Tuesday, 27 October 2009
Dickens and Fairy Tales
Some interesting things, I thought, came out of yesterday's seminar; and I've blogged a few of them at The Valve. Check it out. [AR]
Diane Kutten, Response to Nussbaum
In her article ‘Steerforth’s Arm: Love and the Moral Point of View’, Martha Nussbaum asks the question of how it is possible that, just like David, we cannot help but love the character of James Steerforth. She leads us into her argument by suggesting that she herself was at the beginning rather critical towards the young man: ‘I felt that I had know long ago […] that he was simply not worthy of a good person’s love.’ Outraged that her daughter is infatuated with him, she resolves to re-read the book and thus prove that she is not prone to the same ‘immature reading’ of the book that her daughter committed. Despite this resolution, she has to admit that, at the end of the book, she has fallen for him as well: ‘I felt my heart […] rushing happily from the firmness of judgement into the eager volatility of desire.’ This first part of her argument is very important, as the reader cannot help but identify himself with her, and thus becomes interested in the question of the ‘why?’. Why is it that we do in fact sympathize with a character that is so clearly, as Nussbaum suggested, ‘not worthy of a good person’s love’?
Martha argues that there is not only the realm of the ‘daylight world’ but also a ‘darker’ one, ‘a world of shadows and spirits’. The distinction between these two worlds becomes central to her argument. This is indeed a very powerful point. As we have already seen last week in ‘The Autobiographical Fragment’, Dickens is fascinated with this ‘shadowy world’. Just like he hovers on the edge of both worlds when he uses parts of his own life in David Copperfield, we feel that he is entering it every time he engages with Steerforth. At this point, we might want to ask ourselves whether ‘The Autobiographical Fragment’ can be applied Dickens himself. David is obsessed with books; not only does he read them, but he actually imagines that he sees the protagonists of these novels in real life. Like Dickens, he dives into this other world, and thus, to him, the characters become, in a way, real. Steerforth is the ultimate example for this, everything about him belongs to this world of fancy. As opposed to that, Nussbaum gives us the example of Agnes, who is clearly part of the other, the ‘daylight’ world. Interesting here is the comparison of these two ‘angels’, good and bad, by means of their arm gestures. Martha’s point here is, that as long as we’re in the ‘daylight world’, the terms of morality apply, but as soon as we enter the ‘other’ world, they become suspended, which is the reason why we, as readers, cannot help but love Steerforth.
Even though her argument is very powerful, I’d like to think that there is more to it than that. Steerforth’s death is clearly central to the book. After the storm, David starts writing his autobiography. The fact that he is telling the story himself makes it possible for us to see into his head, his trail of thoughts becomes clear to us. Thus, we find that there are some hints to a homoerotic relationship between them. The fact that David is so attracted to the charm of this young man makes it impossible for us to argue with David’s feelings, as soon as we get to know him better and start feeling for him. Here, we come back to the more theoretical part of Martha Nussbaum’s argument about the ‘literary spectator’. Even though he cannot grasp love as a concept, the spectator can feel and hope for David, which makes him sympathize with him. It is the way David speaks about Steerforth, for instance, to the Pegotty family, that attract their attention to him, in the same way as it attracts ours. When they finally meet Steerforth, he indeed manages to live up to their expectations, just like he did with ours. Steerforth is a great character, but it is David who makes sure that he is valued as such not only by himself, but also by the reader.
