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Aristotle's POETICS

viernes, 4 de octubre de 2013

Aristotle's POETICS

An inaugural text for literary theory, narratology, poetics, criticism, theatre studies, and, more generally, for media studies, semiotics and the theory of representation.

S.H. Butcher's translation: http://classics.mit.edu/Aristotle/poetics.html

An audio file of Ingram Bywater's translation, with a preface:




Aristotle's Poetics (Wikipedia)

Aristotle's Poetics - An article by Joe Sachs (Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy). http://www.iep.utm.edu/aris-poe/

Some lecture notes (Hypercritica):
http://www.unizar.es/departamentos/filologia_inglesa/garciala/hypercritica/01.Classical/Classical.1.3/Classical.1.3.1.html

John Piper Reads His Poem, "The Children"

miércoles, 2 de octubre de 2013

John Piper Reads His Poem, "The Children"

Edmund Spenser

martes, 1 de octubre de 2013

Edmund Spenser

From The Oxford Companion to English Literature, ed. Margaret Drabble:

SPENSER, Edmund (c. 1552-99), the elder son of John Spenser, who was probably related to the Spencers of Althorp, and was described as a journeyman in the art of cloth-making. Edmund Spenser was probably bonr in East Smithfield, London, and was educated at Merchant Taylors' School, under Mulcaster, and Pembroke Hall, Cambridge. In 1569, while still at Cambridge, he contributed a number of 'Visions' and sonnets, from Petrarch and du Bellay, to van der Noodt's Theatre for Worldlings. To the 'greener times' of his youth belong also the 'Hymne in Honour of Love' and that of 'Beautie' (not published until 1596), which reflect his study of Neoplatonism. After possibly spending some time in the north, he became secretary to John Young, bishop of Rochester, in 1578, and in 1579, through his college friend G. Harvey, obtained a place in Leicester's household. There he became acquainted with Sir Philip Sidney, to whom he dedicated his Shepheardes Calender (1579). He probably married Machabyas Chylde in the same year, and also began to write The Faerie Queene. In 1580 he was appointed secretary to Lord Grey of Wilton, then going to Ireland as lord deputy. In 1588 or 1589 he became one of the 'undertakers' for the settlement of Munster, and acquired Kilcolman Castle in Co. Cork. Here he settled and occupied himself with literary work, writing his elegy 'Astrophel', on Sidney, and preparing 'The Faerie Queene'  for the press. The first three books of it were entrusted to the publisher during his visit to London in 1589. He returned reluctantly to Kilcolman, which he liked to regard as a place of exile, in 1591, recording his visit to London and return in Colin Clouts Come Home Againe (printed 1595). The success of The Faerie Queene led the publisher, Ponsonby, to issue his minor verse and juvenilia, in part rewritten, as Complaints, Containing Sundrie Small Poemes of the Worlds Vanitie (1591). This volume included 'The Ruines of Time', which was a further elegy on Sidney, dedicated to Sidney's sister, the countess of Pembroke, 'Mother Hubberds Tale', Muiopotmos, 'The Tears of the Muses', and 'Virgils Gnat'. Also in 1591 Daphnaïda was published, an elegy on Douglas Howard, the daughter of Lord Byndon and wife of sir A. Gorges. In 1594 he married Elizabeth Boyle, whom he had wooed in his Amoretti, and celebrated the marriage in his superb Epithalamion: the works were printed together in 1595. He published Books IV-VI of The Faerie Queene and his Fowre Hymnes in 1596, being in London for the purpose at the house of his friend the earl of Essex, where he wrote his Prothalamion and also his well-informed though propagandist View of the Present State of Ireland. He returned to Ireland, depressed both in mind and health, in 1596 or 1597. His castle of Kilcolman was burnt in October 1598, in a sudden insurrection of the natives, cchiefly O'Neills, under the earl fo Desmond; he was compelled to flee to Cork with his wife and three children. We do not know what works, if any, were lost at Kilcolman, but Pononby in 1591 had mentioned other works by Spenser which are not now extant, and in The Shepheardes Calender reference is made to his discourse of the 'English Poet'. He died in London in distress, if not actual destitution, at a lodging in King Street, Westminster. His funeral expenses were borne by the earl of Essex, and he was buried near his favourite Chaucer in Westminster Abbey. His monument, set up some 20 years later by Lady Anne Clifford, describes him as 'THE PRINCE OF POETS IN HIS TYME': there have been few later periods in which he has not been admired, and the poetry of both Milton and Keats had its origins in the reading of Spenser.

See the Variorum edition of his works, with a biography and full critical commentary, ed. E. Greenlaw, C. G. Osgood, F. M. Padelford, et al. (10 vols, 1932-57).


'Another Game in Vew': The Representation of the Poet in The Faerie Queene

The Canterbury Tales

From The Oxford Companion to English Literature, ed. Margaret Drabble.


