Eliot and His Problems: My Love-Hate Relationship with the Great 20th C Man
“Few people have even admitted that Eliot the man is the primary problem, and Eliot (as in his critical writings), only secondary.”
Dear Eliot,
You are one person I highly admire and deeply respect. You have, as one critic rightly pointed out, “made English criticism look different”. I know you did not write your essays for me to read, but the fact remains that you have become an intrinsic part of my thinking procedure, and so I need to write to you. I must write to you. Please listen to me!
You are one prime reason for many problems in my life. You see, I can’t point at any “objective correlative” for this, but then this is life, my life, and not a work of art, so it’s okay. (I only hope you won’t declare me to be a “life failure” as Hamlet is an “artistic failure.”) Anyway, two years of my life has gone into trying to make sense of what you said almost 70 years ago. In trying to reconcile your seemingly antagonistic ideas in order to understand which one is correct, my life has been, as you see, encircling your words and everyday I discover a new thing and then I go back to square one. Every time I start reading one of your essays, I go like this.
Blank-Eureka moment-That’s mean-That’s Wrong!-That’s It! And then after a few days, That’s self-contradictory!-That’s so Eliot!-That’s Right!-Blank-Oh Wow!-He’s Right-But…
I don’t like this kind of reaction, but you make me think, and some times I pull my hair in madness. (Feigned madness, as you’d say it.) But, really, Eliot, tell me:
- How am I to distinguish between “the mind that suffers” and the “mind that creates” ? For as far as I know, I have only mind, both for suffering and creating. But then, as a student of English Literature, I am supposed to nod my head in understanding of whatever you say. And that’s really a cause of shame and worry for me.
- The mind (of man or the poet in him) acts as a catalyst, you taught me that, and this is precisely what makes me admire Shakespeare’s “Hamlet” all the more. Hamlet’s well read philosopher’s mind acts as a catalyst for many of the seemingly inexpressible, yet overpowering emotions in him. As a man, he couldn’t have pointed out at single “formula” for a particular emotion him. And this is where the genius of Shakespeare lies! He practically makes Hamlet live his emotions in front of us! Life’s like that! And not like Othello. No one would set out to kill a Desdemona just because of the handkerchief, no matter how ‘fatal’. And then immediately (almost drastically) realize the full import of it and kill himself. It goes against the grain of verisimilitude.
If we could find an “objective correlative” for everything, life will cease to be the beautiful thing it is! And art or literature will stop being a source of wonder and delight. And besides, how can I be sure if all the readers in the world will agree that this particular emotion has been caused by this particular thing? If we could point at a formula for things like that, art will cease to mirror life!
But of course, you are “the” Eliot. So all I can do is try to understand you. But, please don’t torment me so! Don’t visit at nights, because unlike you, the wrestling of thoughts in my mind generally stop by that time, and I want to sleep! I’ll put it in the way of someone you deeply admired (and understood and followed), in hope that maybe then you’ll understand what I mean:
The apparition of your face in the night,
Is, for me, a cause of deep terror and fright.
Please Eliot, either you start making sense or stop visiting when I am trying to sleep!
Make no mistakes, I am a huge fan of your critical writings, I can’t really say about your poems and verse (pun intended) drama. But, I agree, as I said at the outset, that you’re one of the greatest men of all times. Thanks a lot for everything. But please have some mercy at me (and a thousand other students whose self confidence is at peril just because we live in constant fear of getting caught by the professors for ‘not’ understanding ‘Eliot’. It’s almost blasphemous even to admit that to oneself!) Have mercy!
Yours truly,
A Student who swears by The Sacred Wood :)
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