Martha argues that there is not only the realm of the ‘daylight world’ but also a ‘darker’ one, ‘a world of shadows and spirits’. The distinction between these two worlds becomes central to her argument. This is indeed a very powerful point. As we have already seen last week in ‘The Autobiographical Fragment’, Dickens is fascinated with this ‘shadowy world’. Just like he hovers on the edge of both worlds when he uses parts of his own life in David Copperfield, we feel that he is entering it every time he engages with Steerforth. At this point, we might want to ask ourselves whether ‘The Autobiographical Fragment’ can be applied Dickens himself. David is obsessed with books; not only does he read them, but he actually imagines that he sees the protagonists of these novels in real life. Like Dickens, he dives into this other world, and thus, to him, the characters become, in a way, real. Steerforth is the ultimate example for this, everything about him belongs to this world of fancy. As opposed to that, Nussbaum gives us the example of Agnes, who is clearly part of the other, the ‘daylight’ world. Interesting here is the comparison of these two ‘angels’, good and bad, by means of their arm gestures. Martha’s point here is, that as long as we’re in the ‘daylight world’, the terms of morality apply, but as soon as we enter the ‘other’ world, they become suspended, which is the reason why we, as readers, cannot help but love Steerforth.
Even though her argument is very powerful, I’d like to think that there is more to it than that. Steerforth’s death is clearly central to the book. After the storm, David starts writing his autobiography. The fact that he is telling the story himself makes it possible for us to see into his head, his trail of thoughts becomes clear to us. Thus, we find that there are some hints to a homoerotic relationship between them. The fact that David is so attracted to the charm of this young man makes it impossible for us to argue with David’s feelings, as soon as we get to know him better and start feeling for him. Here, we come back to the more theoretical part of Martha Nussbaum’s argument about the ‘literary spectator’. Even though he cannot grasp love as a concept, the spectator can feel and hope for David, which makes him sympathize with him. It is the way David speaks about Steerforth, for instance, to the Pegotty family, that attract their attention to him, in the same way as it attracts ours. When they finally meet Steerforth, he indeed manages to live up to their expectations, just like he did with ours. Steerforth is a great character, but it is David who makes sure that he is valued as such not only by himself, but also by the reader.
Monday, 26 October 2009
Megan Haddow, Response to Nussbaum's ‘Steerforth’s Arm: Love and the Moral Point of View’
Response to ‘Steerforth’s Arm: Love and the Moral Point of View’ by Martha Nussbaum
It seems to me that the premise of Nussbaum’s article is a defence of Steerforth’s character and conduct. Nussbaum claims that the reader, like Copperfield, falls deeply in love with Steerforth despite Dickens’ attempts to portray him as a villain or a ‘bad Angel’(p.313). Instead she sees Steerforth as inhabiting an alternate world, a shadow land or dream world, in which he can exist with ‘Daisy’. This world is conjured by Steerforth and David in the secrecy and mystery which surrounds their friendship, and David has access to it through his ‘shadowy sister’ (Nussbaum, p.348) Betsey Trotwood, the female he should have been born as who exists in the dream world permanently. In contrast to Copperfield’s ‘other angel’ Steerforth, Nussbaum attacks Agnes as the ‘Angel of Death’ (Nussbaum, p.359), claiming that she is linked closely to death in the novel and that she is unlovable and unattractive as a character.
I am not convinced by Nussbaum’s interpretation of Steerforth’s character and his friendship with David. I feel she is glossing over the homoerotic undertones in her conviction that Steerforth and Daisy inhabit a shadow land. The relationship between the two boys clearly contains elements of a sexual nature, and these are evident even from their first meeting. One of the first things Copperfield notes about Steerforth is that he is ‘very good-looking’ (p.76) and he is anxious to please him from this moment on. The attraction appears to be mutual and Steerforth immediately lays claim on Copperfield: ‘You belong to my bedroom, I find’ (p.76). From this moment we are led through the progression and development of this close and often touching relationship between the two boys, but there are undertones of sexual desire throughout.
The secrecy and mystery that surrounds the boys’ friendship, as noted by Nussbaum, does not signify a secret world, but a secret shared between them of homosexual desire. These first stages of the relationship affected David so acutely that he is transported back to these first moments of excitement simply by the memory of them:
Of course Copperfield purports to “fall in love” many a time throughout the novel, but these infatuations appear to attach themselves to any available and half-attractive woman that is present in David’s life. He claims to have feelings for Littl Em’ly, Miss Dartle, the eldest Miss Larkins, Dora, Agnes and several more besides. These feelings, therefore, cannot be considered to be true love as they appear to be inspired in David far too readily to earn that status. Instead they are mere entertainments, distractions even, to employ his public affection through a channel that is morally and socially acceptable to those around him. His fantasies with other women are merely a decoy, which is why he feels the need to attach himself to at least one at any point in his life, even from when he is a small boy.
