Friday, July 25, 2025
“The Shadow of the Wind” by Carlos Ruiz Zafon (translated by Lucia Graves)
Friday, July 18, 2025
“God is Watching You: How the Fear of God Makes Us Human” by Dominic Johnson
Friday, July 11, 2025
“Possession” by A.S. Byatt
Byatt describes her novel as a romance. It won the Booker Prize in 1990. It is about literature, poetry, myth, love, betrayal, longing, penitence, and devotion. The plot jumps between the academic milieu of England in the 1980s and the literary scene of London in the 19th century. Many of the chapters are simply poems, diary entries, or travelogues. At the heart of the story are two 19th century British poets: one an obscure lady, Christabel LaMotte, whose family originally hailed from Brittany and who was only recognized by twentieth century scholars of feminism and lesbianism for her epic poem, Melusina, and one a famous man, Randolph Henry Ash, whose volumes of poetry made him famous in his day and later stood the test of time, “Ash liked his characters at or over the edge of madness, constructing systems of belief and survival from the fragments of experience available to them.”
It was discovered by Roland Michell, a toiling post-doc in 1980s London, that Ash, though married to his wife Ellen for over forty years, had a secret epistolary correspondence with LaMotte. This discovery threatened to upend what modern scholarship thought of both poets. “The truth is—my dear Miss LaMotte—that we live in an old world—a tired world—a world that has gone on piling up speculation and observations until truths that might have been graspable in the bright Dayspring of human morning—by the young Plotinus or the ecstatic John on Patmos—are now obscured by palimpsest on palimpsest, by thick horny growths over that clear vision.”
In an other letter, Ash writes to LaMotte of poetry, “You know how it is, being yourself a poet—one writes such and such a narrative, and thinks as one goes along—here’s a good touch—this concept modifies that—will it not be too obvious to the generality?—too thick an impasto of the Obvious—one has almost a disgust at the too-apparent meaning—and then the general public gets hold of it, and pronounces it at the same time too heartily simple and too loftily incomprehensible—and it is clear only that whatever one had hoped to convey is lost in mists of impenetrability—and slowly it loses its life—in one’s own mind, as much as in its readers…. The only life I am sure of is the life of the Imagination…. When I write I know. Remember that miraculous saying of the boy Keats—I am certain of nothing, but the holiness of the Heart’s affections and the truth of Imagination—Now I am not saying—Beauty is Truth, Truth Beauty, or any such quibble. I am saying that without the Maker’s imagination nothing can live for us.”
In the course of the novel, Christabel LaMotte finds herself at the home of an aristocratic cousin and his lone daughter, Sabine de Kercoz, in the family’s ancestral home in Brittany. Sabine’s diary reveals, “I sat by her side and whispered to her that I had hopes of being a poet. She said, ‘It is not the way to happiness, ma fille.’ I said on the contrary, it was only when writing that I felt wholly living. She said, ‘If that is so, fortunately or unfortunately, nothing I can say will dissuade you.’” In another diary entry, Sabine writes, “She talked of Melusina and the nature of epic. She wants to write a Fairy Epic, she says, not grounded in historical truth, but in poetic and imaginative truth…. She says Romance is a land where women can be free to express their true natures, as in the Ile de Sein or Sid, though not in this world. She said, in Romance, women’s two natures can be reconciled. I asked, which two natures, and she said, men saw women as double beings, enchantresses and demons or innocent angels.”
Friday, July 4, 2025
“The Gay Science” by Friedrich Nietzsche (translated by Josefine Nauckhoff)
Nietzsche published the first edition of this treatise in 1882 and the second expanded edition in 1887. In between, he had published both “Thus Spoke Zarathustra” and “Beyond Good and Evil”. This book largely consists of a set of aphorisms, paragraph-length topical discussions, and a collection of poems. Nietzsche begins, “What distinguishes the common nature is that it unflinchingly keeps sight of its advantage…. The unreason or odd reason (Unvernunft oder Quervernunft) of passion is what the common type despises in the noble, especially when this passion is directed at objects whose value seems quite fantastic and arbitrary…. The higher nature’s taste is for exceptions, for things that leave most people cold and seem to lack sweetness; the higher nature has a singular value standard…. The most industrious age—our own—doesn’t know how to make anything of all its industriousness and money except still more money and still more industriousness…. The opposite of the world of the madman is not truth and certainty but the generality and universal bindingness of a faith; in short, the non-arbitrary in judgment. And man’s greatest labour so far has been to reach agreement about very many things and to lay down a law of agreement—regardless of whether these things are true or false. This is the discipline of the head which has preserved humanity…. The most select minds bristle at this universal bindingness—the explorers of truth above all!”