The Canterbury Tales, Chaucer's most celebrated work probably designed about 1387 and extending to 17,000 lines in prose and verse of various metres (though the predominant form is the rhyming couplet). The General Prologue describes the meeting of 29 pilgrims in the Tabard Inn in Southwark (in fact they add up to 31; it has been suggested that the prioress's 'preestes three' in line 164 may be an error since only one 'Nun's Priest' is mentioned in the body of the work). Detailed pen-pictures are given of 21 of them, vividly described but perhaps corresponding to traditional lists of the orders of society, clerical and lay (see J. Mann, Chaucer and Medieval Estates Satire, 1973). The host (see BAILLY) proposes that the pilgrims should shorten the road by telling four stories each, two on the way to Canterbury and two on the way back; he will accompany them and award a free supper on their return to the teller of the best story. The work is incomplete; only 23 pilgrims tell stories, and there are only 24 stories told altogether (Chaucer tells two). In the scheme the stories are linked by narrative exchanges between the pilgrims and by prologues and epilogues to the tales; but this aspect of the work is also very incomplete. It is uncertain even, in what order the stories are meant to come; the evidence of the manuscripts and of geographical references is conflicting, as is the scholarly interpretation of that evidence. The order that follows is that of the Ellesmere manuscipt, followed in the best complete edition of Chaucer, The Riverside Chaucer, (ed. L. D. Benson et al., 1988).

(1) 'The Knight's Tale', a shortened version of the Teseida of Boccaccio, the story of the love of Palamon and Arcite (told again in Shakespeare's The Two Noble Kinsmen), prisoners of Theseus king of Athens, for Emelyie, sister of Hippolyta queen of the Amazons, whom Theseus has married.  The rivals compete for her in a tournament. Palamon is defeated, but Arcite, the favourite of Mars, at the moment of his triumph is thrown and injured by his horse through the intervention of Venus and Saturn, and dies. Palamon and Emelye, after prolonged mourning for Arcite, are united. Riverside follows the Ellesmere division of the tale into four parts, but it is not so divided in all the manuscripts. An interesting interpretation of the tale as ironic is given by Terry Jones in Chaucer's Knight (1978).chaucer knights tale 2

(2) 'The Miller's Tale', a ribald story of the deception, first of a husband (a carpenter) through the prediction of a second flood, and secondly of a lover who expects to kiss the lady's lips but kisses instead her 'nether eye'. He avenges himself on her lover for this humiliation with a red-hot ploughshare. The Tale has been said to be a parody of a courtly-love story.

(3) 'The Reeve's Tale' is a fabliau about two clerks who are robbed by a miller of some of the meal which they take to his mill to be ground, and who take their vengeance by sleeping with the miller's wife and daughter. There are two manuscript versions of a French analogue in Bryan and Dempster, Sources and Analogues of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales (1941), 126-47, 'Le Meunier et les II clers'. In Chaucer's context, it is an obvious rejoinder to the miller's tale of the duping of a carpenter, the reeve's profession.

(4) 'The Cook's Tale' of Perkyn Revelour only extends to 58 lines before it breaks off. It is another ribald fabliau which ends with the introduction of a prostitute, and it has been suggested that Chaucer may have decided that the occurrence of three indecent tales together was unbalanced. The tale of Gamelyn, not by Chaucer, is introduced for the cook in some manuscripts. The cook himself, Roger (by nickname traditionally Hodge) of Ware (l. 4336), has been identified with an attested cook of that name. See Riverside, p. 814.

(5) 'The Man of Law's Tale' is the story of Constance, daughter of a Christian emperor of Rome, who marries the sultan of Syria on condition that he become a Christian and who is cast adrift on a boat because of the machinations of the sultan's jealous mother. It is a frequently told medieval story, paralleled by the romance Emaré and by Gower's Constance story in Confessio Amantis, ii. 587ff.; there is argument about the priority of Chaucer's and Gower's versions. It is certain, at least, that Chaucer's is based on a passage in the early 14th-cent. Anglo-Norman Chronicle by Trivet. Both Trivet's and Gower's versions are in Bryan and Dempster.

(6) 'The Wife of Bath's Tale' is preceded by an 856-line prologue in which she condemns celibacy by describing her life with her five late husbands, in the course of which Chaucer draws widely on the medieval anti-feminist tradition, especially on Jean de Meun's La Vielle (the Duenna) in the Roman de la Rose. After this vigorous, learned, and colourful narrative, the folowing tale, though appropriate, seems rather flat. It is the story of 'the loathly lady' (paralleled by Gower's 'Tale of Florent' in Confessio Amantis, i. 1396 ff., and by the romance Weddynge of Sir Gawen and Dame Ragnell, edited in D. B. Sands, Middle English Verse Romances, 323-47) in which a knight is asked to answer the question, 'what do women most desire?' The correct answer, 'sovereignty', is told him by a hideous old witch on condition that he marry her; when he does she is restored to youth and beauty. Since Kittredge (Chaucer and His Poetry, 1915, 185 ff.) it has generally been thought that this Prologue-Tale sets in motion a discussion of marriage, 'The Marriage Group', which is taken up (after interruptions) by the clerk, the merchant, and the franklin (see 9, 10, 12 below).

