Epics

It is not surprising that when you come across a tidbit someone said or wrote, that is in complete agreement with what you already think, that this discovery fills you with a small amount of joy. Over the past few days I have been rereading a series of speeches that Jorge Luis Borges made (I think sometime in the 1970's) and were then later put into a volume titled, This Craft of Verse.

Among the many gems I find in this book my favorite (of the moment of course) is one concerning the modern novel and its failings. Borges makes the statement that all of the very clever things being done with the structure of the novel may very well be its undoing. In short, what once was merely a form of telling a story has become something rather different and distorted. The comparison he makes is between Joyce's Ulysses and a line or two of either Shakespeare or Dante. The point he makes, and I find it a very succinct summary of what I have known but not realized I had known, is that the failing of Ulysses is that the reader knows thousands of things about the two main characters but never really knows the characters themselves. Whereas in Shakespeare or Dante some characters live and die within a few lines, yet the reader feels that they know these characters intimately.

A few days ago I finished the novel, If on a Winter's Night a Traveller..., and although I take issue with other aspects of the book as well, this point made my Borges neatly covers what bothered me about the novel. Borges quotes Mencken in his speech saying (and I am not directly quoting here although I am using quotation marks) "The purpose of the modern novel is the breaking down of the characters." That is to say, most modern novels are more concerned with the psychology of their characters and the eventual unraveling of some aspect of their lives. This unraveling may in fact be quite interesting but the point Borges is making (I believe) is that this is not as important as the telling of a good story.

All of this is contained within a speech concerned with Epic poetry. I was reading this while my In-laws were visiting and I was so taken with it that I decided to try and share the gist of this section with everyone. While I felt it was a straightforward commentary on the state of the novel and what those writing today (whether poetry or prose) should aspire to, I found myself presented with a question: what is the definition of an Epic? I think this question was made in response to Borges’ claim that out of the two World Wars only one work could attempt to the claim being an epic. Borges felt that, The Seven Pillars of Wisdom has the qualities of an epic. So to try and be very clear I have visited Bartleby's website and below is their definition of epic.

A long narrative poem written in elevated style, in which heroes of great historical or legendary importance perform valorous deeds. The setting is vast in scope, covering great nations, the world, or the universe, and the action is important to the history of a nation or people. The Iliad, the Odyssey, and the Aeneid are some great epics from world literature, and two great epics in English are Beowulf and Paradise Lost. 1 ‡ Figuratively, any task of great magnitude may be called "epic," as in an "epic feat" or an "epic undertaking."

Now to try and briefly clarify, Borges knew that Lawrence’s book was not a poem. Earlier in his speech he makes a point of explaining how poetry has changed since the time of Homer, how a split occurred. This split put lyrical poetry on one side and the telling of a story (the novel) on the other. So when he makes the claim that this non-fiction book is the only work resembling an epic I do not think he is confusing the issue of what an epic is because this is in fact only one definition.

So all of this is a rather long-winded way of getting to the simple statement that I agree with what the man says. I started by making this point so it is hardly a revelation, I know. What I think is interesting is that Borges was a poet, he clearly valued poetry and yet he makes statements like, "And this is a beautiful line although nothing more. I think this is enough." What I mean to say is he found it perfectly acceptable for a poem to simply be beautiful and nothing more. For him this was all a poem had to be. He points out that modern readers are generally dissatisfied with novels that rely on a gimmick or trick, that overly clever works are not as fulfilling as the simpler stories told in these much older, often epic, works. I think this is an interesting point because I have certainly felt this for some time. Even in novels where the story seems straightforward and there is little evidence of a brilliant structure, the kinds of stories being written now, and how they are written, never fully satisfy.

Borges offers a number of theories as to why this is and but I will stop attempting to reconstruct this speech. I recommend this book to anyone who writes or is interested in writing. At worst it is a short, somewhat entertaining read that covers numerous languages throughout the century and I am sure there are worse ways you could spend an afternoon than delving into such reading material.

Visitors

Tonight my in-laws will be arriving for a visit. It will the be the first time we have had visitors in our new apartment and I am feeling what I always feel about such things, both excitement and apprehension.

I like it when people visit. Your routine is altered, instead of having breakfast the same way you do every day you skip it or you go out to a diner. Instead of being in bed at exactly ten o'clock you find yourself having deep conversations in the kitchen simply because there is someone new in your kitchen with you at that time.

What troubles me when people visit is that I am always faced with certain truths about myself that I would prefer not to believe. For example: I am possessive about my possessions. My chair, my desk, my computer even my favorite mug. I take them all for granted and think nothing of them when it is just Kate and myself. We know the rules, we follow them, life goes on smoothly.

It is when the visitors arrive and they open your cupboard and take out your favorite mug, or sit in your seat after dinner or use your computer at the time of day when you usually check you email; these are the times when it becomes apparent to me that I do not like sharing my stuff. Sometimes the item in question is breakable and I find myself watching intently as the grip on the handle or the lack of two-handed support is used employed. I stop listening to the conversation and I become focused to the exclusion of everything around me as I watch this person, this visitor, toy with my emotions as they gingerly sway the mug as they speak or turning the keepsake over in their hands.

It's not something I am proud of and it always leads my thoughts to that of being a parent and how this is a major shortcoming for that role. I have always believed myself to be relaxed and easy-going because things in my home do not have to placed in a certain manner or cleaned according to a set schedule. The handling of my possessions, the respect I feel they must be shown, is entirely a different matter and is the clearest indicator that I can see of problems to come.

At the end of the day I am not a person who gets overly attached to things. When my cars have ceased to run or when a chair or a lamp or a pair of shoes must be thrown out I do so without the slightest hesitation. This is why I find it so shocking that the thought of an early departure of certain items it so upsetting to me. After all it is only a coffee mug, or a teakettle or a pillow.
The solution seems rather simple: have others handle these items more often. One or possibly two things will happen. The first is I will grow accustomed to the act and with its repetition the fear of items being damaged should lessen. The second would be that things will get broken more often and as these items continue to broken it will become more tolerable.

I have no idea if this system would work, if I would change and adapt or if it would just continue to annoy and bother me. What I can say with absolute certainty is that how things are is not as I would like them so change is the only good option. So perhaps tomorrow morning I will choose a different mug for myself and offer my favorite to my father-in-law. Or I will sit in a chair a let my mother-in-law recline on the couch and do my best to ignore whatever petty issue begins to gnaw at me. Self-improvement comes in many forms, it is only when the forms are so silly that it seems as though it should be called by another name. Wish me luck.

Change

I am seated in a new office chair writing at my desktop computer, which sounds quite boring but is, in fact, very exciting for me. The desk that makes this situation possible was an acquisition Kate made a few years back. She discovered that our neighbor was going to throw it away and promptly snatched it up. These are the selling points of the item. That being said I have never really liked the desk but it was free and I needed a desk so we have been together now for now five years.

In the past the chairs I used at the desk were similar in their origins. Either Kate had found them somewhere and brought them home or new someone who wanted to sell a chair for very little money. As you can imagine they were never great pieces of furniture. Thankfully the chairs either broke or were destroyed by our cat after relatively short periods of time (two or three years). Which brings me to this moment: day one with the new office chair.

What is there to say about a good chair? What can be said is not so different from any good product or item that you use on a regular basis. Travel coffee mugs, carrying cases, wallets, even socks I think all fall into a category I would like to call: the necessary-but-undervalued.

I think everyone has driven past a run-down house or trailer that contains either a very expensive car in the drive or other permanent structures that appear to be worth more than the home, like a barn or swimming pool, and thought to themselves. "Why on Earth..." It is very easy to spot these inconsistencies in the lives of others. Where the priorities concerning limited capital bring into relief the folly of our neighbors when choosing between need and want. And then someone visits your home and you offer them a cup of coffee, or you take them onto your porch for an after-dinner chat and suddenly they confront you with this very same problem. You have neglected the things you need for the thing you wanted.

There are two activities in my day-to-day that for me are very important. One is writing. The other is watching movies. Since I have been married (which is my preferred date for marking when I began to live on my own as an adult) I have had neither a good desk and chair to write at nor have I had a good television to watch movies on. Let me define good. Usually, after sitting at my desk for two hours or more I would have difficulty standing due to severe pain in my legs, and depending on the chair, also in my lower back. At one point I was sitting at the desk for ten to twelve hours a day and after such sessions it would be a challenge to walk around the apartment. 

I consider furniture that causes such problems to be bad furniture. Then there was the television, a 19" television that possessed only one speaker and required an RF adapter to interface with a DVD player. I was able to watch movies on this television without it causing me pain, but if I were to then watch the same movie on my desktop with its Logitech speakers and sub-woofer I would cringe at the difference in quality and quietly curse my television for its shortcomings.

So where did my money go? We own three computers. Two laptops and a desktop. The reason for this is not interesting but it wasn't because I wanted three computers. I also purchased a prosumer video camera and accessories several years back that essentially ate up our entire non-essentials budget for that year. Kate has taken numerous trips and flights that we could have driven to save money (prior to the gas craze that has made driving as expensive as anything else). In short, the money went to other things, usually fun, play-related items, despite the fact that the cost of replacing a chair or a television is not that large.

I am writing this and thinking about my legs and my back and my arms, all of which are in the ergonomically correct positions at this moment and are quite comfortable. I am thinking about the past six years and the amount of frustration the chairs and the desk and the television have created for me and I can feel nothing except a little silly. The solution to my writing problem cost about $100 and I would guess will last me longer than my previous chairs, but if it does not, then the cost per year should be about $33.

At present we do not have a television. We decided to abandon the old one to the Washington, D.C. garbage men and I hope it is doing well. I am thinking about the process involved with buying a new television now, choosing between the formats, the sizes, the brands and the features offered and I am already feeling daunted. I feel all of this while I sit in my new chair and chastise myself for not buying a good one sooner.

The solution, I imagine, will be what it nearly always is in such situations: another person. Did I decide to purchase this chair? I did not. I was using a wooden kitchen chair at my desk, by far the worst chair I had used so far, when Kate decided enough was enough. So even though she is fine without having a television and I am really the one who pines for evenings watching movies on the comfort of my couch (in truth it is a futon) most likely it will be her who again steps forward and takes action.

My post from yesterday will certainly make it seem as though I am passive and she is proactive, but I would like to just clarify. In numerous instances these roles are reversed and my point with this post is to try and say something beyond my marriage and our relationship. My point is to state that this is a very human situation and that it is odd/interesting that most people will choose to suffer along with something rather than change it, if the suffering is related to an act or object that is important to them. It's odd that when the new item to purchase is of little interest or value, as has been the case numerous times in my own situation, that the disinterested party says, "Oh, just go by the thing then and be done with it." It makes me think that perhaps what we all need is a hotline or a chat room to call or visit with the problems of our day-to-day life so that every so often someone can serve up that needed push and order us to take action and solve these nagging problems.

Work to be Done

Kate and I are in the process of trying to decorate and set-up our new apartment. Neither of us has much of an aptitude for such things, in so far as neither one of us gives matters like this much thought. Which is not to say that we do not have very firm opinions about aspects of our home, of what can and cannot go next to the fireplace or how the appliances in the kitchen should be placed.

The two of us approach the decoration and layout of our home in a manner that I believe many do. Kate is a doer, she sees an empty wall and she finds a picture to hang there. She is happy once this is done. I see the empty wall and think about what should go there, how it should be hung and ultimately find reasons why I cannot hang a picture there. After all of this I am not really happy. The simple solution for such things would be for me to either adopt her attitude or to do what I am doing at this moment which is get out of the way. As I write this I hear the occasional beep of the stud detector followed by the gentle poundings of hammer and nail.

The hitch with all of this is that when I walk downstairs and see which pictures were hung in the living room and so on I will have opinions. Some of which I know will not be ones of approval. Yet, I did nothing in the planning of the hanging or the actual event. Instead I went upstairs and sat down to write.

I go on about all of this because I feel that these two basic attitudes toward the home are prevalent everywhere and because I see no real solution. The Kate's of this world see something that needs to be done and they do it. Afterwards, I think, they are usually pleased or content with what they have done. The build roads and bridges and make sure the building has air conditioning and such. Then the John's enter and remark, "This design was not really thought out." After the fact all that could be improved or redesigned is apparent to the people of my persuasion and we feel compelled, for the good of everyone to be sure, to share these thoughts.

All of this is my mind's way of circling around the upcoming presidential elections and my detachment from them. I have tried in vain to make myself follow the progress of the candidates (except it seems the only candidates to follow are Clinton and Obama) but my attention lags. I grow irritable when I read headlines about how this one pulled ahead by winning the vote but how the other is really the victor because of... I don't know why because I stop reading then.

I am proud of you, dear reader, if you are able to continue on with those stories and follow them to the end. I am impressed if afterwards these stories and debates help you understand the candidates and their position's more clearly. I envy your dedication and your commitment to being involved in this process. For myself all I see is a blank wall, work to be done but no means of approaching it as of yet.

So instead I sit and I write. I make comments about the two candidates and how neither strikes me as a good choice, or sincere or really saying much about the issues. In short, I make it known that I think there must be a better way. I criticize and I lament and meanwhile you and the rest of the Kate-like people continue to do your part and make sure that something gets done.

The Easy Way

For some time now I have been taking the easy way out. Take, for example, this blog. Instead of writing pieces about world events, about matters that take up my thoughts and most likely yours, trying to make sense of them and perhaps adding whatever I can to them, I have made entries that are concerned with one thing only: me.

The pitfalls of blogging are many but the basic sin is the center of each. When a person makes an entry the subject nearly always is them. How they are feeling that day or what happened to them on the way to the store, or why they love the president. Whether they approach the blog as a journal to write about their own lives and goings on, or try and use it as a platform to put forth their thoughts and feelings about some matter that is important to them the basic problem remains the same. Who is going to read this?

Writing without the reader in mind seems to be (and here again we return the focus onto me) my biggest complaint about modern literature. The correct term, I believe, is post-modern literature, but to be honest I am not sure if that is entirely correct either. Let me call them books where the author has decided that having a narrative is less important than what they have to say. 

I am presently reading If on a Winter's Night a Traveler, by Italo Calvino and reading this book is very similar to reading blogs. This work came toward the end of Calvino's life and it is clearly the work of someone who had spent a lifetime writing and thinking about writing. If there is a story being told here it is of writing. The story of the process, the concerns, possible thoughts and philosophy's as well as the relationship the writer can have with the reader. 

The problem I have with this book and with blogging and my own writing at the moment (again this bounces back to me) is that what is written isn't really that interesting or involving or entertaining. It is an extremely self-conscious work that is designed to continually wrench the reader from the narrative so that they may be addressed directly in order that they can better understand what this book aims to do and how it aims to do it. My purpose in mentioning this work is not to attempt a review nor is it to damn it for being what it is. My purpose is to make a simple little point which is this: not so long ago no one was writing such works, whether in the form of a novel or story or letter.

I have no idea why all this changed. I do not know if the forms of transmitting information and their increased speed and range played a role in how people saw themselves and therefore shaped the way they wrote. What I do know is that reading Dickens or Tolstoy or any other writer whose works come before this change is an entirely different and more pleasurable experience. The reason seems simple enough: self-consciousness removes that fourth wall and reminds the reader that what they are experiencing is false.

That is not to say that this cannot be interesting but I believe it is an entirely different animal whose value is not necesarily large.

So this inevitably brings me back to the beginning and to, sadly, myself. What is this worth of this blog and these writings? Should anyone who does not know me care about what is written here and take the trouble to read it? I cannot find a convincing argument in my favor, yet, I know I will continue to post here. Why? It would be dishonest to say that I feel this may benefit anyone other than myself. I know that posting here is a good exercise for me.

So what is the point of all this then? The point of this post is, as most often is the case, for me to work out what I really think about a particular matter. The conclusion? I am going to post from now on without worry about who is reading this or whether they find it important and because of this I am going to try and find the freedom to write in an open, honest manner about those things which interest me most and which I think are most worthy of being written about.