Quizzes, Camus, opera and ramblings galore
Aug. 5th, 2002 11:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tarigwaemirAd Mundo Exteriore,
Look, I took the same quiz that Lyd-chan (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lush_rimbaud) did!
Um...how coincidental. Weird. O_O
The reason why I didn't get Merry was because I don't smoke. The reason why I didn't get Frodo or Sam is because I conspicuously avoided those choices. Personally, I wish there was a "Which Middle-Earth Elf Are You?" quiz, but I suppose there wouldn't be too many pictures for that yet. Oh well.
I am definitely turning into one of those people who put quiz pictures all over their weblog. Here's the results of the Fruits Basket selector:
Which Fruits Basket Character are you?
Hiro-kun is precocious, arrogant and very sarcastic. Just like me. ^_^
I am still in the middle of The Myth of Sisyphus, by Camus, or rather I returned to the book after a week of avoiding it. The subject matter is probably way over my head. After reading for three pages without really understanding what was going on, a sentence finally clued me into what the last section was about. >_< You see, Camus is describing in languid analogies the paradoxical state of expecting a rational world and living in an utterly irrational reality, in the context of the uncertainty of all empirical experiences. He then goes on for quite some time about how this describes the state of the absurd, the "desert" as he calls it, and what is one is forced to accept and not accept about it. Except what he is really doing is exploring every nook and crevice of the same paradox, and I didn't even realize that he was describing a paradox until now! Oy vey! I mean, I was trying to understand why he was saying one thing and then something else which completely contradicted it! He could have simply said, explicitly, "I am discussing a paradox," instead of letting me suffer. You probably won't understand why I had no clue for three pages, unless you've been reading the same translation I have. And unless you're as dense as I am. But seriously, I don't think I'm that dumb. I was paying attention! I think Camus was being too obscure! Okay, I'll stop ranting.
But now it's getting pretty interesting. He is saying that all the existentialists before his time chose to escape the absurd through religion, by deifying and surrendering to the utter irrationality of the universe, but in the same moment denying and rejecting the absurd, because the absurdity of the irrational world does not exist if we no longer struggle to see it rationally. And BTW, irrationality is not simply refusing to argue logically or leaping to unfounded conclusions. Irrationality is the inherent inability for us to know anything about ourselves or the world around us. In that sense, it is the complete opposite of the empiricists who claimed that we can only know through experience, because it says that we cannot know, but it is also the consequence, the child as it were, of empiricism. Isn't that weird? Come to think of it, that was what Camus was discussing in the third section, even though I didn't get it at the time. Anyway, Lyd-chan, if you're reading this, this means that the irrationality we're discussing here is not your type of irrationality, but a confrontation with the possibility of nihilism which you completely refuse to acknowledge. Or at least I hope you refuse to acknowledge it. Otherwise you'll still be depressed and unhappy.
So according to Camus, the previous existentialists were caught up in the paradoxical state of escaping the absurd by embracing it. He says that this is unacceptable, because he can only be certain of one thing and that is the absurd. (If you look at that statement closely, it's another paradox: certainty of only uncertainty.) He must seek a new way to live with the absurd without ending up denying it and without ceasing to struggle against it. Yeah, I know, you must be thinking, "Eh?" How on earth is that possible? Well, one of the options is suicide, which we know only because Camus opened up by considering the "problem of suicide," as he calls it. But because in the introduction, he says that he ultimately concludes that suicide is not legitimate after all, we'll just have to wait and see what the other option is.
Anyway, I didn't realize that he was talking in paradoxes in order to discuss the paradox of the absurd until now.
One thing came to mind while I was reading on the subway. All those existentialists prior to Camus, Sartre, and the rest of their generation are indeed the "theistic" existentialists, as my mother's philosophy professor told her in college. And Camus, Sartre, Beauvoir and the rest of them, whoever they were, are considered the "atheistic" existentialists, precisely because of what Camus says in The Myth of Sisyphus: they are unable to accept religion as a way to live with the absurd because they see it as an escape and a denial of the absurd even though it is also an acceptance. Kierkegaard with his leaps of faith into the irrational, religious stage of existence is what Camus refuses to accept. I was wondering whether historians of philosophy recognized this split between the "theistic" and "atheistic" existentialism simply because Camus pointed it out first or whether because it is obvious.