(7) 'The Friar's Tale' tells how a summoner meets the devil dressed as a yeoman and they agree to share out what they are given. They come upon a carter who curses his horse, commending it to the devil; the summoner asks the devil why he does not take the horse thus committed to him and the devil replies that it is because the commendation does not come from the heart. Later they visit an old woman from whom the summoner attempts to extort twelve pence, whereupon she commends him to the devil. The devil carries him off to hell because her curse was from the heart. The story is widely attested in popular tradition, and its motif is referred to as ex corde, 'from the heart'. Chaucer's exact source is not known, but it is clear that the firar tells it to enrage the summoner on the pilgrimage, who interrupts the narrative and rejoins with a scurrilous and discreditable story about a friar.

(8) The Summoner's Tale' tells of a greedy friar who undertakes to divide a deathbed legacy amongst his community; he receives a fart and has to devise an ingenious stratagem to divide it with perfect justice.

(9) 'The Clerk's Tale', which the poet tells us he took from Petrarch, was translated into Latin by the latter from the Italian version of Boccaccio in The Decameron (Day 10, Tale 10). Boccaccio was the first writer (in 1353) to take the story from popular currency, and there are several versions of the story in Italian, Latin, and French before Chaucer's (indeed it is clear that Chaucer's version is rather more dependent on a French prose version than on Petrarch's Latin). The story tells of patient Griselda and her trials by her husband, the Marquis Walter. Chaucer's version has more hints of criticism in the relentless husband than any of his predecessors (except Boccaccio, whose narrator frowns on Gualtieri's 'strange desire' to try his wife's obedience). Apologists for 'The Marriage Group' (see 6 above) regard the tale as a response to the wife of Bath, partly because the Clerk concludes with an expression of good will towards her (IV. 1170 ff.).

(10) 'The Merchant's Tale', in which the merchant, prompted by the tale of Griselda's extreme obedience, tells his 'Tale' of January and May, the old husband with his young wife, and the problems with obedient fidelity involved in this relationship. After a lengthy review of the pros and cons of taking a young wife, January ignores the good advice of Justinus in favour of the time serving opinion of Placebo and marries May. When he goes blind she makes love to her suitor Damyan in a pear-tree round which January wraps his arms. Pluto mischievously restores January's sight at this point, but Proserpine inspires May to explain that the restoration of his sight was brought about by her activities in the pear-tree and that this had been their purpose. Critics have argued about the relative proportions of mordancy and humour in the tale; see E. Talbot Donaldson in Speaking of Chaucer (1970), 30-45. There are parallels to the various sections of the story in French, Latin, Italian, and German (see D. S. Brewer (ed.), Medieval Comic Tales, 1973, German no. 3 and Latin, (o)).

(11) 'The Squire's Tale', of Cambuscan, king of Tartary, to whom on his birthday an envoy from the king of Arabia brings magic gifts, including a ring for the king's daughter Canacee, which enables her to understand the language of birds. A female falcon tells Canacee the story of her own desertion by a tercelet. The tale is incomplete but it seems likely that Chaucer meant to finish it, judging from the fact that there is no suggestion that it is unfinished in the laudatory words of the franklin that follow it (V. 673 ff.). The precise origin of the tale is unknown, but a number of parallels are suggested by H. S. V. Jones in Bryan and Dempster, pp. 357-76.

(12) 'The Franklin's Tale', of Dorigen, wife of Arveragus, who to escape the attentions of her suitor, the squire Aurelius, makes her consent depend upon an impossible condition, that all the rocks on the coast of Brittany be removed. When this condition is realized by the aid of a magician, the suitor, from a generous remorse, releases her from her promise. Chaucer states that the tale is taken from a 'breton lay', but if this is true, the original is lost. There are a number of parallels in medieval literature, of which the closest is Boccaccio's Il filocolo, Question  4. See N. R. Hayely, Chaucer's Boccaccio (1980).

(13) 'The Physician's Tale' tells of Virginia who, at her own request, is killed by her father to escape the designs of the corrupt judge Appius. The original source is Livy's History, and this is what Chaucer cites, though his version seems to rely principally on the Roman de la rose, ll. 5589-658, by Jean de Meun.

(14) 'The Pardoner's Tale' follows a prologue in which he declares his own covetousness, and takes covetousness as its theme, relating it to other sins: drunkenness, gluttony, gambling, and swearing. Three rioters set out to find Death who has killed their companion; a mysterious old man tells them they will find him under a particular tree, but when they get there they find instead a heap of gold. By aiming to cheat each other in possessing the gold they kill each other. The character of the pardoner in the prologue here is related to Faus Semblant (False Seeming) in Jean de Meun's part of the Roman de la Rose, ll. 11065-972 (a section corresponding to the Middle English Romaunt of the Rose, Fragment C, lines 67061 ff.: Robinson, pp. 621 ff.). There are many analogues for the tale, in Latin, Italian, and German, but Chaucerr's exact source, if he had one, is not known.

