High Rise

High Rise by J.G. Ballard (1975)

It has been suggested that J.G. Ballard was beyond psychological help. High Rise is an example of this reaction, a story of conditions that spiral out of control into some colossal external force which creates situations that no rational person would ever consider possible.

In terms of the film: The first thought I had while reading the book, was how interesting this story would be in terms of 21st century consumer technology, with our constant surroundings of multiple screens which present new challenges in interpersonal interaction. Given the emphasis on batteries to power the first generation of portable devices - tape recorders, cameras, etc- in the absence of functional municipal power, and the alluded transformation into cybernetic lifeforms (bio-robots), the current human state of always-wired-wirelessly only enhances Ballards original thought.  Therefore, I was quite disappointed that the film chose to keep the setting in the 1970s. Not only is the entire 1970s aesthetic something we don't ever need to revisit, the 70s view of excess and tuned-out reality, exemplified in orgiastic sex events, detracts from the core story in my view. Conversely  there is an opposition to the free-love counterculture with A Clockwork Orange feel and its 70s appreciation for violent anarchy and rejection of the system.  Additionally, although Ballard's writing contained a strong surrealist vision, this is cinematically presented in a psychedelic approach which makes the film overly strange and hard to follow. I'm not sure what someone who had not read the book would think of the film, although looking at Amazon reviews it seems pretty clear. The film simply doesn't present the story clearly. Unsurprisingly, it simplifies the story, but it also reduces the horrific elements to a tamer, more acceptable representation. As the novel reaches its most intense point, Laing cannot even descend the building because of the stench of a pool filled with rotting corpses, (reduced in the film to a far less graphic scene showing the few causalities being laid to rest in the pool.) In the novel, this scene is extremely unsettling and jarring as its shows a local holocaust which occurred without a rational explanation and, even worse, not at the hands of external tyrannical forces, but only by the participant residents themselves.

What I find significant about High Rise, is its relevance to the current state of the world. As a story of the fragile nature of the social construct which can completely unravel from small disruptions, there is something to learn for now. This social de-evolution, to a state that is completely unthinkable does actually occur. In recent memory it has happened in Syria and Sarajevo, and the modern first-world currently hangs on the edge of sliding down such a steep precipice. The most prominent question that arises asks: why don't the residents simply leave? But history shows again and again people gripping onto their section of the world even as it erupts into total chaos, as they grip tighter in spite of this, possessing what is "their" even as it turns to rubbish. There is a Luciferian notion that it is better to rule in Hell, than serve in Heaven - that outside civilization which is maintained by someone else. After being immersed in dysfunctionality, Wilder finds time away from the building "dreamlike in its unreality" and eventually Laing cannot even force himself to leave. Like a lobster being boiled, each event which worsens conditions is not recognized to be part of an on-going chain with extreme results. Perhaps people are ultimately too optimistic. How can the world be progressing along, and all of a sudden we are living inside a nightmare that no one chose to stop before it started (as happened so many times in the twentieth century).  This is an exploration of that phenomena.

The additional political messages inserted in the film seem to only over-emphasize the theme, which is already overly presented and all too clear in the novel- as the building, with is numerical hierarchy of residents, is an obvious metaphor of class systems. But, this seems overly idealized in the film with Wilder's low class (level) flat displaying a Che Guevara poster and the closing Margaret Thatcher quote. This quote: "There is only one economic system in the world, and that is capitalism." is interesting in itself in that it completely embodies ideology. If it is taken to mean that Capitalism is the only possible system, in an end of history view, than it is total ideology without any objective value or meaning, as it dismisses any alternative possibilities. Conversely, if it is taken to mean that all economics are capitalistic in nature, then it turns the two terms into synonyms and strips away any meaningful distinction of capitalism. I don't find the story a compelling challenge to capitalism, although it makes strong statements about consumerism.  Rather it concerns a more fundamental layer of human nature, the initial ideological conditions before they are systematized into economic structures.  What is most interesting is Royal's response to the complete breakdown of his utopia, as he embraces this breakdown rather than attempting to fix it, a position that Laing also embraces and continues.  So the resulting message becomes maybe everything needs to be destroyed before it can be rebuilt, but the dangers of nihilism are a serious threat without meaningful response that is left unconsidered in the work.

The film is disappointing not because it's bad, in fact it is unique enough to leave a strong impression,  but because it could have been so much better. There were so many things that could have been done different to explain the story, while at the same time not explicitly hitting the viewer over the head.  So many interesting scenes I was waiting for ultimately never occurred, instead being replaced by some 1970s acid induced psychedelic trip or watered down, destroying the effect.  However, in both version, the story leaves a chilling, disconcerting afterimage.