On a lighter note, apparently I will be able to attend the Metropolitan Opera before I go to college. Mother and I want to see Turandot, but then we would have to go by ourselves, because the opera buff at our church likes the grandes romances better than elaborate fantasies. In other words, La Traviata or Aida. But frankly, Mother and I both prefer operas like La Boheme or...well...Turandot. We like Turandot because it is essentially a fairy tale at heart and there is an archetypal or mythic feel to the storyline which carries over into the music and moves us more deeply. While the grandes romances are just melodramas or, as Mother says, "soap operas" at heart. Comment: Character development in Turandot is poor (I mean, she falls in love with the prince at the end, but there's hardly any psychological buildup to it), but it is still a "better" story. It has more meaning. Do "mythical" stories tend to slant towards "philosophy" rather than "psychology"? I'm not going to explain what I mean by philosophy vs. psychology, because it takes too long and hopefully by now you've stopped reading anyway. I know that modern literary fiction, at least to me, is primarily "psychological" rather than "philosophical." I consider it a great failing of twentieth-century culture. But what's interesting is that the more "mythical" stories--like Lord of the Rings and the best of fantasy and science fiction--do have the "philosophical" content that a lot of modern literary fiction lacks. Not that "philosophical" and "psychological" are mutually exclusive; for example, Dostoyevsky's works are masterpieces of both.
Essentially the distinction I'm talking about is the emphasis on new ideas and attempts at general truths versus the emphasis on the subjective state of mind. "Psychological" stories by nature must have excellent character development. "Philosophical" stories must have excellent ideas underneath. While stories can be both "psychological" and "philosophical," a mostly "philosophical" story like Turandot has very little character development. And while not all fantasy and science fiction are "philosophical," many of them still follow the trend with less emphasis on character development. Take, for example, Harry Potter. Now, the Harry Potter books do have great character development, but for me, it's not exactly the central focus of the book. In fact, I think that the appeal of the Harry Potter books is that without such detailed exploration of the psyche, the characters are general enough to allow the reader to fill in the gaps with aspects of his or her own personality. In other words, archetypal rather than realistic. And thus, what "psychology" there is becomes more like "philosophy." I know, I'm using really vague terms.
In any case, purely "psychological" stories lack this archetypal appeal. Which is why Mother and I don't particularly want to see La Traviata, even though it has great arias.
...Tari
Look, I took the same quiz that Lyd-chan (
lush_rimbaud) did!Um...how coincidental. Weird. O_O
The reason why I didn't get Merry was because I don't smoke. The reason why I didn't get Frodo or Sam is because I conspicuously avoided those choices. Personally, I wish there was a "Which Middle-Earth Elf Are You?" quiz, but I suppose there wouldn't be too many pictures for that yet. Oh well.
I am definitely turning into one of those people who put quiz pictures all over their weblog. Here's the results of the Fruits Basket selector:
Which Fruits Basket Character are you?
Hiro-kun is precocious, arrogant and very sarcastic. Just like me. ^_^
I am still in the middle of The Myth of Sisyphus, by Camus, or rather I returned to the book after a week of avoiding it. The subject matter is probably way over my head. After reading for three pages without really understanding what was going on, a sentence finally clued me into what the last section was about. >_< You see, Camus is describing in languid analogies the paradoxical state of expecting a rational world and living in an utterly irrational reality, in the context of the uncertainty of all empirical experiences. He then goes on for quite some time about how this describes the state of the absurd, the "desert" as he calls it, and what is one is forced to accept and not accept about it. Except what he is really doing is exploring every nook and crevice of the same paradox, and I didn't even realize that he was describing a paradox until now! Oy vey! I mean, I was trying to understand why he was saying one thing and then something else which completely contradicted it! He could have simply said, explicitly, "I am discussing a paradox," instead of letting me suffer. You probably won't understand why I had no clue for three pages, unless you've been reading the same translation I have. And unless you're as dense as I am. But seriously, I don't think I'm that dumb. I was paying attention! I think Camus was being too obscure! Okay, I'll stop ranting.