(15) 'The Shipman's Tale.' There is a similar story in The Decameron (Day 8, Tale 1). The wife of a niggardly merchant asks the loan of a hundred francs from a priest to buy finery. The priest borrows the sum from the merchant and hands it to the wife, and the wife grants him her favours. On the merchant's return from a journey the priest tells him that he has repaid the sum to the wife, who cannot deny receiving it.

(16) 'The Prioress's Tale' tells of the murder of a child by Jews because he sings a Marian hymn while passing through their quarter and of the discovery of his body because of its continued singing of the hymn after death. There are a great many parallels for the story. Some critics, perhaps anachronistically, see the bland anti-Semitism of the story as a comment on the uncritical nature of the prioress.

(17) 'Chaucer's Tale of Sir Thopas' is a witty and elegant parody of the contemporary romance, both in its subject and in the insubstantiality of its tail-rhyme form. Its butts are no doubt general, but it can perhaps be taken to have special reference to the heroes it catalogues (VII. 898-900): Horn Child, the legend of Ypotys, Bevis of Hampton, Guy of Warwick, the unidentified Pleyndamour, and Libeaus Desconus. It is closest, it has been argued, to the last of these.

(18) When the Host interrupts the tale of Sir Thopas, Chaucer moves to the opposite extreme with a heavy prose homily, 'The Tale of Melibeus'. This story of the impetuous Melibeus and his wise wife Prudence dates from Italy in the 1240s, when the story was written in Latin prose for his third son by Albertano of Brescia. Chaucer's immediate source was the 1336 version in French prose by Renaud de Louens.Chaucer Knights Tale

(19) 'The Monk's Tale' is composed of a number of 'tragedies' of persons fallen from high estate, taken from different authors and arranged on the model of Boccaccio's De Casibus Virorum Illustrium. The tale is in eight-line stanzas.

(20) 'The Nun's Priest's Tale' is related to the French cycle of Renart (see Reynard), telling of a fox that beguiled a cock by praising his father's singing and was in turn beguiled by him into losing him by pausing to boast at his victory. The mock-heroic story is full of rhetoric and exempla, and it is one of the most admired of the Tales, regarded as the most typically 'Chaucerian' in tone and content.  The fable is very familiar, but the parallels to Chaucer's treatment of it are not very close. The famous ending of the tale invites the reader to 'take the morality' of the Tale in spite of its apparent lightness of substance, on the grounds that St Paul says everything has some moral; this invitation has been taken with surprising solemnity by many critics.

(21) 'The Second Nun's Tale', in rhyme-royal, is perhaps translated from the life of St Cecilia in the Golden Legend of Jacobus de Voragine. It describes the miracles and martyrdom of the noble Roman maiden Cecilia and her husband Valerian.

(22) 'The Canon's Yeoman's Tale' is told by a character who joins the pilgrims at this late stage (VIII. 554 ff.) with his master, the dubious canon whose alchemical skills the yeoman praises. The first 200 lines of the tale tell of the Alchemist's arcane practice and its futility, before proceeding to the tale proper which tales of how an alchemical canon (who is not his master, he protests, perhaps suggesting that it is) tricks a priest out of £40 by pretending to teach him the art of making precious metals. The dishonesty of the alchemists was much discussed and condemned in the 14th cent.; there is a close analogue to Chaucer's story in one of the Novelle of Sercambi (included in Bryan and Dempster, pp. 694-5). The most significant literary parallel, of course, is Jonson's The Alchemist.

(23) 'The Manciple's Tale' is the fable of the tell-tale crow, told by many authors from Ovid in Metamorphoses (2. 531-62) onwards. Phebus (Phoebus) has a crow which is white and can speak. It reveals to Phebus the infidelity of his wife (nameless in Chaucer, but Coronis in Ovid and most of the writers who follow him) and Phebus kills her in a rage. Then, in remorse, he plucks out the crow's white feathers, deprives it of speech and throws it 'unto the devel', which is why crows are now black. A very similar version of the story is told in Gower's Confessio Amantis (iii. 768-835), and there are other examples by Guillaume de Machaut and in the Ovide moralisé (c. 1324). As well as these, J. A. Work in Bryan and Dempster edits as analogues a story from The Seven Sages of Rome which does not name Phebus and which exchanges the fates of wife and bird, as well as some sententious parallels from Boethius and Jean de Meun.

(24) 'The Parson's Tale' which concludes the work (and was, no doubt, meant to, even if the main body of the Tales is incomplete) is a long prose treatise, ostensibly on Penitence but dealing at most length with the Seven Deadly Sins. The two principal sources are Raymund de Pennaforte's Summa (dating from the 1220s) for the sections on Penitence, and Guilielmus Peraldu's Summa Vitiorum (probably from the 1250s) for the Seven Deadly Sins.

Most manuscripts have 'The Parson's Tale' leading straight into Chaucer's closing 'Retracciouns' in which he takes leave of his book. He asks forgiveness of God for his 'translacions and enditynges of worldly vanities', including 'The Tales of Caunterbury, thilke that sownen into [i.e. tend towards] synne'. But this rhetorical conclusion need not be read as a revocation of his work by the poet; following St Augustine's Retractationes, many medieval works end by distancing the writer from the non-spiritual elements in his work: the Author's Epilogue in The Decameron and Chaucer's Troilus are other familiar examples. See N. F. Blake, The Canterbury Tales, Edited from the Hengwrt Manuscript (1980); H. Cooper, The Canterbury Tales (1989). Also an edition by V. A. Kolve and G. Olsen (1989).



The Canterbury Tales (Project Gutenberg)

 

Hermenéutica de la Relectura Retrospectiva

domingo, 29 de septiembre de 2013

Hermenéutica de la relectura retrospectiva

Una ponencia del año 96 del siglo pasado—"Understanding Misreading: Hermenéutica de la relectura retrospectiva." En español, y ahora en ResearchGate, donde estoy completando mi colección de viejos artículos. En inglés apareció en un libro editado por la Dra. Penas, The Pragmatics of Understanding and Misunderstanding (Zaragoza: Universidad de Zaragoza, 1998), 57-72.

Understanding Misreading: A Hermeneutic-Deconstructive Approach

The House of Rumour

domingo, 29 de septiembre de 2013

The House of Rumour


O la Red Social de la Información en el siglo catorce—la Internet medieval.
El poema alegórico de Chaucer The House of Fame concluye con un episodio en el que el poeta viaja, en su sueño, desde la Casa de la Fama a la Casa del Rumor, en busca de noticias, curiosidades y cotilleo. Esta Casa del Rumor, paraíso de la sobreinformación, de la fiebre por la actualidad, de la rumorología, y de la polilogia inabarcable, es pintada aquí de manera vívida y memorable. Aunque me parece que ha hallado su encarnación propia y definitiva en la red que nos ocupa ahora. Y de hecho Chaucer describe la Casa del Rumor como un laberinto reticular, una especie de gran maraña móvil hecha de mimbres enlazados, que rueda dando tumbos de aquí para allá, atravesada por vientos y susurros, una red inestable de voces e innovaciones. Por eso considero que Chaucer vio en su sueño ondas del futuro, que ya se sabe tiende a llevar a un extremo lo que en el pasado parecía exageración o parodia—los mentideros de palacio o de la City del siglo XIV se quedan chiquitos hoy, pero algo prometían ya. Aqui hay un pasaje sobre el recalentamiento de la información y los memes víricos que puede considerarse uno de los pasajes clásicos al respecto. La alegoría del Rumor, claro, tiene antecedentes al menos desde el libro IV de la Eneida.


But such a congregatioun
Of folk, as I saw roam about,
Some within and some without,
Was never seen, nor shall be eft,*                *again, hereafter
That, certes, in the world n' is* left                      *is not
So many formed by Nature,
Nor dead so many a creature,
That well unnethes* in that place                         *scarcely
Had I a foote breadth of space;
And ev'ry wight that I saw there
Rown'd* evereach in other's ear                          *whispered
A newe tiding privily,
Or elles told all openly
Right thus, and saide, "Know'st not thou
What is betid,* lo! righte now?"                          *happened
"No," quoth he; "telle me what."
And then he told him this and that,
And swore thereto, that it was sooth;
"Thus hath he said," and "Thus he do'th,"
And "Thus shall 't be," and "Thus heard I say
"That shall be found, that dare I lay;"*                     *wager
That all the folk that is alive
Have not the cunning to descrive*                         *describe
The thinges that I hearde there,
What aloud, and what in th'ear.
But all the wonder most was this;
When one had heard a thing, y-wis,
He came straight to another wight,
And gan him tellen anon right
The same tale that to him was told,
Or it a furlong way was old,
And gan somewhat for to eche*                             *eke, add
To this tiding in his speech,
More than it ever spoken was.
And not so soon departed n'as*                                 *was
He from him, than that he met
With the third; and *ere he let
Any stound,* he told him als';           *without delaying a momen*
Were the tidings true or false,
Yet would he tell it natheless,
And evermore with more increase
Than it was erst.* Thus north and south                   *at first
Went ev'ry tiding from mouth to mouth,
And that increasing evermo',
As fire is wont to *quick and go*        *become alive, and spread*
From a spark y-sprung amiss,
Till all a city burnt up is.
And when that it was full up-sprung,
And waxen* more on ev'ry tongue                          *increased
Than e'er it was, it went anon
Up to a window out to go'n;
Or, but it mighte thereout pass,
It gan creep out at some crevass,*                  *crevice, chink
And fly forth faste for the nonce.
And sometimes saw I there at once
*A leasing, and a sad sooth saw,*       *a falsehood and an earnest
That gan *of adventure* draw true saying* *by chance
Out at a window for to pace;
And when they metten in that place,
They were checked both the two,
And neither of them might out go;
For other so they gan *to crowd,*       *push, squeeze, each other*
Till each of them gan cryen loud,
"Let me go first!" -- "Nay, but let me!
And here I will ensure thee,
With vowes, if thou wilt do so,
That I shall never from thee go,
But be thine owen sworen brother!
We will us medle* each with other,                          *mingle
That no man, be he ne'er so wroth,
Shall have one of us two, but both
At ones, as *beside his leave,*                *despite his desire*
Come we at morning or at eve,
Be we cried or *still y-rowned."*               *quietly whispered*
Thus saw I false and sooth, compouned,*                 *compounded
Together fly for one tiding.
Then out at holes gan to wring*                  *squeeze, struggle
Every tiding straight to Fame;
And she gan give to each his name
After her disposition,
And gave them eke duration,
Some to wax and wane soon,
As doth the faire white moon;
And let them go. There might I see
Winged wonders full fast flee,
Twenty thousand in a rout,*                                *company
As Aeolus them blew about.
And, Lord! this House in alle times
Was full of shipmen and pilgrimes,
With *scrippes bretfull of leasings,*   *wallets brimful of falsehoods*
house of fame
Entremedled with tidings*                             *true stories
And eke alone by themselve.
And many thousand times twelve
Saw I eke of these pardoners,
Couriers, and eke messengers,
With boistes* crammed full of lies                           *boxes

As ever vessel was with lyes.*                        *lees of wine
And as I altherfaste* went                          *with all speed
About, and did all mine intent
Me *for to play and for to lear,*        *to amuse and instruct myself*

And eke a tiding for to hear
That I had heard of some country,
That shall not now be told for me; --
For it no need is, readily;
Folk can sing it better than I.
For all must out, or late or rath,*                           *soon
All the sheaves in the lath;*                            *barn
I heard a greate noise withal
In a corner of the hall,
Where men of love tidings told;
And I gan thitherward behold,
For I saw running ev'ry wight
As fast as that they hadde might,
And ev'reach cried, "What thing is that?"
And some said, "I know never what."
And when they were all on a heap,
Those behinde gan up leap,
And clomb* upon each other fast,                      *climbed
And up the noise on high they cast,
And trodden fast on others' heels,
And stamp'd, as men do after eels...



En este caos termina el poema de Chaucer, apenas sosegado por la visión inacabada de "un hombre de gran autoridad" con la que se interrumpe el poema. Aquí está el poema completo, y aquí unas referencias bibliográficas sobre el tema de la fama y del Rumor y sus precedentes en las fuentes de Chaucer. La ilustración viene de  sobre ediciones e ilustraciones de Chaucer. En la red.

Torbellinos de información


Novelist Spying on Himself

domingo, 29 de septiembre de 2013

Novelist Spying on Himself

Hoy explicaba en clase de teatro la Teoría de los Marcos. Muy útil es para explicar las relaciones mutuas entre grandes secciones de textos y de constructos semióticos: los marcos pueden reciclarse, crearse o romperse, mezclarse, o transformarse sorpresivamente.

Algunos ejemplos de transiciones súbitas de un marco a otro comentaba yo hace años (¡ocho!) en el post La realidad flojea. Que me sirve de introducción y preliminar para señalar un caso más.

En la última novela de Ian McEwan, Sweet Tooth, tenemos un caso "de libro" de retroactive reframing, de reenmarcado retroactivo por decirlo en lo que debe de ser mi idioma. Es decir, que empezamos habitando la narración en un marco, y terminamos en otro marco. O en el mismo, pero a la vez en otro.

La historia empieza como una narración autobiográfica, autobiografía ficticia of course de Serena Frome, ex-agente secreta de una oficina menor del MI5. Nos cuenta someramente su adolescencia de provincias en casa formal, y luego detalladamente sus amoríos de estudiante con un profesor universitario. Éste, sabremos, había sido reclutado por los espías de Su Majestad, y a su vez la encamina a lo que será su trabajo como secretaria/agente en el MI5. El rollete del profesor con la escultural e ingenua Serena termina en una desagradable escena, que con el tiempo sabremos era un montaje para ahorrarle a ella unos meses de convivencia con el cáncer terminal de él. Retroactiva o retrospectivamente, también saldrá eso a la luz. 