As Ballard's characters "surrender to a logic more powerful than reason," the underlying proximity of the Real becomes apparent.  Safe within the stable realms of our Symbolic world, we can function on a level far evolved from barbaric savagery.  But, really, this stability is an illusion, we are only existing on a fragile coating of a surface suspending us out of the Real.  A simple crack in this layer can easily disintegrate the chain of meaning that sustains society.  Reason can only manifested through Symbolic mechanisms, but the more fundamental conditions of the Real always persist within us.  And as the more fundamental level of existence, it contains its own logic, not as articulate-able propositions, but as forces.  Recent shifts of political thought have shown this fragility, as pressure exerted from the narrow, but vocal, political movements which have caused further forceful  ideological balkanization, pushing us all deeper into factions built on our own adopted Symbolic systems.  The field has been set for final disintegration, with each person ready to take up arms for their own banner.  While the full potentiality of this political disintegration is only now becoming clear, Ballard seemed well aware of the unsustainability of civilized modernity back in 1975, once again showing tremendous foresight.

Purchased Experiences: Identity and Consumer Culture in Generation X

    Douglas Coupland’s 1991 novel Generation X presents a view of life in the contemporary world which can be further understood by Marxist criticism, as it aesthetically embodies the theoretical views of such criticism.[1]  The novel revolves around three characters, Andy, Dag, and Claire, all near the age of thirty.  They have left their career-oriented lifestyles, and moved to the Mojave Desert to live in Palm Springs.  Here they work “Mcjobs” and entertain each other by telling stories.  Being hyper-conscious of the world of the late twentieth century, Generation X criticizes the prevailing class structure of consumer society.  This has led to accusations of the novel being pretentious and unrealistic. Why are the members of this generation more dissatisfied with life than previous generations were?  Does the world presented by Coupland correspond to external reality, or is it one writer’s personal dissatisfaction and disillusionment with the world?

     Marxist criticism seems useful in analyzing this work, perhaps even more now than when it was published in 1991 and Marxism was still a powerful political force that overshadowed its critical effectiveness.  Marxist criticism provides insight into the world of the late twentieth century, where economic class and status have become the most important factors in social life. The Marxist idea that economic class is fundamental to everything that happens in culture reveals more about the characters in the novel than is immediately apparent  While Paul Fussell has laid out the division between classes and the similarities of the members of each class, the ideas found in the postmodern theory of Frederic Jameson are highly illuminating for understanding this novel.  In Postmodernism, or, The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism, published at roughly the same date as Generation X, Jameson details the change in culture after World War II, manifesting in the emergence of a consumer society, claiming that the postmodern split happened in the 1960’s, at roughly the point that “generation x” came into being. As the importance of participation in the consumer world has increased beyond this split, authenticity of the individual has been replaced with an artificial and superficial public stream of economic interaction - participation in the latest trends as a source of meaning. What you buy defines who you are, so the individual works just to buy stuff; work becomes the field in which to experience life while the resulting economic exchanges define the individual.

    The well developed theories of Marxist criticism suggest that the postmodern world depicted in Generation X is an accurate one, and the novel presents us with illustrations of how we should approach living in such a confusing and challenging time period.  Coupland remarks that “There is no weather in Palm Springs - just like TV.  There is also no middle class, and in that sense the place is medieval . . . Nonetheless, the three of us chose to live here, for the town is undoubtedly a quiet sanctuary from the bulk of middle-class life” (10).  Escape is an important concept in the novel as each of the main characters recalls their exit from traditional society.  Furthermore, they compare their lifestyle to other characters who have decided to stay in the mainstream society. In “An Anatomy of Classes” Paul Fussell analyzed contemporary society by dividing it into nine classes, revealing the negative aspects of each class by presenting the conformity inherent to each one. He then proposed a “Category X” of people who attempt to escape from the rigid class structure.  This category of Fussell's analysis has been mentioned by Coupland as a possible influence on his generational concept.  The idea of a “medieval” lack of the middle class can be understood as the middle-class being a very modern development, and Jameson argues that there was a pre-communist state that existed before capitalism widened the split between classes.  The novel's comparison of Palm Springs to TV shows a postmodernist awareness of real places feeling fake and fake illusions presenting themselves as real.

     While attempting to escape from the construct of the consumer society that has been created, the characters in this book find themselves in a fragmented existence, alienated from the world and each other, and internally from their own cohesive past.. They exist in isolation, trying to relate to each other.  The characters view their lives as discreet, separate experiences which seem story-like.  As they attempt to get through life and relate to each other, they tell stories, which take on a significance of their own, revealing much about the characters and the world they see themselves in.  The historical events of their lives are reduced, while the fictional stories of their imaginations are elevated, thus blurring the division between reality and non-reality.  The idea of postmodern fragmentation is readily apparent here, both the fragmentation of individuals into different groups within society, and as time fragmenting into a series of "perpetual presents,” as understood by Jameson.

    Coupland's Generation X asks "Why work? Simply to buy more stuff?  That's just not enough" (23).  This line alone communicates much of what Marxist thought would condemn about our consumer society. We go to work to make money to buy things, and then the cycle repeats itself.  The death of the subject presented by Jameson is also an important idea here.  The characters feel that if they exist in that consumer world, they lose some level of consciousness and become an automatic part of that system.  They feel restricted by their jobs, career choices and life choices. In order to become creative and have the ability to develop their own individual being, as well as experience a sense of aesthetic possibility, they must drop out of the structured world of class.  They leave behind the career track and live moment to moment.

