Stories & Soliloquies

Stories & Soliloquies
  • About my Soliloquies
  • Metaphysics, Myth, & Magic
  • My Poetry & Fiction
  • Philosopher Fridays
  • The Philosopher’s Lexicon
  • Tag: myth

    • To the Moon – and Back Again?

      Posted at 5:54 pm by Michelle Joelle, on September 29, 2016

      Recently I have been reading Tolkien’s unpublished story Roverandom. Roverandom is a beautiful story about a dog who has been transformed into a toy, and goes on an adventure to become a real live dog again. Along the way, Rover meets wizards and mermaids, and in what I found to be the most compelling portion of the tale, he takes a trip to the moon, where dreams are made and experienced by the people of earth as they sleep. There, Rover meets the little boy who cared for him while he was a toy, and he realizes how much he misses his home.

      While I read this section, I found myself thinking about space travel, stories about adventures, and the otherworldliness of myth and faerie, and I realized that what a lot of speculative stories have in common isn’t just that they take us out into the unknown, but that they make us look at our own home – earth – with fresh eyes. In Arthur C. Clarke’s “If I forget Thee, O earth…” Marvin is struck with a nostalgia for a past that he had never known, a longing for a place he had never been. The titular reference to Psalm 137 calls up a longing for more than just a place to call home, but a return to a home that has been lost and which cannot in this life be truly regained:

      By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion.
      We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof.
      For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion.
      How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?
      If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning.
      If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy.

      It is difficult to tell here which is the true fantasy: the home for which we long, or the idea that we can return. In Roverandom, things works out for the best, as they do also in pixar’s Wall-E, which seems to offer the desired conclusion to Clarke’s setup, and countless other tales. It isn’t necessarily a fantasy to imagine that we might physically return home, but because of our new perspective, it is possible that the home we see is no longer the same for us after our exile. It may be there, but it may not be there the way we wanted. In the prologue to her book The Human Condition, Arendt claims that space travel has changed the condition of humanity from one that was at home in its earthliness, to one that has now displaced itself with a self-imposed exile conceived as liberation. Following the 1957 launch of Sputnik, she says:

      This event, second in importance to no other, not even to the splitting of the atom, would have been greeted with unmitigated joy if it had not been for the uncomfortable military and political circumstances attending it. But, curiously enough, this joy was not triumphal; it was not pride or awe at the tremendousness of human power and mastery which rilled the hearts of men, who now, when they looked up from the earth toward the skies, could behold there a thing of their own making. The immediate reaction, expressed on the spur of the moment, was relief about the first “step toward escape from men’s imprisonment to the earth.” (p17)

      The call to adventure is often represented thus – not as exile, but freedom, exhilarating and liberating.

      Likewise, Rover at first finds himself enthralled with the moon and all of the adventures he has there, just as Bilbo in Tolkien’s The Hobbit is as first called to adventure by an itch of restlessness he cannot name, just as Mole in Kenneth Grahame’s Wind in the Willows is impelled by his frustration with the drudgery of his daily home life to seek the open road. Mole is driven suddenly to seek something different – something better – than the repetitive labor of daily, earthly life. The earth, in many ways, binds us with its materiality, and we carry with us the illusion that we can master such necessity in some way, either by finding a new place to live, or a new way to deal with our limitations. At least, that’s the supposition in fiction that casts us as colonizers of space and time, seeking places of refuge after we have used up the resources of earth (“If I Forget Thee, Oh Earth…” and Wall-E), of heroic epics wherein the protagonist seeks to become immortal or commune with the Gods (The Illiad, for example). And for Arendt, it’s the impetus for metaphysical contemplation.

