham, utterly free from dogma and ceremony. It is this experience of the Divine, more so even than that of Moses, that is at the heart of true religious experience.
131: Because Abraham's Rabb, and ours, is one and the same.
132: Hulusi's explication that "Muslim" means one who has submitted to the nature of reality brings the word rather closer to the meaning of "Enlightened" in the Buddhist sense.
133: In what sense was Ishmael Jacob's "father"?
134: Presumably "you" here is the Prophet's audience, not the prophet himself. I believe I'm getting a little better at tracking all the pronouns here.
135: Hulusi seems to think حَنيفًا loses something in the translation here, and leaves it as "Hanif", as does another translation I'm referencing. It may well lose something in English, but it occurs to me that 正 might do it justice. At any rate, the distinction between monotheism and the more accurate antipolytheism here is well taken. The idea of a "deity-god" is guilty of the same innacuracy as that of multiple gods.
136. The subtlety of النَّبِيّونَ that required it to be rendered "Nabi" instead of "prophets" here escapes me.
137. Presumably, Hulusi's rendering of شِقاقٍ as "fragmented" here, as opposed to "defiant" or "dissenting" elsewhere has some linguistic basis, and is not merely intended to shore up his focus on unity. In this case, at least, the more accurate translation happens to also be the one that .supports Hulusi's thesis.
138: What a lovely way of expressing the divine light. The "Hue" of the divine is, as above, more accurate linguistically and metaphysically. One begins to trust Hulusi a little more.
139: This might be my new favorite verse. If only more people followed it.
140: Equally relevant. You cannot escape your Rabb, nor can I escape mine, for they are the same. What use it it to anyone to police the divine?
141: A nearly exact repetition of 134, and almost my exact sentiment about all religions.
142: It's almost ecumenical. What direction do you face while praying? The East and the West are equally divine?
143: In light of which, the Prophet seems to be going back upon himself. If the East and the West are both divine, why with the same breath command one over the other? If all are accountable to their own Rabb, what need is there to draw distinction between them?
144: Which, in turn, makes Hulusi's assumption the only rational one: that one must turn neither East nor West, but inward.
145: The only possible intepretation of this in that light is that everyone should mind her or his own تَبِعوا. There is no turning another in your direction were they not already leaning in it.
146: I wonder if there is a holy book without this particular admonition. It seems contrary to the commands above (and below) to mind your own worship, and be concerned about the sincerity of others'. Perhaps the best interpretation is "be careful whom you listen to".
147: Some disagreement among translations about whether the Truth mentioned here is self-referential, or external to the book in which it is mentioned. Hulusi's interpretation that it is an internal Truth is, as ever, compelling.,
148: Another very ecumenical verse. All have their own facing direction, which cannot exclude them from pursuit of the Divine good.
149: The context certainly suggests a metaphorical interpretation here. After repeatedly drawing attention to the fact that there is neither East nor West for Allah, and that each person is responsible for her or his own path, it would be inconsistent to follow it up with a command to face in a particular direction. The Sufi interpretation becomes more appealing with every verse.
150: The verbatim repetition here would tend to argue against that though.
151: The most obvious interpretation here is that the "You" here is the incipient Muslim community, and the Prophet from among them is Muhammad. I am aching to know, however, if the interpretation that "You" is Muhammad and the messenger is his own Rabb is possible in the Arabic.
152-153: We seem to beginning a series of generic pious admonitions here, indistinguishable from those in other religious texts.
154: A potential first mention of the immortality of the soul! Far more explicit than anything in the Hebrew Scriptures, though it is supposed that the idea was well established among Jews by the time of Muhammad.
155-157: I have a problem with this notion in all religious texts where it is found: that the difficulties we endure are not simply part and parcel of this nasty, brutal, short existence, but rather a purposeful test from above. Surely life is difficult enough, and there are plentiful opportunities to exercise patience without adding to them.
158: Another tantalizing addition to the legend of Ishmael here. What remains unexplained is when Abraham returned to these hills to raise the Kaaba.
159-160: The first real serious "thou shalt not" that I have noticed. There are other guidelines, but this one comes with a specific curse attached.
161: A Sufi reading of this verse would argue that separation and belief in duality is its own punishment. A more literal reading would assume that there is an additional curse on top of that. But one wonders what "curse of the whole of humanity" could exist above and beyond the curse of our own existence?
162: The afterlife is predicated here, for those who have died in a state of duality in 161 are here condemned to continue in that state after death.
163: All three translations make the mistake of distinguishing the God that exists from the gods that do not, either by overexplication (Hulusi) or by mere capitalization. There does not seem to be any justification for these additions in the original text however. It's altogether reminiscent of the ways in which Christianists overexplicate John 1:1 in their texts to fit their theology. A more consistent reading would identify this God, not as "one" descriptively, but as Oneness.
164: There is an implicit grammatical and discursive connection between this verse and the preceding, but it is not made clear. The evidence referred to here is implied to evidence of that preceding truths, as though such were self-evident. But the connection between the two has missed a step.
165: Here is an attempt at the connection that was missing in 164. All creation bears testament to the divine unity. And the evidence for that unity is in the results when one fails to recognize it.
166: A reference to something that eludes me here. In what sense are these followers cut off? It seems to specific to be a general principle.
167: To follow at all is the mistake here, because following predicates a belief in duality and a possible existent other. The mistake is, when the severance from that which we followed is revealed, to look for another connection, rather than to perceive the impossibility of such a relationship in the first place. Indeed, all creation, if looked at perceptively, would reveal the lesson that could prevent the pain of perceived severance.
168: "What is clean" has not yet been specified yet, but what is most interesting is that "Satan" tempts us by his example--partaking of anything at all that pleases him in the moment.
169: Hulusi's insertions here are unforgivable. بِالسّوءِ is very clearly simply "evil" here, and Hulusi's extrapolation that this means "things that will strengthen your ego" should have remained parenthetical.
170: A verse that seems ignored by modern Muslims. The fact that our predecessors believed something is meaningless at best, and likely counterindicative.
171: And this truth is, at least in a Sufi reading, that which is revealed by the nature of existence--not from our ego, or our programming.
172: Again, insufficiently specific. Perhaps later the Prophet will identify for us what exactly is "clean".
173: Bingo. But the most fascinating thing here is that these dietary restrictions are framed as guidelines, and that no sin accrues to him who is forced to ignore them--in direct contrast to Sharia readings.
