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Monday, May 01, 2006
Stages on Life’s Way, part II
Part I got a huge response - well, one comment. So obviously you want more. A response, by Kierkegaard, to a review of The Concept of Irony:
In a review in Faedrelandet, Dr. Beck has extricated my dissertation from oblivion in the reading world. My esteemed critic summarized the contents of the book, but I actually learned nothing new from it. He finally concludes that I deserve to be criticized because there are several allusions he does not understand. Well, admittedly he did not say it exactly that way; he said, in fact, that the majority did not understand them. But since I cannot possibly assume that Dr. Beck had the opportunity to poll the opinion of the majority, Dr. Beck no doubt is using this expression as a party man. It must, therefore, be regarded as a genuinely emotional party expresson: “the majority” or “most” is the superlative of the word “many,” which is ordinarily used. That being the case, it is entirely appropriate for me not to reflect on it but to limit myself to my first statement, that Dr. Beck has not understood them. The problem is to explain how Dr. Beck, who otherwise is a dialectician and an expert in categories, has not perceived that several other conclusions can be arrived at from the sentence presented. There are several allusions that Dr. Beck has not understood. From that Dr. Beck concludes that I deserve criticism. What if someone drew the conclusion that Dr. Beck deserves criticism? This conclusion is much closer to the point, because, after all, my treatise was not intended for Dr. Beck alone, whereas Dr B proprio motu has set himself up as my critic and thus may justifiably be asked to take the trouble to understand. The second conclusion could read: there are several allusions that Dr. Beck did not understand; therefore, the author deserves praise. A third conclusion could be set forth this way: There are several allusions that Dr. B did not understand; therefore Dr. B deserves praise - in other words, it indicates a laudable naiveté, but it by no means follows that the author deserves criticism. It is incredible that so much can be drawn from the fact that Dr. B has not understood; would that one might conclude as much from what Dr. B has understood. (The Corsair Affair, p. 9-10)
The majority will find this to be only about half as funny as another, longer piece about people trying to figure out who the author of Either/Or is. ‘Victor Eremita’ divides them into two piles: those relying on external evidence, those relying on internal evidence. The external evidence people usually confine themselves to falsehoods about the cost of the printing process. The internal evidence people, on the other hand ...
The book has two parts. Some read only the first part, others only the second. Since they are significantly different, various readers arrive at contrasting suspicions, depending upon whether they judge the whole book on the basis of the first or second part.
Some read neither the first nor the second part but devote themselves entirely to pondering the interesting question: Who can be the author? From the honest zeal with which they go at the matter, one would think they would quickly discover the secret. But that is not the case. Instead of withdrawing silently and, without reading the book, speculating purely objectively on who the author is, they have committed the indiscretion of consulting others ... (p. 15)
Notice Kierkegaard’s clear affinity for the ‘plan your own adventure’ style. So I would like to bring out a complete edition of Kierkegaard’s works, rewritten as ‘plan your own adventure’ books, with various - invariably negative - critical judgments you might wish to render on each section as options for proceeding. Every branch of the decision tree ends: ‘You have been made fun of by Kierkegaard. Go back to the beginning.’
I leave to Scott K. the nice problem of recalibrating Kierkegaard’s works as Zork adventures. (No, he should work on his dissertation.)
I read all this Corsair Affair-related stuff when I first got to graduate school. At the time, there was no internet, so we kids had to make our own fun. Not like kids today. Looking back, I can see that Kierkegaard taught me a lot about how to be high-handed to your critics. Those have turned out to be useful life skills.
Comments
AHEM. I was going to say “I would’ve commented on the first post, only I already had, sort of, before.” But now I’ve been challenged! And I’ll have to withdraw, as I’ve a dissertation to write . . . as well as my other, soon-to-be-completed-and-announced masterpiece. I will be boingboing’d again, I tell you, I will!
Oh no… I see what John’s trying to say here: Scott Eric Kaufman, Rich Puchalsky, Belle Waring, all of them are nothing but pseudonyms! While we thought that John was living the life of a dissolute socialite, in point of fact he’s been authoring not just books, but multiple *authors*, intertwining their subjective positions into an overarching plan of “authorship.” Perhaps he’s announcing that he intends his authorship to end now, and that we should begin trying to decipher his work.
The choice of “Stages on Life’s Way” as his title is instructive here, because that is the work in which several of the authors meet for a dinner—the transposition to a “group blog” is all too obvious.
The only question now is who has to slander him in order to kick-start the second phase of his authorship. Where’s Anthony?
In your head, child, in your head. You must recall him from your deeps . . .
That said, I’m so Holbo. I’m married to woman whose intelligence outstrips my own, and who knows more languages than I’ve even heard of, so there’s no doubting my, er, John’s brilliant disguise. (Don’t think of the Boss. He’ll only lead you astray and make you cry . . . )
Near as I can tell I can’t find any physical deformaties. Umm… do you smell bad?
I do think this is somewhat silly of you to self-identify with Kierkgaard’s really horrible experience with the Corsair affair that had the whole of Copenhagen’s school children making fun of him, but whatever gets you through the day, Humpy!
.... I’m waiting to see if he’s offended and then we’ll know he’s a hunchback.
Don’t forget the hotness.
As usual, I’m way ahead of you on that one, Anthony. I made a point of comparing myself to Goldschmidt, not Kierkegaard, in part I. (After all, aren’t I the publisher of a must-read literary organ which everyone loves to pretend to hate, and which is periodically denounced as scandalous for its treatment of prominent figures? Which may even go too far, but only when people ask for it? And which remains consistently humorous, even when - regretably - it goes too far? Am I right ... or am I right or am I right?) All I said in part II was that I learned from Kierkegaard. Which I judge to be very true of Goldschmidt as well. He said so himself. Thus do I achieve perfect consistency, in my modesty. (Pats self on un-hunched back.)
As to the dinner Adam mentioned: I hadn’t thought of that one. Also, I’ll have to ask Belle whether she is me. I’ll get back to you. (Man, this would explain a lot.)
Confound this infernal program of comment moderation! My comment, supra, was meant to follow directly on Scott’s, not on Anthony’s.
I was wondering about that, Ben. Thinking about “My Humps” as the title of a song about the hotness of Kierkegaard is not best practice, eroticism-wise.
In general, I think the proper way to indicate that the system has foiled you is to leave a comment like: “blast this ‘phone’, no this is NOT cutts the butcher, you old nanny goat!’
Great! So now, Kierkegaard’s a theorist too! Jesus dude!
Kidding.
On the other hand, perhaps in identifying myself with Goldschmidt, I am hinting that I am to be identified with Kierkegaard himself - in a thought-experimental mood. It is my enemies whose frequent and unwarranted personal attacks on me are to be identified with the more juvenile lampoons for which the Corsair was eventually responsible. Thus, in inviting my enemies to see me posing as Goldschmidt, while actually I am like Kierkegaard, I invite my enemies to have the courage to see themselves as Goldschmidt ... ah, to hell with it. I had a couple more paragraphs. (But there’s an upbuilding discourse somewhere in this rubble.)
Nice piece to quiet the aggressively ignorant student, or critic. K’s more, what?, debonaire than Hemingway’s: “Critics are like men who watch the battle from the hill, and then come down to shoot the survivors.” As for PYOA of K, I would widely distribute—but would like great Pomo-style illustrations as in the Introduction to _______ series. And, hey, as for PYOA and being made fun of by books, Cortazar’s _Hopscotch_, John? You could weave and wind in K’s bits of fiction too. ‘Course, philosophy’s all a bit fiction… if it’s good. Anyway. I’m still reading up here (here being threads of Valve), getting all situated in new discourse community (though not yet performing said situation/position/self, and so do humbly beg allowance of the standard probationary period for faux pas’es, which I’m guessing is, what?, four seconds as usual? Out of fire fights I’ll stay for a bit.