Author Archive

René Girard, Russia, and Evolution of Desire: “It’s hard to wish for a better biography of Girard.”

Friday, June 11th, 2021

Evolution of Desire: A Life of René Girard has just appeared in Russia with Moscow’s tony publisher N.L.O. (translated by Svetlana Silakova) – and the first review by Alexey Zygmont, about the serene Stanford professor who “exposed the nature of violence,” is glowing. The title of the article in Gorky Media is taken from a line in the book: Жирар, поджигающий под вами стул – in English: “Girard: Setting Fire to the Chair Beneath You.”

An excerpt:

Evolution of Desire is the long-awaited biography of the social scientist, philosopher and theologian René Girard (1923-2015). Girard is known as the creator of “mimetic theory” – one of the last “grands récits” of the humanities in the 21st century. Today, this theory finds application in a range of disciplines, from anthropology and sociology to psychiatry, biology, and the neurosciences. Through the efforts of Girardian scholars, it is gradually making its way in the universities, and it is really changing people’s lives. Actually, one of the facts facing us is that this first biography should be enough: even if the book were unsuccessful, it would still be used by both the historians of philosophy studying his thought and other researchers who adapt Girard’s theory to their own interests. The book, however, is a success, and its value is all the greater because throughout his life Girard spoke about himself reluctantly … It was difficult for an ordinary reader, familiar only with his major works, to imagine him as a living person; now that’s possible.

In Russian at last!

Often mimetic theory is presented as a kind of “sect,” consisting, as one author wrote, of the “disciples, translators, and proselytes” of the philosopher. This isn’t true – although some people are indeed unable to stop saying “Girard, Girard, René Girard, but Girard has…” and so on. In short, there was a high probability that the first biography of the thinker would be written by his apostle: there would be a risk that its objectivity and artistic merit would undermine the good memory of the teacher and the “common cause” bequeathed to him. But we were lucky with the author: Cynthia Haven is a professional journalist, author of biographies of Miłosz and Brodsky, and a longtime friend of the thinker. Hence the tone of the book: friendly, involved, critical when needed, and targeted for a wide audience.

The review concludes:

Until now, I have not yet said a single word of criticism about the book, and there is almost nothing to criticize it for. But Evolution of Desire is a biography almost written within his own lifetime, by someone close to the thinker and based on their personal conversations. Therefore, it lacks not only objectivity, but distance. The fate of Girard is almost devoid of “dark spots,” and he himself resembles a living icon: we constantly read about his merits and do not hear a word about his shortcomings – which would probably introduce something paradoxical to his image. The only thing we are told about is his childhood passion for practical jokes, his excusable youthful passion for “parties and cars,” and even the opinion of some colleagues that he dominated people and space too much. In an interview, Girard admitted that he was “very mimetic” and wrote only about what he experienced himself.

And yet, it’s hard to wish for a better biography of Girard. It will be of great service to both his followers and researchers, and deserves every possible recommendation.

Read the whole thing here. And you can order the Russian edition from NLO here.

Do we “live by bridges”? UCLA’s Thomas Harrison builds a persuasive case.

Wednesday, June 9th, 2021
He grew up next to the oldest bridge in the world, Kervan Kprüsü.

Bridges connect us – and they have since the beginning of time, all the way back to the very first bridge, the rainbow. They connect us geographically, strategically, metaphorically, lyrically (if that last seems a stretch, think of Simon and Garfunkel’s “Bridge Over Troubled Waters”). Now we have a book to explain all sorts of bridges to us, thanks to UCLA author Thomas Harrison, whose book Of Bridges: A Poetic and Philosophical Account, is just out with the University of Chicago Press.

Harrison gave a May 28 Zoom presentation to launch On Bridges, with discussants Christy Wampole of Princeton and Stanford’s Marjorie Perloff. The Stanford literary critic had already weighed in on the book: “Of Bridges is a dazzling investigation into the profound semantic and historical resonance of the seemingly simple word bridge, that passage between two points that is unique in its material, metaphoric, and philosophical properties. Harrison has chapters on every possible aspect of bridging, for example, the musical bridge, the poetic bridge as in Hart Crane’s famous poem by that title, the actual historic bridges of Greece and Rome, and the ‘thought’ bridges of Nietzsche and Heidegger. Throughout, Harrison’s book is astonishingly learned, well written, and imaginative. Bridges will never be the same after this brilliant study.”