Even in describing his love for these women, Copperfield appears to be trying to convince himself of his feelings. This is evident in his proclamation of love for Emily:
His love for Steerforth, however, is prevalent throughout, and no one ever replaces him in David’s affections. Even Steerforth’s own actions and elopement with Emily cannot shake Copperfield’s strong and determined love for him: ‘You have no best to me Steerforth …and no worst. You are always equally loved and cherished in my heart’ (p.373). Nussbaum suggests that the reader rejoices in this claim and sympathises with Copperfield’s feelings here. It seems, however, that we are led to believe that Steerforth is a bad influence on Copperfield, and perhaps that his influence on Copperfield is the reason for his homosexual persuasion and that this is an amoral path to have chosen.
Copperfield’s susceptibility is highlighted throughout the novel; he is always very small and vulnerable, he always has decisions made for him, he is almost a puppet in his own life. This is displayed most clearly in the scene in which his waiter manages to manipulate him easily into giving him most of his food and drink. Steerforth seems particularly aware of this trait of David’s, and he can be seen to act upon his vulnerability right from the start, when he takes all of Copperfield’s money. He also states later that he ‘feel[s] as if [David] were [his] property’ (p.250) and possessively nicknames him ‘my dear Daisy’ (p.250). The feminine nickname given to David also hints at an erotic relationship between the two of them, but one in which Steerforth is dominant and Copperfield is submissive.
Agnes represents the other side of the spectrum to that of Steerforth; she is presented as Copperfield’s ‘good Angel’ (p.313) and as a morally upright influence upon his character. Agnes warns David away from Steerforth:
Nussbaum claims that Agnes’ ‘gesture’ (Nussbaum, p.358) is upward-pointing, and she claims it is a symbol of her link with death and heaven. It can also be viewed, however, as a symbol of her moral righteousness, of her social acceptability and her desire to help Copperfield remain upright in his morals and society. If Agnes represents all that is moral and upright, Steerforth represents all that is sordid and low, suggesting public attitudes to homosexual activity at the time. The fact that Copperfield marries Agnes at the end, whereas Steerforth is sent away like the ‘fallen woman’ and then found dead, endorses this idea of homosexuality as unacceptable both in the novel and in society at the time.
Perhaps one of the most telling points in the novel on this topic is the meeting between Copperfield and Steerforth’s mother and Miss Dartle. Here, despite her high esteem of Steerforth, his mother worries that ‘her son led but a wild life at college’ (p.251). This could be taken to imply a number of forms of misbehaviour or mischief until Miss Dartle takes up the conversation:
Nussbaum’s claims then that the reader falls in love with Steerforth seem completely unfounded and I certainly found myself almost repelled by this character until I studied the homosexual nature of his relationship with David and therefore came to realise that Dickens was perhaps deliberately making Steerforth repellent. We are led to see Steerforth as a bad influence upon the moral and social character of David Copperfield, and to admire Agnes who endeavours to keep David morally and socially upright throughout. It is clear, however, where Copperfield’s real affections lie throughout the novel. Despite the many heterosexual fancies he publicly admits, it is the secret desires and feelings David harbours for Steerforth that remain the example of true love in the novel.
Bibliography:
Dickens, Charles, David Copperfield (Hertfordshire: Wordsworth Editions Ltd., 1999).
Nussbaum, Martha, ‘Steerforth’s Arm: Love and the Moral Point of View’, Love’s Knowledge: Essays on Philosophy and Literature (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992).
