Borges, Proust, Buddha

Yet another interesting quotation for perhaps someone to tackle and to deal with in their readings of Proust:

From Chaucer to Marcel Proust, the novel's substance is the unrepeatable, the singular flavour of souls; for Buddhism there is no such flavour, or it is one of the many vanities of the cosmic simulacrum. Christ preached so that men would have life, and have it in abundance (John 10:10); the Buddha, to proclaim that this world, infinite in time and in space, is a dwindling fire. (Personality and the Buddha, 350)

It seems that I am just collecting quotations that are later posted on the blog, but this seems to be an interesting task insofar as we can begin -- or at least I can -- the reach of Proust.

J.A.

Marx, Proust, Benjamin?

I really appreciated the post that Jonathan made the other day commenting on Taussig’s Walter Benjamin’s Grave. In fact, I myself was just writing on the triad of Marx, Benjamin and Proust -- and more specifically (1) Marx’ conception of work as de-humanizing and alienating, (2) the role this depersonalization of work plays in Benjamin’s ‘atrophy of experience’, and (3) Proust’s re-assessment of the meaning of work (work not as dehumanizing, but, quite the opposite, as potentially meaningful, painfully personal, and involving an intimate subjective/phenomenological connection with one’s ‘world’). This quote from Marx in particular seemed to be of relevance to me when trying to conceptualize precisely what it was Proust was critiquing about ‘work’ (which to him didn’t really get to the nitty gritty of real work):

Work is external to the worker, that it is not part of his nature; and that, consequently, he does not fulfil himself in his work but denies himself, has a feeling of misery rather than well-being, does not develop freely his mental and physical energies but is physically exhausted and mentally debased. The worker, therefore, feels himself at home only during his leisure time, whereas at work he feels homeless. His work is not voluntary but imposed, forced labour. It is not the satisfaction of a need, but only a means for satisfying other needs. Its alien character is clearly shown by the fact that as soon as there is no physical or other compulsion it is avoided like the plaque. External labour, labour in which man alienates himself, is a labour of self-sacrifice, of mortification” (Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts, 1964: 124-5)

If Benjamin is a ‘Proustian Marxism”, then what is it about Benjamin’s Marxism that is Proustian? Is there something 'transcritical' going on here, like Karatani Kojin's transcritique of Marx and Kant? This is something I haven’t quite grasped yet. As “an eccentric overwhelmed by the avant-garde and the fast-moving political scene of the time” (quoting from Taussig), there is both an element of the unconventional, as well as the alienated, even the outcast -- the eccentric is ex-centric, ie. outside of the center. The fascination that Benjamin had with Proust was in part a result of their shared sense of their own alterity. Amit Chaudhuri’s introduction to Benjamin’s One Way Street draws attention to Benjamin’s identity as a secular Jew, ie. his “angularity in relationship to the mainstream”. Like the bourgeoise Bengali subjugated to a colonial modernism, Chaudhuri says, he belongs to a “nomadic family”; he is one “who has become deracinated from his or her tradition” and one who is “unsure of his own identity: confronting world history has displaced him from his lineage, and his politics extends to a critique of his forbears” (x-xi). What if we think, then, of Proust problematic of ‘work’ as being the problem of constructing -- or reconstructing -- not just lost time, but a lost tradition, namely a tradition from which Proust as a modern eccentric -- an eccentric alienated from the modern, from the “fast-moving political scene of the time” (Taussig) -- has become alienated. I am not really articulating this as well as I could, but I feel that this is all connected: the Marxist conception of the alienation of the worker, the Benjaminian idea of the atrophy of experience/tradition, and the Proustian idea of regaining a lost past and restructuring the web of time ... I will end with that for now.

-D.G.

Proust's Theories, Proust's Theorists

As most of you know, my interest now, when reading Proust, is the way in which Proust is read and how we are to read Proust and how Proust reads us. There is, of course that wonderful quotation in Time Regained:

In reality every reader is, while he is reading, the reader of his own self. The writer’s work is merely a kind of optical instrument which he offers to the reader to enable him to discern what, without this book, he would perhaps never have perceived in himself. And the recognition by the reader in his own self of what the book says is proof of its veracity, the contrary also being true, at least to a certain extent, for the difference between two texts may sometimes be imputed less to the author than to the reader. Besides, the book may be too learned, too obscure for a simple reader, and may therefore present to him a clouded glass through which he cannot. And other peculiarities can have the same effect as inversion. In order to read with understanding many readers require to read in their own particular fashion, and the author must not be indignant at this; on the contrary, he must leave the reader all possible liberty, saying to him: ‘Look for yourself, and try whether you see best with this lens or that one or this one.’ (VI:322)