    Andy, in one of his untold stories, imagines a future city where "its boulevards were patternless, helter skelter, and cuckoo.  Everywhere there were booby traps of moustetraps, Triffids, and black holes . . and directions were impossible" (51).  The dangers and confusions of contemporary existence found in this work correspond to the postmodern world envisioned by Jameson as “a mutation in built space itself,” a hyperspace, like the confusing maze of the Bonaventure Hotel which has become a physical manifestation of the fragmented, rhizomic structure of late capitalism. Andy warns of a future with no clear paths, exits, or methods of clear navigation.

     As Andy reflects on his home-life, he states that "I get this feeling--.  It is a feeling that our emotions, while wonderful, are transpiring in a vacuum, and I think it all boils down to the fact that we're middle class.  You see, when you're middle class, you have to live with the fact that history will ignore you.  You have to live with the fact that history can never champion your causes and that history will never feel sorry for you, It is the price that is paid for day-to-day comfort and silence.  And because of this price, all happiness is sterile; all sadnesses go unpitied." (147)  Here we see the idea of the middle class forming a bland, uncreative existence, like what had been presented by Fussell.  It may be comfortable, but it is not adventurous.  While recalling his youth during the Vietnam War, Andy notes ". . . they were ugly times.  But they were also the only times I'll ever get - genuine capital H history times, before history was turned into a press release, a marketing strategy, and a cynical campaign tool.  And, hey, it's not as if I got to see much real history, either - I arrived to see a concert in history's arena just as the final set was finishing.  But I saw enough, and today, in the bizarre absence of all time cues, I need a connection to a past of some importance, however wan the connection." (151). In the post-modern world where time becomes a fleeting series of discreet points the connection to a linear progression of history and self is lost, identity becomes unanchored from events resulting in an artificial presence, an existential alienation from the larger world. After the radical break in history, Jameson argues that "there is a disappearance of the sense of history, the way in which our entire contemporary social system has little by little begun to lose its capacity to retain its own past, has begun to live in  perpetual present and in perpetual change that obliterates traditions of the kind which all earlier social information have had in one way or another to preserve" (214).  This description could apply to Coupland's novels as well as the world at large.  Throughout the book Coupland's characters speak in phrases like “my hair doesn't look 1940's enough," as well as making extensive references to “dead TV shows,” Elvis, and Marilyn Monroe.  Through these references we can see Jameson's understanding of nostalgia, the idea that “we seem condemned to seek the historical past through our own pop images and stereotypes about the past, which itself remains forever out of reach.”  (Jameson, 208) If there is no way to map the future, no clear sense of direction, then sensible meaning can only come from the past. Furthermore, we can also see other aspects of postmodernism at work, such as the implosion between disciplines, where history becomes entangled with advertising, politics with entertainment, etc.

     Other theories, such a a psychological approach, could focus on the few disillusioned characters, and claim that this book is really just about three misfits who have a strong sense of nonconformity.  What is really important is their understanding and reaction to the world, and these understandings may not accurately represent the world at large.  In this sense the world would be a production of their attitudes, rather than the characters being the production of the social construct.  But, this interpretation becomes much too solipsistic, leaving every individual with an isolated reality.  Rather, the Marxist critique presents each individual relating to the same world, and is therefore more useful, as it deals with what is “out there,” rather than inside one’s own mind.  The base that society functions on determines the psychological consistency of its individuals.  Generation X can be seen as a story that explains the experience of existing culture, the one which has produced the characters,  as well as the readers.  This culture is indeed the one of consumerism and late capitalism described in detail by Jameson.  As it is based almost exclusively on economics, this society is therefore understood best in the terms of Marxist criticism.  It is not just a story of a few characters that have a particular psychological aversion to society.  As the novel is aware of the economic and social pressures that exist, it attempts to analyze those conditions rather than passively ignoring them, undermining the idea that modern mainstream consumerism is a natural state of existence. As Jameson notes, postmodernism explains the logic of consumer capitalism, however, "The more significant question is whether there is also a way in which it resits that logic" (214).  Coupland's work is a response to that. In the form of stories, through the aesthetic, meaning can emerge from the subjective individual experience.  Generation X is an exploration of the first generation to experience Jameson's radical break of history.

Sources:
Coupland, Douglas, Generation X. New York: St Martin’s Press. 1991

Jameson, Frederic.  “Postmodernism and Consumer Society.”  Everyday Theory.  Ed. Becky McLaughlin and Bob Cole, Pearson Longman. 2005. 201 -215.

Original version written as an outline (2010)

[1] Note here that I am using the academic mode of Marxism as it was originally conceived in philosophy as a critique of capitalism, and not a particular political ideology. Remember Marx was an actual philosopher and his critique was inseparable from the actual emerging conditions of capitalism (they are intertwined views).  Non-theoretical later uses by political parties are inauthentic distortions, which may or may not represent Jameson's views.

Tropic of Cancer

Thoughts on Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller

It is hard to imagine the impact of Henry Miller’s vulgar language in 1934, but I suppose in the pre-shock-jock era someone had to push the bounds of language and conventional thought. If Dostoevsky's underground man was the kind of person that must exist in the nineteenth century, created by the expanding rationalistic world of modernism, then Miller’s persona in the Tropic of Cancer is a logical but extreme extension of that thought. Given the possible nihilism that has come about after Nietzsche’s proclamation that “God is dead,” the possibility of value has been eroded in the early twentieth century. Miller’s reference to Turgenev shows an affinity with Russian nihilist thought. He states that:
For a hundred years or more the world, our world, has been
dying. And not one man, in these last hundred years or so, has been
crazy enough to put a bomb up the asshole of creation and set it
off. The world is rotting away, dying piecemeal. But it needs the
coup de grâce, it needs to be blown to smithereens. (26)

Since nothing seems to rise above into a hierarchy of meaning and value, Miller seems to reject everything as the same, and in response concerns himself only with the base values of food and sex. He quite consciously claims that he is not of the human world but the inhuman, and it seems Paris suits his activity better than American and its “puritanical” values .

Once I thought that to be human was the highest aim a man could
have, but I see now that it was meant to destroy me. Today I am
proud to say that I am inhuman, that I belong not to men and
governments, that I have nothing to do with creeds and principles.
I have nothing to do with the creaking machinery of humanity – I
belong to the earth!

This view indicates Miller wants to throw off all artificial limitations created by man, and live in a much more naturalistic way, answering only to the self. Despite his rejection of value, there does seem to be times where Miller regards the act of creation as having intrinsic value, and the (sometimes) eloquent and poetic quality of his writing suggests a pursuit of an aesthetic goal. Ultimately, Miller’s interest is only in what is immediately present, the concrete elements of life. He is interested in the awareness of the: discrepancy there is between ideas and living. A permanent dislocation, though we try to cover the two with a bright awning. And it won’t go. Ideas have to be wedded to action; if there is no sex, no vitality in them, there is no action. Ideas cannot exist alone in the vacuum of the mind. Ideas are related to living: (242)

Life requires action, it should not be “an abstract idea nailed to a cross” (243). Life is lived on the margins of society. Anything that takes the vitality out of life (such as social conventions, normative morality, etc) should be rejected. While this worldview may not be sustainable for societies at large, it does seem applicable to the artist striving to find the center of life, to create something new, and live life to its fullest intensity. I think Miller is proposing that the only way to find value in the modern world is to first destroy all of the systems that have been built up in the past and start over by finding value in life itself.

Native Son

Thoughts on Native Son by Richard Wright

For me, the most prominent question that arises from Native Son concerns Bigger’s justification. This work resembles The Stranger, written by Camus at roughly the same time. In that work the character Mersault was also sentenced for death for inadvertently killing someone. Ultimately, his real crime was indifference to the world (a world that was indifferent to him).  He was not an active participant in his own life.  The same can be said of Bigger.  However, in his case, there seems to be something more than indifference. Once he gets himself into this situation, his attempt to get out becomes more ruthless, to the point that he is willing to kill again - even the person closest to him.    

There are several situations where Bigger notes a disconnectedness from himself, as when he claims that “he felt he had no physical existence at all right then” (67). He is certainly not exerting direct control over his actions. His mother notes that he needs to apply himself or he will suffer, yet he hesitates and wavers about taking the job while contemplating committing robbery.  From the beginning he essentially lost and drifting along.  Just as he does not fully recognize himself as a person, Bigger doesn’t see others in the world as individual people.  For him “white people were not really people; they were a sort of great natural force” (109).  This idea of force along with Bigger’s inability to act consciously suggests that the world is merely opposing forces caught in a struggle and human beings are just caught in that maelstrom, unable to escape.  While Bigger is living in an oppressive time and place, the one possible escape might have been the way suggested by Jan and his communist idea of equality.  However, he is not given the chance to pursue this idea, as events put him in an unwinnable situation.   After killing Bessie he finally realizes that “he had committed murder twice and had created a new world for himself” (279).  In contrast to the earlier ideas of external force, the word created suggests that Bigger did indeed play a role in forming the situation.   It is not a world that one would choose, but given his role in it he must deal with the consequences of it.  Bigger has not only fought against the whites and the oppressive conditions they set up, but by killing Bessie he has committed crimes against his own people, and there seems no clear justification for this action.  His only motivation seems to be a pure animalistic drive for self-preservation, regardless of what color his opponents possess. The divisions of color have disappeared, and he is alone against the world.

It would seem that Bigger will either have to face the realization that he has no freewill or take responsibility for his actions.  In the Stranger, Mersault accepts what he has done and learns to live with it (for as long as that lasts).  In Bigger’s case, he will have to do that as well, if he is to ever justify himself.  On the other hand, if Wright is arguing that there is no freewill and that all of us are merely exhibiting instinctive responses to external forces, then there is no hope of freedom for anyone regardless of race, color, or social status.