It seems to me that the premise of Nussbaum’s article is a defence of Steerforth’s character and conduct. Nussbaum claims that the reader, like Copperfield, falls deeply in love with Steerforth despite Dickens’ attempts to portray him as a villain or a ‘bad Angel’(p.313). Instead she sees Steerforth as inhabiting an alternate world, a shadow land or dream world, in which he can exist with ‘Daisy’. This world is conjured by Steerforth and David in the secrecy and mystery which surrounds their friendship, and David has access to it through his ‘shadowy sister’ (Nussbaum, p.348) Betsey Trotwood, the female he should have been born as who exists in the dream world permanently. In contrast to Copperfield’s ‘other angel’ Steerforth, Nussbaum attacks Agnes as the ‘Angel of Death’ (Nussbaum, p.359), claiming that she is linked closely to death in the novel and that she is unlovable and unattractive as a character.
I am not convinced by Nussbaum’s interpretation of Steerforth’s character and his friendship with David. I feel she is glossing over the homoerotic undertones in her conviction that Steerforth and Daisy inhabit a shadow land. The relationship between the two boys clearly contains elements of a sexual nature, and these are evident even from their first meeting. One of the first things Copperfield notes about Steerforth is that he is ‘very good-looking’ (p.76) and he is anxious to please him from this moment on. The attraction appears to be mutual and Steerforth immediately lays claim on Copperfield: ‘You belong to my bedroom, I find’ (p.76). From this moment we are led through the progression and development of this close and often touching relationship between the two boys, but there are undertones of sexual desire throughout.
The secrecy and mystery that surrounds the boys’ friendship, as noted by Nussbaum, does not signify a secret world, but a secret shared between them of homosexual desire. These first stages of the relationship affected David so acutely that he is transported back to these first moments of excitement simply by the memory of them:
A certain mysterious feeling, consequent on the darkness, the secrecy of the revel, and the whisper in which everything was said, steals over me again. (p.77)The excitement of the secrecy that the boys are sharing is linked to the thrill of the nature of their relationship. Steerforth comes to educate Copperfield that ‘that were all right which [Copperfield] had a secret misgiving was nearly all wrong’ (p.77). Being a great deal older than David Steerforth introduces him to these secrets and feelings and he comes to see that his desires are not shameful.
Of course Copperfield purports to “fall in love” many a time throughout the novel, but these infatuations appear to attach themselves to any available and half-attractive woman that is present in David’s life. He claims to have feelings for Littl Em’ly, Miss Dartle, the eldest Miss Larkins, Dora, Agnes and several more besides. These feelings, therefore, cannot be considered to be true love as they appear to be inspired in David far too readily to earn that status. Instead they are mere entertainments, distractions even, to employ his public affection through a channel that is morally and socially acceptable to those around him. His fantasies with other women are merely a decoy, which is why he feels the need to attach himself to at least one at any point in his life, even from when he is a small boy.
Even in describing his love for these women, Copperfield appears to be trying to convince himself of his feelings. This is evident in his proclamation of love for Emily:
Of course I was in love with little Em’ly. I am sure I loved that baby…I am sure my fancy raised up something round that blue-eyed mite of a child, with etherealised, and made a very angel of her. (p.36)The repetition of ‘I am sure’ serves the opposite purpose of convincing us that David is particularly unsure of his feelings towards Emily, and his conviction that ‘of course’ he loves her suggests that he knows he should rather than that he actually does.
His love for Steerforth, however, is prevalent throughout, and no one ever replaces him in David’s affections. Even Steerforth’s own actions and elopement with Emily cannot shake Copperfield’s strong and determined love for him: ‘You have no best to me Steerforth …and no worst. You are always equally loved and cherished in my heart’ (p.373). Nussbaum suggests that the reader rejoices in this claim and sympathises with Copperfield’s feelings here. It seems, however, that we are led to believe that Steerforth is a bad influence on Copperfield, and perhaps that his influence on Copperfield is the reason for his homosexual persuasion and that this is an amoral path to have chosen.