174: I'm clearly missing something of the discursive powers of إِنَّ here. I have been assuming that it predicates a logical relation to the aforementioned, but this is not the first time it has been used used to bring in an entirely unrelated topic.
175: Not unlike Sartre's "bad faith", these are aware of the unity of existence, but invest instead in duality because it is easier/more pleasant/less fearsome.
176: The Book here could not mean the (at this point yet uncompleted) Quran. It seems more consistent to read it as the book followed by the frequently mentioned "People of the Book", namely the accumulated revelations of all holy traditions. But a divergent reading is also made possible by the context: the Book as all of reality.
177: Hulusi seems to be taking a liberty when he forcefully inserts reference to his obsession with the letter بِا, but there is definite textual support. The reference to Allah here is manifestly different than in above verses, and one wonders about the powers of this phoneme--even if merely syntactically.
178: I'm beginning to get used to this Semitic discourse pattern. A sudden shift from the duties of the believers to a delineation of punishments for murder seems abrupt. But I'm confident that the topic will recurve on itself, and make the connection clear in the following verse.
179: This feels like it needs explication. The connection between the system of retribution mentioned in 178 and "life' is not explained.
180-182: A very clearcut process, and correspondingly immune to interpretation. Unless . . . this is related to the process mentioned above, of retribution: of the repayment for death bringing benefit. but that seems a a bit of a stretch.
183, 184: Another procedural directive, and one that on the surface seems straightforward. But the "if only you knew" at the end makes Hulusi's parenthetical interpretation that such fasting is to be done, not as a social or religious duty, but "to reduce corporeality" into a ritual with real spiritual value to toe practitioner.
185: Hulusi returns to his substitution of "HU" for اللَّهُ here, an obsession which continues to detract from the credibility of his translation.
186: The experience of the Divine is here phrased as a dialogue, with Allah answering the call, but the servant also responding to the answer.
187: This is a lovely metaphor for intercourse, and indeed intimacy of all sorts. The one is not a garment for the other; rather, they are garments for each other: each party at once adorned and adornment.
188: A sensible and loving directive, even out of context.
189: The connection between the phases of the moon, and the metaphor of using the front door here is unclear. One interpretation is that "there are no shortcuts in keeping to prescribed times."
190-194: Everything in this verse hinges upon the translation. There is only a hairsbreadth here between "Mind your own religion, unless someone tries to stop you," and "Kill all unbelievers." It is easy to see how modern Islam has chosen the less subtle of the two.
Saturday, June 23, 2018
Network
What even was this movie? I thought for a solid hour that I was watching a pre-Sorkin dialogue and character driven dramedy, but somehow must have missed the clues that I was really watching a cross between Dr. Strangelove and Idiocracy. The clues that this movie was not taking itself as seriously as I thought it was were there. But I, dunderhead that I am, didn't realize until Howard Beale walked out on a revolving cathedral of a dais halfway through the movie that I was watching a farce. And one of the many geniuses of this farce was that the transition from Sorkin to Parker and Stone was almost imperceptible through the first half.
Among the other geniuses were, of course, epic performances, iconic commentary, and positively prophetic social analysis. All of the pieces worked together in a smooth, and ultimately successful, pastiche. But perhaps just a little of the bite goes out of this masterwork when we watch it forty years later, and realize that we are still saying the same things about media today. Howard Beale was, of course, right. And he remains right. But humans have been guilty of the same idiocy for as long as there has been media of any sort. We are highly unlikely to change, but brilliant commentary such as this at least makes it easier for us to carry on.
Among the other geniuses were, of course, epic performances, iconic commentary, and positively prophetic social analysis. All of the pieces worked together in a smooth, and ultimately successful, pastiche. But perhaps just a little of the bite goes out of this masterwork when we watch it forty years later, and realize that we are still saying the same things about media today. Howard Beale was, of course, right. And he remains right. But humans have been guilty of the same idiocy for as long as there has been media of any sort. We are highly unlikely to change, but brilliant commentary such as this at least makes it easier for us to carry on.
Monday, June 18, 2018
Arthur Schopenhauer: Counsels and Maxims
In every worthy text, there is at least one passage that unlocks the remainder. I had thought I found this text's key passage in Schopenhauer's assessment of "Our Relation to Others":
That is a method of reasoning--an enthymeme--which rouses the bitterest feelings of sullen and rancorous hatred (73).
There it was. As he so often does, Ol' Artie had undone himself in the process of trying to undo others. When he points the finger at those who, in his perception, are jealous of his self-professed superiority, he is inadvertently incriminating his own jealousy of the ease with which they seem to be living. The mirror version of his enthymeme is a microcosm of the entire book: all men are lesser than me, and therefore to be avoided.
This gives rise to such demonstrably untrue propositions as "There are few ways by which you can make more certain of putting people into a good humour than by telling them of some trouble that has recently befallen you" (72), or ". . . with most people there will be no harm in occassionally mixing a grain of disdain with your treatment of them" (62). The syllogism on which Schopenhauer's enthymeme seems to be based is flawed in its premise, to wit: that all human interactions are of the same nature as that of interactions with the specific human, Schopenhauer.
Having thus handily unraveled his approach, I prepared to file this book under the same heading as that under which I filed his "Wisdom of Life": the brilliant tirade of a sad old man. Humans are indeed deeply flawed, but it is not true to say that they must be avoided at all cost. The dreary slime of the human soup is only half of the story, and you must eat the soup to get the dessert. I, in fact, thought myself very clever.
And then yesterday I went downtown for a pleasant outing, only to be approached by an old lady from a booth labelled "동성 변태 시민반대" (citizens resist homo perverts). It is not only that this refuse exists that infuriated me. I have experienced it plenty, and know that it will never go away. The word "pervert" in particular, though, triggered something unpleasant in me, and I boiled over with a rage that would surely have escalated from the most deliciously calibrated and destructive words, to an adrenaline-fueled velociraptor frenzy through the booth--were it not for my more level-headed companion.
Schopenhauer was right. His enthymeme is spot-on. We are all trash. The old woman with the pamphlets is obvious trash, but I am also trash, a hair's breadth away from reptilian violence. Avoid us at all costs.
That is a method of reasoning--an enthymeme--which rouses the bitterest feelings of sullen and rancorous hatred (73).