A large amount of Part 3 contains arguments that attempt to minimize Bigger’s criminal actions.  While Max’s argument makes some sense in reference to the system set up by the whites that has caused repercussions of this kind, not all of it seems to hold justification. His claim that Bigger was in a kind of “war” and forced to kill, does not directly justify the two murders. First, Mary was trying to help Bigger. While her behavior could be felt as patronizing, killing her in some kind of war effort would be counterproductive. In this sense, during the Civil War, slaves would be justified in killing sympathetic Northerners, which would clearly hinder their own efforts.  Second, this argument does nothing to explain Bessie’s murder. She was not an enemy to Bigger, and was not really involved in a race conflict. Unlike her, there were black members of the clergy who Bigger viewed as being like the whites, as they held some power. Even in war soldiers have to make ethical decisions, and ultimately Bigger’s actions come down to his own responsibility.  Max argues that “it was an act of creation” (466).  While Bigger may have found some kind of autonomous personhood and freedom in his actions, ultimately his denying the personhood of others, black or white, by killing them would contradict his own freedom.  If Bigger had made deliberate decisions in order to act in ways that would eliminate his oppression, then a better claim could be made that his actions were necessary. 

I found the most compelling argument to be the indictment of religion.  Bigger rejects religion, and Wright seems to be suggesting (in a Foucauldian way) that it is one more instrument used to separate people. Bigger looks at white people like a transcendental force.  “I always think of white folks. . . well, they own everything.  They choke you off the face of the Earth.  They like God” (409).  His rejection of white society and its dominate power system goes along with religion.  He states that he “wanted to be happy in this world, not out of it.  I didn’t want that kind of happiness. The white folks like for us to be religious, then they can do what they want with us” (412). Perhaps the most shocking image in the book is the contrast of the burning KKK cross to the cross that Bigger has worn.  Religion that he had previously been a part of, was not really his religion and, in the end, it couldn’t do anything for him.  He realizes that “whatever he thought or did from now on would have to come from him and him alone, or not at all.”   However, along with this feeling of freedom and self-reliance, there is a side effect of despair.  He states that “never again did he want to feel anything like hope” (394). 

In the end Bigger does seem to have some idea that connections to others are what matter, but he doesn’t seem overly affected by this realization, nothing that would suggest remorse or awareness of the value of others.  Max (and presumably Wright) makes the case that the problem isn’t racial division, it’s economic.  Wealth, and its power, create classes and divide people and because of this system individuals will sometimes rebel as products of this society.  However, he does not make a claim of how individuals should act and feel towards others.  By omitting this, Wright seems to be claiming that the world is fully deterministic, and he doesn’t reveal an easy solution, other than reducing the cycle that dehumanizes and produces these crimes.  If Bigger was created by society, and unable to act in a conscious manner, then there is no hope for him to feel.

On Evil & The Event of Literature

Last Books Read:  

On Evil - Terry Eagleton
The Event of Literature - Terry Eagleton

I:
In On Evil Eagleton examines the nature of evil  in an attempt to give it a precise definition.  He explores the area where literature, philosophy, religion, and political history meet.  This work attempts to undo the circular reasoning that leads to the popular notion that people do evil things because they are evil.  What then does the person have to do with their own actions?  Evil is either of full description of which nothing more can be said, or it is unexplainable.  Eagleton tries to navigate between these extremes.  He attempts to define it in terms of the drive to annihilate.  The desire for pure, infinite freedom requires that nothing exists, that is the lack of anything which can get in the way of the conscious drive.  Here, in his typical fashion, Eagleton links this drive with the middle class desire for freedom and the unquenchable thirst of capitalism.  The technological progression of human history has evolved to the point where more is always desirable and attainable.  This blind drive can have negative and destructive consequences left unchecked.  In its overly ambitious process evil destroys meaning. For the nihilist, annhilation is the only way to get out of the limitations of creation - to transcend, to escape.  Following Kierkegaard, Eagleton notes the "dreadful emptiness and contentlessness of evil." It is purity, and in its totality is empty and begins to come full circle with chaos.  He presents evil as all form with no substance, although this does not apply to evil alone.  It shares these qualities with music and mathematics among other things.  It is this contentlessness that I find in my least favorite things - sports and idle chat - things which present a useless form of existence.  What differentiates formal structures from evil is indeed their usefulness, which mathematics and music possess.  They provide the foundation for content which provides meaning.  It is meaning, Eagleton argues, that solidifies into something.  In the absence of meaning, evil has "no practical purpose.  Evil is supremely pointless...[it] rejects the logic of causality" (84).  Here he compares it to a game, it is purposeful action without an ultimate purpose.  This characterization as well requires careful consideration.  Life itself for the existentialists and the extra-existential absurdists could fit into this definition.  It is absurd because of the disparity between the serious weight given to actions and the ultimate arbitrariness of those actions.  Similarly, as Eagleton argues in The Event of Literature (see below), literature contains an internal logic that makes sense within the internal structure, but is baseless in an external frame of reference.  Once again, these examples rely on the construction of meaning.  Despite the unlikely possibility of a lasting necessity, life and literature make an attempt to sustain meaning.  And meaning is something. Even in the worst case in which it is all that remains, its existence defies nihilism and evil in its project. The lack of "inner depth" is what keeps the nihilist from finding true annihilation, they must remain to counter creation, but they can find no place within it.  "Evil, like religious fundamentalism is . . . a nostalgia for an older, simpler civilization, in which there were certitudes like damnation and salvation, and you knew where you stood" (119).  It is the attempt to synthesize pure order without all the messiness of life, and the ambiguities and fuzzy logic of the world which make things complicated. Eagleton concludes by applying this to modern day ideological conflict and the disillusionment of  "[t]hose who expect too much of human nature, socialists, libertarians and the like" (148).  Conservatives by contrast have much lower expectations and prioritize the sin and not redemption, while liberals over-prioritize the redemption.  Here Eagleton has thrown the generally accepted contrast between socialists and libertarians into question.  In his view, socialism "proved least possible where it is most urgent.  And this is certainly one of the major tragedies of that epoch" (150). In the current era, where terrorism becomes the defining form of blind, mindless evil,  Eagleton points out that the recognition of evil as purposeless in opposition to the reality of "wickedness" (those harmful actions that are performed for a determined goal) is an important factor in ultimately overcoming evil.

