Showing posts with label dissertation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dissertation. Show all posts

15 February 2010

The Castle of Crossed Destinies (#15) and The Periodic Table (#17)

Both Il castello dei destini incrociati (Calvino) and Il sistema periodico (Levi) are re-reads, as I prepare to write my dissertation proposal (any references I make will be to the English translations, though I read them in the Italian original)...So, why blog about them together? Symbols, I say.


Symbols play a prominent role in both of these books; in the case of Calvino's tale, different travelers find themselves in an inn (that used to be a castle, or a castle that used to be an inn), and all have been struck silent.  They take to communicating their stories by using a deck of Tarot cards, and the different people sitting around the table must interpret the stories as appropriately as possible. As the first person begins his tale, the narrator comments, "we thought we understood that, with that card, he wanted to say 'I' and that he was preparing to tell his story," suggesting that the entirety of the novel is full of conjectures and personal interpretations, which do not necessarily correlate to the actual stories being told (emphasis mine).  As one traveler finishes his story, another story begins and may intersect with previous stories, until all the spaces are full.  The resulting layout hearkens to the intersection of the individual and universal, the personal interpretation of others and one's personal projection into the Other's narrative.  The stories can be read in a linear fashion, and if the protagonists of each tale are the cards on the outside edges, the various stories intersect in very clear ways.  
     The second part of the work, The Tavern of Crossed Destinies, leaves the reader with a much less organized layout; the cards and their stories are pulled at random and without a logical pattern.  The narrator finds himself with three cards, "the Knight of Swords, the Hermit and the Juggler...as I have imagined myself from time to time...the moment has come to admit that only tarot number one honestly depicts what I have succeeded in being: a juggler, or conjurer, who arranges on a stand at a fair a certain number of objects and, shifting them, connecting them, interchanging them, achieves a certain number of effects." If the narrator is read as a version of Calvino himself, then this is the moment Calvino discusses how he views himself as a writer.  Is writing simply a way of interpreting various symbols and presenting them in various fashions, depending on the desired outcome or reception? What bearing do the symbols have on individual lives?

Primo Levi uses different symbols - the periodic table of elements - in order to incorporate tangible elements into a less-tangible reality.  The intersection of the chemical elements with the narrative story is representative of Levi's personal life.  The chemical elements represent Levi's career as a chemist, and serve as a guide for Levi to navigate his lift.  The narrative elements are composed of different types of stories - anecdotes, fantastic tales, histories, etc - and it is through these different tales and elements that Levi projects an image of himself that is equally multifaceted.  Interesting, however, is the fact that Levi almost entirely leaves out the time period in which he was in Auschwitz, commenting that "I, a chemist, engaged here in writing my stories about chemistry, have lived a different season, has been narrated elsewhere." Though the story, "Cerium," in which this appears is related to Levi's survival during his time in Auschwitz, the story does not explore his experience with the same depth as his previous books.  The symbol of Levi as a chemist is not reliant upon his surviving the Holocaust, though his surviving the Holocaust is reliant upon his profession as a chemist.  
      Two stories about halfway through the book, Lead and Mercury, are seemingly unrelated to the rest of the narrative.  The story Lead, however, is more interesting, because it hearkens back to the ancient art of alchemy - of course, it's not the alchemy that you're probably picturing.  The narrator, Rodmund, is able to identify a particular rock and extract lead from it. Through this, he is able to make his fortune: "I began traveling again, in search of rock to smelt or to be smelted [and fashioned into its many different uses] by other people; teaching them the art in exchange for gold. We Rodmunds are wizards, that's what we are: we change lead into gold."  Though the alchemy does not happen by changing the molecular structures, it happens. Changing lead into gold, through whichever means possible, shows how a symbol - in this case alchemy - can be interpreted differently by different people because of their individual situations. Rodmund may not be an alchemist in the traditional sense of the word, but his act has the same result in both cases.   

These works of Calvino and Levi, two of the most prominent writers of the twentieth century, rely upon symbols to give their works structure, but it is through the manipulation of these structures that they offer their unique perspectives on the world.  