Copperfield’s susceptibility is highlighted throughout the novel; he is always very small and vulnerable, he always has decisions made for him, he is almost a puppet in his own life. This is displayed most clearly in the scene in which his waiter manages to manipulate him easily into giving him most of his food and drink. Steerforth seems particularly aware of this trait of David’s, and he can be seen to act upon his vulnerability right from the start, when he takes all of Copperfield’s money. He also states later that he ‘feel[s] as if [David] were [his] property’ (p.250) and possessively nicknames him ‘my dear Daisy’ (p.250). The feminine nickname given to David also hints at an erotic relationship between the two of them, but one in which Steerforth is dominant and Copperfield is submissive.
Agnes represents the other side of the spectrum to that of Steerforth; she is presented as Copperfield’s ‘good Angel’ (p.313) and as a morally upright influence upon his character. Agnes warns David away from Steerforth:
It is very bold in me ... who have lived in such seclusion and can know so little of the world, to give you my advice so confidently, or even to have this strong opinion…I am certain that what I say is right. I am quite sure it is…when I caution you that you have made a dangerous friend. (p.314)Agnes’ stress on her innocence and inability to understand here hints at something unmentionable and even sordid in the issue she is addressing. It seems Agnes suspects the true nature of the relationship between Steerforth and Copperfield and is attempting to lead him away from it as his moral guide.
Nussbaum claims that Agnes’ ‘gesture’ (Nussbaum, p.358) is upward-pointing, and she claims it is a symbol of her link with death and heaven. It can also be viewed, however, as a symbol of her moral righteousness, of her social acceptability and her desire to help Copperfield remain upright in his morals and society. If Agnes represents all that is moral and upright, Steerforth represents all that is sordid and low, suggesting public attitudes to homosexual activity at the time. The fact that Copperfield marries Agnes at the end, whereas Steerforth is sent away like the ‘fallen woman’ and then found dead, endorses this idea of homosexuality as unacceptable both in the novel and in society at the time.
Perhaps one of the most telling points in the novel on this topic is the meeting between Copperfield and Steerforth’s mother and Miss Dartle. Here, despite her high esteem of Steerforth, his mother worries that ‘her son led but a wild life at college’ (p.251). This could be taken to imply a number of forms of misbehaviour or mischief until Miss Dartle takes up the conversation:
You know how ignorant I am, and that I only ask for information, but isn’t it always so? I thought that kind of life was on all hands understood to be – eh? (p.252)The rest of the conversation continues with plenty of gaps and silences whenever such subject as is being discussed is to be mentioned. This silence suggests that the subject is something unspeakable, something not to be mentioned in society and something that is only assumed and hinted at, much like the homoerotic nature of Steerforth and Daisy’s relationship. Miss Dartle appears to be voicing her observations and concerns without ever stating overtly what she is actually suggesting.
Nussbaum’s claims then that the reader falls in love with Steerforth seem completely unfounded and I certainly found myself almost repelled by this character until I studied the homosexual nature of his relationship with David and therefore came to realise that Dickens was perhaps deliberately making Steerforth repellent. We are led to see Steerforth as a bad influence upon the moral and social character of David Copperfield, and to admire Agnes who endeavours to keep David morally and socially upright throughout. It is clear, however, where Copperfield’s real affections lie throughout the novel. Despite the many heterosexual fancies he publicly admits, it is the secret desires and feelings David harbours for Steerforth that remain the example of true love in the novel.
Bibliography:
Dickens, Charles, David Copperfield (Hertfordshire: Wordsworth Editions Ltd., 1999).
Nussbaum, Martha, ‘Steerforth’s Arm: Love and the Moral Point of View’, Love’s Knowledge: Essays on Philosophy and Literature (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992).
Thursday, 22 October 2009
Dickens and Autobiography response
Michael Englefield, 'A response to Ferguson-Carr's 'A Wild Beast and its Keeper'
Jean Ferguson-Carr has a very revealing insight into Dickens’s use of autobiography in his work. She writes of an author so seemingly reserved, one who “fear[ed]… releasing too much of himself” yet who “had a pressing autobiographical urge”. Her argument seems to tread the fine line between these two perspectives on Dickens’s life, personality and work; for Ferguson-Carr on the one hand he seems an incredibly private character due to a fear of “losing control of his ‘life’, both the written and lived versions” and yet on the other hand she accuses him of having a “powerful ego” who felt that he was a “public institution”. These two opinions surely need to be reconciled in some way through his works, particular David Copperfield and the posthumously published autobiographical fragment, yet the accounts of Dickens’s early years spent in the blacking factory and the accounts of the eventually-orphaned David Copperfield can be strikingly similar as well as strikingly different.
