Andres Neuman - Traveller of the Century

Fear of making a mistake , Hans had said, probing Sophie’s shape, her luminosity, her eyes. And she, rather than avoid his gaze or busy herself with some object on the table, had stood up straight and replied: Yet fear of making a mistake, Monsieur Hans, is also the prerogative of poets.

My dear Professor, said Álvaro smiling, you remind me of Don Ignacio de Luzán’s lawyer. I don’t know this Lutsan , said Professor Mietter. There is no need, Álvaro quipped, you are his Saxon counterpart! Instinctively taking offence, Professor Mietter said: I don’t know how you say this in Spanish, Herr Urquiho , but allow me to tell you the French expression for what some of you appear to be defending— culte de la pose . Listen, Professor, resumed Hans, still agitated after his and Sophie’s recent exchange of glances, it is true there is a surfeit of rhetorical poetry. But the way to avoid this is not by following convention, but by refusing to conform. Rebelliousness may be aesthetically naive, but to me nonconformism is essential. And the problem with good taste is that it conforms. It doesn’t conform, Professor Mietter objected, it renounces . It renounces clever ideas, innovation for its own sake. The best way to be original, as I said before, is to learn from the Classics. Yes, replied Hans, but the Classics themselves were daring! What was once brilliantly daring is now called harmonious, proper, etc … I am not against the Classics, Professor, far from it! I am against imitation. Your beloved ancient poets weren’t copying anyone, so why should we? In the end every imitation is a betrayal of the original. Obviously, Professor Mietter sighed, the great works bore Herr Hans, they are too slight for a mind as inventive as his. And yet since Aristotle, Herr Levin pointed out, raising a finger, the norms have always been the basis of all art. I disagree, said Hans. So, Professor Mietter almost snapped, now our young writer doesn’t think norms are necessary either? Not necessary, said Hans, unavoidable. The literary norms that interest me aren’t the necessary ones, which are imposed, but the unavoidable ones, that is the ones each of us encounter in the act of writing. The former are dictated by prejudice, the latter by personal experience. You forget, the professor pointed out, that all personal experience feeds on collective traditions, shared principles that have survived thanks to. I haven’t forgotten, Hans cut in, because that is also unavoidable. But being aware of those principles is one thing, and perpetuating them is another. I find it far more pleasurable to disobey them, to attempt to change them.

(Change principles? Disobey them? Pleasurable ? Sophie mused as she held out a tray of canapés to Frau Levin.)

I am not suggesting changing one set of norms for another, Hans went on. Have no fear, Professor, my literary ideal is not to see young writers tear down the old norms and replace them with their own dogmas. My aim would be to steer clear of all previous definitions, to regard style as an eternal search, don’t you see? You say this now, ventured Professor Mietter, because we are in a period of transition. When things become clearer you will see how this misguided impulse of yours was transitional. The thing is, for me, Hans said, raising his voice, all poets are transitional, because poetry is in constant motion.

(Suddenly, Álvaro, distracted by the continuous movement of Elsa’s foot, began once more to pay attention to the discussion. Whenever his friend became involved in a debate about literature, he tried to listen, because he knew it was the only way Hans had of talking about himself. That fellow needs his head examining, thought Álvaro, he makes a living from translating and he needs translating himself.)

Be that as it may, Professor Mietter was saying in the meantime, but not all taste is relative, or perhaps you don’t believe some taste is more worthy of respect? That, I regret to tell you, shows a lack of judgement. Or is sheer demagoguery. Naturally, no one denies that taste can be discerning or ignorant, said Hans. Relativity does not mean an end to criteria, it merely contrasts different criteria. If you will allow me to make a political parallel, Professor, it is a matter of avoiding the centralisation of taste. Since I hope literature will remain a republic, I prefer a federalism of aesthetics. And yet, young man — Professor Mietter gave a forced laugh — like the monarchist ideal, aesthetics obey a natural hierarchy and are not subject to the whims of a sovereign taste. And a good poet, as a subject of his art, must learn to respect the nature of things. It is the same for any artist, once he has matured. A painter, for instance, has a landscape before him. He may vary the colours, play with the light, experiment with texture, do whatever he likes. Yet the most honest approach would be to overcome his vanity and immerse himself in the reality he is contemplating, surrender to it, attempt to paint what he sees at that very moment. Naturally this implies a great sacrifice and a supreme technical challenge. Consequently many will choose to paint this landscape as best they can, or in the simplest way possible, claiming it was intentional. That is how things are today. And apparently you approve.

Turning away in frustration, Hans’s eye fell once more upon the painting hanging next to the old family portraits, the copies of Titian, the still-lifes and the hunting scenes. It showed the back view of a figure walking in a snow-covered forest, lost or perhaps leaving somewhere. Noticing his interest in the painting, Sophie explained: We don’t know whom it is by, my grandfather left it to us and the signature is illegible. It’s wonderful, Hans said smiling, and since we are on the subject, Professor, let us compare the figure in the snow with, I don’t know, one of the other paintings, with that one, yes, no, the one next to it, the hunting scene. Well now, academic poets suffer from the same problem as second-rate landscape artists — they give too much importance to observing nature, respecting forms, and it turns out these realist landscapes are based on a hundred similar paintings or theories of painting rather than on the landscape itself! I think if a painter looks at nature without any preconceptions it can seem far stranger than any of those supposedly faithful reproductions. To me a patch of fog seems more real than a precise outline. I do not defend imagination because I find reality uninteresting; on the contrary I want to know how far that reality can take us, how deeply we are able to fathom a landscape. Consider for a moment which painter is more of a realist, the one who paints outlines or the one who paints blotches? The poet who avoids ambiguity or who reveals the chaos of language?

Herr Hans, Professor Mietter replied coolly, you are confusing technique with subject matter. Or style with poetics. Irrespective of whether you like the snowscape and I prefer others — not the hunting scene, naturally — you are not playing fair, because that painting is ghastly, irrespective of our individual taste, the function of art is to examine the world, not the artist. Ah! Hans countered gleefully, but objective observers forget they are part of the very world they are studying! People’s emotions play a part in reality, they give it shape! You are contradicting yourself, Professor Mietter protested. That is fortunate, Professor, that is fortunate, Hans replied, contradictions help create the landscape. If you will, Professor Mietter sighed, yet you repeatedly contradict yourself. You defend what is rational and what is mysterious in the same breath. You find norms too restrictive, yet you like exhaustive criticism. It is impossible to know what your principles are. Pray forgive me, said Hans, an orthodoxy such as yours is not within reach of all of us. In my view contradiction is sincere, it links extremes which examined in isolation are incomprehensible. Moreover, obscurity or mystery seem to me most reasonable for a writer, because faced with them his reason must work harder. Am I contradicting myself? I don’t know, I abide by Schlegel when he says: “Poetry is a discourse that proposes its own laws, and its elements are free citizens who must give their opinion in order for an agreement to be reached”. How curious, said Professor Mietter mockingly, that a rebel such as you should turn so readily to the Enlightenment.