Nietzsche pontificates on the necessity of aesthetics to achieve meaning in life, “As an aesthetic phenomenon existence is still bearable to us, and art furnishes us with the eye and hand and above all the good conscience to be able to make such a phenomenon ourselves.” This goes, hand in hand, in opposition to his conception of morality. “As soon as we see a new picture, we immediately construct it with the help of all the old experiences…. There are no experiences other than moral ones, not even in the realm of sense perception…. Wherever we encounter morality, we find an evaluation and ranking of human drives and actions. These evaluations and rankings are always the expression of the needs of a community and herd: that which benefits it the most…. With morality the individual is instructed to be a function of the herd and to ascribe value to himself only as a function.”
Finally, Nietzsche often deals head-on with the problems of modernity and God, “Do we still hear nothing of the noise of the grave-diggers who are burying God? Do we still smell nothing of the divine decomposition?—Gods, too, decompose! God is dead! God remains dead! And we have killed him! How can we console ourselves, the murderers of all murderers! The holiest and the mightiest thing the world has ever possessed has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood from us?” He gives some suggestions for living the best life, “Either one does not dream, or does so interestingly. One should learn to spend one’s waking life in the same way: not at all, or interestingly.” Nietzsche concludes, “The secret for harvesting from existence the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment is—to live dangerously! Build your cities on the slopes of Vesuvius! Send your ships into uncharted seas! Live at war with your peers and yourselves! Be robbers and conquerors as long as you cannot be rulers and possessors, you seekers of knowledge!”
Friday, June 27, 2025
“The Complete Mystical Works of Meister Eckhart” by Meister Eckhart (translated by Maurice O’Connell Walshe)
This is a collection on the Dominican priest, Meister Eckhart’s, sermons to his flock. His notions of God and the Trinity were somewhat eclectic in his time, if not, heretical. In fact, he was on trial, in danger of excommunication, when he died. Eckhart begins with the notions of grace, the intellect, the soul, and the nature of God, “When a man is dead in imperfection, the highest intellect arises in the understanding and cries to God for grace. Then God gives it a divine light, so that it becomes self-knowing. Therein it knows God. I say the intellect alone can receive the divine light…. The man in the soul, transcending angelic being and guided by intellect, pierces to the source whence the soul flowed. There, intellect must remain outside, with all named things. There the soul is merged in pure unity. This we call the man in the soul…. This is the light of truth…. You should understand it thus: they practice inwardly in the man of the soul. Indeed that kingdom is blessed in which one such person dwells! They do more eternal good in an instant than all outward works that were ever performed externally.”
Eckhart chooses to expound on the topic of angels in another sermon, “A master says an angel is the image of God. A second says he is fashioned like God. A third says he is a clear mirror which contains and carries within itself the reflection of God’s purity, the divine purity of the stillness and mystery of God, as far as that may be. Yet another says he is a pure intellectual light, detached from all material things…. But an angel perceives in a light that is beyond time and eternal. He therefore perceives in the eternal Now. But man knows in the now of time. The now of time is the least thing there is…. Cease to be this and that, and have this and that, then you are all things and have all things and so, being neither here nor there, you are everywhere.” Next, Eckhart preaches on the logos, “There are three things that prevent us from hearing the eternal Word. The first is corporeality, the second is multiplicity, the third is temporality. If a man had transcended these three things, he would dwell in eternity, he would dwell in the spirit, he would dwell in unity and in the desert…. For to hear the Word of God demands absolute self-surrender. The hearer is the same as the heard in the eternal Word.” Finally, Eckhart concludes, “Understand: all our perfection and all our bliss depends in our traversing and transcending all creatureliness, all being and getting into the ground that is groundless.”
