Looking for the real in the fictional

The title in itself is deceptive – “The real Clarissa Dalloway”. How real can a fiction be? Reality is always once removed for the writer in the very process of creating a character, and then again for the reader in the reception.

The article by David Taylor in the Times Literary Supplement (which I can’t seem to adequately date, but there is the suggestion that it was written prior to 2015) is, in the first instance, concerned with Kitty Maxse and by extension her family, rather than the fictional character created by Virginia Woolf – making a modest debut in her first novel (The Voyage Out, 1915) and coming into her own in Mrs. Dalloway ten years later – for whom Maxse may have been inspiration. Given the Stephen family’s intimate connections with the Lushingtons, and some reasonable evidence, it seems more than plausible that Woolf, at least when Clarissa Dalloway made her first appearance, was very well thinking about Kitty.

This, a cross reference with my notes on Virginia Woolf’s diary in which I comment on her entry of 8th October 1922 upon learning of Kitty’s untimely (and unusual) death. She does indeed say that she hadn’t spoken with Kitty since 1908; and this being approximately the time she began talking about Melymbrosia (especially with Clive Bell), and a time in which both Stephen sisters were irredeemably lost to tradition and convention (personified by Kitty Maxse).

Knowing 1922 to have been approximately when Woolf began working on “The Hours” (to become Mrs. Dalloway), I must say I did wonder whether Maxse’s death may have rekindled her interest in Clarissa Dalloway. Returning to my notes, I see that Woolf had in fact written the short story “Mrs. Dalloway in Bond Street” in the summer of that year (though it wouldn’t be published until 1923) and a project with the title “The Hours” is mentioned for the first time (in her diary) in conversation with E.M. Forster in May, 1923.

Capitalized upon

That was quick – so much for the debate I had hoped for! The New York Times will from henceforth capitalize Black when referring to people or cultures of African origin. (To which I made a rare comment asking for clarification concerning, for instance, indigenous Australians – being most certainly black/Black but not of African origin or least ways no more so than everybody else and not in the sense that the Times means. Suffice to say, no clarification was received!).

One could quibble endlessly with the (not very satisfactory) reasoning given, but it makes not much sense to do so – it is their publication and their choice, and certainly one that most reasonable people can live with.

I would only say, the debate may have lasted months in the newsroom (as per the internal letter to staff), but the public discussion certainly was not very long at all – we are just the loyal readers I suppose!

Herewith, a little digression in the interest of another of my grammatical eccentricities (faults!), and that is a tendency to be inconsistent with words with an -ise or -ize suffix – the former favoured/favored [sic] in British English, the latter American English. This comes to mind because I see now, in my first blog entry on this matter, I wrote capitalise and here capitalize.

The Odyssey (6): Book 11

Into darkness and back again

Hades can, and does, confuse – one place or many, a gate keeper or a god? Considering its place in the Christian tradition, is it synonymous to the notion of “hell” – that eternally punitive afterlife afforded all sinners? Or something more? Whichever – how unforgiving, and insufficient; for the ancient Greek god of the dead, Hades, and the underworld where he reigns, belong to a more complex system of mythology; essential to maintaining the tenuous balance that exists between the gods and mortal beings. Hades’ realm has room enough for justice, and for each soul its just deserts. To get one’s bearings right, here is a link to one explanation of this place where nobody wants to go and its inhabitants, and a colourful map of the underworld – and more.

Map of the Underworld – Showing the descents of Odysseus and Aeneas

Its performance having a pivotal function in Book XI, I should say that a nekyia is the cult-practice whereupon the shades (souls, spirits, ghosts) of the dead are called upon, and it is the rite which Odysseus must attend to in order to summon Tiresias. Necromancy may be a more familiar and encompassing word. And it is as the nekyia that this book of The Odyssey has been referred since antiquity.

book 11: The dead

pp. 279-300

Tiresias appears to Odysseus during the *nekyia* of *Odyssey* xi, watercolor with tempera, Johann Heinrich Füssli, c. 1780-85.

Following the darkness to the misty land of the Cimmerians, Odysseus performs all the rites of the nekyia. Only then is he, first, confronted with the unfinished business of the fallen Elpenor, and promises that he will attend to a proper burial upon their return to Circe’s island. Enter then, Tiresias, given voice by the sacrificial blood; and tells Odysseus of the hard trials still awaiting him on his journey but gives also the promise that, should he resist all temptations, he may well return to Ithaca. But his return will not be unconditional, and he will find things not as they were; he must rid his home of those who cause trouble (that is, he must slaughter the suitors), he must make amends with sacrifices. This done, his people will prosper and he will have a long life and a good death.