II:
In his most recent work, The Event of Literature, Eagleton argues for a complex view of literary theory . In contrast to the emptiness of evil, literature is an immensely deep creation of meaning- of worlds in themselves. This is a dense work, of which much could be said.  However, in an effort to be brief, Eagleton defines literature as a "work" that exhibits these properties: It exists in a moral perspective, that is examines  morality,.  It is non-pragmatic - it contains features that elevate it beyond any pragmatic function it might have (such as poetic language). It is mobile and dislocated -not linked precisely to its point of origin. It invites interpretation, provides connotations, and exists with a double nature - it works on multiple levels.  It contains its own internal logic which does not necessarily correspond to external reality, but is coherent.  It is a language game, it contains only what its language allows.  It involves attempts at questions and answers.  Finally, it can be viewed as an event more than a work.  It is an attempt at "strategy," a problem-solving device,  "[t]he literary work is a a solution to to the question which is itself . . . it establishes a relation to reality by establishing a relation to itself (223). Furthermore, "[t]he literary work can be seen as objectifying unconscious fantasies, converting this shapeless, sublimely terrifying stuff into tangible images" (220). Eagleton ties together the aesthetic, political, philosophical/moral and psychological threads to sum up that "[t]he work of art is an example of human praxis, and therefore how to live well" (224).  Literature is our attempt to record the infinite amount of possible experiences and attempt to make sense of existence and its myriad of perceived meanings.

The Beginning is the End is the Beginning

http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/books/2012/08/promiscuous-reading.html

http://www.nybooks.com/blogs/nyrblog/2012/mar/13/why-finish-books/

After reading these two articles, I got to wondering about the importance of finishing books. I try to read only one at once so that I can finish it without being promiscuous, but occasionally I don't finish one and this leaves me with great feelings of guilt and failure.  But, should that be so?  The information age has reorganized information into discreet units and changed these units at the fundamental level.  It has shown us, for example, that the album does not have to be the proper unit of music, the track itself can now stand on its own.  When a work is cognitized and placed into our mental warehouse of information is the linear nature of beginning, middle, and end a necessary part of that experience and of that information?  After watching a movie, the significant elements might just be a scene or two, or even a line of dialogue.  Perhaps just he visuals of the cinematography are important.  Unless a story centers on beginnings or endings, the start and end can seem a bit arbitrary anyway, especially in the era of ongoing sequels.  And, in the postmodern age, non-linearity becomes more interesting, as re-juxtaposing scenes in a "random shuffle" fashion becomes a more significant element of form. When viewing a painting it doesn't always seem necessary to understand the entire story and context.  Just seeing a depiction of a particular world is sometimes enough.  It seems plausible that this can be transposed to the world of text and just comprehending the world created might be enough.

Of course, non-fiction works present more problems.  Hopefully the author develops a progression of propositions that lead to a conclusion.  However, it is rare that most works follow that form, even in modern philosophy.  The thought process is often obscured and not as organized as it should be.  Perhaps, if done correctly, each chapter can stand as discrete element of discourse.  Furthermore, just by reading a significant insight found within a book, a useful conception might be formed in one's database.

I don't think I can change my practice of finishing works. But, in a universe formed by an ever-expanding plurality of perspectives, it seems that the future of information may involve reduction to significant and discreet points.

Achtung Baby

The 18.09.09 episode of Sound Opinions discussed the evolution of U2 and proposed that Actung Baby was a turning point in the band's career, a position I fully embrace.

1991 saw the completion of the transition from the modern world to the postmodern one, a phase which began with World War II and lasted until the end of the Cold War.  Nowhere was more central to this history than Germany.  The post-Cold War left a vacuous space with no remaining metanarrative.  At the heart of this time and place U2 recorded what many would argue is their masterpiece, Achtung Baby.  For a new time emerged a new sound and attitude from a band that had been at the forefront of events in the 1980s. This world had a new sensibility and the record reflected that: it was darker, more complicated but in many ways less serious.  The future was open, free - but also very uncertain.

