Incendium Amoris



"But I haven't lost the demons' craft and cunning: I've inherited
from them some useful things, but they won't be used for their benefit!"


--Robert de Boron, Merlin

Name:
Location: Ontario, Canada

Thursday, December 30, 2004

Iron Council

I have the fortune of not working today, so I've been reading China Miéville's third novel of the New Crobuzon anti-trilogy, Iron Council. China is one of those rare contemporary authours whose writing, tales, and theories have so much depth and passion that one can't help loving it. It is unfortunate that he is 'classified' under Sci-Fi in bookstores because he writes, as I have explained in previous blogs, something superior, which he calls "New Weird". I think the label is appropriate - what he writes is SF / Fantasy / Gothic all in one.

Anyways, the point of this entry was to showcase two passages from the novel that blew me away.

(1) Here, Judah, a character who knows Golemetry (the magical art of golems) is realizing its science. This is an incredible, mind-blowing bit of writing.

The living cannot be made a golem--because with the vitality of orgone, flesh and vegetable is matter interacting with its own mechanisms. The unalive, though, is inert because it happens to lie just so. We make it meaningful. We do not order it but point out the order that inheres unseens, always already there. This act of pointing is at least as much assertion and persuasion as observation. We see structure, and in pointing it out we see mechanisms and grasp them, and we twist. Because patterns are asserted not in stasis but in change. Golemetry is an interruption. It is a subordinating of the statis IS to the active AM.
(205)

(2)
From the way they have come, from the history in the roadbed, come noises Judah has never heard before. Something is approaching in a staccato onrush, a drumming on the flattened stone. A cavalry of striders. The borinatch. Moving at a speed that awes, their legs taller than the tallest man, unhinging, stiff unguligrade motion of spasms and lurching, turning by pinpoint acrobatics, twisting on their hooves. [...] They grope through dimensions, their limbs become unseen, reaching across gaps of space much too wide and grabbing gendarmes or punishing them through their skin. The striders attack with weapons extant in whatever other plane it is they touch, that are visible for instants only as purple flowers or silver liquid faces, and where they strike the gendarmes are cut and crushed and diminished in complex ways and scream without sound and stumble over angles of earth that should never trouble them.
(257-8)

It is something truly awe-some, is it not?

Wednesday, December 29, 2004

Reign of Terror

It's been a while since my last posting. Since X-mas Eve my sister and her kids have been occupying--yep that's the right word--this house, and after X-mas Day littering it with their presents. Although I do confess to playing with a few of their toys, especially the remote control four-wheeler. It was only fair seeing as my niece will return to her home and inevitably challenge her neighbourhood friend, Dylon, to a race, as he has the same toy. So I gave the kid an edge, I hope. Someone had to teach her the basics--popping wheelies, control, physics, etc. I am her uncle after all. What kind of uncle would I be if I didn't show her the tricks of the trade that no one else could show her? It's called education ;).

As well, our new refrigerator finally arrived yesterday. No more twangy, caterwauling fridge for this house. After a while I thought I was living in an haunted house - its ghoulish warbling and our cats' frightened meows (my niece and nephew ushered in a reign of terror for the pets). The house is finally clean and quiet.

If I ever learn to use photo-hosting I'll post some photos from over the holidays. If you go to: http://vixensden.blogspot.com/ You can see photos of one of the cats, Cleta, who lives here.




Tuesday, December 21, 2004

My Condolences

My apologies for not posting little more than blather or whining lately, but it appears as though my health is waning again. My behaviour has been erratic lately, as well. My lungs are starting to hurt as much as before. Chest pain. It's not as much heaviness, as it is feeling strained and out of breath in the chest region. I am planning to go back to the doctor, at least to refill my prescription for an asthama puffer--I am worried that this semester will kill me.

Sunday, December 19, 2004

Shame On Me

After a day or two of recuperating from a falling-out with books, we've kissed and made up. I started reading Chaucer's Book of Duchess for class, highlighting passages along the way. However, there is a bit of a pickle -- I'm torn between two books. Finally I laid my hands on a copy of Voltaire's Bastards, after reading bits and pieces at work. I've even begun to read it, with a glee that I haven't felt for a book in a while. This book is so profound, it makes me ashamed to want recreational reading--idle, unthinking, "easy" books. Shame on me. Feel free to shake your head in disgust, my words are disgraceful. My professors, and girlfriend especially will disown me if they knew this. Tsk. Tsk.