Harrison didn’t hesitate to name his own favorite bridge: “I grew up next to the oldest bridge in the world,” he said, recalling his childhood on the Aegean in İzmir, Turkey – a city known as Smyrna in the ancient world. The bridge marked the western endpoint of the “Assyrian Route,” the 2500-kilometer stretch that was the most important trade route in the ancient world. In an émigré enclave within the metropolis, Harrison grew up with an Italian mother and an American father, “a nominal Christian in a Muslim City.” The Pont des Caravans (Kervan Kprüsü), constructed around 850 BCE, is a slab-stone single-arch bridge over the river Meles, which has seen a constant procession of camels, horses, mules, and donkeys, going back to about 850 B.C. Legend has it that Homer crossed it as a boy.

But the book also reminds us of metaphysical bridges: As-Sirāt (Arabic: الصراط‎ aṣ-ṣirāṭ) is, according to Islam, the bridge all must cross on Judgment to enter Paradise. It is said that it is “thinner than a strand of hair and as sharp as the sharper than a sword.”

The wide-ranging zoom conversation considered drawbridges as “fake bridges,” bridges as familiar figures of speech, and the role of bridges in suicide, including the Golden Gate Bridge. Otherworldly bridges were discussed – Milton‘s bridge from hell over chaos in Paradise Lost, for example. Nietzsche‘s “Over the Footbridge was mentioned – and his rope over the abyss is a kind of bridge:

“Man is a rope, tied between beast and overman—a rope over an abyss. A dangerous across, a dangerous on-the-way, a dangerous looking-back, a dangerous shuddering and stopping.

“What is great in man is that he is a bridge and not an end: what can be loved in man is that he is an overture and a going under.

“I love those who do not know how to live, except by going under, for they are those who cross over.

“Always,” wrote Philip Larkin, “it is by bridges that we live.” In this lyrical, vertiginous book of bridges visible and imagined, Harrison builds a persuasive case that it is so.

“The Man Who Brought Brodsky into English” in the TLS: “Kline emerges as human, warm and vividly idiosyncratic in the pages of [Cynthia] Haven’s volume …”

Monday, June 7th, 2021

The Man Who Brought Brodsky into English: Conversations with George L. Kline is finally in the pages of the Times Literary Supplement. We’d seen the online version, but there’s nothing like viewing the printed page – so here it is for you. In the words of reviewer Stephanie Sandler: “[George] Kline emerges as human, warm and vividly idiosyncratic in the pages of [Cynthia] Haven’s volume …” Also reviewed, the Selected Poems 1968-1996, edited by Ann Kjellberg, and Joseph Brodsky and Collaborative Self-Translation, by Natasha Rulyova.

From Ann Kjellberg’s introduction to the new Selected, which was published in English in The New York Review of Books and in Russia’s Colta: “We now live in a time of which Brodsky was an advance scout – a time when any writers operate beyond their original borders and outside their mother tongues, often, like Brodsky, bearing witness to violence and disruption, often answering, through art, to those experiences, in language refracted, by necessity, through other language. In Brodsky’s moment there was a cluster of poets, some from the margins of empire, some, like Brodsky, severed from their roots – Walcott, Heaney, Paz, Milosz, to name a few – who brought with them commanding traditions, as well as the imprint of history’s dislocations. We would do well now to attend to their song, standing as they did in our doorway between a broken past and the language’s future.”

And read the whole story of Brodsky’s “rich, complicated legacy” in the TLS here.

“Evolution of Desire: A Life of René Girard” – теперь на русском!

Friday, May 28th, 2021

Attention, all Russians and Russian speakers: Evolution of Desire: A Life of René Girard is available for pre-order with the tony Moscow publisher, издательство НЛО – for the rest of us, NLO (New Literary Observer). The cover features René Girard among the rocks of Half Moon Bay … so, a California note for this French theorist. You can pre-order the Russian version here.

From the book jacket (see left, above)

“All desire is a desire for being,” said the renowned Franco-American philosopher René Girard. Our desires determine who we are, but they do not belong to us: since they are mimetic (that is, imitative and mirrored), we become an endless series of other people’s reflections. Desire is a lifelong evolution: we begin to imitate as children, we compete at school and at work, we want more, we suffer without getting what we want, we have deathbed regrets. Cynthia L. Haven’s book is a first-of-its-kind biography of Girard, based on conversations with him, his family, his friends and colleagues from France and the United States. In it, the life of the thinker becomes an illustration of his theory, which is analyzed not as a speculative concept, but as a philosophy of life, which Girard was the first to put into practice. Years of study in his native Avignon and then chilly occupied Paris, the fateful move to the United States, religious conversion in the late 1950s, the discovery of the violent origins of culture, doubts, recognition and its temptations – the reader will learn how the philosopher’s spiritual and creative evolution unfolded from his first work, Deceit, Desire, and the Novel, through his seminal Violence and the Sacred, to the dark apocalyptic prophecies of his final book, Battling to the End.