Friday, June 20, 2025
“Pond” by Claire-Louise Bennett
This collection of short stories is one of the gems of Fitzcarraldo Editions. It is a continual bestseller. In the title story, Bennett declares, “If it were left up to me I wouldn’t put a sign next to a pond saying pond, either I’d write something else, such as Pig Swill, or I wouldn’t bother at all…. It’s not that I want children to fall into the pond per se, though I can’t really see what harm it would do them; it’s that I can’t help but assess the situation from the child’s perspective. And quite frankly I would be disgusted to the point of taking immediate vengeance if I was brought to a purportedly magical place one afternoon in late September and thereupon belted down to the pond, all by myself most likely, only to discover the word pond scrawled on a poxy piece of damp plywood right there beside it. Oh I’d be hopping. That sort of moronic busy-bodying happens with such galling regularity throughout childhood of course.”
An unnamed female narrator voices all of the stories in this collection. She is a writer, living at the farthest edge of western Ireland, near Galway, in a leased ramshackle stone cottage away from the world. The stories vary in length from a single paragraph to twenty or so pages. They detail everyday life and thought. Each is tight, in a sense, and yet, these stories are full of asides, digressions, loops, and quick mental jumps. “English, strictly speaking, is not my first language by the way. I haven’t yet discovered what my first language is so for the time being I use English words in order to say things. I expect I will always have to do it that way; regrettably I don’t think my first language can be written down at all. I’m not sure it can be made external you see. I think it has to stay where it is; simmering in the elastic gloom betwixt my flickering organs.” The luxury, enchantment, and precision of Bennett’s prose make the mundane as propulsive to read as any teleological plot, which seems completely besides the point. “And even though it was almost completely dark by now I opened a notebook by the fire and wrote some things down…. There were lines across the pages but they were imperceptible because of how dark it had become and once a word was written it was quite irretrievable, as if abducted. I went on, sinking words into the pages.”
Friday, June 13, 2025
“Ideas for the Philosophy of the History of Mankind” by Johann Gottfried Herder (translated by Gregory Martin Moore)
Herder originally published this massive tome in four volumes, between 1784 and 1791. One could think of this book as a selective history of the span of human history, delving into civilizations as diverse as the Chinese, Indians, Romans, Arabs, Turks, Tatars, Goths, Normans, Gauls, and much more. He was a cultural pluralist and his main theme is that geography, culture, and genetics all interact together to make every peoples unique from one another. First, Herder gives nature its do, “All outer form in Nature is the index of her inner workings; and so, great Mother, we step before your most hallowed earthly creation, the laboratory of the human understanding…. Nature fashioned man for language…. It is in language that his reason and culture have their beginning…. Only with his organization for speech did man receive the breath of divinity, the seed of reason and of eternal perfection, an echo of that creative voice that he should have dominion over the earth, the divine art of ideas, the mother of all arts…. Thus, man has not so much been deprived of his instincts as these have been suppressed and subordinated to the governance of the nerves and finer senses.”
Common in the milieux of German Pietists of Herder’s era, he discusses the concept of idealism that floated in the air since the speculations of Kant. “Indeed, to one convinced of this inner life of the self all external states in which the body, like all matter, is subject to constant change will in time seem as mere transitions that do not affect his essential being: he passes as insensibly from this world into the next as he passes from night into day and from one stage of life into another…. The purpose of our present existence is the formation of humanity: all the baser wants of this earth shall be subservient and conducive to this end. Our capacity for reason shall be formed to reason, our finer senses to art, our instincts to genuine freedom and beauty, our motive powers [Bewegungskrafte] to love of mankind…. And how seldom is this eternal, this infinite purpose realized in this world! In whole nations reason lies trapped beneath layers of brutishness…. Few men take godlike humanity, in both the strict and extended sense of the term, as the proper study of life.”
Herder returns again and again to the theme that it is humanity’s ability to reason, through the knowledge of languages, that makes us superior to the beasts of the earth. Reason also gives each civilization, when combined with their own geography, history, and culture, their own specialness. “Reason is the aggregate of the observations and exercises of the mind, the sum of the education of our species…. Born almost without instinct, we are raised to manhood only by lifelong practice, on which both the perfectibility as well as the corruptibility of our species rests, so it is precisely thereby that the history of mankind is made a whole: that is, a chain of sociability and formative tradition from the first link to the last…. Hence there is an education of the human species: precisely because every man becomes a man only through education and the whole species lives solely in this chain of individuals…. Hence the education of our species is in a twofold sense genetic and organic: genetic by the communication, organic by the reception and application of that which is communicated. Call this second, lifelong genesis of man what we will: whether culture [Cultur], by analogy with the tillage of the land, or enlightenment, after the operation of light; it matters not, for the chain of culture and enlightenment reaches to the ends of the earth.”