To these ends, as I was reading On Late Style: Music and Literature Against the Grain, I noticed how Said turned to Adorno who in turn turns to Proust; I quote here from Mimima Moralia, “For Marcel Proust”:

The son of well-to-do parents, who whether from talent or weakness, engages in a so-called intellectual profession, as an artist or a scholar, will have a particularly difficult time with those bearing the distasteful title of colleagues. It is not merely that his independence is envied, the seriousness of his intentions mistrusted, and that he is suspected of being a secret envoy of the established powers. Such suspicions, though betraying a secret resentment, would usually prove well-founded. But the real resistances lie elsewhere. The occupation with things of the mind has by now itself become ‘practical,’ a business with strict division of labor, departments and restricted entry. The man of independent means who chooses it out of repugnance for the ignominy of earning money will not be disposed to acknowledge the fact. For this he is punished. He is not a ‘professional,’ is ranked in competitive hierarchy as a dilettante no matter how well he knows his subject, and must, if he wants a career, show himself even more resolutely blinkered than the most inveterate specialist. (21)

Following this, Said noted that “Adorno, like Proust, lived and worked his entire life next to, and even as a part of, the great underlying continuities of Western society: families, intellectual associations, musical and concert life, and philosophical traditions, as well as any number of academic institutions. But he was always to one side, never fully part of it” (21).

For now, I have no comment but instead prefer to continue sharing the various theorists who have incorporate Proust into their own thoughts and how this very action seems, appropriately enough, Proustian.

Another thought though on inversion, it struck me that Proust in the above theory of reading speaks about inversion: is the author merely an inversion of the reader or vice versa?

J.A.

The Guermantes' Riches

The Guermantes' Way starts out with Marcel's move to a new house. The first line in this book (which I am reading in French since there are no English versions left at the library) concerns Francoise and becomes an entryway into her perceptions and her ideas.

"Le pépiement matinal des oiseaux semblait insipide à Françoise."

"The morning chirping of birds seemed insipid to Francoise." Hmmm... Is in possible that there is a deeper meaning here? Could it be the incessant chatter of rich people resembles the birds and therefore makes their chirping annoying rather than glorious? I think Marcel does something interesting with his narration: he introduces Francoise in a way that makes her seem very old maid-ish and grumpy, but as we read on, we discover why.

The paragraphs following set up the readers to understand Marcel's family's old servant by retelling the story of how the Guermantes came into their wealth. Marcel tells us that he has gotten his information from St-Loup. Apparently, the Guermantes "acquired" their castle in the 17th Century, at which moment, its name became "The Guermantes." And it was after this important turning point that many other landmarks were named after the family and their estate was slowly built. Marcel describes this and talks about the power of the wealthy as something bizarre. He asks why this ancient practice of Feudalism and right of inherited land ownership granted to the richer class still exists. But he only talks at length about the Guermantes in order to get back to the main character (of Marcel's interest) in this section: dear old, embittered Francoise. Francoise, who seeks comfort in the company of the young valet, Jupien (whom she calls "Julien" because she cannot hear the difference). For he is a fellow "travailleur" (worker).

Although she censors herself and even pretends to be impressed by the riches of the Guermantes, Marcel notices a hidden disdain in her words. She associates the wealthy with excess and this, for her, "n'est pas catholique." For Francoise, to be catholic is to be courageous and, as Marcel points out, "[c]ourageous equals worker."

"Courageux signifiait seulement travailleur."

Throughout these pages, Marcel discusses the power that the Guermantes' hold in their name alone. It is both a signifier of them - the family - and the land. So they are contained in this cocoon-like bubble of protection, made of inpenetrable casing in the form of G-U-E-R-M-A-N-T-E-S. It will outlive us all. Especially since Proust named and entire book after it.

Yep. It seems that even now, Francoise as a character is held tight in the confines of this name which has become the door - the cover - through which readers must enter just to get a glimpse at our dusty hausfrau.

Out of pity, or perhaps because I am slowly becoming a Marxist, I may entitle my next entry "Francoise," just to give the girl a little credit.

-natalie

Who's your daddy?

I recently returned from attending a Frenchy conference on “Alterity and Memory in Cinema and Literature,” where I was surprised not to hear the name Proust come up more often. In fact, it was only on the very last day that two references were made to him and one was from me.

By the way, if we are proustitutes, is Proust our pimp daddy? I think this needs to be clarified...