There it was. As he so often does, Ol' Artie had undone himself in the process of trying to undo others. When he points the finger at those who, in his perception, are jealous of his self-professed superiority, he is inadvertently incriminating his own jealousy of the ease with which they seem to be living. The mirror version of his enthymeme is a microcosm of the entire book: all men are lesser than me, and therefore to be avoided.
This gives rise to such demonstrably untrue propositions as "There are few ways by which you can make more certain of putting people into a good humour than by telling them of some trouble that has recently befallen you" (72), or ". . . with most people there will be no harm in occassionally mixing a grain of disdain with your treatment of them" (62). The syllogism on which Schopenhauer's enthymeme seems to be based is flawed in its premise, to wit: that all human interactions are of the same nature as that of interactions with the specific human, Schopenhauer.
Having thus handily unraveled his approach, I prepared to file this book under the same heading as that under which I filed his "Wisdom of Life": the brilliant tirade of a sad old man. Humans are indeed deeply flawed, but it is not true to say that they must be avoided at all cost. The dreary slime of the human soup is only half of the story, and you must eat the soup to get the dessert. I, in fact, thought myself very clever.
And then yesterday I went downtown for a pleasant outing, only to be approached by an old lady from a booth labelled "동성 변태 시민반대" (citizens resist homo perverts). It is not only that this refuse exists that infuriated me. I have experienced it plenty, and know that it will never go away. The word "pervert" in particular, though, triggered something unpleasant in me, and I boiled over with a rage that would surely have escalated from the most deliciously calibrated and destructive words, to an adrenaline-fueled velociraptor frenzy through the booth--were it not for my more level-headed companion.
Schopenhauer was right. His enthymeme is spot-on. We are all trash. The old woman with the pamphlets is obvious trash, but I am also trash, a hair's breadth away from reptilian violence. Avoid us at all costs.
Sunday, June 17, 2018
도란도란 (시인 동아리 시집)
핵심을 깊이 파보면
그 가치가 보인다.
아마추어라도
핵심에 아마*
사랑한다는 뜻으로
좋은 게 있겠다.
아무리 뻔해도
아무리 서툴러도
이와 같은 어설픈 시라도
사람은 저마다 할 말이 있고
귀를 기우리면
도란도란 이야기를 거내줄 것이다.
*아마추어에 있는 "아마" 원래 "사랑한다"는 뜻임
그 가치가 보인다.
아마추어라도
핵심에 아마*
사랑한다는 뜻으로
좋은 게 있겠다.
아무리 뻔해도
아무리 서툴러도
이와 같은 어설픈 시라도
사람은 저마다 할 말이 있고
귀를 기우리면
도란도란 이야기를 거내줄 것이다.
*아마추어에 있는 "아마" 원래 "사랑한다"는 뜻임
Thursday, May 17, 2018
쑥쑥 TOPIK 한국어어휘 고급
모든 읽은 책이ㅔ 대해서 글 써야겠다는 목표에 할말이 별로 없어도 이 책에 대한 글도 쓰겠다. 이렇게 어희 목록을 바탕으로 학습 하는 게효과 없는지 나도 알고 있다. 왜 이렇게 시간 낭비 했을까? 여기 들어간 1500 단어를 50일안에 누가 습득 할 수 있다? 첫쪽을 다시 보니, 몇 게월전 배워본 30 단어 중에 5게 아직 기억이 돼. 난 언어학습 로봇 아니니까.
Monday, May 07, 2018
Tracy Letts: August: Osage County
If you had asked me to make a series of suppositions about the author of this gripping script, I feel that I would have done pretty well. Both the writer and the story reveal themselves with every line, and I feel like I cheated myself out of the opportunity to be smug by looking Letts up before writing my predictions down. Naturally, Letts is an actor. This script is an actors' showcase in all of the best ways. It manages to have a reason to exist outside of itself, unlike so many modern American theatrical "classics" (basically every script I read in college, but the most ghastly example I can think of is Margulies' Dinner with Friends), resulting in something like a terrarium, where the audience just observes the actors, and is expected to marvel at how lifelike they are.
But it's more specific than that. It's not just that this script was written by an actor, but by a very certain type of highly skilled actor, for whom every line is its' own story. The ghosts of Edward Albee and Anton Chekov are on every page, and even more so on the second reading. I flatter myself by imagining that I could have predicted that Letts was not only an actor, but one who specializes in the works of those playwrights, as indeed he does. Osage County is no less than a modern Desire Under the Elms, so rawly and honestly American.
But one thing did surprise me about Letts, when I did a little research. He's a man. Perhaps even more than the three playwrights to whom I've compared him above, he has created women who are so true that I assumed Tracy was a woman's name. I was so gobsmacked by this script, that I couldn't sleep until I had not only finished it, but watched the movie. Sadly, the edges seem purposefully filed down in the screen adaptation, but even a taste of this experience was enough to make me resent my entire ancestry. Perhaps it's best that I don't have a chance to see it on stage.
But it's more specific than that. It's not just that this script was written by an actor, but by a very certain type of highly skilled actor, for whom every line is its' own story. The ghosts of Edward Albee and Anton Chekov are on every page, and even more so on the second reading. I flatter myself by imagining that I could have predicted that Letts was not only an actor, but one who specializes in the works of those playwrights, as indeed he does. Osage County is no less than a modern Desire Under the Elms, so rawly and honestly American.
But one thing did surprise me about Letts, when I did a little research. He's a man. Perhaps even more than the three playwrights to whom I've compared him above, he has created women who are so true that I assumed Tracy was a woman's name. I was so gobsmacked by this script, that I couldn't sleep until I had not only finished it, but watched the movie. Sadly, the edges seem purposefully filed down in the screen adaptation, but even a taste of this experience was enough to make me resent my entire ancestry. Perhaps it's best that I don't have a chance to see it on stage.
Stagecoach
Often when watching older films, we find ourselves spoiled by the fact that whatever is about to happen on the screen, we've seen it before. Everything that was once shocking and innovative, is now de rigeur, and we know, often down to the subtlest of character moments, how "this" is all going to play out. Naturally, I went in to this 80 year old movie expecting to see where characters and scenes of which we've since seen a thousand versions were born. I was not disappointed on that count.