Later, Herder returns to one of his biggest preoccupations, language. “Language alone has made man human, by damming the vast torrent of his emotions and with words erecting rational monuments to them…. Through language, men extended a welcome to one another, entered into society, and sealed the bonds of love. Language framed laws and united the generations; only through language, in inherited forms of the heart and mind, did a history of mankind become possible…. Whatever the mind of man has devised, what the sages of old had contemplated, reaches me, if it pleases Providence, by way of language. Through language my thinking mind is linked to the mind of the first man who thought and possibly the last; in short, language is the character of our reason, by which alone it is given shape and propagated.”
Herder next directly addresses the history of humanity. “Everywhere on our earth whatever can, will come into being; partly according to the situation and the requirements of the locality, partly according to the circumstances and opportunities of the age, and partly according to the native or acquired character of nations…. Time, place, and national character alone—in short: the cooperation as a whole of living forces in their most distinctive individuality—determine, as all productions of Nature, so all events in the human realm…. The ancient character of peoples derived from the tribal features, climate, way of life and education, early activities and occupations that were peculiar to them. Ancestral customs penetrated deeply and became the intrinsic pattern of the tribe…. Tradition in itself is an excellent ordination of Nature and indispensable to our species; but as soon as it shackles all power of thought, both in the institutions of state and in education; as soon as it inhibits all progress of human reason and improvement according to new circumstances and times; then it is the true opium of the mind, for states as well as for sects and individuals.”
Finally, Herder stresses, again, what makes humans the only species capable of history, while discrediting a Whig theory of historical progress. “Everything in history is therefore transitory; the inscription on her temple reads: vanity and decay. We kick the dust of our forefathers and walk on the crumbled ruins of human states and kingdoms…. The cause of the impermanence of all terrestrial things lies in their essence, in the place that they inhabit, in the whole law that binds our nature…. We fancy ourselves self-sufficient and yet are dependent on all in Nature: woven into the web of things mutable, we too must follow the laws governing their repeated course…. Everywhere we observe destruction in history without perceiving that what is renovated is better than what was destroyed. Nations flourish and then fade; but a faded nation does not bloom again, let alone more beautifully than before. Culture continues on its path; but it does not become more perfect.”
Friday, June 6, 2025
“Work on Myth” by Hans Blumenberg (translated by Robert M. Wallace)
This book deals with the function of myth in societies throughout history. It relies heavily on the Homeric epics, as well as depicting how the pantheon of Greek gods has been passed down through western culture. There are long expositions into the various treatments of the myths of Faust and Prometheus, including Goethe’s treatments of both. As well, there is a digression into Goethe’s affinity for Napoleon, a recollection of their mythic meeting at Erfurt, and, finally, Goethe’s mythologizing of Napoleon as a modern day Prometheus. Finally, Blumenberg concludes his book by contrasting how the Enlightenment and Romantic philosophers dealt with myth and, in particular, Prometheus.
Blumenberg begins with a description of the beginnings of myth. “That events were interpreted as actions is, according to Nietzsche’s formulation, the distinguishing mark of all mythologies…. Urgently and early on, the interest was certainly in the existence of powers that one could appeal to, that could be turned away from or toward one, that were capable of being influenced in every sense, and they were also (to a degree) dependable.” He continues on the function of myth, “The antithesis between myth and reason is a late and a poor invention, because it forgoes seeing the function of myth, in the overcoming of that archaic unfamiliarity of the world, as itself a rational function…. One of the arguments of Romanticism was that the truth could not and should not be as young as the Enlightenment had undertaken to present it as being.” Goethe suggests, “In the centuries when man found nothing outside himself but abomination, he had to be happy that he was sent back into himself, so that in place of objects, which had been taken from him, he could create phantoms.”