      But I find myself drawn more to tales, or at least parts of stories, where the hero returns home. Mole feels the tug of longing for his comfortable hole when he and Rat pass by it on their travels. Bilbo and Samwise the Brave return happily to the Shire. Rover finds his way back. Wall-E and the human species return to earth. But as much as we think of the adventure into the beyond as fantastic, and the return home as the mundane return to reality, it often seems like these homey resolutions are the fantasy. It’s all too neat, too much wish-fulfillment. On the other hand, there’s no resolution for Marvin, Achilles earns his immortality at the expense of his life, and Frodo, after everything, can’t really go back to his normal life. I realize that I’m mixing spiritual, political, scientific, and fantastic models of adventure and home fairly wildly, but perhaps escape is more properly to be thought of as exile, and maybe this is more realistic, if less appealing.

      This isn’t necessarily as defeating as it sounds; Simone Weil implores us that “We must prefer real hell to an imaginary paradise” (Gravity and Grace, p53), and I think for Weil we are to do this without losing our longing for a true return home, leaning into the suffering of our mortal exile from the oneness of God. For Weil, though, this contradiction of longing for the impossible is spiritually redemptive, so long as it finds no worldly resolution in illusion:

      It is only effort without desire (not attached to an object) which infallibly contains a reward.

      To draw back before the object we are pursuing. Only an indirect method is effective. We do nothing if we have not first drawn back (Gravity and Grace, p117).

      In their inability to return, Marvin and Frodo might offer us a truer connection to our lost home than the illusory possibilities of Roverandom and Wall-E.

      When I started writing this, I thought I’d be writing about the importance of hearth and home, taking up an Arendtian call for a return to the vita activa, but somewhere along the way I’ve, well, lost my way. But perhaps I ought to get more comfortable in my confusion. Then again, if the imaginary consolation of Mole’s home or Bilbo’s return to Bag End give us comfort even in their illusory temporality, is that not real in its own way? Marvin takes comfort in his purpose, in the teleology of his longing, even if it doesn’t mean “real” resolution for him. Perhaps that is the key for Weil; perhaps “home” remains a valuable concept in its desirability, and our desire is maintained only by the impossibility of its gratification.

      My thoughts here feel jumbled and unfinished, and if I am honest, I will likely continue to cultivate a sense of home that matches my memories and my favorite stories, dreaming of the Shire, believing that I can succeed. I am perhaps not built for the detached spirituality of Simone Weil. It makes me happy to imagine Roverandom finding his way back, no matter how unrealistic a story it may be, but I also think that the happiness I get from such dreaming of the impossible is real. It helps me frame how I experience home, family, nature, and the divine, adding to my appreciation and enjoyment of them.

      Posted in Essays | 8 Comments | Tagged adventure, home, myth, philosophy, reading, Simone Weil, spirituality, theology, tolkien, Wind in the Willows
    • Mini-Syllabus: Irish Mythology

      Posted at 12:45 pm by Michelle Joelle, on March 17, 2015

      Last year I wrote that I like to read books in coherent clumps. When I pick a book to read, I generally find myself seeking more like it, branching out step by step until I’ve completed what essentially becomes a miniature syllabus. I’ve decided to show off some of these syllabi. Some are more coherent than others, some built chronologically, others by theme, but all of them held together by a central set of questions. My first Mini-Syllabus was on Viking Lore.

      This time, in celebration of St. Patrick’s Day I’m turning to Irish Mythology. Because it’s a holiday, I’m going to leave out the critical lens aspect of building the syllabi and keep the focus on open engagement with the stories.

      Dublin 004

      Getting Started:

      1) Irish Fairy and Folk Tales, edited by William Butler Yeats:

      The best way to find your way into Irish mythology, in my opinion, is through folk lore. This collection of short stories is one of my favorites – Yeats’ introduction is engaging and philosophical, and his treatment of the tales is subtle and entertaining, whimsical and full of gravitas at the same time. The stories are divided into categories, each with their own introductions, so you can easily choose a story to fit your mood.

      A great way to enjoy St. Patrick’s Day is to whip up some Shepherd’s Pie (if you’re vegetarian, you can get the same feel with an earthy combination of mushrooms – we call it “Forager’s Pie” in my house), pour some ale, and read a few stories aloud to each other.