Tras una temporada de celibato y oficina y archivos e informes, le encomiendan a Serena que seleccione autores políticamente correctos (anticomunistas) que serán "becados" por así decirlo por el MI5, discretamente y a través de una fundación cultural, sin que ellos lo sepan. Serena mea donde come, y no sólo recluta al novelista Tom Haley, liberándolo de su puesto de precario en la universidad, sino que empieza una aventura de final indefinido con él. Pero le oculta su trabajo y la procedencia del dinero que se chafan. Todo esto lo hace con cierta inocencia espontánea, por chocante que parezca decirlo así, siendo la chica una espía de tacón de aguja.

Bien, al final un colega celoso y despechado revela la verdad a Tom Haley, y también la ventila por los periódicos, hundiendo la participación de Tom y de Serena en el programa (que se llamaba Sweet Tooth, como la novela). Serena se ve en los periódicos y acude a una entrevista con Tom Haley, segura de que será la ruptura definitiva.

Y allí es cuando se abre la trampilla falsa de la narración, y se reorganiza retroactivamente la novela.

Es una estructura narrativa paradójica que parece atraer especialmente a McEwan. En parte recuerda al final de Expiación, al mostrar cómo toda la obra ha sido escrita por uno de los personajes—lo que se suele llamar una novela autogenerada o self-begetting novel. Claro que esta novela ya había sido escrita por uno de los personajes, Serena, pues se presenta desde el principio como sus memorias ficticias (reales para ella, ficticias para nosotros, puesto que McEwan no la publica con pseudónimo ni la llama otra cosa que novela). Lo que sucede aquí, en el último capítulo, es que la autoría pasa súbita y retroactivamente, de Serena a Tom Haley, y las memorias ficticiamente auténticas se convierten en una novela que las imita perfectamente—o quizá no... y la novela de McEwan se convierte en una novela más experimental de lo que parecía en un principio, pues genera unas dialécticas algo paradójicas en torno a la autoría de lo que hemos leído.
high heels

El último capítulo (cap. 22) de Sweet Tooth está narrado, intradiegéticamente, por Tom Haley. Es una carta dirigida a Serena, y que ella encuentra en la cocina de su casa, encima de un paquete cerrado. Con la lectura de la carta concluye el libro, con lo cual  podría ser que concluyese con la memoria escrita por Serena. En puridad, no sabemos si abrió el paquete siquiera, o no. Ahora bien, lo que contiene ese paquete cerrado es, quizá, la propia novela Sweet Tooth, o quizá una versión preliminar de la misma. En la carta, Tom Haley le cuenta a Serena cómo, al enterarse de que "salía con una espía", decidió vengarse en sus propios términos, espiándola a ella... bien a conciencia, desde dentro. Y lo ha hecho por el procedimiento de escribir la historia en la que se han visto envueltos, desde el punto de vista de Serena:


Now I knew what you knew, what you had to conceal, I tried to imagine being you, being in two places at once, loving and  . . . reporting back. How could I get in there and report back too? And that was it. I saw it. So simple. This story wasn't for me to tell. It was for you. Your job was to report back to me. I had to get out of my skin and into yours. I needed to be translated, to be a transvestite, to shoehorn myself into your skirts and high heels, into your knickers, and carry your white glossy handbag on its shoulder strap. On my shoulder. Then start talking, as you. Did I know you well enough? Clearly not. Was I a good enough ventriloquist? Only one way to find out. I had to begin. I took from my pocket my letter to you and tore it up, and let the bits drift down into the darkness of the Avon Gorge. Then I hurried back across the bridge, eventually waved down a taxi and spent that New Year's Eve and part of the next day in my hotel room filling another exercise book, trying your voice.  (357-58)

Pocas veces se habrá descrito tan vívidamente el acto de "travestismo" imaginativo que supone para un escritor masculino el crear personajes femeninos y hacerlos hablar; desde luego es un concepto generado por una fantasía extremadamente heterosexualista, más que heterosexual. Pasa Tom Haley a detallar cómo encontró un refinamiento especial del erotismo fingiendo ante Serena que no sabía nada—un placer intelectual y sensual a la vez haciendo el amor con ella sabiendo que la estaba espiando, un sentimiento de división interna que multiplicaba sus placeres al anticipar la manera en que luego describiría "desde fuera", o desde ella, la escena que ahora vivían. Hay aquí algo de voyeurismo, o incluso de auto-voyeurismo. Tom se precia de añadir "un pliegue más al tejido del engaño", y lo curioso es que en la carta plantea ese engaño como una experiencia intensificada de inmersión en el otro. 


Vemos aquí  un tratamiento novelístico interesante de un fenómeno que han estudiado Goffman y otros en la constitución interaccional de la subjetividad—la interacción de perspectivas de los sujetos, o, podríamos llamarlo así, la creación del yo mediante la interiorización de la alteridad. Más detalles al respecto doy en este artículo sobre la interacción internalizada, y en este otro comentario sobre un libro de Goffman cuyas observaciones suscribirían sin duda Serena y Tom—pues su tesis es que todos somos espías en la vida cotidiana. Lo llamo Teoría paranoica de la observación mutua. Sweet Tooth es, por tanto, una novela de espías, pero también del escritor como espía, del escribir como espiar, y del espionaje y disimulo diario que van mezclados en la inocente convivencia cotidiana con los demás, empezando por nuestras parejas.