But in a strange way, I was reverse surprised--unspoiled?--by the movies I had seen before. Specifically Tarantino's Hateful Eight, which is based on what seems to be just the first ten minutes of Stagecoach, but also every other "eight strangers in a box" movie, had conditioned me to expect certain things: a hidden past, a sudden betrayal, a secret identity, some such "twist" is absolutely necessary in these movies. So I waited until the last scene, still expecting Mr. Peacock to be a German spy, or Mr. Hatfield to be the child's actual father, etc.. But there was no such gimmick forthcoming. As with anything that goes on for more than a few seasons, cinema's continued popularity is dependent on its ability to surprise us, and to that end is inventing ever more shocking spectacles and grand reversals. But there was a time when all that was necessary was a solid script, nuanced performances, and an eye for scenery.
But in a strange way, I was reverse surprised--unspoiled?--by the movies I had seen before. Specifically Tarantino's Hateful Eight, which is based on what seems to be just the first ten minutes of Stagecoach, but also every other "eight strangers in a box" movie, had conditioned me to expect certain things: a hidden past, a sudden betrayal, a secret identity, some such "twist" is absolutely necessary in these movies. So I waited until the last scene, still expecting Mr. Peacock to be a German spy, or Mr. Hatfield to be the child's actual father, etc.. But there was no such gimmick forthcoming. As with anything that goes on for more than a few seasons, cinema's continued popularity is dependent on its ability to surprise us, and to that end is inventing ever more shocking spectacles and grand reversals. But there was a time when all that was necessary was a solid script, nuanced performances, and an eye for scenery.
Sunday, May 06, 2018
Catullus: Complete Poems.
Whether we have this work preserved to us by the idiosyncrasies of fate, of time, or merely of human nature matters not. They are all equally fickle, and as likely to bring us a Catullus as a Plutarch. The former, though seemingly adored among scholars of Latin, does not by my measure seem to deserve his reputation. Those same scholars would argue that my appreciation for his verse is limited by my native English, but in doing so they would seem to be admitting that the form of his lines is their chief, if not only, virtue. The content of those lines simply cannot stand on its own merit, and this reader cannot shake the impression that Catullus was his day's equivalent of Logan Paul. He offers nothing in particular of value, but does so in such an entertainingly brazen way that his audience is mesmerized. No doubt those who appreciate Latin will point to his masterful use of the language, but I reassert that without something underneath the language to recommend it, fate need not have bothered to preserve it for us.
박완서: 그 많던 싱아는 누가 다 먹었을까?
그 남자랑아무 연락한 지 벌써 6년 됐네. 그 잘 생긴, 말투가 부드러운, 나에 흥미가 없는; 박완서 소설가 좋아한다고했기 때문에 내가 이 책을 구매했던, 그 남자. 책을 구매하고 재목도 해석이 안 된 현실은, 나에게 그남자랑 연결이 안 된다는 징조엿나봐.
6년 그 후, 마침네 책을 읽어끝냈다. 그 때와 마찬가지로 홀로 살고 있다. 불운한 관계를 아직도 쫓는다. 그래도, 박완서와 비슷하게, 혼잣삶에 작아도 증언하겠다.
6년 그 후, 마침네 책을 읽어끝냈다. 그 때와 마찬가지로 홀로 살고 있다. 불운한 관계를 아직도 쫓는다. 그래도, 박완서와 비슷하게, 혼잣삶에 작아도 증언하겠다.
Tuesday, April 24, 2018
Haruki Murakami (with Seiji Ozawa): Absolutely on Music
There's a clear parallel to be drawn between this book and Bill Moyers and Joseph Cambell's iconic conversation, The Power of Myth. In each, two respected icons in their fields come together to talk, more or less casually, about a subject in which one of them is only a dabbler. But the book under treatment here has the added benefit of an auditory layer which made it a singular experience. Not only did Murakami and Ozawa talk at length and in depth about the nature of orchestral music, sharing marvelous personal anecdotes along the way, but Murakami did the reader the service of noting exactly where in the music they were referencing, down to the second. This added layer absolutely predicates listening to the recordings in question as they are being discussed, including lengthy pauses where the conversants are simply enjoying the music with you. When the music reaches a point where one of the two has a comment to offer, reading their transcript has the exact effect that was presumably intended: that of listening with them and hearing their comments in real time. It's the equivalent of the director's commentary on a DVD track, but for Mahler's first symphony et al. Having never been a fan of orchestral music before--anything without words has a hard time reaching me--I found a fledgling appreciation for the works mentioned here. I am entirely likely to let it remain half-fledged, and rely on Ozawa's comments, but for the weeks that I spent with these two visionaries at least, I was a fan.
Andrew Robinson: A Stitch in Time
I've read an awful lot of books. And as many books as I've read, I've watched even more television and movies (while every book I read makes it into this blog, only 'noteworthy' other media do so). And for the life of me, I can't find anything in all that vast storehouse of consumed and digested media to compare this book to. Bear with me as I try.
Perhaps a good place to begin is with the source material. We have the character of Elim Garak, a background character who, through the force of the performance, ended up becoming a central figure, and a fan favorite--including mine. DS9 has always been my favorite sci-fi series, in spite of not being the best, and Garak is easily my favorite character. What other character fills such a role, carving out such a healthy ledge in a ponderous fandom for her or himself? Boba Fett? Certainly, but not by the strength of the original actor's performance. Perhaps Captain Jack Harkness. Let's use him for an example.
Now suppose that John Barrowman wrote a book, and not just any book, but a definitive history of the character that he brought to life. No writer would have bothered to give Garak or Captain Jack life if the actors' performances hadn't so demanded it. I feel safe in saying that both characters belong to the actor, more than to the writers. Barrowman is a clever, charming, seemingly literate man. It is not outside of the realm of possibility that he would undertake such a thing.
But now suppose that the book was good. Not just that it satisfied and became popular among the fandom either, but that it was objectively well written, erudite, reflective, borderline postmodernist, and deeply philosophical. Imagine, in short, that the book was written in such a way that it was impossible not to be swept up in the illusion that it was written by the character, rather than the actor behind him. That's what you have here. This book was not written by Robinson; it was written by Garak. And the only logical conclusion is that Andrew Robinson is, in fact, a genetically altered Cardassian spy, brilliantly hiding in plain sight.
Perhaps a good place to begin is with the source material. We have the character of Elim Garak, a background character who, through the force of the performance, ended up becoming a central figure, and a fan favorite--including mine. DS9 has always been my favorite sci-fi series, in spite of not being the best, and Garak is easily my favorite character. What other character fills such a role, carving out such a healthy ledge in a ponderous fandom for her or himself? Boba Fett? Certainly, but not by the strength of the original actor's performance. Perhaps Captain Jack Harkness. Let's use him for an example.