      2) Introduction to Early Irish Literature. by Muireann Ni Bhrolchain:

      I know I said I’d keep things celebratory and story-focused, but in this case, you’re going to need some background if you aren’t already familiar the the world of medieval Ireland. This text introduces the main mythological cycles of Ireland, both in their historical contexts and literary styles. To really get into the stories, you’re going to want to spend some time familiarizing yourself with the different ethos of each myth cycle, as well as the overarching view on truth and myth that governs their interconnections. This is a text book, but it’s a text book that will enhance your enjoyment significantly. The Medieval approach to myth and truth was quite different than ours, so you’ll want to be properly prepared.

      The Finn Cycle:

      3) God and Fighting Men: The Story of the Tuatha De Danaann and the Fianna of Ireland, by Lady Augusta Gregory:

      Lady Gregory’s collection of folk tales is a great transition from peasant lore into high mythology. It can be difficult to jump right into the ancient texts directly, so this folk-style retelling of the Finn Cycle is a great way to ease in.

      4) The Tales of the Elders of Ireland/Acallam na Senorach, translated by Ann Dooley and Harry Roe

      Now we’re getting into the serious stuff. Acallam na Senorach explores of the early days of Saint Patrick, the Irish Otherworld of faeries, and the giant Fenians as Cailte and Oisin tell Saint Patrick the glorious history of Finn Mac Cumaill. This edition has maps and pronunciation guides that are invaluable for those unacquainted with the Irish language.

      5) Fianaigecht, translated by Kuno Meyer

      This is a collection of Irish poems and tales about Finn and his fighting Fiana, with the original Irish on the lefthand pages and the English translation on the right. This text is for those with a high level of scholarly interest – the introduction jumps right into the philological history of Fenian lore and it never really eases up. The poems and stories themselves are full of detail, and the translation, I wager, focuses more on accuracy than art. I “wager” this rather than claim it because I don’t actually know Irish (save for some conversational bits) and am guessing based on the choppiness of the rhythm and the several question marks that don’t correspond to the original Irish version, suggesting missing information or confusion. This text is worth having just for the glossary of rarer words at the back.

      The Ulster Cycle:

      6) Cuchulain of Muirethmne: The Story of the Men of the Red Branch of Ulster, by Lady Augusta Gregory:

      Now that we’re moving over to the legendary Ulster Cycle, it’s a good time to catch our breath with the folk readability of Lady Gregory. I’ve mentioned Cuchulain on this blog before, so if ever you were wondering who he was, this book is a great place to find out.

      7) The Tain bo Cuailnge, translated by Thomas Kinsella

      As it says on the back of the book, this “is the centre-piece of the eight-century Ulster cycle of the heroic tales” of Cuchulain. This primary source translation is extremely accessible to novices yet rich and essential for scholars; it is readable and entertaining, from the historical background all the way down to the art and typography. If you only choose one book from this list, make it this one. If you choose two, make it this one and the Yeats’ collection.

      8) Early Irish Myths and Sagas, translated by Jeffrey Gantz

      This is another great collection of tales about Cuchulain and other characters from the Ulster cycle, and another great translation. The introductions to the stories are brief and more centered on the tales themselves than on their history, but you do get some background to help you along.

      Short Collections:

      9) Ancient Irish Legends and 10) Irish Fairy Tales by Padraic O’Farrell

      These are slim volumes of modern retellings, perfect for those not looking for the investment of primary sources and elaborate pronunciation guides. I find these to be slightly less poetic in their delivery, which is not a bad thing; there’s a drier wit and a straightforwardness that’s appealing, making the stories feel contemporary and thus less distant.

      I know I’ve gone a little bit overboard here, but hopefully the structure of this mini-syllabus will help you carve out a reading list that suits you. You can choose a myth cycle to focus your reading, take the first item from each category for a lighter yet more well-rounded approach, or simply choose what looks most appealing. Whatever you choose, I hope you try reading some of it out loud to friends or family, tapping into the spirit of the seanchaidhe as you celebrate the tales of Ireland.

      Happy Saint Patrick’s Day.