Every aspect of Achtung Baby showed that U2 had evolved.  The guitars not only gained an industrial-esque distortion, but a rawness and urgency.  The beat gained more dynamic rhythms and the bass developed a deeper influence.  The vocals also received distortion and different voicings.  Lyrically and thematically, this album revealed a deeper introspection and reached new levels of metaphor.  The album was noted for being U2's "heaviest" work, and as "dark," "intense," "dense" and "violent."  All of these words are quite appropriate and reveal the depth of the album.

Artistically, Achtung Baby was a success by being not only highly relevant, but showing an awareness of its point in history. It felt dynamic, and being musically innovative was progressing forward into the future. After two albums of exploring American music, this album is purely European and as such seems less stuck in one place or time.  The album is consistent throughout in a way no previous album has been.  The Fly, being the first single, as well as the opening track Zoo Station provided the most abrupt departure in sound through heavy beats and power guitar riffs.  Upon first hearing these tracks, the listener was exposed to a new world, something not heard before.  Even Better Than the Real Thing exemplified awareness of the hyper-real postmodernism of the era.  Until the End of the World continued the guitar-driven momentum and brought the album to inner depths of despair, guilt and betrayal.  One personifies the most conventional U2 track on the album, but thematically centers it with the concepts of separation and unification.  Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses and Mysterious Ways provided the lightest and brightest pop on the album.  So Cruel and Tryin to Throw Your Arms Around the World contribute the slowest and quietest moments of introspection.  Ultraviolet and Acrobat pick up the pace and contain the final push of the album to find meaning.  Finally Love is Blindness is the dark conclusion.  None of these songs are particularly "daylight" songs, it seems hard to visualize any of them except in dark rooms and streets.

It could be said that U2 was in a period of "irony and nihilism" (Assayas, 294).  But, I would say, a better description would be that U2 was in a period of hyper-awareness - of postmodernism, and the record (as well as Bono's extracurricular activities) was an attempt to overcome the nihilism in this world was lacking a firm foundation.  The artistry found on this record expanded U2's vision.  Subjectively, the work is much more individualistic - involving a personal contemplation, and conversely, it showed a historical and global awareness - the pulse of the Zeitgeist.  It would seem that U2 found a perfect balance of gravity in this period, always serious, but here the awareness of gravity is also an attempt to overcome it. When the band took this new record on tour, the result - Zoo TV-  was a massive presentation of this postmodern feel.  An epic display of the hyper-real through facades and technology.  But, as Bono says, the music was only "wrapped in irony. Actually, there was real blood going through those veins." (Assayas, 295)

The continued experimentation found on Zooropa and Pop was almost certainly more innovative, but did not reach a similar level of achievement. [2] The first was far too eclectic and viscerally inconsistent and the latter suffered from bad production [3] and a superficiality - the irony just seemed stretched a little too far and the balance of gravity seemed off.

Is Achtung Baby their masterpiece?  It often makes the list of best albums of all time.  And it rests at the center of these polarized discussions.  I will certainly claim that is a driving force in these debates and is therefore one of the leading contenders.  Is it a departure?  The band certainly intended it to be.  They needed to break the tension that had risen from the success of Joshua Tree.  And they felt it was - there was trepidation by the band about releasing it because they thought it so different.  The experiment was to see if all of the band's "outward manifestations" could be removed but leave that "spark" that is the essence of U2.  Of course, the result is something that is still purely U2.

Is Achtung Baby better than the revered Joshua Tree? I would certainly argue yes, beginning with the reasons stated above. Being innovative, the freshness of the sound has lasted longer.  The main problem with the Joshua Tree is its success [1]. While Actung has a more multi-era sound, Joshua Tree has a very 80s sound which has lead to the successful tracks being considered more as "80s hits." The sound is stripped-down, more acoustic and more Americanized.   Its track list is also inconsistent.  With or Without You and Where the Streets Have No Name are definitely A-grade U2. The third super-track, I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For, despite being their most well known, is perhaps their weakest single and most over-rated track on the album, in my opinion.  Bullet The Blue Sky has survived as a concert favorite, but comes through better with the post-Zoo TV energy.  Running to Stand Still, In God's Country, Trip Through Your Wires and One Tree Hill are all good songs, but a little too uniform, lacking a certain edginess.  Red Hill Mining Town is more of the same - not bad, just not breaking any new ground.  Exit and Mothers of the Disappeared become the low points of this album, lacking enough significance for independent interest.  On the other hand, I would concede that some of these weaknesses are strengths.  In many ways this record is the antithesis of Achtung Baby [4].  Here the songs can be visualized in daylight, and in open spaces.  The murky, layered depths are not present, and everything is clearer and less confused.  The album is a good example of stripped-down simplicity.