Now suppose that John Barrowman wrote a book, and not just any book, but a definitive history of the character that he brought to life. No writer would have bothered to give Garak or Captain Jack life if the actors' performances hadn't so demanded it. I feel safe in saying that both characters belong to the actor, more than to the writers. Barrowman is a clever, charming, seemingly literate man. It is not outside of the realm of possibility that he would undertake such a thing.
But now suppose that the book was good. Not just that it satisfied and became popular among the fandom either, but that it was objectively well written, erudite, reflective, borderline postmodernist, and deeply philosophical. Imagine, in short, that the book was written in such a way that it was impossible not to be swept up in the illusion that it was written by the character, rather than the actor behind him. That's what you have here. This book was not written by Robinson; it was written by Garak. And the only logical conclusion is that Andrew Robinson is, in fact, a genetically altered Cardassian spy, brilliantly hiding in plain sight.
Wednesday, February 28, 2018
Wu Cheng-En: Journey to the West
I am entirely inadequate to the task of doing this epic
justice at this moment. Think of it as a
Ming dynasty Lord of the Rings crossbred with The Fairie Queen, and you will
have some idea of the narrative and allegorical treasures held within. Each passage holds the promise of a mystical
secret that a lifetime of study would be insufficient to explicate, almost as
layered and inscrutable as the I Ching, but with a veneer of plot that begs to
be read, rather than consulted.
As impossible as the task of explicating these 1400 pages properly
is, I have at my disposal a lovely tool provided in undergraduate days by the
venerable C.K. Pellow: a truly great work of literature will contain in
individual passages a microcosm of the whole.
Each individual segment will carry the attributes of the whole, just as
a molecule is a reproduction of a galaxy.
Accordingly, in the event that one cannot address an entire work, one
has the option of addressing a small passage that contains the entirety of the
work within itself. To wit:
意馬心猿都失散，金公木母盡凋零。
黃婆傷損通分別，道義消疏怎得成！
The Thought−horse and
the Mind−ape had scattered,
The Lord of Metal and the Mother of Wood were dispersed.
The Yellow Wife was damaged, her powers divided,
The Way was finished, and how could it be saved?
All five characters in the book are contained herein, though
it requires some explication to identify them.
The thought-horse and the mind-ape are the most easily identified, and
even this half of a line is bursting with insight. One common Western conception of identity is
that of a dichotomy and opposition between the mind and the heart, thoughts
and feelings. Wu Cheng-En (heavily
influenced by Buddhist, Confucianist, and Taoist thought) reveals the problem
with such a dichotomy by giving voice to the fact that the thoughts and the
mind are not necessarily one unit. The
thoughts, like the dragon prince in Journey to the West, are clear, discrete,
sequential, and can be led to an extent.
They are tools, a service animal that helps us to carry our burdens and
complete our tasks.
The mind, however, is neither so easy to define, nor so
generally helpful. It is not our
thoughts that cause us suffering, it is our mind--specifically the monkey mind
that seizes a thought, twists it into a narrative, and uses it as an excuse to
run around making irreparable damage in our lives. In some ways the entire book is the story of
the maddeningly headstrong and willful Sun Wukong learning to channel his
marvelous abilities in the service of some greater good. It would be difficult to argue with a similar
interpretation of my life in particular and, I suspect, any human's life.
All of which is a fairly straightforward and defensible
interpretation. But in the second half
of the line, it gets considerably fuzzier.
The structure seems to imply that the two entities mentioned in the
second half are parallel to the two entities in the first half, but such a
parallel is unsustainable. Elsewhere Zhu Bajie and Sun Wukong are conflated with the elements wood and metal
respectively, so a reading that identifies them in this phrase is all but
mandatory. The characters in the story
are not not only parallel to parts of the identity, but also to the five
natural elements of Chinese medicine and philosophy. Zhu Bajie, introduced into the equation here,
corresponds to the body on one side and to wood on the other: driven by biological imperatives to eat,
drink, and procreate, just as a tree is occupied with the natural physical
process of absorbing, becoming, and expressing.
And just as it is in the mind-ape's nature to destroy and ruin all it
touches when left to itself, so too does the body-pig make a mess of things
when led entirely by its own desires.
If only the parallel continued so simply! In the next line, Sha Wujing is added to the
recipe as "The Yellow Wife", and takes his place in the alchemical
parallel as Earth. But what is his
corresponding role in the self? If the
Dragon Prince, Monkey King, and Pig General are thought, mind, and body
respectively, what role does the sand monk play? That of spirit? Of heart? Neither of these interpretations is supported
explicitly by the text, nor is there any convenient traditional parallel
between the five elements and the parts of the self with which to fill in the
blanks. Rather, a picture begins to
develop of the relative importance of the three elements Metal, Wood, and Fire
in Chinese alchemy, and the corresponding unimportance of Fire and Water. While all five are believed to be in a
pentalectic of birth and suppression, the former three have a unique
relationship. Each of them correspond to
two trigrams, colors, planets, etc. while Fire and Water are only assigned one
each, allowing the cross-cultural sum of seven to be reached.
The story of the Journey to the West, therefore, is not
simply the story of how one overcomes the wildness of the mind and the desires
of the body, but the story of how these two work in concert with a third thing,
a catalyst, to achieve balance. Left to
their own, either Sun Wukong or Zhu Bajie cause nothing but chaos. But with the addition of Earth--Sha
Wujing--the pilgrims are completely unstoppable. This triune division is as ubiquitous in
Chinese thought as it is textually in Journey to the West, and is known by far
more names than I could explicate or even identify: the three treasures, the three jewels, the
Three Pure Ones, and--perhaps most relevant here--the three bases: energy,
vitality, and spirit. To a Western mind,
this division is inscrutable, and it remains largely so to me, but I will hold it in my
active concepts folder. What or who is
Friar Sand? He is the necessary third
thing, which has no name in English, and no place in our mind/body
dichotomy. He is the center, the
intermediate, the root and the base.
Without his perspective, we are lost.
And it is in the fourth quarter of the passage that we come
to realize what the entire book is about.
In contrast to the other four characters, Tang Sanzang corresponds with
neither an element or an aspect of the self.
It would be tempting, based on both this fact and the narrative as a
whole, to interpret that as meaning he is the whole self: the pilgrim going on a journey, in the course
of which he strives to ovrecome his inner demons as much as any external ones
he meets. But the book is not "The
Golden Cicada", and he is not "the self" in this passage. The story is not of the pilgrim, but of the
journey, and Tang Sanzang is "The Way" personified. He is the result when the three elements work
together: earth, wood, and metal; energy, vitality, and spirit; Lao Tze, Kong
Tze, and Siddhartha; the plantain fan, the seven-star sword, and the dazzling
rope. At his final goal, he watches his
body drown and float away, utterly without remorse or attachment, as though
Dorothy wakes up and realizes that the journey took place entirely within
herself.
All of which, wordy and seemingly thorough as it was, is
only to say that I have opened a single crack through which to begin to
understand two lines out of 1400 pages.
Thursday, February 15, 2018
Carlo Goldoni: Comedies
The excellent (though inexplicably unidentified) editor/translator of this volume accurately predicted my response to this author when ze compared him to Moliere. I don't think of Moliere as particularly special, and neither do I Goldoni. Both of them have their place, know their audiences, and above all know the stage and what will play on it. Nonetheless, to this reader they serve as moderately entertaining, but unmemorable bookmarks. In Goldoni's case, that bookmark is to show the intermediate step the Italian theatre took after the antics of the Commedia Del'Arte grew stale. Significant, yes, and on the stage likely quite entertaining, but on the page a fair sight short of brilliant.
Wednesday, February 07, 2018
Elizabeth Strout (ed.): The Best American Short Stories, 2013
Cullen, that trivial little ninny, thought he was being clever leaving a bag of books at my place on his last day in Korea, instead of asking whether I wanted any of them. And perhaps he was. If he had asked whether I wanted to add a half dozen unread volumes to my stack, I would definitely have said no. But here we are, him thumbing his repatriated nose, and me with several books that I would definitely not have chosen for myself.
I have read items in the "Best American"$ before, and am usually not disappointed. I don't remember the quality being quite this good though. Every story in this selection was well written and engaging in its own way. But perhaps due to some disagreement between the editor and myself about the definition of a "story", I also don't remember quite so many of them feeling incomplete. I'm sure it's my particular prejudice that assumes something must happen for the label of "story" to fit. Many of the items in this volume, however, did not meet that criterion. Rather than stories, they felt like vignettes, tableaux, mere descriptions. I was left with the impression that they were (albeit well-chosen) excerpts from some larger story, or that the story had already happened, and the players were being wheeled out for me on an ekkyklema.
For my money, the only real stories here were the ones were I was pressed into service alongside the characters, experiencing some process alongside them, as in Kirstin Valdez Quade's remarkable "Nemecia", or Suzanne Rivecca's riveting and brutal "Philanthropy". And the pinnacle for me, as it would be for most readers, was when the journey that I took with the characters coincided with some journey that I was also taking alone, in so-called "reality". It is for this reason that Joan Wickersham's "The Tunnel, or the News from Spain" was my favorite. I feel only too keenly the mix of resentment and affection that comes from a mother who needs too much, and becomes an emotional drain through no fault of her own. It is an irresolvable dilemma that I would not have been able to express with such an honest and compassionate voice.
I have read items in the "Best American"$ before, and am usually not disappointed. I don't remember the quality being quite this good though. Every story in this selection was well written and engaging in its own way. But perhaps due to some disagreement between the editor and myself about the definition of a "story", I also don't remember quite so many of them feeling incomplete. I'm sure it's my particular prejudice that assumes something must happen for the label of "story" to fit. Many of the items in this volume, however, did not meet that criterion. Rather than stories, they felt like vignettes, tableaux, mere descriptions. I was left with the impression that they were (albeit well-chosen) excerpts from some larger story, or that the story had already happened, and the players were being wheeled out for me on an ekkyklema.
For my money, the only real stories here were the ones were I was pressed into service alongside the characters, experiencing some process alongside them, as in Kirstin Valdez Quade's remarkable "Nemecia", or Suzanne Rivecca's riveting and brutal "Philanthropy". And the pinnacle for me, as it would be for most readers, was when the journey that I took with the characters coincided with some journey that I was also taking alone, in so-called "reality". It is for this reason that Joan Wickersham's "The Tunnel, or the News from Spain" was my favorite. I feel only too keenly the mix of resentment and affection that comes from a mother who needs too much, and becomes an emotional drain through no fault of her own. It is an irresolvable dilemma that I would not have been able to express with such an honest and compassionate voice.
Friday, January 05, 2018
Sullivan's Travels
This movie wasn't really that good, let alone great. Never fully committing to its idea, and offering only occasional glimpses of skill from Veronica Lake, it would be easy to write this off as a middling romantic comedy. Which is, of course, purposeful. In the course of delivering on its explicit promise of lighthearted but meaningless entertainment, it not only manages to comment on the type of movie it purports to be, but also sneakily to be exactly the opposite.
The film's central conceit of making a lighthearted romantic comedy about making lighthearted romantic comedies is the earliest example I can think of what has now come to be termed" meta". Such an idea is positively pedestrian nowadays, and a film that attacks it has to do rather a lot to justify its existence. Insofar as Sullivan's Travels treads this ground decades in advance of any other, it can be forgiven for being occasionally unfocused or pedestrian. It travels a lovely thematic arc from "movies should be meaningful and serious", through "that's not as easy as it seems, and is frankly pedantic and insulting", ending up at "maybe a pie in the face isn't such a bad thing after all". At each step of this journey, it not only delivers the message, but at the same time is the message, its own form and tone displaying in the macro what it's purporting to say in the micro. If it were a little more artfully or skillfully done, one might be tempted to call it literature.
But the real cleverness (the clumsiness of the execution standing in the way of calling it genius) of the film is that the opposite idea, that movies should "mean" something, runs in a countercurrent underneath the film even as it is being mocked. The film portrays the title character with a laughable and oblivious white savior complex that is rooted in ego, rather than in empathy--a phenomenon that is all to familiar today. But even as that caricature is exhaled, and the idea that such a director is to be mocked, writer/director Preston Sturges sneaks a real picture of injustice, hardship, and inequality under the inhalation. It's quite postmodernist and sophisticated, and insofar as such a thing was done before "modern" was a thing, let alone "postmodern", it can be forgiven for its clumsy, and ultimately only marginally successful, attempt.