      Posted in Series | 0 Comments | Tagged books, Finn Cycle, Ireland, Irish mythology, myth, Saint Patrick's Day, stories, storytelling, syllabus, Ulster Cycle, Yeats
    • This Winter’s Reading List

      Posted at 1:00 pm by Michelle Joelle, on January 6, 2015

      Every time I make a reading list, I inevitably pick up new things along the way that upset my careful plan. I’ll make a plan to read three books on a particular subject, and then after reading two I’ll be inspired to go in a different direction, leaving one poor orphan book unread on my shelf.

      And over time, they accumulate.

      So for this next season, my fun book list (as opposed to my also fun academic book list) will include some forgotten unread books that fell out of previous reading lists, plus some new items and re-reads for my book club. I’d love to clean up my backlog a bit.

      photo

      The Backlog:

      1) The Inklings: C. S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien and Their Friends: I thoroughly enjoyed Humphrey Carpenter’s biography of Tolkien, and I couldn’t wait to start his treatise on the Inklings. But then life happened, dissertation reading took over, and I joined a book club, so this one fell out of the list.

      2) The Buccaneers: The third and final installment of Iain Lawrence’s High Seas Trilogy. The first two were quite well done, so I’m excited to finally enjoy this last story.

      3) Maus I & II: This graphic novel series by Art Spiegelman found its way onto my radar through my book club, but then my Skype connect could’t make it to the meeting just about the same time I was overwhelmed by grading, and it got left behind.

      4) Chretien de Troyes’ “Lancelot”: This one is such a gross oversight that it’s almost a little embarrassing. It’s the fourth story in this collection, and for some reason I’ve just never gotten around to it, even though it’s obviously the most famous. I always go back to poor Enide just to check on her, and then something always happens just before I start the fourth story to knock me off track.

      5) Magic in the Middle Ages, by Richard Kieckhefer: I picked this up along with a whole pile of books ages and ages ago when I was just starting to fall in love with Medieval history and literature, and somehow never actually read this particular piece. It’s time.

      New Reads

      And since I cannot resist, some new items for my reading list:

      1) World War Z, Max Brooks

      2) Sword of Honor Triology, by Evelyn Waugh

      Re-Reads

      Last, but not least, I’m queuing up a few re-reads, both for the sake of fun, and because it’s been over a decade since I’ve read them. I’ve got an itch for myth:

      1) American Gods, Neil Gaiman

      2) Tales of the Elders of Ireland, Acallam na Senorach, trans. Ann Dooley and Harry Roe

      3) The Tain, From the Irish Epic Tain Bo Cuailnge, trans. Thomas Kinsella

       

      Well, that should keep me busy for a while.

      Posted in The Waste Book | 9 Comments | Tagged books, list, myth, reading list
    ← Older posts
    • Looking for Something?

    • Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

      Join 422 other followers

    • Follow on Bloglovin
    • Popular Posts & Pages

      • The Writers Roast
      • About my Soliloquies
      • A Bit of Winter Hygge
      • Of Physical Laws and Fictional Characters
      • For Ever, and Ever, and Ever
      • Why the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge is a Good Thing
      • The Philosopher's Lexicon: Apophatic Theology
      • The Blacksmith's Apprentice: a Poem
      • 30 Days of Painting, Day 1: Floral Vine and Lace Doodles
      • 30 Days of Painting, Day 28: Sunset Colors
    • Tags

      academia acrylic acrylics aquinas arendt art Augustine awards beach books C.S. Lewis christmas definitions dictionary editing ephemerality epistemology favorite words feynman Fiction film food god harry potter history husserl hygge illustration kindle language learning lexicon libraries links list literary time consciousness literature logic longreads magic medieval Metaphysics music myth my work NaNoWriMo nature painting pensieve philosopher fridays philosophy photography Plato poetry reading reason reblog religion Rousseau science snow spring stories storytelling syllabus temporality theology time tolkien trees vikings vocabulary water colors words writing
    • The Archives

    • top blog sites
      top blog sites

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Cancel

You must be logged in to post a comment.

Loading Comments...
Comment
    ×
    Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
    To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy