Conversation with someone (probably one of the R47 group) led me to pick up Gordon MacDonald's
Phantastes this weekend. The edition we had on the shelf includes an adaptation of Lewis's introduction to an earlier (1946) anthology of MacDonald's work. The intro is interesting; Lewis pulls no punches in pointing out MacD's limitations:
- The texture of his writing as a whole is undistinguished, at times fumbling. Bad pulpit traditions cling to it; there is sometimes a nonconformist verbosity, sometimes an old Scotch weakness for florid ornament...
Yet for all this, Lewis avers that MacDonald writes fantasy better than anyone else--but that creates a problem for the critic: what is fantasy, after all? Is what MacDonald accomplishes properly a literary art? Lewis' reason for asking this introduces a take on the relationship between myth and literature--indeed, between myth and language--that I would love to discuss with R47-ers and their ilk. Lewis again:
- The critical problem with which we are confronted is whether this art--the art of myth-making--is a species of the literary art. The objection to so classifying it is that the Myth does not essentially exist in words at all. We all agree that the story of Balder is a great myth, a thing of inexhaustible value. But of whose version -- whose words -- are we thinking when we say this? ... For my own part, the answer is that I am not thinking of any one's words. No poet...has told this story supremely well. I am not thinking of any particular version of it. If the story is anywhere embodied in words, that is almost an accident. What really delights and nourishes me is a particular pattern of events, which could equally delight and nourish if it had reached me by some medium which involved no words at all.
Lewis goes on to say that this independence from the words distinguishes myth from poetry. Again, he says it best:
- In poetry the words are the body and the 'theme' or 'content' is the soul. But in myth, the imagined events are the body and something inexpressible is the soul: the words, or mime, or film, or pictorial series are not even the clothes--they are not much more than a telephone.
He goes on to say that myths get under our skin, 'shock us more fully awake,' cause us to question all that we hold certain. They give us delight, wisdom, and strength that we never anticipated. So herewith a few questions:
- Are you with Jack on this one? (And how does this work with J Campbell's and others' takes on myth?
- Where do you draw the line around what is and isn't myth, what's primary and what derivative (and where does JRRT fit on that scale?)?
- Thinking about part of the BABEL project discussion, can he be right in saying that words themselves might not even be needed? (I myself am skeptical on that one -- but I am admittedly logocentric.)
Be well, and post!
12 comments:
My first inclination is to agree with Lewis--not only for the ideas presented here but also from what I know generally about his (and Tolkien's) views of myth. Interestingly, it appears that Lewis's ideas do somehow resonate with Joseph Campbell's theories of myth in that they both view the stories of myth as a sort of Platonic ideal to be retold again and again by specific people in specific places at specific times (thus giving a form to the ideal). Each myth (story) holds specific characters, plots, and underlying identity (themes/motifs) in an archetypal manner that links to the Platonic universal ideal; yet each telling of the story (handed down across the millennia of storytellers) holds a different apparent facet. In effect, each telling is the imitation of the true ideal--or, in Campbell's theory, the archetypal.
In this sense--from an archetypal Jungian/Campbellian (and perhaps Lewisian) myth criticism view--all of the stories of literature (as promoted by Campbell) are based on the ideal archetypes of the unconscious (C. G. Jung's theory). All humans possess access to such psychic symbols and stories, as we are all connected via the collective unconscious (a shared phenomena, whatever you may classify it as); the myths of the world, therefore, share similar attributes and point to the base stories. In this sense, I think, Lewis is correct: it is not the specific utterance of a story that matters but the general archetypes that the specific telling embodies.
Lewis's and Campbell's theories (the way I have expounded them) can, therefore, be see in a langue/parole sort of sense: the archetype (the ideal universal) is the langue (universal rule), which all people maintain within the psyche (collective unconscious), but the specific telling of a myth is the parole (specific utterance) that is the outward manifestation--an imitation, in effect--of the universal archetypes.