Okay. Although I had planned to simply listen to the talks, I ended up giving a conference paper at the very last second. A speaker who had planned on speaking about alterity and memory in the cinema of Nanni Moretti failed to show and so I offered, the day before his scheduled time, to give a paper on the exact same topic, having kept a few Moretti movies on my computer and able to retrieve an essay (somewhat dealing with the topic) from my “sent” e-mail folder to a prof back in Scotland... I was randomly sifting through scenes to show from Palombella rossa, the story of a professional water-polo athlete part of the Italian Communist Party who gives a most riveting political speech, has a car accident and gets amnesia. The rest of the movie is his attempt to retrieve his memory (as well as unveil a collective, politically charged “short term” memory). He tries everything: he’s interviewed by a number of people, a sports journalist, a philosopher, Catholic groups; he recounts his dreams, but to no use. Most of the movie takes place in the enormous womb-like pool in which he is competing and in which many flashbacks occur as well.

One scene sticks out more than others and if Proust was already present in an earlier film of his, Sogni d’oro, where he dresses up as Swan(n), in white from head to toe reading A la recherche in a canoe on the lake, in Palombella rossa, one of his dreams exposes Moretti’s obsession with cakes/pastries (he names his Production company “Sacher” after the german chocolate cake; he’s also extremely interested in psychoanalysis: Moretti even plays a psychoanalyst in La stanza del figlio... I think you’d like him Natalie). Back to the scene: billboards of cakes and pastries (their names and pictures) are floating on top of an Olympic pool, each occasionally dipping itself into the tea/pool, an enormous, grotesque representation of the madeleine scene, Moretti’s (parodic) attempt to retrieve his memory.

I know we’ve yet to understand the complexities of Modernism, its “genre” if there even exists one, and that adding postmodernism on top of this is a disaster waiting to happen, but I can’t help but wonder whether or not postmodernism can ever get over parody, satire, pastiche. I mean, I’m always interested in adaptations and transformations of given texts, whether cinematographic, literary, musical, and diachronic dialogues between artists. However, where does the line exist that divides parody from homage? I had the feeling, while presenting this scene, that by means of the grotesque, Moretti agreed with our class that the madeleine scene is not in fact about triggering involuntary memory (although I’m still struggling with this at times) as much as about the work, research (recherche) or quest in the present that goes into reaching knowledge of the self and, in essence, reaching happiness.

After re-reading Jonathan’s post on postmodernism, inverted commas around that scene would be the solution.
Sorry that's so long!

Antonio

Proustian Marxism

Michael Taussig in Walter Benjamin's Grave coins a very interesting phrase and a particularly germane idea in relation to many of our discussions on the class/gender divide, on the issue of labour, and so on. He writes:

Some people think of Benjamin as a Marxist or as a Marxist with a surrealist spin. Other regard him as combining Marxism with the mysticism of the Kabbalah. There is truth to these interpretations, but I myself prefer to think of him as a Proustian Marxist, an eccentric overwhelmed by the avant-garde and the fast-moving political scene of the time. As indication of his eccentricity, take “One-Way Street” where he writes: “If the theory is correct that feeling is not located in the head, that we sentiently experience a window, a cloud, a tree not in our brains but, rather, in the place where we see it, then we are, in looking at our beloved, too, outside ourselves.” (http://www.press.uchicago.edu/Misc/Chicago/790045.html)

At any rate, perhaps this is just more food for thought, but the idea strikes me as being very rich and yet full of paradox. I'm not sure what to do with it, but, sounds like something that we were all hinting at and not quite sure how to articulate.

J.A.

The Poetics of Inversion

Many of us were struck by the "bad theory" of Proust's chapter from Sodom and Gomorrah in which he elaborates a theory of inversion. Today, as I was writing about a quotation from a Harlequin that reads, "which really explained the whole 'virgin' issue," I was struck by the inverted commas. To these ends, I remembered that Linda Hutcheon at one point commented on this phenomenon, at least indirectly, she writes in The Politics of Postmodernism:

In general terms [postmodernism] takes the form of self-conscious, self-contradictory, self-undermining statement. It is rather like saying something whilst at the same time putting inverted commas around what is being said. The effect is to highlight, or ‘highlight,’ and to subvert, or ‘subvert,’ and the mode is therefore a ‘knowing’ and an ironic – or even ‘ironic’ – one.

This seems interesting to me in light of Proust when confronted by postmodernism (at least in the sense of Hutcheon). We must acknowledge the problems of postmodernism, but, there is something to be said about incorporating postmodernist (literary) theory into Proust. What is the 'inverted' comma but yet another mode of displacing 'knowledge' or 'truth claims' insofar as we almost immediately begin to wonder why the comma is there in the first place...? Are we to invert the inverted comma? (I think this was a question/matter we discussed in class, so I leave this here for whomever has a comment.)

I am also realising that most of my posts are quotations from theory that remind me or Proust, rather than, Proust as theory -- involuntary inversion?

J.A.