Perhaps the key aspect of the argument is the fact that David Copperfield was actually finished and published while Dickens was still alive, and yet the autobiographical fragment had to be published by someone else after his death. Though this may have been Dickens’s express wish, perhaps feeling that the mortification of having what he himself describes as a humiliating period of his life made so public given that he was, as Ferguson-Carr rightly asserts, a public institution and known to all, one cannot help but wonder why he was so able to complete David Copperfield, which was based on the intimate details of his early life, and not his own autobiography. Dickens himself admitted, according to Ferguson-Carr, that there was a “connection between David’s life and his own”, yet there was apparently not enough of a connection to treat his own life story the way he treated not only David’s but also the stories of countless other characters in his fiction.
In John Forster’s The Life of Charles Dickens (the handout) the accounts that Forster claims as Dickens’s own are littered with real-life people that he has consumed into his fiction: a boy at the blacking factory accidentally christened ‘Poll’ made his way into Martin Chuzzlewit; Dombey and Son’s Mrs Pipchin arose from an amalgamation of two elderly women that had been his landladies; an orphan girl in the debtors’ prison became the Marchioness from The Old Curiosity Shop and he borrowed the name of another blacking factory co-worker and gave it to Oliver Twist’s Fagin. The fact that he was so willing to borrow from real life experiences, not just for the names of his characters but also, in the case of David Copperfield, for large parts of the plot shows his willingness to share, albeit covertly, aspects of his life with the general public through his fiction. Despite this appropriation of his life experiences into his fiction, however, Dickens appears to blench at actually composing the real thing; Ferguson-Carr speaks of his fear of “dismissing some portion of himself into the shadowy world” which, unlike the mere hints and suggestions at his own life in his fiction, would perhaps be too much for Dickens to bear. This ‘shadowy world’ of his writing seems to be composed of “floating ideas” according to an account Ferguson cites in her article; perhaps his own real life experiences were just too tangible, too real, to be committed to paper in the way the experiences of his other characters are.
Ferguson-Carr closes are article with the assertion that the biography of Dickens “both revealed [him] and suggested the ominous nature of what still lay concealed”. This seems an appropriate way to conclude. Dickens interwove his work with real-life experiences, and even wrote part of an autobiography on his early life, yet there is always the sense that Dickens seems to be holding back some part of himself from being published, some part to keep personal to himself, his intimate friends and family. The “shadowy world” of the written word could be seen as Dickens’s obsession, given the sheer volume of work that he published in his lifetime yet also, especially when we learn that he burned an account of an adolescent love-interest of his, it could be seen as his greatest fear. To lose himself in the world belonging to his characters was something Dickens seemed desperate to save himself from, though he flirts closely with that danger in the real-life details of David Copperfield, the shadowy world of the written word was something Dickens never let his entire self fall into.
Jean Ferguson-Carr has a very revealing insight into Dickens’s use of autobiography in his work. She writes of an author so seemingly reserved, one who “fear[ed]… releasing too much of himself” yet who “had a pressing autobiographical urge”. Her argument seems to tread the fine line between these two perspectives on Dickens’s life, personality and work; for Ferguson-Carr on the one hand he seems an incredibly private character due to a fear of “losing control of his ‘life’, both the written and lived versions” and yet on the other hand she accuses him of having a “powerful ego” who felt that he was a “public institution”. These two opinions surely need to be reconciled in some way through his works, particular David Copperfield and the posthumously published autobiographical fragment, yet the accounts of Dickens’s early years spent in the blacking factory and the accounts of the eventually-orphaned David Copperfield can be strikingly similar as well as strikingly different.