And he speaks with the shade of his mother, Anticleia, dead from great sadness at Odysseus absence and his father’s ensuing grief, and who relays word of Penelope: “She stays firm. Her heart is strong. She is still in your house. And all her rights are passed in misery, and days in tears…”. More spirits of women gathered to tell their stories, of splendid lovers – gods and legendary heroes all – and sons (they only seemed to have sons!) born to greatness.

The Phaecians listened spellbound to Odysseus tale; enraptured by his prowess as story-teller and poet. Alcinous wonders whether he encountered the spirits of those with whom he fought at Troy and asks that he proceed, and Odysseus accedes to the King’s request. He relates more: of Agamemnon who tells of dying at the hands of Aegisthus and the scheming Clytemnestra, of Achilles, he who so longed for the immortality of a hero and would now rather ‘life’ as a poor peasant, but is still delighted at the news of his son’s success as man and warrior, and Ajax who does not speak and clearly holds a grudge, and those tormented, and Heracles.

Spooked enough by Hades’ ghostly inhabitants, Odysseus tells his audience how he gladly returned to his men, to then cast their ship again upon River Ocean; direction – dawn.

Capitalising on the moment – Black or black?

a grammatical diversion

Being an inconsistency I too have noted in recent times, I link here to this NYT piece discussing the pros and cons of the adjective “black” as used in respect to race, being elevated, so to speak, to proper noun status; that is, a capitalised “Black”.

Not being one who is at all fundamental on this, though finding the grammar fuzzy, and also very aware of my own inconsistency (see any one of my previous blog entries), I would only say that the German capitalisation of ALL nouns has affected me (or infected me!) over the years and point out that it was, at the very least, a convention of the English language prior to the 19th century. Consider, for instance, the Constitution of the United States of 1787:

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.
The Constitution of the United States – Preamble

Samuel Richardson’s “*Letters Written to and for Particular Friends*”

And then of course there are any number of literary examples; at the British Library there are gems in abundance, including this letter-writing manual of sorts from Samual Richardson, with fictional correspondence for all and every occasion, and that was to inspire his epistolary (and scandalous!) 1740 novel, Pamela.

As I say, I have not formed a definite opinion on this matter, but there is, I think, a certain linguistic elegance and SIMPLICITY beyond the political and social arguments parried in the NYT piece – though in this respect, it would be only consequential to extend the Black to include White and Brown (in context). But dare I mention all the Grey areas then open to dispute, and that social groupings (defined by common nouns) beyond those categorised by color (or Color) and sometimes deriving from adjectives and sometime not – eg. g/Gay, q/Queer, m/Migrant, r/Refugee – may have equally valid arguments. This could all lead to Man and Woman and all the subsets thereof, and I don’t know what J.K. Rowling would do with that…, and the Germans don’t know how lucky they are to have avoided THIS argument …but they have their own linguistic conundrum in dealing with matters of “race” – not to mention the little COMPLICATION of giving all their nicely capitalised nouns a GENDER!

Black on Black

The New York Times delves deep into its archives for reciprocated reviews from Langston Hughes and James Baldwin – Hughes on Baldwin’s collection Notes of a Native Son in 1956 and Baldwin on Selected Poems of Langston Hughes in 1959.

“When James Baldwin and Langston Hughes Reviewed Each Other” NYT June 26, 2020

The Times is of course quick to point out that writers are no longer, for obvious reasons, allowed to review each other, but this was it seems once an accepted practice. Who knows how much of Baldwin’s response to Langston Hughes’ collection – no artist wants to be told of their wasted gifts, and in the opening sentence! – was influenced by the latter’s review of his work a few years prior, in which, whilst admiring of the young Baldwin’s talents and the provocations of his arguments, bemoans the lack of emotion and artistic imperative. Hughes ends by stating that Baldwin’s points of view are too often attenuated by the tension he creates between an “American” society and a separate “Afro-American” identity, and only when he “fuses” these into a coherent entity, would he be able “…[to write] about the troubled problems of this troubled earth with an illuminating intensity that should influence for the better…”.

Perhaps, here we have more than anything else a generational conflict (Hughes was born in 1901 and Baldwin in 1924), about what exactly a “Negro” writer should and could be during those pivotal years at the dawn of the civil rights movement, and where the balance is to be laid between art and the often harsh circumstances of reality. Langston Hughes rejected the too virulent anger he discerned in the younger generation and remained committed to the integrative possibilities of art, but for Baldwin that is is not enough and concludes his review piece by saying, and with dismay, that Hughes is : “…not the first American negro to find the war between his social and artistic responsibilities all but irreconcilable.”