So is Lewis correct in assuming that language is not needed? I would say yes and no--a paradox, of course. The myths require no specific language, as they are universals of all psyches (if you buy into the Jungian/Campbellian line of archetypal thinking); yet, language is needed to create the specific utterances of story, in order to give the myths body and true corporeality. In this sense, the archetypes (Platonic ideal/parole of the psyche) are (metaphorically) the soul of story, the inward, the inexplicable being that exists beneath the surface. Following this metaphor, the myth as specifically told in one instance (the utterance/langue) is the physical body that is the universal given form.
Turning to the question (problem?) of derivation, I would say the same ideas apply--in theory, at least. Using Tolkien (as I know him best and he was closest to Lewis in such things), his Middle-earth mythology is a prime example of such derivative mythology. In Tolkien's views of myth-making (which he coined as mythopoeia), a derivative mythology is still based upon the foundations of all myth. For example, Tolkien's own Middle-earth mythology seems derivative of many specific myths (especially those of the Norse peoples), but they also hold their own merit. These myths, then, are based upon the universal archetypes of mythology, but portray their own specific qualities as read through Tolkien's words. Such a derivate mythology, then, is drawn from the most primary (the archetypal ideals), the secondary stories (specific utterances telling a myth, such as the Norse tales), and Tolkien's own imagination. Derivative mythologies, therefore, need words to reveal their imaginative effect on readers--yet they link to world myths as well as the psychic archetypes as already discussed.
Of course, I could be merely (incorrectly?) overlaying Jungian/Campbellian/archetypal views (to which I am sympathetic) over-top of Lewis's words. If he means something else, or if somebody has a different interpretation, my reflections will need to be reworked--because I also am logocentric and skeptical of a lack of words for passing on the myths of the ages.
Brandon,
Thanks for putting this into the Campbell/Jung/Tolkien context so well. Your comment explains Campbell well, and Jung, but I'm still curious about Lewis' take on it all (and will have to read more in Lewis in search of an answer).
I was thinking of the question of whether or not language is a necessary part of the equation because of a post at BABEL. I was intrigued by the fact that Lewis even suggested that representations other than words might do the trick, but am still inclined to think that language is necessary (and to think that the 'language is on its way out' is off the mark). Of course other reprentational forms can be powerful, but all human understanding is, in my view, mediated by language, and so language is at the root of everything (too summary a statement, but it will have to be unpacked later).
Back to the question of whether or not Lewis would go far down the road with Jung and Campbell in the Platonic approach that you describe, I think that might be tied up in the question of originality versus derivation. You're right, I'm sure, about Tolkien's view of his version of Middle Earth, but I wonder what Lewis means about MacDonald. If it is the pattern of events that matters, and if the question is what KIND of art, not whether this is an art, then it seems that Lewis might allow for novel myths to be created (rather than discovered or discerned). Lewis was, of course, a Platonist in many matters, so he might well have gone along with the archetypal view you describe. I guess I need to read more of Lewis' criticism, etc. before I can be confident of an answer.
Going straight from what has been read here and what little I can hold in my own head at one time, I would like to weigh in on this.
It seems to me that I agree with parts of all this, those parts being that there are certain courses given in stories that are common and shared throughout humanity but not because there is a sort of genetic memory or shared psyche or whatever. Inasmuch it is natural to wish to communicate these stories to others who may have shared in such experiences or are, figuratively, in the same human rut, and to do so, we need to use some form of language. The question is not so much whether or not language is necessary but rather which language is to be used.
Even when people are communicating nonverbally or nonvocally, we refer to the actions performed as "body language" and what is the art of a picture book but another wordless language? It would be fascinating to study the various aspects of a specific story as told through different media, from one or more people. The variations of emphasis alone would provide ample material.
[And Brandon, good sir, I must admit one thing. As soon as you used the phrase "specific utterance" I was thinking in the langue and parole way. Lit Crit has permeated my mind irreprably. Not that it is a bad thing.]
MLP: I agree, you should read more Lewis criticism to get a better hold on his views. I should, also--as most of what I know about his views comes from my research in Tolkien and is secondary knowledge. I agree with you about the idea that "language is at the root of everything"--a view I find sympathy with, even if you do believe that statement is too summary). It is indeed the mediating factor for human understanding, and is necessary in our context as beings. My own thoughts resonate much with your thoughts, and I'm still skeptical about what Lewis was getting at--and also (like yourself) surprised to read his words about the seeming non-necessity of words. Puzzling, given his interests, profession, and what I have read by/about him.
