[Sorry for the lack of links, but Blogger is acting funny]
I just managed to finish my Jack the Ripper paper for the P.E.S.T. event in Dublin (November, 20th), and it has inspired me to get around to a few projects I had put on the back-burner due to my thesis. Writing a thesis is great in many ways; you get into a subject in a way that doesn’t seem possible again until you reach the exalted status of Professor on a sabbatical (or, if you are fortunate, land a research-oriented post-doc).
First among these projects is a piece on M.R. James. The Ripper paper is a work-in-progress. I’m under no illusions that it is a coherent piece as it stands, but I need to test it out to see where the gaps are, and so it’ll require a few conference outings. That said the core of a paper is hidden in there somewhere. I think Helvete are planning on making an issue from the P.E.S.T. event so I’ll have time to do that I am sure.
But for now I am focusing on writing a little something on M.R. James. Dylan Trigg tweeted a nice review of the collected ghost stories of James the other day from the Telegraph, and it reminded me of a long-repressed desire to engage with James in some way. I still can’t figure out what I need to do here. The tales seem to call out for a phenomenological reading, but I suspect this has been attempted before.
What I really want to tackle in James is the how ‘tight’ the atmospheres he creates are. Not just in terms of the locales our protagonists end up in, but how psychologically resistant they tend to be to the other characters. Coupled with the shortness of the tales I’ve always been impressed by how James plays on the solitude of the reader (not that they can’t be read in groups, but they are best approached alone).
The other theme floating around my head with regard to James is his trick of making the invisible, or unimaginable, visible, or imagined. His stories often involve academics, or the academically-minded, with an interest in what we can characterize as ‘invisible’ interests; in the sense of being fascinated by not-quite material phenomena like language, the archaic, or dead cultures (although, in certain cases, our protagonist will find themselves engaging with the remains/ruins of some way of life that no longer exists).
That the moment of fear often corresponds to the making-present of a more tangible alien force is what is so jarring. Our heroes are forced to bear witness to what should not be. They certainly do want to find something, but they find something entirely different.
I often feel that our heroes have arrived at whatever small village they happen to be in precisely because they managed to push past boredom toward some niche interest, and in this way the stories feel like warnings not to be too curious.
In deciding to fulfil some long-held need to seek out a forgotten slice of arcane knowledge they often wind up out of their depth. What they discover is that their psychological defences are usurped by a random find; a seemingly innocent object that nonetheless draws them toward it. By unwisely deciding to be drawn-in they inadvertently evoke forces from the ‘outside.’
It is then only a matter of time, according to the logic of the tales, that the hero will ultimately be intruded upon; at first slowly, but eventually they are enveloped.
There is much for me to do here if I am to make a coherent piece out of all this, but that’s the aim for the moment. After that I intend to write something on the movie Aliens, but in between there is some work on Meillassoux to be done, the Heidegger volume, and Speculations too. So a busy time ahead.
0 comments:
Post a Comment