Por eso es adecuada la estructura metaficcional del libro—no sabemos si lo ha escrito Tom, o si lo ha escrito Serena. Parece que se privilegia la perspectiva de Tom, y que lo que hemos leído es "la narración de Serena tal como la inventa Tom." Ahora bien, es necesario ingrediente para el plan del libro que la ambigüedad se mantenga, y que las perspectivas de ambos estén entrelazadas de modo paradójico e inextricable, a marriage of fictional minds más que a marriage of true minds. Chapeau al escritor que lo consiga, y McEwan lo consigue. De este modo, Serena nos da su versión de Tom, y Tom su versión de Serena, en una máquina generativa de impresiones que nos permite suponer, tras la lectura de la novela, mucho más que un cortejo complicado y un matrimonio interesante; inevitablemente lleva a releer la novela en el sentido al menos de reevaluarla retroactivamente de modo que muchos elementos de su narración realista adquieren ahora un sentido o multiplicado, o ambiguo, o paradójico.

Uno de esos elementos es la propia autorrepresentación del autor. —Y no me refiero sólo a Serena, o a Tom, sino a McEwan. Está claro que algunos de los elementos de la escritura de Tom recuerdan al propio McEwan—por ejemplo la historia del chimpancé, parecida a un relato de In Between the Sheets, o el curioso cuento de los gemelos. (Algún relato más bien recuerda a Cormac McCarthy, como la distopía post-apocalíptica que gana el Premio Jane Austen). Habría que saber qué elementos de reflexión sobre el sistema de premios o promociones en Gran Bretaña le ha llevado a McEwan a escribir esta novela—pues buena parte de su temática es el control a distancia de la creación y el éxito literarios por parte de los poderes y los servicios de inteligencia—salen a colación los casos de Encounter, de Orwell, etc. Algo de exorcismo tiene la novela en este sentido, y de aserción de la libertad de creación del novelista, por el hecho mismo de tratar el tema, y tratarlo de esta manera. 


Pero al margen de esto, en la autorrepresentación del autor está incluido el asunto del autor como figura erótica, visto desde fuera, desde Serena. Hay aquí una cierta dosis de autofascinación, o del experimento en erotismo complicado que decíamos antes, ver cómo la propia imagen está envuelta en las fantasías que tenemos con los demás, y cómo fingimos inocencia al respecto. Nos miramos por el ojo de la cerradura de los demás, como Tom Haley hace con Serena, como McEwan hace con sus personajes. Apunta la novela, esto es, cómo lejos de espiar sólo a los demás, también los espiamos para encontrar allí reflejos nuestros. Cómo nos espiamos hasta a nosotros mismos, disimulando para no enterarnos, cuando fingimos espiar a los demás... —más allá de la vida de los otros, es la vida de esos otros otros que somos nosotros mismos.

____

García Landa, José Angel. "Somos teatreros." Ibercampus (Vanity Fea) 9 Sept. 2009.*
    http://www.ibercampus.es/articulos.asp?idarticulo=14466
    2013
Goffman, Erving. Strategic Interaction. (Conduct and Communication, 1). Philadelphia: U of Pennsylvania P,  cop. 1969. 2nd pr., 1970.
Kellman, Steven. The Self-Begetting Novel. London: Macmillan, 1980.




 Ian McEwan, Saturday
 

Bibliografía sobre el hipertexto

sábado, 28 de septiembre de 2013

Bibliografía sobre el hipertexto

Me obligan a buscar méritos míos por la Red. Es como apoyatura para un recurso que tengo planteado contra unos ineptos evaluadores de una comisión nacional. Estos, llevados por la envidia, o quizás por la pura malevolencia, o por la ignorancia y la incompetencia sin más, han decidido que mi trabajo no tiene eco o no vale la pena tenerlo en cuenta para darme una evaluación positiva. Así que me veo abocado a la ingrata tarea de decir al juez lo mucho que valgo, y encima apoyarlo documentalmente. Cosa que no crean que es tan fácil como parecería.

En fin, mientras me busco por la red encuentro cosas que no sabía que tenía por allí. Por ejemplo esta bibliografía sobre el hipertexto, procedente de un rinconcito de mi opus magnum en 50 volúmenes y 500.000 versículos. Aquí la reinserto, y así vuelve a casita.

Hyper Text by agustina_mariam



La misma bibliografía puede encontrarse en una web rusa, ZNATE.ru, adornada de iconos típicamente rusos.

Llamaré la atención sobre una de las entradas mías: "Hiperhipertexto"—que pedía o predecía hace muchos años una hipertextualización de todo el texto, combinando enlaces y búsqueda automatizada. Aún estamos camino de ello, pero todo se andará.

Hipertextualización total automatizada