Leslie: I love the ideas your thoughts raise. Your comments seem to connect well with MLP's thoughts that "human understanding is [...] mediated by language"--and that it is root to all things. I'm also interested in what you said about following a story's evolution of presentation:
It would be fascinating to study the various aspects of a specific story as told through different media, from one or more people. The variations of emphasis alone would provide ample material.
And I fully agree. Connected with our continuing thoughts with the R47 group about medievalism and popular culture, I suggest that Beowulf would present the perfect case study, for its evolution through many literary stages. Such a study may follow the literary/media process from its beginnings as a Germanic oral epic through its written form in Old English down through into the modern and postmodern periods. Such forms of study include: translations, both prose and poetic; paraphrased retellings; diverse points-of-view retellings (i.e. Gardner's Grendel; graphic novels; film adaptations (largely divergent); and even a return to its oral nature in Michael Drout's Beowulf Aloud project (which would add a fascinating dynamic to understanding its oral temporality, both originally and in its postmodern presentation). Fascinating.
Well, Brandon, even from looking at two Grendel-centric views, namely the novel Grendel and the film Beowulf and Grendel would be an interesting comparison. It's something I could take on this summer but I have too much other reading to be doing...and I didn't care for what I read of Grendel in the first.
Finally weighing in...
(I actually spent almost 45 minutes typing up a rather long and rambling response a few days ago, but then my sister closed the Internet window and it was lost. Still, this gave me time to organize my thoughts, which is probably good).
I have a couple thoughts on this matter, so I'll start with my first, instinctive thought:
I am also fascinated with Lewis' comments on language. But while we are all thinking about his words as a critic, I think we have forgotten one very important fact: C. S. Lewis was, first and foremost, a writer. And coming at this from a writer's perspective changes things immensely. Thinking back on the dozen or so times that I have tried to translate a story from my thoughts into my words, I can see how Lewis would speak of language as he does. To fix actual words to even a well thought-out story is limiting. Even the most well-chosen words narrow down the possibilities of the story, changing it from something infinitely changeable to something much more mundane. The most talented writers, you might notice, have developed the ability to use language in such a way that these other possibilities remain open. We finish one of their books with the sense that the story is much deeper than the words that we have read, that there are many possibilities for us to explore. In essence, the very best stories give the reader a place within the creation of the meaning behind the words (I know, a very reader-response comment). Yet even with the great authors, there must be some sense, during the writing process, that they are imprisoning an ephemeral idea within a very limiting cage of words. Am I making sense at all? I'm afraid this is completely unsupported by anything except my own musings, as far as I'm aware.
now, taking this idea in another, related, direction... Have you ever noticed, when you return to a particularly well-loved story that the actual language of the story was much cruder that you remember? That the interpretations allowed by the actual wording were not as broad as you had first thought? (or maybe this is just something that happens to me?) Once we have read a story, it takes on a life of our own in our consciousness. Once again the possibilities of the story are open (though they are still in some sense limited by the language through which it was first communicated to us). Perhaps this is why we are able to retell traditional myths and fairy tales in so many ways, without changing the essence of the story. This is why "Sleeping Beauty" is still the same story, throughout its many incarnations, from the original German story (in which she is impregnated while she sleeps) to the latest representation by a modern romance writer(the "prince" rides into town on a Harley and "awakens desires" in the heroine which she has never before felt. I just noticed it in the library the other day, and paused for one horrified moment to read the back cover).
So, combining these two thoughts, within our minds, each story, each myth, has many possibilities--it is only when it is recorded in specific language that the story is narrowed down to one interpretation. The problem then, is that, as we all agree, language is essential to the telling of stories. There really is no way to circumvent the use of language. We have tried--just look at old silent film--but we just can't get around it. (even in silent films, of which i watched several with James last semester, the producers were occasionally forced to use specific language, which is placed onscreen for the viewers to read). I find Leslie's talk of body language very interesting however. It is, in a way, language, but of course, not the sort of language Lewis is talking about. In some ways, the use of only body language opens up the possibilities of the story, even though it limits the complexity. For instance--have any of you even seen the ballet The Nutcracker? (I'm not quite sure why this specific one comes to vividly to mind, but it is a good example). During one scene the prince acts out a pantomime of his battle. Though he acts it out quite vividly, the scene is open to interpretation in a way that a verbal description would not be.