Ernst Cassirer was concerned with how the symbols of myth preceded science. “For Cassirer the most important concept is one that is remote from the actual terminologies of philosophy and consequently is able to transcend their history—the concept of symbol. The theory of the symbolic forms allows one for the first time to correlate the expressive means of myth with those of science, but in the historically irreversible relationship and with the unrelinquishable presupposition of science as the terminus ad quem [goal toward which the process is directed]. Myth is made obsolete by what comes after it; science cannot be made obsolete…. Myth moves into a position that has a functional value of its own only in relation to a totality that counts.” For modern man, myth was just a stepping stone to a “realer” truth. Cassirer relates, “What distinguishes mythical time from historical time is that for mythical time there is an absolute past, which neither requires nor is susceptible of any further explanation.”
Myth is next contrasted with Christian dogma. “Negligence in constructing chronology is one of the things that are inexcusable in dogmatic observance. The compensation that observance furnishes in return for this is that the ‘history’ it regulates is from the beginning a history of man, which is preceded by nothing except the mere preparation of the world for his entrance. He stands at the focus of God's actions, and everything depends on God's behavior in relation to man exclusively. Consequently the [comprehensive] history of histories must possess continuous identity, reliable chronology and genealogy, localization and dating. This produces an entirely different pathos from what can be characteristic of myth. In myth there is no chronology, there are only sequences…. Although myth refuses, and must refuse, to provide explanations, it does ‘produce’ another life stabilizing quality: the inadmissibility of the arbitrary, the elimination of caprice.”
Blumenberg suggests Christianity was most successful when it combined elements of dogma and story. “Christianity, unexpectedly and contrary to its antecedents, went halfway to meet this pressure and enriched the invisible One with elements of a perceptual and narrative character. True, it did not need to go back to animal physiognomies again in order to prevail over the Hellenistic world; but for more than a millennium it created combinations of dogma and image, of concept and perceptivity, of abstraction and narrative…. Satan, in the Christian tradition is, like Proteus, a figure that exaggerates the mythical repertory, summing up all the means that can be employed against a theological authority characterized by reliability and commitment to man…. He represents the opposite of dogma’s substantial realism. In the figure of Satan, myth has become the subversion of the world of faith that is disciplined by dogma.”
Blumenberg now goes searching for the fundamental, if not the original, myth. “Attempts have repeatedly been made to reduce the diverse myths of our culture circle and of others to a fundamental myth [Grundmythos] and then to establish the latter as the ‘radical’ that underlies unfoldings and enrichments…. The radical myth does not have to be the initial myth…. The myth that is varied and transformed by its receptions, in the forms in which it is related to (and has the power of being related to) history, deserves to be made a subject of study if only because such a study also takes in the historical situations and needs that were affected by the myth and were disposed to ‘work’ on it…. The fundamental myth is not what was pre-given, but rather what remains visible in the end, what was able to satisfy the receptions and expectations.”
Now comes philosophy on the scene to contrast against both myth and Christian dogma. “Philosophy, in opposition to myth, brought into the world above all restless inquiry, and proclaimed its ‘rationality’ in the fact that it did not shrink from any further question or from any logical consequence of possible answers. Dogma restricted itself to ordering a halt to the pleasure taken in questioning by those who transgress boundaries, and marking out the minimum of what cannot be relinquished…. Myth lets inquiry run up against the rampart of its images and stories…. This fragment of a myth takes only the single step from the life-world to the unusual, and then the story is over. He who asks “Why?” is himself at fault if he is annoyed by the answer. He has violated the rules of the game of the mythical world…. Dogma refuses such offers, because it commands one to believe its God to be capable of anything.”
Blumenberg now arrives at the Enlightenment and the questions posed by modernity. “The abyss and the hermit—they are the metaphors of nihilism, the images of the modern age’s failure in the face of a question that it posed for the first time in this nakedness and for which it had forbidden itself every dogmatic and every mythical answer: the question of the reason for being.” Schopenhauer proposes the final myth of reincarnation. “The standard [Normierung] that a ‘final myth’ has to satisfy was, if I see it correctly, first laid down by Schopenhauer. For him the myth of the transmigration of souls is the epitome of a story that comes as close to philosophical truth as any story that could be devised…. Wherein does this quality of the myth of reincarnations consist? In contrast to Nietzsche’s idea of recurrence, it does not make the world return to what it once was, repeating its passages eternally, without change. Instead, the subject returns to its world, not as something that is eternally the same, but rather, according to the measure of what it can expect, it returns into the form of existence of which it is able to make itself worthy.” Gotthold Ephraim Lessing asks, “But why should not every individual man have been present more than once in this world? Do I bring away so much from one visit that it is perhaps not worth the trouble of coming again? And what then have I to lose? Is not the whole of eternity mine?”