The film's central conceit of making a lighthearted romantic comedy about making lighthearted romantic comedies is the earliest example I can think of what has now come to be termed" meta". Such an idea is positively pedestrian nowadays, and a film that attacks it has to do rather a lot to justify its existence. Insofar as Sullivan's Travels treads this ground decades in advance of any other, it can be forgiven for being occasionally unfocused or pedestrian. It travels a lovely thematic arc from "movies should be meaningful and serious", through "that's not as easy as it seems, and is frankly pedantic and insulting", ending up at "maybe a pie in the face isn't such a bad thing after all". At each step of this journey, it not only delivers the message, but at the same time is the message, its own form and tone displaying in the macro what it's purporting to say in the micro. If it were a little more artfully or skillfully done, one might be tempted to call it literature.
But the real cleverness (the clumsiness of the execution standing in the way of calling it genius) of the film is that the opposite idea, that movies should "mean" something, runs in a countercurrent underneath the film even as it is being mocked. The film portrays the title character with a laughable and oblivious white savior complex that is rooted in ego, rather than in empathy--a phenomenon that is all to familiar today. But even as that caricature is exhaled, and the idea that such a director is to be mocked, writer/director Preston Sturges sneaks a real picture of injustice, hardship, and inequality under the inhalation. It's quite postmodernist and sophisticated, and insofar as such a thing was done before "modern" was a thing, let alone "postmodern", it can be forgiven for its clumsy, and ultimately only marginally successful, attempt.
Thursday, December 28, 2017
자유부인
이러한 신파극에 의미가 숨어있을까요? 한형모 감독이 그런 목표로 촬영했는지 아니면 그냥 이익을 위해서 했는지 잘 모르겠지만 뒤늦게 보면 사회적인 영향을 받았다는 게 확실이다. 감독이 사회적인 영향을 일부로 강화하든 함부로 하든 결국은 마찬가지다.
자유부인에 무슨 영향이 미치냐면 작품명과 동일 한 자유가 아니다. 오히려 자유는 한국 부인을 부패하게 만드는 것으로 다루고 있다. 파방판에는 그 부패된 부인을 가부장제만 살려줄 수 있다. 그래서 이 작품에 "자유가 위험하다"는 의미가 숨어있다고 할 수 있다.
아직도 자유부인의 자손된 현재 한국 드라마에 같은 가부장제를 강화하는 내용을 찾기 어렵지 않다. 자유러운 여자가 남자 없이 잘 사는 장면을 언제 까지 기다려야 할 건가?
자유부인에 무슨 영향이 미치냐면 작품명과 동일 한 자유가 아니다. 오히려 자유는 한국 부인을 부패하게 만드는 것으로 다루고 있다. 파방판에는 그 부패된 부인을 가부장제만 살려줄 수 있다. 그래서 이 작품에 "자유가 위험하다"는 의미가 숨어있다고 할 수 있다.
아직도 자유부인의 자손된 현재 한국 드라마에 같은 가부장제를 강화하는 내용을 찾기 어렵지 않다. 자유러운 여자가 남자 없이 잘 사는 장면을 언제 까지 기다려야 할 건가?
Thursday, December 21, 2017
연세대학교 출판부: 주제가 있는 한국어 읽기 (5급)
다음달의 한국어 능력시험에 신청했다. 더 이상 미루면 그냥 쓸모없는 흔해빠진 중년 백인 아저씨가 됬다고 할 수 있을까 걱정이 돼서 마침내 마음을 먹었다. 생각 보다 무서운 일이네. 시험을 본 후 4급으로 나오면 그 지난 8년 낭비한 셈이다. 사실 온 지 8년이 됐어도 아직 실력이 낮은 것에 부끄럽다.
그래서 이 책을읽은것이다. 읽어보니 더 무서워졌다. 시간 제안 없어도 이해하기 어렵다면 현실 시험은 어떻게? 특히 마지막 장인 "서편제"에 내용 이해 질문을 맞기는 커녕 등장인물 몇 명이 있는지를 말 할 수 없겠다.
제 언어 습득에 어려운 당계를 당도한 것 같다. 앞에 지름길이 없겠으니 열심히 공부 하기 밖에 방법이 없다.
그래서 이 책을읽은것이다. 읽어보니 더 무서워졌다. 시간 제안 없어도 이해하기 어렵다면 현실 시험은 어떻게? 특히 마지막 장인 "서편제"에 내용 이해 질문을 맞기는 커녕 등장인물 몇 명이 있는지를 말 할 수 없겠다.
제 언어 습득에 어려운 당계를 당도한 것 같다. 앞에 지름길이 없겠으니 열심히 공부 하기 밖에 방법이 없다.
Sunday, December 17, 2017
Amy B.M. Tsui: Understanding Expertise in Teaching
The problem with this sort of academic writing is summed up in something one of my favorite professors, 조현용 once said (roughly translated): "Academic writing requires you to write 30 pages for the right to propose a single line." And that's basically what Tsui has dutifully done here. I will save you all the trouble of reading the "30 pages" of theoretical underpinnings, research methodologies, and background information, and skip directly to the "single line", the kernel of insight that she had to work so hard to justify proposing:
"The findings of the case studies suggest that the critical difference between experts and nonexperts is not that the former solve more and more problems, because problems often do not present themselves as such. It is their capability to 'see' what appears to be unproblematic as problems that distinguishes them from nonexperts" (271).
This insightful distinction, not between experts and novices, but between experts and experienced nonexperts, is at the heart of this research. The ability to problematize, analyze, and improve things that experienced nonexperts would view as "ain't broke" is what makes a true expert, in teaching and presumably across fields. While I find myself woefully short of expert in many ways, this salient perspective identifies a way forward and offers a way around the trap of becoming just another mediocre white guy teaching English in East Asia.
"The findings of the case studies suggest that the critical difference between experts and nonexperts is not that the former solve more and more problems, because problems often do not present themselves as such. It is their capability to 'see' what appears to be unproblematic as problems that distinguishes them from nonexperts" (271).
This insightful distinction, not between experts and novices, but between experts and experienced nonexperts, is at the heart of this research. The ability to problematize, analyze, and improve things that experienced nonexperts would view as "ain't broke" is what makes a true expert, in teaching and presumably across fields. While I find myself woefully short of expert in many ways, this salient perspective identifies a way forward and offers a way around the trap of becoming just another mediocre white guy teaching English in East Asia.