But when it comes to creating a masterpiece, I think complexity is a necessity.  The depth of the material found later on Rattle & Hum foreshadows what would develop on Achtung Baby and shows an evolving maturity that surpasses Joshua Tree.  Rattle & Hum showed U2 expanding as musicians, but Actung Baby showed them progressing as artists. They were no longer a rebel New Wave band, but something more.  Certainly Bono in reflection seems to know that Actung Baby and Zoo TV was a major turning point in the band's evolution.  It was U2's exercise of "judo" to overcome the criticisms of their past, and through this experiment they propelled themselves to new levels of achievement.

U2 has always evolved their sound over trilogies.  Boy/ October/ War debuted the band as a New Wave rebellion.  They then began their global ascent with the Unforgettable Fire, broke out with The Joshua Tree, and continued with Rattle & Hum.  This trilogy formed the "classic" U2 sound.  They re-emerged with the post-modern Achtung Baby and continued experimenting with Zooropa and Pop.  As a new millenuium dawned, they returned with All That You Can't Leave Behind, How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb and closed the decade with No Line on the Horizon.  [5] These three form what I consider the "neo-classic" trilogy. The core sound returned, but as always when one returns to a place from where they started, everything that has been learned is re-incorporated, and the neo-classic represents a synthesis between modern and post-modern U2[6].

U2 will be playing a free concert in Germany to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the death of communism. Hopefully the set will draw heavily from Actung Baby. [edit 10.29.09]


[1] I would compare The Joshua Tree to Rush's Moving Pictures.  Both had three standout A-side tracks become iconic.  In both cases these three tracks were brilliant, but became identified synonymously with the band and were extremely overplayed.  Decades later, these songs are inseparable from the band and often blind people from experiencing better material.
[2] The post-modern themes of Achtung Baby were developed even further on Zooropa.  The title track is a great exploration of the postmodern condition of hyper-reality.  The album as a whole shows its own postmodern essence through it eclecticism.  Beginning with the slick, electronic European Zooropa and ending with the more acoustic, raw, American The Wanderer shows a journey  ending in its opposite.  But as a complete work of music, this variation is less interesting and a bit less cohesive.
[3] Most discussions of Pop seem to place the blame on the production.  I can't tell myself, I only know the album is displeasing to my ears.
[4] I think its quite appropriate that the only song U2 released between JT/R&H and AB/Zooropa was Night and Day.  The symbolism could not have been more perfect .
[5] Its possible that the release of  Songs of Ascent will change this pattern.
[6] U2 also functions on another post-modern level.  As members of the New Wave that helped build Modern Rock, their status in the 80s was unquestionable.  Once Modern Rock aged and receded farther in time to exist alongside Classic Rock, what came after was literally Post-Modern Rock.  As their status as one of the greatest rock bands has continued to persevere throughout this time period, they have continued to contribute to the definition of contemporary rock music.



Sources:

U2 & Philosophy, Mark A. Wrathall, Open Court, 2006
Bono in Conversation, Michka Assayas, Riverhead, 2005
Cultural Theory And Popular Culture: A Reader, John Storey,  University of Georgia Press; 2006

Aesthetic Nihilism (A Polemic)

Quote for the Day:
"When I turn on the radio in 1988, I don't feel anything of the music anymore." - Mike Peters, The Alarm

If this was true in 1988 (and I certainly don't think it was) then twenty years have made this statement much more true, as music has had 20 years of exponential decay. Now, well into the 21st Century, not only is the musicianship itself quite bad, there isn't anything intelligent being said, and further there is nothing to feel. With the visceral element removed, in any aesthetic sense, music has truly become an empty, vacuous experience, with no other result than a mind-numbing daze. In 88, we only had to survive glam metal (which was thankfully killed by Nirvana), but since the atrocity that is hip-hop "music" became dominant in popular music, it has completely killed the possibility of such music ever having substance again. There is simply no longer any standards of excellence. Everything has become just as good as any other thing. Without the virtue of quality, all meaning has been lost or become incomprehensible, and the aesthetic of modern music has become nihilistic. But, as Mike Peters went on to say, "I'm out to fight those songs with every ounce of breath in my body."



Revised 2008.11.24

Scenes from a Memory

I though I'd take a minute to address the visual arts. I really like what is being done these days with the help of technology.



Checkout Digital Blasphemy. I've been a fan of his work for years, I'm always amazed by the immersive worlds that are created in these pictures. I'm not a fan of straight naturalist art - what's interesting here is the presence or non-presence of humanity. Often there are lone figures facing a giant city or massive landscape. And, when there in no one, their absence is glaring, leaving the viewer in perfect isolation. The tranquility is contrasted to the excitement of discovering "what's out there?" In Endless Blue the distant boat and campfire reveal that the viewer is not alone in this vast beach. Other favorites are Overseer and Gotham Garden.


Also, take a look at Night Visions (Boing Boing link). What Troy Paiva does with photography is awe inspiring. His technique is light painting, which I think is genius, because I believe color is incredibly important in visual arts. Once again, we experience the lack of presence. These places have no people, there are vast and empty, yet they are completely defined by humanity. They are artifacts and these "places" owe their very existence to world of people. See more at Lost America