Friday, December 17, 2004

Lapsing Into A Comma

I changed my mind again. Instead of reading both Pincher Martin and The Inheritors, I've settled on Pincher Martin. Even so, once I am finished reading Golding's book I am thinking of sticking to the Bible AND readings for school. My brain can't take it too long before it lapses into mental illness, much akin to the respiratory ailment I suffered from earlier in the school year--near exhaustion from working too hard. As much as I think it possible to read myself into an idealistic trance, it isn't happening for much longer. I am ignoring too much of reality--there are far more important things than books. Yes, that's what I wrote. I am not giving up on books, or my education, no sirree. But it's time to grow up...

NOTE: I've even managed to put down Pincher Martin in frustration. No more, I say. Just stick to the curriculum for the next few months.

Thursday, December 16, 2004

The Dark Ages

This student will think twice about pursuing medieval studies now that he has read The Cloud of Unknowing. There should be a disclaimer that says do not read medieval literature when suffering a bout of ennui or malaise. To think, I was enthusiastic about reading this book--initially it was a treat. But after a visit to cloud nine I've decided on coming down to earth. No more high-falutin' language. No sir. I will know better than to accept 3 days off of work--none of this enjoying free time business. Sitting around--no money--too many books. Bad combination. Wicked recipe.

In the mean time I'll have my head in two works by William Golding for the next few days. I will be reading Pincher Martin and The Inheritors. I was considering The Romance of the Rose or Piers Ploughman, but I don't want to overdose on medieval literature. Need some good old modern British writing--and mild perscriptions of the Bible to cure this ailing mind...not guides to living the lonely, hermit's life.

Tuesday, December 14, 2004

Wretched of the Earth

I finished Susanna Clarke's Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, so I am moving on to reading The Cloud of Unknowing. In fact, I started reading the introductory notes earlier, which helped to explain a lot of historical doctrine and context, but I cringed at the bias of the Catholic scholar. I am of two minds when it comes to this sort of thing. Part of me thinks that while historical context is important, good ideas cannot be solely attributed to history. Another side thinks that historical context needs to be taken into consideration, as the 'word-hoard' of language, figures of speech, idiom changes with time--e.g. argot, discourse--and events in time shape our focus (i.e. Black Plague or 9-11). However, I still think that some things never change, that "there is nothing new under the sun"--the 'word-hoard' has not altered enough to be alien to a modern reader.

Once again, I have digressed into blather. Sometimes I must learn to keep it to myself, or get to the point. As a matter of fact, today's post derives from reading the intro to The Cloud of Unknowing. The authour makes mention of certain Christian heresies, so I decided to list those heresies that I am aware of. It is at times like this I am reminded that I should refrain from dawdling. Then again, I find it rewarding to go off on tangents. Which brings me to my original point. My offtrack tangent, and confession for today is this: I am attracted to 'heretical' texts--supposedly forbidden things--so I allow myself to sidetrack to see what all the fuss is about. If you need a useless fact of the day, look into one of these 'heresies'--but please refrain from using these topics as ice-breakers; you might drown or be drowned.

(1) Encratism (2) Arianism (3) Donatism (4) Nestorianism (5) Monophysitism (Eutychianism) (6) Catharism (7) Waldensianism (8) Wycliffite (9) Sabellianism (10) Apollinarianism (11) Docetism (12) Ebionitism (13) Manichaeism (14) Gnosticism (15) Marcionism (16) Monarchianism (17) Monothelitism (18) Montanism (19) Pelagianism (20) Adoptionism (21) Modernism.

Perhaps I should vow to read a text BEFORE reading the introduction, as intros tend to be purse-handle spoilers.

Monday, December 13, 2004

A Tale of Boilerplates

While reading Susanna Clarke's Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, I came across a paragraph that felt like deja vu, even though it was my first time reading this marvelous, phenomenal novel. Then I realised it was the motif of the 'mirror', and its prominence in another British authour, China Mieville's short story "The Tain"that I was reminded of.

Here are the two passages from:
(1) Clarke, Susanna. Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell. London: Bloomsbury, 2004.
(2) Mieville, China. "The Tain" Cities. Ed. Peter Crowther. New York: 4 Walls 8 Windows, 2004.