“Ulysses” circa. 1922

Transatlantic reception

“Bloomsday” just gone reminded me to look again at what I knew to be Virginia Woolf’s complicated relationship with Joyce’s work, and in doing so an interest was sparked in general to the reaction to Ulysses on both sides of the Atlantic at the time. An encouraging gesture, if nothing else, towards sometime diving in and finally reading this classic of modernism myself!

Famously, with the exception of parts serialized in The Little Review between 1918 and 1920 (for instance, here is a link to Episode XI), Ulysses became the subject of scandal and extended obscenity trials, and was in fact banned in the United States and the UK until 1934 and 1936 respectively. Copies published and printed by Shakespeare & Co. in Paris did circulate, could be got to, and especially was so amongst the intelligentsia of the time, and consequently was reviewed by on both sides of the Atlantic.

And, that included by T.S. Eliot, with whom Woolf sparred with on the subject, and his November, 1923, review for The Dial can be read here that the British Library. Formally written and glowing in its praise, it is written as a refutation of an earlier review by Richard Aldington (English Review, 1921) – which I can not easily find, but does seem in tandem with the Eliot response a constant in the academic realm of Ulysses scholarship, and to that end this short article in the James Joyce Quaterly (Spring, 1973) that gives evidence that Aldington had in fact encouraged, or even initiated, a response from Eliot. (On another matter, I do know that this was all at a time when Aldington was, not only helping Eliot professionally, but also one of the initiators of a fund to help Eliot financially, a matter in which Woolf was also involved.)

This is a difficult to read facsimile, but unfortunately the best I can come up with, of the review by Gilbert Seldes that Leonard Woolf encouraged Virginia Woolf to read (upon which she decided she should temporarily stifle her verdict and take another look!). As I say, visually speaking, not an easy read, but it is to my mind at least a better read than Eliot’s. (May I say, Eliot may have few peers in twentieth century poetry, but his essay style is very highbrow to the point of pedanticism.)

And then there is this piece by the Irish critic, Mary Colum (who I don’t know, but do now!) in The Freeman on 19 July 1922. Perhaps lacking impartiality, due to an abiding friendship, but an excellent read just the same.

Dalloway Day 2020

More recent than Bloomsday, but showing signs of becoming a permanent fixture of the literary calendar, is Dalloway Day – this year the Royal Society of Literature takes the 96th Wednesday after that of Clarissa Dalloway’s party into the virtual world – to which we are still bound by virtue [sic] of the corona pandemic.

The British Library blog also has an entry with their own contributions, and cross referencing to the RSL and others.

Especially interesting this year, and in light of the discussions about race, is an aural tour exploring the black heritage on London streets once walked perhaps by a Mrs. Dalloway and most certainly by Virginia Woolf. Following is the audio tour on Soundcloud, and here is an accompanying interactive map.

Juneteenth

Much said of this Juneteenth in the last days, so I will just link here to an explanation at The New York Times, and here to a favourite NYT opinion writer of recent times, Jamelle Bouie – a young, black man with a lot to say, and who says it well – who gives his particular slant upon the celebration, and its place in commemorating the struggle for emancipation and freedom of black Americans.

To whet one’s appetite. I receive a newsletter from Bouie every week, with interesting stuff beyond his Times column, and he usually signs off with a “what I’m eating” bit which includes a recipe; giving away his delight in good food. Thinking about this and then reading this piece entitled – and I write it out because its says something – “A Juneteenth of Joy and Resistance”, in which four African-American chefs share their thoughts about this day, it is interesting to contemplate the celebratory role payed by food, especially when influenced by traditional and regional flavours, within a community. As one of those four, is the recently spoken of Eduardo Jordan, and the very special emphasis he places on West African cuisine in the “diaspora”, and his commitment to imparting to his guests (predominately white) its broader cultural significance.

Should one be hungry for more – food, knowledge or both – a favourable review of Padma Lakshmi’s new Hulu series “Taste the Nation” sent me to YouTube for a bonus episode (for Juneteenth) which has unfortunately now been removed. It was really very well done, and while focusing on the the culinary delights, gave some very interesting insights into the Gullah Geechee people of South Carolina – their culture and language – and their efforts to preserve the traditions of their ancestors, West Africans forced into slavery.