In modernity, for the first time, myth is unpacked and perhaps seen as myth—myth as purpose. Johann Herder suggests, “The harsh mythology of the Greeks, from the earliest times, should not be employed by us except in a mild and human way.” He expands that the elements contained within ancient Greek myth are “such a rich material for the cultivation of a spiritual meaning in their figures that they seem to cry to us: ‘Use the fire that Prometheus brought you, for yourselves! Let it shine brighter and more beautifully, for it is the flame of the forever continuing cultivation [Bildung] of man.’” Finally, Herder concludes that modern man is at his pinnacle, “when he puts the noblest, perhaps also the most natural meaning into them [myth], the cultivation and further cultivation of the human race to every kind of culture; the striving of the divine spirit in man toward the awakening of all of his powers.” Heinrich Heine says of pantheism, “[it is] the reinstatement of man in his divine privileges.” Jean Paul quips, “Gods can play, but God is serious.” Goethe chimes in, “For myself, I cannot be satisfied, given the multiple tendencies of mode of thought; as a poet and artist I am a polytheist, but as an investigator of nature I am a pantheist, and I am the one just as firmly as the other. If I have need of a God for my personhood, as a moral man, then that has already been taken care of, too.”
After going into detail on Goethe’s interpretation of the Faust myth and his “heretical” ode to Prometheus, Blumenberg has quite a long digression into the epigraph to the fourth volume of Goethe’s autobiography, Dichtung und Wahrheit, which was published posthumously. It states, “Nemo contra deum nisi deus ipse [No one (can stand) against a god unless he is a god himself].” Blumenberg parses out, “The saying here is neither purely monotheistic (by describing a counterposition, against God, as illusory), nor exclusively polytheistic either (by setting up one god against another), but rather has a pantheistic implication: Only the entire universe can prevail against a demonic-divine nature, which is able to overpower every individual power within this universe. The universe is the absolute, which cannot be shaken, in its power, by what occurs within it.” Goethe often described Napoleon as a demonic power let loose upon the world. The epigraph, it is posited, is a reference to the two men's meeting at Erfurt, where Goethe looked the Emperor square in the eyes.
Blumenberg discusses the Christian concept of the Trinity and how it was a response to Gnostic and Manichaean concepts of dualism. “In it's historical function, the Christian dogma of the Trinity was, after all, intended as a means of barring the way to dualism, by reducing the impact of the bifurcation of the divinity that the production of the Son brings with it, by means of a third agency that the two cooperate in generating, and binding that bifurcation to the origin, without retracting it or destroying its meaning in terms of salvation…. Despite all the conjuring up of love and unity in the Trinity, traces of the old dualistic temptations have remained ineffaceable. Especially in the distribution of roles: of creation to the Father and redemption to the Son, as well as of the posteschatological (even antieschatological) institutionalization of the store of grace, which is assigned to the Spirit—the Spirit of Disappointment. Thus when, rather than looking at the conciliatory formulas, one analyzes what is implicit, an element of opposition always remains—always something of Prometheus in the way the Son acts in solidarity with mankind, who have fallen from Paradise. That applies to the demand that we should see the harshest sacrifice as the offer, to the Father, of the ransom for man; but it also applies to the intradivine rivalry for the assumption of the office of judge at the end of the ages.”
Finally, Blumenberg goes back to how the nineteenth century philosophers related to the myth of Prometheus. “Only when Nietzsche rediscovers in Prometheus the central figure of ancient tragedy, and finds in that figure the absolute antithesis of the Socratic type, does it become clear that the century had wagered on Prometheus as the victorious conqueror on behalf of mankind, the god who invents ways to combat the gods’ playing with men's fortunes, the patriarch of historical self-discovery.… The century had indeed used the Titan’s great gesture of the institution of fire as a metaphor for its own accomplishments…. It had not connected the mythical idea that earthly consummation could never be anything but “an encroachment on the gods’ privilege of happiness and their perfection” with the suspicion, or even fear, that in making himself comfortable in the world man might have to be prepared for resistance, for limits, or even for objections imposed by overwhelming force.” August Wilhelm Schlegel cries out, “O son, you are drunk with the delusion of creation!”
German Idealism resurrected Greek myth, but for its own purposes and in its own context. Friedrich Schlegel opined, “If the inner natural meaning of the old saga of the gods and heroes, the sound of which reaches us on the magic stream of imagination as the giant voice of the primeval age—if this meaning will be more closely revealed for us, and will be renewed for us, too, and rejuvenated, by the spirit of a philosophy that is itself alive and that also understands life clearly: then it will be possible to compose tragedies in which everything is ancient, and which yet would be certain to capture the sense of the age through the meaning.” Blumenberg comments, “The renewal of myth within Idealism is not a simple task, because Idealism is itself a myth. That a story has to be told about the spirit, a story that can only be imprecisely surmised on the basis of the actual history of ideas, is also part of the attempt to overcome the contingency that oppresses the self-consciousness of the modern age…. Zeus “chose” the world and he, Prometheus, chose man—that is the formula for the conflict both between ancient and modern and between cosmocentric and anthropocentric metaphysics.” Friedrich Schelling relates, “Prometheus is the thought in which the human race, after it had produced from inside itself the whole world of the gods, turned back to itself and became conscious of itself and its own destiny (the thought in which it perceived the unfortunate side of belief in the gods)…. Prometheus is not an idea that any man invented; he is one of the original ideas [Urgedanken] that force themselves into existence and that unfold logically when, as Prometheus did in Aeschylus, they find an abode in a thoughtful spirit in which to do so.” Blumenberg concludes, “The Prometheus myth, treated in this way, is no longer an element in the class of myths, but rather the one myth of the end of all myths.”
Friday, May 30, 2025
“Modern Liberty and Its Discontents” by Pierre Manent
Friday, May 23, 2025
“The Master and His Emissary- The Divided Brain and the Making of the Western World” by Iain McGilchrist
Friday, May 16, 2025
“In Praise of Shadows” by Junichiro Tanizaki (translated by Thomas J. Harper and Edward G. Seidensticker).
Tanizaki is well aware that his aesthetic proclivities cannot be sustained in a rapidly modernizing Japan. Still, he would like to fight the good fight. “For the solitary eccentric it is another matter, he can ignore the blessings of scientific civilization and retreat to some forsaken corner of the countryside; but a man who has a family and lives in the city cannot turn his back on the necessities of modern life.” Tanizaki describes his ideal of beauty in its many forms. “The quality that we call beauty, however, must always grow from the realities of life, and our ancestors, forced to live in dark rooms, presently came to discover beauty in shadows.” He continues on his aesthetic ideal, “We find beauty not in the thing itself but in the patterns of shadows, the light and the darkness, that one thing against another creates…. Were it not for shadows, there would be no beauty. Our ancestors made of woman an object inseparable from darkness, like lacquerware decorated in gold or mother-of-pearl. They hid as much of her as they could in shadows, concealing her arms and legs in the folds of long sleeves and skirts, so that one part and one only stood out—her face.”
Tanizaki contrasts aspects of Japanese aesthetics with those of the West. “Why should this propensity to seek beauty in darkness be so strong only in Orientals? The West too had known a time when there was no electricity, gas, or petroleum, and yet so far as I know the West has never been disposed to delight in shadows.” He continues, “Pitch darkness has always occupied our fantasies, while in the West even ghosts are as clear as glass. This is true too of our household implements: we prefer colors compounded of darkness, they prefer the colors of sunlight. And of silver and copperware: we love them for the burnish and patina, which they consider unclean, insanitary, and polish to a glittering brilliance…. We Orientals tend to seek our satisfactions in whatever surroundings we happen to find ourselves, to content ourselves with things as they are; and so darkness causes us no discontent, we resign ourselves to it as inevitable. If light is scarce then light is scarce; we will immerse ourselves in the darkness and there discover its own particular beauty.”