Perhaps the key aspect of the argument is the fact that David Copperfield was actually finished and published while Dickens was still alive, and yet the autobiographical fragment had to be published by someone else after his death. Though this may have been Dickens’s express wish, perhaps feeling that the mortification of having what he himself describes as a humiliating period of his life made so public given that he was, as Ferguson-Carr rightly asserts, a public institution and known to all, one cannot help but wonder why he was so able to complete David Copperfield, which was based on the intimate details of his early life, and not his own autobiography. Dickens himself admitted, according to Ferguson-Carr, that there was a “connection between David’s life and his own”, yet there was apparently not enough of a connection to treat his own life story the way he treated not only David’s but also the stories of countless other characters in his fiction.
In John Forster’s The Life of Charles Dickens (the handout) the accounts that Forster claims as Dickens’s own are littered with real-life people that he has consumed into his fiction: a boy at the blacking factory accidentally christened ‘Poll’ made his way into Martin Chuzzlewit; Dombey and Son’s Mrs Pipchin arose from an amalgamation of two elderly women that had been his landladies; an orphan girl in the debtors’ prison became the Marchioness from The Old Curiosity Shop and he borrowed the name of another blacking factory co-worker and gave it to Oliver Twist’s Fagin. The fact that he was so willing to borrow from real life experiences, not just for the names of his characters but also, in the case of David Copperfield, for large parts of the plot shows his willingness to share, albeit covertly, aspects of his life with the general public through his fiction. Despite this appropriation of his life experiences into his fiction, however, Dickens appears to blench at actually composing the real thing; Ferguson-Carr speaks of his fear of “dismissing some portion of himself into the shadowy world” which, unlike the mere hints and suggestions at his own life in his fiction, would perhaps be too much for Dickens to bear. This ‘shadowy world’ of his writing seems to be composed of “floating ideas” according to an account Ferguson cites in her article; perhaps his own real life experiences were just too tangible, too real, to be committed to paper in the way the experiences of his other characters are.
Ferguson-Carr closes are article with the assertion that the biography of Dickens “both revealed [him] and suggested the ominous nature of what still lay concealed”. This seems an appropriate way to conclude. Dickens interwove his work with real-life experiences, and even wrote part of an autobiography on his early life, yet there is always the sense that Dickens seems to be holding back some part of himself from being published, some part to keep personal to himself, his intimate friends and family. The “shadowy world” of the written word could be seen as Dickens’s obsession, given the sheer volume of work that he published in his lifetime yet also, especially when we learn that he burned an account of an adolescent love-interest of his, it could be seen as his greatest fear. To lose himself in the world belonging to his characters was something Dickens seemed desperate to save himself from, though he flirts closely with that danger in the real-life details of David Copperfield, the shadowy world of the written word was something Dickens never let his entire self fall into.
Tuesday, 20 October 2009
Steerforth
Did you know that eminent contemporary philosophy Martha Nussbaum has fallen in love ('rushing into the eager volatility of desire') with Steerforth, from David Copperfield? No? Read this essay, 'Steerforth's Arm: Love in the Moral Point of View' from her celebrated collection Love's Knowledge: Essays on Philosophy and Literature (1990). [If the link doesn't work for you, either type 'Steerforth's Arm' into the 'search this book' box on the left hand side of the page, or else scroll down and click on the 'contents' page at the bottom].
Monday, 19 October 2009
Moretti, Wilson
Here are some links on the critical texts we talked about in today's seminar. First, here's the Google books version of Franco Moretti's Way of the World: the Bildungsroman and European Culture (1987; English translation Verso 2000); you can read a good proportion of it there. It's a much fuller, and more complex text than I was, perhaps, giving the impression when we discussed it, but its core thesis -- that the Bildungsroman is essentially the narrative of youth -- is certainly relevant for David Copperfield:
We also discussed Edmund Wilson's long essay 'Dickens: the Two Scrooges', which is definitely worth a browse. This doesn't seem to be online anywhere, but you'll find it in the library; it was collected in a volume called The Wound and the Bow.