(1)
"I thought the King's Roads led to Faerie," said Lascelles.
"Yes, they do. But not only Faerie. The King's Roads lead everywhere. Heaven. Hell. The Houses of Parliament ... They were built by magic. Every mirror, every puddle, every shadow in England is a gate to those roads. I cannot set a lock upon all of them. No body could. It would be a monstrous task! If Strange comes by the King's Roads then I know nothing to prevent him."
(Clarke 696)

(2)
And then the tain.
Glass democratised. Though we fought it, though we sought to keep it arcane. Glass became mass, in scant centuries, and the tain, that dusting of metal that stained its underside, with it. You put out lights at night and trapped us even then in your outlines. Your world was a world of silvered glass. It became mirrored. Every street had a thousand windows to trap us, whole buildings were sheathed in tained glass. We were crushed into your forms. There was no minute, and not a scrap of space where we could be other than you were. No escape or respite, and you not noticing, not knowing as you pinioned us. You made a reflecting world.
You drove us mad.
[...] And then there was Versailles. Our bleakest place. The worst place in our world. A dreadful jail. It can be no worse than this, we thought then, stupidly. We are in hell.
Do you see? Can you understand why we fought?
Every house became Versailles. Every house a hall of mirrors.
(Mieville 97)

I am amazed I never saw this before, but 'magic', 'mirrors', 'reflections', and 'shadows' are prominent things in both novels. Now I realize, as well, that both of these novels centre around, but mainly satirize the cliches and boilerplate of (Tolkienesque) fantasy. Likewise these novels invoke a lot of political imagery. Notice that in Clarke, the Houses of Parliament are featured, as Versailles is in Mieville's tale. Both are symbols of power structures, or to use an overly misused word, hegemony. The literary term for this device eludes me right now. Now, as I edit this blog for the umpteenth time, I also remember that Venice is mentioned in both works. Coincidence? What are the implications of these places?

Also, the perspectives are quite interesting (Clarke's character is the 'first modern magician' Mr Norrell--a gentleman who revives interest in English magic, but later wishes to repress it after his pupil [Strange] supercedes him in ability--and Mieville's narrator is an imago--inspired by Borges's tale "Fauna of Mirrors" from The Book of Imaginary Beings--creatures from the "specular realm" that were once incarcerated in 'reflections' for some past crime, but have liberated themselves in order to invade our world and exact vengeance).

The idea of a 'shoehorned' or 'pigeonholed' image, and its subsequent 'emancipation' from this 'cliche' state of being reads like an allegory, if not satire too. It reminds me of Pushkin's Eugene Onegin or Austin's Northangery Abbey, both parodies of Byronic and Radcliffean Romanticism--except it is Tolkien's 'fairy-tale" cliches that are being satirised. Oh my. That's it. Eureka! That explains the metaphor of 'images'. It also occurred to me that mirrors or puddles are figured as 'portals' in both tales, too.

But what interests me is the metaphor of 'magic' too. Once again, I have to refer to a piece of work that is not mine to explain. It is an article by China Mieville called "The Conspiracy of Architecture: Notes on a Modern Anxiety". The item of interest is Mieville's paragraph on the (Marx's) concept of 'commodity fetish'--something Mieville argues is expressed in the 'figurative language' and/or 'imagery' of inanimate objects being personified as living, breathing creatures. I think there is a connection to these two novels. Otherwise known as 'magic', hmm? Other miscellaneous items of interest are the ideas of a realm of magic, enslavement, otherworldliness, magical things as a force that was once separate from the human realm or something that we once ruled but has enslaved us now--oh my. Is this a 'metaphor' for? Capitalism? Ideology? Fiction? Technocracy?

These are my bizarre thoughts for the day. I'm becoming gitty, so I'll stop.

Sunday, December 12, 2004

The Cloud of Unknowing

Today I happened to peruse John Ralston Saul's book "Voltaire's Bastards: The Dictatorship of Reason" at work during a 15 minute break. I had been aware of this book for the longest time as I had often sold it at work. However, it was not until I read an online essay citing it, concerning the Middle English poems Pearl and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight that I came to realize its importance. I have only read a few pages, but I am already convinced that John Ralstron Saul's books/theories will help me understand the significance of mysticism, or at least see things in a new light. Specifically, I found his argument interesting concerning Aquinas and Scholasticism--how he argues that the modern state of scholarly, political and business circumlocution or rhetoric is indebted to this 12th/13th century school of thought. It is fascinating partly because the most prolific period of mysticism (to my amateur knowledge)--the fourteenth century--is nigh after the 'birth' of Scholasticism. I wondered if it were a stretch to claim that mysticism is somewhat 'counter-cultural'. Perhaps I will investigate next whether or not most mystics were initially 'rebels' in terms of their ideas (Richard Rolle, for example, was an inspiration for the Lollards), but were later co-oped into the ecclesiastical bureaucracy as 'saintly' figures. The theory is plausible, as I do remember reading somewhere in the McGill professor, David Williams's informative book "Deformed Discourse: The Function of the Monster in Mediaeval Thought and Literature" that Aquinas had to adopt, parody with inversion, then refute the 'negative theology' of Augustine and Pseudo-Dionysius to raise up Scholasticism. Once again, it reminds one of Bloom's Oedipal anxiety. Artists/thinkers always seem to need to first circumvent then eliminate their predecessors in order to pave a new way of thinking. It almost seems to be a finite, or scientific law of (human) nature, that every new generation must first overcome the burden of its forefathers to make 'space' for themselves.

To get back to the point, I find this relevant for if society keeps harkening to the past as both an source of knowledge and/or utopian ideal, is mysticism slated for a revival, or rebirth? It's a hair-brained notion, as far as I am concerned.

So if Scholasticism is one of the roots of our modern state, how does this help us understand the fourteenth century and/or mysticism? I see this sort of revival happening with China Mieville and "The New Weird" (either google it, or read the article in the December 2003 issue of Locus--Issue 515, Vol.51, No.6). It's fascinating, at least to me. Maybe I'm mad like Don Quixote, not seeing 'reality' and tilting with windmills. Mieville is the new Oedipus for 'fantasy' literature--somewhere in an article or interview he states (probably Middle Earth Meets Middle England) that he wants to harken back to the idea of 'fantasy and its creatures' being about the 'monstrous' (see David Williams's book mentioned above), not the cute, escapist, cliche, racist sort of fairy-tale of Tolkien (his argument not mine!), and modern 'fantasty' novels. Call it serendipity, but I happened to read Williams's book before I started reading Mieville (for starters, I recommend his first novel 'King Rat' then the short story 'The Tain' before taking on his New Crobuzon anti-trilogy of "Perdido Street Station", "The Scar", and "The Iron Council"). Sometimes it feels like Bloom is haunting us, almost inescapable because everything about Mieville resonates with Bloom's psychoanalytical Oedipal anxiety theory (or should I be crediting Freud?). Anti-trilogy, diatribe against 50s 'Christian' fantasy (as Mieville characterises it), Marxism (vs. Tolkien's Catholicism), the comparisons are endless. Interesting how at the height of Tolkien's success and fantasty in general--paralleling Scholasticism--dissent is lurking out upon the fringes--with mysticism outside of the 'official' church--with "New Wave" or "New Weird" fantasty novelists revolting against it. These "New Weird" authours are intentionally messing with the Tolkienesque 'category' of 'fantasy', which is great--it's opening up so much possiblity for the genre.

I think this runs much deeper than Mieville, but there is something distinctly British about this movement. Neil Gaiman, China Mieville, Michael Moorcock, Susanna Clarke, and yes, J.K. Rowling, to name a few. It seems 'magic' and the 'grotesque' are becoming prominent themes and/or tropes in modern fiction, if not making a downright comeback. The roots of this movement, as I understand are believed to derive from Surrealism and Magic Realism (as well as the Celtic medieval folklore--Just think of the Pearl-poet's works, which also possess a certain subversive quality to them (in terms of translating the sacred scriptures into vernacular Middle English like the Lollards), at least for their time. Yes, I am willing to lay my neck on the line for this belief, like Gawain.

Which brings me to my final question: If I go to Graduate School, what should I write about, mysticism, The New Weird, or both as literary phenomenas?

Saturday, December 11, 2004

Ruminations on a Saturday Night

Saturday has become the most peculiar day of the week for me. In the morning and afternoon, it is the Sabbath--day of rest--to be spent in part attending church. So I learn about the Bible, something new inevitably as I am a neophyte when it comes to all things sacred and holy. Equally it is one of the few days, sadly, that I spend with my beloved Vivian, aka girlfriend; though I often spend most of the time flirting and whispering with Vivian, I also occasionally socialize with the regular coterie of the Martin brothers, Dave, Mark, and other folks. I attend, learn, eat, and piss as unobtrusively as I am wont. Who could ask for a better institution? It's certainly cheaper than university, and far more fulfilling in terms of self-esteem. Sure it has its flaws, some doctrine with which I do not agree , but I am able to maintain my usual shy, unobtrusive character while learning. I will be honest, the shy, unobtrusive character is part character, part ploy--there is a part of me that is still genuinely shy, but there is another side that is ambitious, verging on sinful avarice for knowledge and escape. Sometimes I think everyone's playing up the illusion, the usual Plato's Cave, Philip K Dick/Baudrillard simulacrum bit. Perhaps that explains my attachment to the fourteenth century--and newfound love for mysticism--as I learn about this period of turmoil: Black Plague, Great Schism, Peasant Revolts, to name a few. On the surface you can read 'mysticism' as a brand of escapism, misunderstand as it is by the secular sort, as evinced by my classmates in the Religious Drama and Visions course I am taking at York University.

This could be a bit of a stretch, but as I study 'mystics', both learned and vernacular, I find there is a connection to the ideas of China Mieville, a modern sci-fi/fantasy/gothic novelist, who coined the term "New Weird". Just google the words "Middle Earth Meets Middle England" and you'll see all about it. Mieville (and Moorcock earlier) has finally taken a stance against the trite, and static state of 'Fantasy' novels, of its Tolkienesque cliches. These sorts of things reek of the Oedipal anxiety of Bloom. As well, I should give due credit to the wonderful history book "From Dawn to Decadence" by Jacques Barzun--where I learned about the constant tit-for-tat vascillation that happens in the West. He brings up the concept of 'primitivism' (like Rousseau and "Emile") as this recurring idea which keeps popping up. It happened in the Renaissance, harkening back to the Classical Greco-Roman civilisation, Romantics harkening to the medieval ('medium aevum') period, both of which are imagined as idealized places. There's the neo-classical connection, or degree of separation (?). Unfortunately my knowledge of Modernism and Postmodernism is still a tad adolescent, er...nascent that I won't make a sweeping statement about those periods. Still it seems part of the human condition is about choosing between, or compromising 'progress' and 'preservation'--something I even see in the religious thought of the medieval period. A pinch of the old with a bit of the new. Or as I see it in terms of the medieval period: Augustinian/Benedictine vs. Aquinas/Scholasticism/Rationalism vs. Pseudo-Dionysian/Mystical vs. Grotesque/Burlesque. So much for binary oppositions. It's one way of rationalising things, but it isn't necessarily true.

Alright, take a breath. I'm done for the night. The alcohol has served its purpose, though I must learn to organise my thoughts. Goodnite.

Friday, December 10, 2004

Rolle Out

I wanted to start out on a positive note with some thoughts on the fourteenth century, but it seems so insignificant and distant in wake of the tragedy at Bramalea Secondary School. A teacher is dead as a result of a shot in the head, of the fatal bullet kind. While I am grateful that it wasn't a student who perpetrated this crime, it is still a heinous and revulsive thing for a human being to take another individual's life. This transgression is vile squalor in light of the victim being a teacher, too. Until I graduated from high school, I never truly appreciated the importance of teachers, in general. But now that I am responsible for my education, I see things in a new light. In addition, I think the death of an English teacher, Mrs Avery, from my high school had major repercussions for me. In high school I felt her to be the only teacher to believe in me, even in spite of my glaring lack of bookish knowledge. She sowed the seeds of esteem in me. When I heard about the shooting at B.S.S. I immediately thought of Mrs. Avery. I thought it terrible that this violence should occur, but also that I had not honoured a visit to Mrs. Avery's grave. The shame, and personal disgrace might seem a bit melodramatic - but the last time I saw Mrs. Avery was on a visit to our school, when Viv and I dropped in on her class to pay out respects. It was shortly before her death. I remember the gleam in her eyes, though, when I started talking about all the books that I was reading and writing assignments for university. The fruits of my passion for books, which she had sparked in me, I showed off to her--talking about reading 19th c. Russian literature, Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, and other things I could never have understood or appreciated in high school. Mostly, it felt good to go back and make a teacher proud of his or her vocation, to show that their efforts were not in vain or fruitless. I suppose it is what inspires teachers to be teachers, this hope that a select few will be inspired and bear mental fruits. There's something Christian about it all - I guess Mrs. Avery was the first Christ that I knew who was willing to lay her life down to grant me a second chance at life. She was a blessing in the flesh. So I dedicate this first post in memorium of Mrs. Avery and the murdered B.S.S. teacher, to the martyrs of our education system.