Oh yes, for you Russians:

«Любое желание — это желание быть», — говорил знаменитый франко-американский философ Рене Жирар. Именно наши желания определяют, кто мы, однако нам они не принадлежат: будучи миметическими (подражательными и зеркальными), они превращают нас в бесконечную серию чужих отражений. Желание — это эволюция длиною в жизнь: мы начинаем подражать еще детьми, соперничаем в школе и на работе, хотим все большего, страдаем, не получая желаемого, и раскаиваемся на смертном одре. Книга Синтии Л. Хэвен —первая в своем роде биография Жирара, основанная на беседах с ним самим, его близкими, друзьями и коллегами из Франции и США. Жизнь мыслителя предстает в ней иллюстрацией к его теории, которая анализируется не как умозрительная концепция, но как философия жизни, которую Жирар первый же и стремился практиковать. Годы учебы в родном Авиньоне и промозглом оккупированном Париже, судьбоносный переезд в США, религиозное обращение в конце 1950-х, открытие насильственных истоков культуры, сомнения, признание и его соблазны — читатель узнает, как разворачивалась духовная и творческая эволюция философа от первой работы «Ложь романтизма и правда романа» через фундаментальный труд «Насилие и священное» к мрачным апокалиптическим пророчествам его заключительной книги «Завершить Клаузевица».

Синтия Л. Хэвен — литературный критик, журналист, сотрудник Национального фонда гуманитарных наук (США).

Thanks to Maria Stepanova, Helga Landauer, and NLO’s Sergey Elagin for help making this book happen. The book will be officially out in a few weeks. Again, you can pre-order it here.

How an eminent Stanford poet saved an innocent man from hanging

Friday, May 21st, 2021

Jazz scholar Ted Gioia is one of the latest internet refugees who have taken harbor at Substack, a subscription newsletter service for long-form blogging. He’s launched his column, Culture Notes of an Honest Broker, with a bang. In one of his posts, he revisits the 1933 death of Allene Lamson, whose husband David Lamson, a sales manager for Stanford University Press, was charged with the murder. Lamson was sentenced to hang, and imprisoned for three years in San Quentin prison before he was exonerated.

Poet with a passion for justice

“The case was based entirely on circumstantial evidence,” Ted writes. “A pipe found in the trash might be a murder weapon, although that was never more than hypothesis. His pregnant housekeeper might be Lamson’s lover—which seemed plausible until she gave birth to a redheaded baby who looked just like her redheaded boyfriend. Another woman in Sacramento might be Lamson’s mistress, but the evidence there never held together, and the prosecution didn’t dare put her on the stand during the ensuing trial. Above all, Larson’s character and personality—described by many acquaintances as ‘kind’ and ‘considerate,’ especially in his relationship with his wife—might be a charade, a violent, angry man hiding behind a gentle exterior.”

The hero of the story was Stanford poet-critic Yvor Winters, who investigated the case and wrote a pamphlet, The Case of David Lamson, that was instrumental in the ruling that the frail Allene Lamson died an accidental death. As Ted notes, the case, which dominated the news, was also an influential event for Winters’s wife, the poet Janet Lewis. The case led her to write The Wife of Martin Guerre (1941) and two other novels featuring “cases of circumstantial evidence.” I’ve written about her here and here.

Nowadays, Yvor Winters is too little known, though he was a powerful and influential critic and a notable poet. Ted writes:

Novelist of circumstantial evidence

“When I studied literature as an undergraduate at Stanford, Winters’s name was still said with awe and respect, although he had been dead for almost a decade at that point. But, more than any other individual, Winters had put literary studies at Stanford on the map. His work as poet and critic was known and cited all over the world, conveying an authority and erudition that none of his peers in the Department of English could match in those days. It’s important to recall that Stanford wasn’t yet an ultra-elite institution when Yvor Winters joined the faculty in 1934. And it definitely wasn’t a university associated with poetry. But he changed all that—a list of writers whom Winters taught or mentored would eventually include Edgar Bowers, Thom Gunn, Donald Hall, Philip Levine, Donald Justice, N. Scott Momaday, Robert Pinsky, Robert Hass, J.V. Cunningham and Kenneth Fields. People even talked about Winters as the progenitor of a whole school of poetry.”