Achilles, Hector, Ulysses: the hero of the classical epic is a maure man, an adult. Aeneas, carrying away a father by now too old, and a son too young, is the perfect embodiment of the symbolic relevance of the 'middle' stage of life ... but with the first enigmatic hero of modern times, it falls apart. According to the text Hamlet is thirty years old: far from young by Renaissance standards. But our culture, in choosing Hamlet as its first symbolic hero, has 'forgotten' his age, or rather has had to alter it, and picture the Prince of Denmark as a young manTwelve, I think, was Michael's judgement in class today. Moretti goes on to talk more specifically about the novel as a mode:
The decisive thrust in this sense was made by Goethe, and it takes new shape, symptomatically, precisely in the work that codifies the new paradigm and sees youth as the most meaningful part of life: Wilhelm Meister. This novel was simultaneously the birth of the Bildungsroman (the form which will dominate or, more precisely, make possible the Golden Century of Western narrative) and of a new hero: Wilhelm Meister, followed by Elizabeth Bennet and Julien Sorel, Rastignac and Frederic Moreau and Bel-Ami, Waverley and David Copperfield ... [p.3]There's our boy. The 'Golden Century of Western narrative' is the nineteenth-century, of course; Moretti has a theory that the Bildungsroman faltered after the first-world war, although I don't think that's right, personally. Check out the link on Wilhelm Meister if you're interested in those novels.
We also discussed Edmund Wilson's long essay 'Dickens: the Two Scrooges', which is definitely worth a browse. This doesn't seem to be online anywhere, but you'll find it in the library; it was collected in a volume called The Wound and the Bow.
Monday, 12 October 2009
Week 4: Copperfield and the 'Autobiographical Fragment'
Today I want to discuss the autobiographical aspects of David Copperfield; and to that end I've given you the 'Autobiographical Fragment' that John Forster published in his Life of Dickens (1870-71). Both the fragment and the whole life (well worth reading) are available in many locations online: the former here, the latter here for instance.
There's also a good deal of criticism on the Autobiogaphical aspect of Dickens's novel. One of the best, I think, is Jean Ferguson Carr's 'Dickens and Autobiography: a Wild Beast and its Keeper' ELH 52:2 (Summer 1985), 447-69.
Also of interest is Barbara Gelpi's 'The Innocent I: Dickens' Influence on Victorian Autobiography' (in Jerome Buckley, The Worlds of Victorian Fiction, Harvard University Press, 1975).
If you're interested in the actual biographical context out of which Dickens wrote this novel, then Graham Storey and K. J. Fielding's edition of The Letters of Charles Dickens, Volume Five: 1847-1849 is absolutely invaluable. You'll find a copy of this in the library; and here's a review of that monument of Dickensian scholarship.
See also Annette R. Federico 'David Copperfield and the Pursuit of Happiness', Victorian Studies, Vol. 46, No. 1 (Autumn, 2003), pp. 69-95.
There's also a good deal of criticism on the Autobiogaphical aspect of Dickens's novel. One of the best, I think, is Jean Ferguson Carr's 'Dickens and Autobiography: a Wild Beast and its Keeper' ELH 52:2 (Summer 1985), 447-69.
Also of interest is Barbara Gelpi's 'The Innocent I: Dickens' Influence on Victorian Autobiography' (in Jerome Buckley, The Worlds of Victorian Fiction, Harvard University Press, 1975).
If you're interested in the actual biographical context out of which Dickens wrote this novel, then Graham Storey and K. J. Fielding's edition of The Letters of Charles Dickens, Volume Five: 1847-1849 is absolutely invaluable. You'll find a copy of this in the library; and here's a review of that monument of Dickensian scholarship.
See also Annette R. Federico 'David Copperfield and the Pursuit of Happiness', Victorian Studies, Vol. 46, No. 1 (Autumn, 2003), pp. 69-95.
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