But now it's getting pretty interesting. He is saying that all the existentialists before his time chose to escape the absurd through religion, by deifying and surrendering to the utter irrationality of the universe, but in the same moment denying and rejecting the absurd, because the absurdity of the irrational world does not exist if we no longer struggle to see it rationally. And BTW, irrationality is not simply refusing to argue logically or leaping to unfounded conclusions. Irrationality is the inherent inability for us to know anything about ourselves or the world around us. In that sense, it is the complete opposite of the empiricists who claimed that we can only know through experience, because it says that we cannot know, but it is also the consequence, the child as it were, of empiricism. Isn't that weird? Come to think of it, that was what Camus was discussing in the third section, even though I didn't get it at the time. Anyway, Lyd-chan, if you're reading this, this means that the irrationality we're discussing here is not your type of irrationality, but a confrontation with the possibility of nihilism which you completely refuse to acknowledge. Or at least I hope you refuse to acknowledge it. Otherwise you'll still be depressed and unhappy.
So according to Camus, the previous existentialists were caught up in the paradoxical state of escaping the absurd by embracing it. He says that this is unacceptable, because he can only be certain of one thing and that is the absurd. (If you look at that statement closely, it's another paradox: certainty of only uncertainty.) He must seek a new way to live with the absurd without ending up denying it and without ceasing to struggle against it. Yeah, I know, you must be thinking, "Eh?" How on earth is that possible? Well, one of the options is suicide, which we know only because Camus opened up by considering the "problem of suicide," as he calls it. But because in the introduction, he says that he ultimately concludes that suicide is not legitimate after all, we'll just have to wait and see what the other option is.
Anyway, I didn't realize that he was talking in paradoxes in order to discuss the paradox of the absurd until now.
One thing came to mind while I was reading on the subway. All those existentialists prior to Camus, Sartre, and the rest of their generation are indeed the "theistic" existentialists, as my mother's philosophy professor told her in college. And Camus, Sartre, Beauvoir and the rest of them, whoever they were, are considered the "atheistic" existentialists, precisely because of what Camus says in The Myth of Sisyphus: they are unable to accept religion as a way to live with the absurd because they see it as an escape and a denial of the absurd even though it is also an acceptance. Kierkegaard with his leaps of faith into the irrational, religious stage of existence is what Camus refuses to accept. I was wondering whether historians of philosophy recognized this split between the "theistic" and "atheistic" existentialism simply because Camus pointed it out first or whether because it is obvious.
On a lighter note, apparently I will be able to attend the Metropolitan Opera before I go to college. Mother and I want to see Turandot, but then we would have to go by ourselves, because the opera buff at our church likes the grandes romances better than elaborate fantasies. In other words, La Traviata or Aida. But frankly, Mother and I both prefer operas like La Boheme or...well...Turandot. We like Turandot because it is essentially a fairy tale at heart and there is an archetypal or mythic feel to the storyline which carries over into the music and moves us more deeply. While the grandes romances are just melodramas or, as Mother says, "soap operas" at heart. Comment: Character development in Turandot is poor (I mean, she falls in love with the prince at the end, but there's hardly any psychological buildup to it), but it is still a "better" story. It has more meaning. Do "mythical" stories tend to slant towards "philosophy" rather than "psychology"? I'm not going to explain what I mean by philosophy vs. psychology, because it takes too long and hopefully by now you've stopped reading anyway. I know that modern literary fiction, at least to me, is primarily "psychological" rather than "philosophical." I consider it a great failing of twentieth-century culture. But what's interesting is that the more "mythical" stories--like Lord of the Rings and the best of fantasy and science fiction--do have the "philosophical" content that a lot of modern literary fiction lacks. Not that "philosophical" and "psychological" are mutually exclusive; for example, Dostoyevsky's works are masterpieces of both.
Essentially the distinction I'm talking about is the emphasis on new ideas and attempts at general truths versus the emphasis on the subjective state of mind. "Psychological" stories by nature must have excellent character development. "Philosophical" stories must have excellent ideas underneath. While stories can be both "psychological" and "philosophical," a mostly "philosophical" story like Turandot has very little character development. And while not all fantasy and science fiction are "philosophical," many of them still follow the trend with less emphasis on character development. Take, for example, Harry Potter. Now, the Harry Potter books do have great character development, but for me, it's not exactly the central focus of the book. In fact, I think that the appeal of the Harry Potter books is that without such detailed exploration of the psyche, the characters are general enough to allow the reader to fill in the gaps with aspects of his or her own personality. In other words, archetypal rather than realistic. And thus, what "psychology" there is becomes more like "philosophy." I know, I'm using really vague terms.
In any case, purely "psychological" stories lack this archetypal appeal. Which is why Mother and I don't particularly want to see La Traviata, even though it has great arias.
...Tari