Once again, I'm afraid I'm not making much sense, but I have to stop here--I'm using a library computer, and my time is up. ;~P Please let me know if this doesn't make sense. And I'd like to hear your thoughts on this either way. :~)
Mandy,
Good to hear from you. Thanks for the good writerly insights--which round out the discussion nicely. I think we've pretty much all agreed that language remains essential, though your reminder that it is never sufficient--or stable--is well-taken. The open edge of the discussion, then, may be on whether or not Lewis subscribes to the Jung/Campbell school that there are only a few myths, but with many masks, and that we all have access to them by virtue of participating in a joint collective unconcious (Brandon, if I am caricaturing this, set me straight--I have a hard time with this view, so am likely to misstate it), or if he would allow that new myths can be created. Will the golden chess pieces play some new games when Balder comes back?
This is fun, but maybe it's time for a new main post? Not that this will be it, but I am nearing the end of Phantastes. I do want to finish it, and I clearly sense that both Lewis and Tolkien drew much from MacDonald, but I can't say it's one of the most rewarding things I've read....
Peace and wellness, mlp
Mandy, very apropos thoughts that made beautiful sense. I think that, if you were to dig into your ideas by reading around, you would find them backed up by much more than only your own musings. I also think that you've touched on very important aspects of myth, mythopoeia, and story-telling in general that are essential to this discussion. It's wonderful what each of us has been able to bring from our various backgrounds/readings/interpretive views to add to this general discussion. It certainly helps to have our multiplicity of viewpoints as well as our individual critical knowledges and desires.
I'll look forward to our future discussions and that "new main post" that MLP alluded to in his comment.
I suppose this is technically a sort of 'wrapped up' series, but I'm going to say something more considering I took some 'non computer time' recently and really feel the compulsion to continue poking at this...mainly to have a chance to respond to the ever-lovely Mandy.
I have no more informative statements to make other than to encourage Mandy in her responses, despite their reader-response...ness. I must say I respect your reader-response more than my own at times, even though that doesn't seem to make sense.
My only other comment is that I find it interesting as well as amusing that she selected The Nutcracker to use as an example. It, like Beowulf, has been done and redone to the point of insanity. What is our obsession with these stories?
...maybe I shouldn't ask that.
Leslie-- Your comment on the Nutcracker being done and redone a million times is very true (have you ever seen "the Nutcracker on Ice"? I used to LOVE that one). But it's not just that particular story--how many stories can you think of that have the "what if our dolls could think" or some other related theme? I can think of quite a few, including A Little Princess, the Toy Story movies, and various others.
The repetition of this one theme in so many different forms perhaps lends support to the Junging/Campbell insistence that there are only a few myths, retold in many different disguises. I'm still not sure I fully agree with this view. But I am admittedly not very well versed in either Jung or Campbell. ;~)
As for a new post, I look forward to reading it! I've been working on something interesting myself, and I'm considering posting on it, but it's slightly out of our normal range of topics--quite feminist, in fact. And I haven't really come to solid conclusions yet, anyway.
I will, however, leave you with a wonderfully bizarre fact: Humans and elephants are the only animals that can stand on their heads.
Enjoy! ;~D
The question of how 'themes' relate to foundational myths is an interesting one. Since I tend toward the skeptical side re: Jung/Campbell (admitting a desire to read more Campbell as my reading thus far is thin), I'll weigh in thusly. The Balder myth is something less than static or final (Gaiman is still writing him), but it IS about Balder, and he has to be Odin's son, and Loki has to be there and be a creep--and refuse to weep. In short, the Balder myth is the Balder myth, and not just another expression of an 'innocent fated to be slain and mourned' theme. (And I may even believe that, but the floor is open!)
By the way, my comment the other day about 'a new post' was more invitation than promise (though I will hope to have something new to say eventually). I would be interested to hear what you have been working on, Mandy. Cheers!
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