Fasten your seatbelts, please. I’m about to expose my ignorance.
I don’t know the first thing about literary criticism. You’d think four years of (sub)consciously doing literary criticism as an English major would clue me in to some general concept of the thing. But I guess it’s like learning to walk; eventually, you just do it, you do it well, you do it for long periods of time without concentrating on it, but the day someone asks you “Wow, which bones and muscles are you employing to do that?” or “About how many times do you contract your muscles in a single stride?” you’re clueless. (Not that anyone’s ever asked me that. Maybe that further supports the point.)
So I approach this literary criticism blog with fear and trepidation. If these thoughts sound unprocessed and elementary, well, they are.
We've been reading Ralph Waldo Emerson's "The Poet," an essay which more or less elaborates on his beliefs concerning authorship, art, and the like. Admittedly, I find myself struggling through Emerson reads. Not because I don't like him. Actually, I quite enjoy his writing. But I struggle to practice analysis when reading Emerson; but that I mean, it's easy for me to subscribe to his beliefs and mantras because they're beautifully written. I forget to follow his concepts through to their necessary implications.
See, I'm on board with his concepts of beauty's origin - "as it is dislocation and detachment from the life of God that makes things ugly" - and his belief that art repairs - or, at least, temporarily patches - "the decay of things," and even with his identification of hypocrisy in writers who don't transfer their knowledge of beauty to actions of beauty. I believe his concepts of imagination and inspiration. And his acknowledgment of the divine as art's primary influence. His conviction that writing is an epic act, having eternal value, I get that. Agree with that.
Why I'm skeptical: Emerson's transcendentalist foundation which declares that intuition is the essence of truth. (For the Christian, intuition is too much guided by the flesh and should not be trusted. Seems problematic.) Also, Emerson's belief - perhaps, "glorification" - of the poet as a quasi-divine seer. Perhaps it's the agency here which bothers me, that the poet can somehow tap into divine truth rather than the poet receiving snippets of truth from God. Coupled with a hints of arrogance (or false humility, same thing), Emerson's declaration of the poet's nobility annoys me.
Writers engage in important work, no doubt. But, c'mon Ralph. People don't love you as much as you think. Does your work enhance my liberation? Sure. But depend on your work as my emancipation? No thanks.
In Thursday's class someone asked whether authorship depends on what one writes or how one writes. Must an author generate ideas ex nihilo or must they merely express common ideas well? Seems like Emerson believes the former. Poets (authors, writers - does he include these in his definition?) illuminate truths beyond worldly-realm understanding. He must "announce that which no man foretold." I'm not sure about that. Currently, it to me seems that ideas cycle and that most writers produce beautiful - and valuable, sure - imitations of those common ideas. (My thoughts on the matter are still mid-transformation.)
Tangent for thought: last semester, after reading Emerson's "Divinity School Address," our early American literature class discussed the influence of his Unitarian commitment on his writing. Unitarians believe in the "single personality of God" (Thanks, Wikipedia), a unified divinity. (Opposite of the trinity? I'm not so sure.) Jesus is exemplary of obedience to moral authority. He might be supernatural, but not divine. What, then, is divine to the Unitarian? Adherence to higher morality? Perception of other-worldly insight? Parallel thinking to God's? Unified reason and belief (I could use more of that in my life)? And what do these beliefs indicate about Emerson's definition of authorship?
Over and out.
2 comments:
Firstly, I enjoyed reading this post, and actually am completely with you on most of it... but I do have one comment. You say, "Perhaps it's the agency here which bothers me, that the poet can somehow tap into divine truth rather than the poet receiving snippets of truth from God." Maybe I take a more liberal stance, but does God directly give revelations? (I am of the opinion that He does at times, but at other times does not). Or does he give us His creation (and everything here on this earth) so that, through it, we can learn more about Him and His truth. And doesn't the poet take what he sees in the world and attempt to put the truth and beauty that he sees on to paper? If it reflects God's creation, does it follow that the poet therefore in fact IS tapping into God's divine truth?
Still, the poet is writing of what he sees, of what has already been given. I understand the point, though: the pursuit of the truth, the writing of it, indicates a dual-agency of the poet and the divine.
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