Friday, October 06, 2017
Friedrich Nietzsche: Thus Spoke Zarathustra
There seem to be two things that people get wildly, carelessly wrong about Nietzsche--the sort of ignorance that comes from having read a few decontextualized quotes or believed one's undergraduate intro to philosophy class a little too willingly. The first is that Nietzsche is a philosopher at all. There are no reasoned propositions here, no analyses, proofs, or theses to be found. This is poetry first, and philosophy only insofar as all poetry has a secondary claim to that label. This book, and what little else of his I've read, is neither rational nor objective, but the pure and beautiful wailing of an anguished spirit, put into words where such should have been impossible.
Which leads rather naturally to the second thing people--by which I chiefly mean tepid, unremarkable straight white men with a desire to appear profound but nothing interesting of their own to say--get wrong about Nietzsche. If one approaches a book like this with a meatheaded belief that it will be philosophy, the natural next question is, "What school of philosophy is it? What label can I put on it, and then on myself to spare me the realization that I have nothing interesting to say?" The answer that some come up with to that question is "Nihilism", a term which then gets further warped into "belief in nothing", and ultimately results in conveniently unassailable laziness.
But to assert that Nietzsche believed in nothing is manifestly ludicrous. The passion with which this book seethes is in stark contrast to the numb, mushy life that so many who say they embrace Nietzsche live. Nietzsche believes, not in nothing, but in nothingness: in the wild and creative power of the void. When he wrote in "Beyond Good and Evil" that if you "gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you", he was referring to its power, not its danger.
That abyss, void, longing, desire, against which so many rail and resist is for Nietzsche not an enemy. The gaping maw that yawns at our core is terrifying, and so many make the mistake of fleeing from it, covering it up, or trying to fill its insatiable mouth. Its hunger begs to be satisfied, but is there a more Sisyphean task? The desire of the abyss cannot be silenced, and neither is it meant to be. That desire is the reason for its existence, and it is out of that desire, if we stop and gaze, that truth comes. The abyss does not devour; it delivers. It does not consume; it creates.
How ludicrous to suppose that Zarathustra in this book--and Nietzsche, to the extent the two overlap--have any truck with Buddhism. The latter's dismissal of desire is completely incompatible with the former's embrace of it. The sky calls to Zarathustra, to be sure: the soaring, liberating abandonment of this world's petty concerns. But so does the earth call to him: desire, rage, and struggle. There is an upward motion to our journey, an ascent to the peak of a mountain, at which point we have no choice but to sprout wings. But there is also a going-under, a return to the darkness of discontent and agony, that is equally necessary. It is this darkness, in fact, from which we get some of our truest light, if we can bear its gaze. Wonderful things can come from the void, and Nietzsche here helps us to look at it without going mad, resting a comforting, but rough, hand on our shoulder as it opens up in us and produces, for example, verses like this of mine, a tribute to his vision:
Becoming a tree means grasping the earth, as surely as clutching the sun,
Seizing the soil for all that its worth, in the forest of two unfolding as one.
Which leads rather naturally to the second thing people--by which I chiefly mean tepid, unremarkable straight white men with a desire to appear profound but nothing interesting of their own to say--get wrong about Nietzsche. If one approaches a book like this with a meatheaded belief that it will be philosophy, the natural next question is, "What school of philosophy is it? What label can I put on it, and then on myself to spare me the realization that I have nothing interesting to say?" The answer that some come up with to that question is "Nihilism", a term which then gets further warped into "belief in nothing", and ultimately results in conveniently unassailable laziness.
But to assert that Nietzsche believed in nothing is manifestly ludicrous. The passion with which this book seethes is in stark contrast to the numb, mushy life that so many who say they embrace Nietzsche live. Nietzsche believes, not in nothing, but in nothingness: in the wild and creative power of the void. When he wrote in "Beyond Good and Evil" that if you "gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you", he was referring to its power, not its danger.
That abyss, void, longing, desire, against which so many rail and resist is for Nietzsche not an enemy. The gaping maw that yawns at our core is terrifying, and so many make the mistake of fleeing from it, covering it up, or trying to fill its insatiable mouth. Its hunger begs to be satisfied, but is there a more Sisyphean task? The desire of the abyss cannot be silenced, and neither is it meant to be. That desire is the reason for its existence, and it is out of that desire, if we stop and gaze, that truth comes. The abyss does not devour; it delivers. It does not consume; it creates.
How ludicrous to suppose that Zarathustra in this book--and Nietzsche, to the extent the two overlap--have any truck with Buddhism. The latter's dismissal of desire is completely incompatible with the former's embrace of it. The sky calls to Zarathustra, to be sure: the soaring, liberating abandonment of this world's petty concerns. But so does the earth call to him: desire, rage, and struggle. There is an upward motion to our journey, an ascent to the peak of a mountain, at which point we have no choice but to sprout wings. But there is also a going-under, a return to the darkness of discontent and agony, that is equally necessary. It is this darkness, in fact, from which we get some of our truest light, if we can bear its gaze. Wonderful things can come from the void, and Nietzsche here helps us to look at it without going mad, resting a comforting, but rough, hand on our shoulder as it opens up in us and produces, for example, verses like this of mine, a tribute to his vision:
Becoming a tree means grasping the earth, as surely as clutching the sun,
Seizing the soil for all that its worth, in the forest of two unfolding as one.
Saturday, September 09, 2017
허영만: 식객
세상에 많은 재미없는 얘기 중 하나는 "지금 하는 걸 말고 우리옛날에 했던 걸 해라"는 얘기다. 시간이 흐르는 것과 마찬가지로 틀림 없이 모든 세대가 이런 말을 먼저 들어야 하고 마침네 해야한다. 그래서 "지금 먹는 음식 말고 우리 옛날에 먹었던 음식을 먹어라"는 책을 쓰려면, 이 뻔함을 어떻게 피할 수 있을까? 따분하고 재미없는 말을 재밌게 하는 방법은?
허영만 작가가 매체를 잘 산택한 것으로 이 도전에 성공했다. 만화의 특장은 독자의 방어를 낮추는 것이다. 아무리 교문적이라도, 글을 만화에 싸주면 광객이 잘 받을 것이다. 그러므로 이책에 담겨있는 역사, 요리법, 논평을 웃기고 담동적인 식사로 맛있게 먹었다.
허영만 작가가 매체를 잘 산택한 것으로 이 도전에 성공했다. 만화의 특장은 독자의 방어를 낮추는 것이다. 아무리 교문적이라도, 글을 만화에 싸주면 광객이 잘 받을 것이다. 그러므로 이책에 담겨있는 역사, 요리법, 논평을 웃기고 담동적인 식사로 맛있게 먹었다.
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