04 February 2010

New perspective


I've spent the last month almost (eek!) trying to find the aspects of two authors that make them similar enough to be clear - and at times I feel I'm grasping at straws.  The most similar aspect of the two authors is their biography, but I'm writing about their literature.  I've looked at themes, which may be stronger in one author or the other, and I'm left with the feeling that I'm trying to fake my way through the weaker one; I've looked at the development of their writing over the decades, but that turns into something that completely misses the mark; I've tried to put them in direct conversation with each other, since they were contemporaries and have dedicated / addressed each other at various times.  But it seems like I've been trying to force a closer relationship than they feel comfortable with. Which doesn't mean I have to start over; it just means that I have to adjust my vision.


I think I've been taking the wrong approach. One wrote primarily memoir / autobiography / historical truth - as a Holocaust survivor, he found himself overwrought with the imperative to tell the truth for those who did not survive, knowing that his story would contradict the majority of Holocaust stories by the virtue of his survival.  The other wrote fiction of all kinds: starting with neorealist fiction, he moved into the fantastical, the postmodern and the world of metafiction.  The farther he went from reality, the more his critical eye became apparent.  It is, I hope, through these two completely different approaches that I will be able to find a symbiotic relationship; even better, I would like to find the harmony between these two very different melodies. 

The key may very well be the following statement: 
The best way to read fiction is through history, and the best way to read history is through fiction. 


Are the apple and the orange mutually exclusive?
Can they be both at once?

22 January 2010

The Red Thread


I'm having trouble finding what Italians call the filo rosso - the read thread. The thing that connects your thoughts together in a coherent manner; that goes from one page, one author, one century to the next.  I embarked on my proposal journey with the intentions of, initially, writing one chapter each on four authors; then I found myself in the weeds, considering writing on only one author, but I felt really uncomfortable doing that; now, I've decided to write on two different authors, four aspects or relationships of their writing that can be shared to a certain extent.

But that red thread...continues to elude me. Well, not entirely. I feel like I have the thread in my hand, and I'm just having a hard time threading the needle. It looks like I've perfectly lined up the end of the thread with the eye of the needle, but I keep losing it right at the moment that I should make contact.

14 January 2010

Lezioni americane (Six memos for the next millennium), Calvino (#4)


Calvino’s collection of essays, written as lectures and published posthumously and unfinished, examines different aspects of storytelling: Lightness, Quickness, Exactitude, Visibility and Multiplicity. The sixth one, which was actually supposed to be the eighth one, is entitled "Cominciare e finire" (Beginning and Ending).  The collection was to be presented in New York, and Calvino's wife worked with his translator to bring these five essays to his English-speaking audience.

One interesting aspect of these essays is the fact that they also examine the opposite quality that each of these essays implies, and Calvino praises both equally.  One of my favorite lines from Lightness (which I include in English since I think more people will understand it): "Above all I hope to have shown that there is such a thing as  a lightness of thoughtfulness, just as we all know that there is a lightness of frivolity. In fact, thoughtful lightness can make frivolity seem dull and heavy."  I have returned to these essays many times over the years, and they highlight Calvino's awareness of his legacy as an author, a person in the publishing world, and a critic. 

Calvino says, in Quickness, that the function of literature "is to communicate between things that are different simply because they are different, not blunting but even sharpening the differences between them, following the true bent of written language."  Well said.

13 January 2010

In ricerca delle radici (In Search of Roots), Primo Levi (#3)


Primo Levi, along with other various Italian authors of his time, was asked to compile and anthologize various writings that shaped him as a thinker, writer and man.  He pairs classical and contemporary, scientific books with fictional ones, and somehow it all makes perfect sense. Levi was not solely a writer. He was a chemist first, but always a reader. It was his experiences during the Holocaust that made him become a writer.

The project was unfulfilled by the publishing house (and, incidentally, Primo Levi is one of the only writers to take the task to heart), but the book speaks volumes about how Levi creates himself.  The passages from the books he chooses are not the most recognizable in all cases, but they are all very telling. Levi wrote that the project was not that diffcult for him, at least finding the passages, because they were the ones he had already marked up over and over.

The book is definitely helpful as I go into the dissertation, but it also made me think about the books that I would say have shaped me as a reader.  I've been thinking about it, and when I have an idea I'll share it.