I've tried to compose a couple of replies to this and trashed them, I
think because, even while trying to be calm and even-handed, they came out
sounding extreme,simply based on trying to adjust their perceptibility to
the density of what they were in response to. Like bringing acid to a happy
fizzies party or a wake-up call to a noisy sleepwalker.
I realize you have a little cordon of yea-sayers, but I don't think you
or they have taken much of a look at how empty your argument is. I mean
the part that begins after Forster/Conrad (no aspersions here from me who
flew the satire/irony flag in my own moment of deluded effusion) wherein
you say obviously unexamined things like, well, every sentence from "Call
it ironic..." on. Let's be honest. What rubbish. Eliot's work did not
contribute to the greatest horror of his age. He did not live in a hermetic
atmosphere (England). He did not think his portrayal of the Jew in Poems
1920 was a joke (remember he wrote his brother that they were "intensely
serious.") You don't get a single thing right, Diana. And then you try to
explain Eliot in terms of prejudice and its properties!! You're right about
what the problem is, you just don't see who it more properly clings to.
You, too, Gunnar. Welcome back.
At 08:50 AM 3/31/2007, Diana Manister wrote:
>Call it ironic or what you will that Eliot, who himself suffered despair,
>was not aware that his own creative work could contribute to the greatest
>horror of his time. I did read somewhere that he was shocked when he was
>presented with evidence of the Holocaust. Perhaps he felt that his
>caricatures of Jews were harmless jokes; after all they were acceptable in
>his set and all too common.
>I think Eliot was in a similar position. Living in a hermetic atmosphere
>where everyone agrees with your prejudice, one can be taken aback when a
>different group regards you as a bigot.