“So I heard Winters’s name often during my student days. But no one ever told me about his involvement in a tabloidesque murder case decades before—or that he got a man off of Death Row. I only learned many years later about this strange crime story. And the reason for this silence, I now realize, is that many of Winters’s peers mocked and derided his fixation with a murder case and subsequent decision to play the role of amateur private eye. He was almost a laughingstock for this obsession—and it undermined the dignity both of Winters the professor, the Department of English, and the entire University.”

Read the whole story, “When a Famous Literary Critic Unraveled Silicon Valley’s Most Sensational Murder Case,” chez Ted Gioia here. (And if you go to Patrick Kurp‘s blog, Anecdotal Evidence, you can read Winters’s poem for Lamson’s heroic attorney.)

From Yvor Winters’s “The Case of David Lamson” (Courtesy Ted Gioia)

Composer Harold Boatrite dies at 89: “He thought long and hard about every note he committed to paper…”

Tuesday, May 18th, 2021

We don’t live in an age that honors the dead much. Obituaries have all but disappeared from newspapers except for the most famous (not the most laudable, the most famous) and various homemade operations have sprung up to fill the gap, allowing do-it-yourself memorials from the bereaved on commercial websites … which isn’t the same.

Moreover obituaries are often late, published long after the bereaved are past the first shock of grief. So with composer Howard Boatrite (we wrote about him here), who died on April 26 at age 89. His close friend and collaborator, the former Philadelphia Inquirer book editor Frank Wilson, wrote about him over at his blog Books Inq:

John Donne famously wrote that “any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind.” But there are degrees of involvement. If you have known someone, as I knew Harold, for half a century, the sense of diminishment takes some dealing with.

“Harold was large. He contained multitudes.”

Harold was born on April 2, 1932 and grew up in the Germantown section of Philadelphia. He was a friend of my late first wife, Zelda. They went to Germantown High together and both attended St. Luke’s Episcopal Church. If memory serves, Zelda took me to meet him sometime during the Christmas season in 1969.

I had heard his music, but was not terribly familiar with it at the time. What drew us together was our mutual familiarity with the school of philosophy known as scholasticism. I’d visit him at the house on Waverly Street in Center City that he shared with harpsichordist Temple Painter and he would visit us in our house in Germantown. Zelda’s daughter Gwen studied piano and theory with him.

Harold was largely self-taught, but he did study with Stanley Hollingsworth. I’m guessing that was when he was living in Detroit and driving a truck, having dropped out of Wayne State University. Sometime later he was awarded a fellowship to the Tanglewood Music Center, where he studied composition with Lukas Foss and attended Aaron Copland’s orchestration seminars.

In 1961, pianist Rudolf Serkin invited him to be composer-in-residence at the Marlboro Music Festival. In 1967, he was given a doctor of music degree by Combs College of Music, and shortly thereafter he was appointed to the faculty of Haverford College, where he would teach theory and composition until 1980. From 1974 to 1977 he served on the music panel of the Pennsylvania Council on the Arts, and in 1982, to mark his 50th birthday, the Pennsylvania Alliance for American Music presented  series of concerts devoted to his music. His music seems also to have been featured often at the Prague Autumn International Music Festival. Conductor Marc Mostovoy, when I emailed him about Harold’s passing, wrote back:

I was introduced to Harold’s music by Temple Painter, who was engaged as Concerto Soloists’ harpsichordist when I began the orchestra back in the 1960s. Over the years, Concerto Soloists (now the Chamber Orchestra of Philadelphia) performed eight of Harold’s orchestral works, premiering at least five, and playing a number of them many times. 

I was immediately attracted to Harold’s music: tonal, yet contemporary; intellectual, yet moving. He thought long and hard about every note he committed to paper, constantly striving for the best possible solution. As a consequence, his output is relatively small, but the quality very high.

He served for many years as new music consultant to Concerto Soloists, helping select works the Orchestra would program each season – advocating for music well-crafted, and that the public could appreciate.

He was an excellent teacher as well. Concerto Soloists performed numerous works of his students to whom he passed on the mantra of quality over quantity. He espoused the importance of learning from great composers of the past, especially J.S. Bach, and writing music that was beautiful. I consider him an extremely important Philadelphia composer and teacher of our time

… I saw Jeri Lynne Johnson conduct Harold’s music a number of times. I don’t know how much time she spent with Harold, but her conducting of his music gives the impression that she knew him very well. To paraphrase Whitman: Who hears these notes touches a man. (I must add that Marc Mostovoy has the same uncanny skill, though his Harold is one seen from a different, but equally authentic, angle.) Again, to paraphrase Whitman, Harold was large. He contained multitudes.

Postscript: The Philadelphia Inquirer obituary was published on June 2, here.