These essays are mainly about tennis and literature, which are two of my favourite things. But it's clear that the publishers were scraping the barrelThese essays are mainly about tennis and literature, which are two of my favourite things. But it's clear that the publishers were scraping the barrel when compiling this collection. The pieces grow increasingly esoteric; one or two are short fragments; and several don't really work so well removed from their original context. DFW is always a pleasure to read, but this one was uneven. ...more
There is more to Gulliver's Travels than you might expect based on the numerous adaptations we have all seen in popular culture. Throughout the book tThere is more to Gulliver's Travels than you might expect based on the numerous adaptations we have all seen in popular culture. Throughout the book there is a progression from the familiar, jaunty adventure to more serious satire and criticism.
The first two parts of the book (Lilliput and Brobdingnag) are most recognisable, most straightforward in their premises, and are perhaps the most entertaining of the four parts in terms of their storytelling. By the third part, something has developed akin to modern science-fiction. The premises become more detailed and complex, allowing Swift to isolate, highlight and contrast various aspects of culture, politics, science and technology, history and anthropology. The relevance of many of these analyses is diminished by the passage of time, but they are nonetheless thoughtful and trenchant. The fourth section is most surprising in its tone and in the degree of its pessimism. It presents a bleak portrayal of humanity as irredeemable by its very nature, and therefore purposeless in its striving.
All of this makes Gulliver's Travels quite a strange yet compelling mix of styles and themes. It is perhaps itself like an adventure into unknown territory: it begins in search of one thing and ends up discovering something else entirely....more
One cannot separate The 120 Days of Sodom from the biography of its author, the deranged aristocrat the Marquis de Sade, and the fascinating story of One cannot separate The 120 Days of Sodom from the biography of its author, the deranged aristocrat the Marquis de Sade, and the fascinating story of its authorship: hastily scrawled in tiny print onto a 12-metre scroll of paper over the course of 37 Â days, while the author was imprisoned in the Bastille, just before the French Revolution. These scrolls were presumed lost during the storming of the Bastille, only to be rediscovered and published for the first time in the 20th Century.
The novel's structure is a sort of twisted Decameron, set in a remote castle during the months of November to February, with each day delivering increasing levels of degradation and depravity ("increasing" here being perhaps a little misleading, for the novel begins with allusions to murder, abduction and child-rape, but it does indeed manage to escalate considerably even from this starting point).
Understandably, given the conditions of its composition, The 120 Days of Sodom is an incomplete work. There are only 30 or so fully fledged days, with the remainder presented only in outline (as they are stated directly without context, some of these outlines are actually quite hilarious. I had considered quoting some of them here, but have decided to spare you). Even the "completed" sections are unfinished, containing many marginal notes, abbreviations and grammatical inconsistencies. The novel as it exists today was intended to be a draft for a much longer work, which was never completed (it is said that the Marquis cried tears of blood upon learning his manuscript was lost). I doubt, however that the completed version of this novel would have been the comprehensive encyclopaedia of sexuality that the Marquis may have envisioned; so fixated was he on his own proclivities - those of sodomy, Â violence and manipulation of bodily discharges - that the work consistently hits only a few tones, disturbing as those tones may be. The four hundred extant pages are more than enough for the reader to get the idea.
So why read these ramblings of a deranged mind, and why lend them literary importance? Ted Bundy, who killed 30 or more women, would perform sexual acts with the corpses and severed body parts of his victims. It is difficult to comprehend what could drive someone kill and mutilate another person (let alone do it repeatedly), but this confusion evaporates when you realise that his motive, as is so often the case, was sexual. John Wayne Gacy, after his first murder (which he claimed to be accidental) described experiencing a mind-numbing orgasm as he killed the boy, which likely encouraged him to subsequent acts. If these figures seem extreme in comparison to the Marquis, know that their acts are in fact described and exceeded in The 120 Days of Sodom.
Such is the power of sexual desire that it has the capability to overpower all other natural tendencies. What's fascinating is that human sexuality is composed along such a wide and multi-dimensional spectrum, by which the same natural tendency in one case may lead to stable and normal family relationships - the very perpetuation of life  - and in others can lead to atrocities such as those referred to above, and described in this novel. I suspect the number of people living with sexual proclivities that may impel them to do harm to others is much higher than might be imagined; these people prevented from acting by their own moral inhibition, or fear of legal or social repercussions, or perhaps solely due to lack of opportunity.
For examples perhaps less extreme than Bundy and Gacy, we need look no further for evidence than the recent examples of Geoffrey Epstein or Harvey Weinstein, whose power over others was for a time able to shield them from accountability. It may therefore be the case that power does not corrupt, it simply overcomes the barriers and inhibitions one faces, facilitating the actualisation of one's existing proclivities. Those who are able to control themselves against their instincts are pitiable in a different way: they are condemned to a life of dissatisfaction and self-loathing. We should indeed be thankful for this self-sacrifice.
The existence of people who are driven to criminal behaviour by their sexual preferences - take even your garden-variety pedophiles, sadists and zoophiles - is a reminder of our own moral luck in not having been born with such desires. While condemning their actions, we must also remember that, "there but for the grace of God go I", or in the Marquis' own words (p41):
"All these things depend upon our constitution, our organs, the manner in which these react, and we are no more able to command our tastes to change in this than we are to vary the shape of our bodies"
It is important not to overlook the horror of the crimes described in this novel (that would be a failure to imagine the totality of the scenes being depicted), or dismiss them as idle fantasy (the Marquis was able to act on some of them, and there have been others to later take up his mantle), or to romanticise the Marquis de Sade as some sort of enlightened sexual adventurer. He was a deranged man whose education, wealth and position afforded him the freedom to act upon his desires with some success. His offences were not limited to upsetting the delicate mores and moral sensibilities of his time: he was unequivocally a rapist, and likely a murderer. His sexual preferences are today classified in the DSM as a mental condition which bears his name (sexual sadism disorder). He is certainly not a man to be admired. And yet The 120 Days of Sodom has a place in literature as a rare, comprehensive and unfiltered account of this dark part of the range of human experience. It is a reminder of what the human mind is sometimes capable. And what is perhaps most unsettling, is that though our proclivities may differ, we all share with the Marquis this same underlying sexual impulse, and occupy points within a common spectrum of sexual desire....more
Douglas Hofstadter, in his informative (but self-indulgent) Le Ton beau de Marot, devotes over 500 pages to the subject of translating a 28-line pDouglas Hofstadter, in his informative (but self-indulgent) Le Ton beau de Marot, devotes over 500 pages to the subject of translating a 28-line poem from French to English. The book is filled with a multitude of attempts, each with its own character, its own aims in conveying some element of the original, and each differing significantly in style, language and emotion. There is a seemingly infinite linguistic freedom and complexity in the translation of even a poem of just 60 words, between languages that are virtual siblings.
By comparison, Eugene Onegin is a poetic novel consisting of over 200 pages, which utilises a "poetry of grammar" completely alien to English understanding. What is left, then, must be regarded as a vague ghost of the original, and it would be pure folly to attempt an earnest review. Perhaps all that survives the distortion of translation are the most salient and immutable elements: the captivating story itself; Pushkin's playful genius; and his eclectic passion and enthusiasm. As for the rest, I will leave that to the judgement of the great Russian writers, who have universally regarded Onegin as one of the singular works of Russian literature....more
But beyond any analysis of the novel's plot or themes, what I must emphasise here, and what I cannot overstate, is the experience I had reading this novel, which was one of the most intense and satisfying in memory. Simply, this is one of the greatest novels ever written....more
For its first two books, The Mill on the Floss is an intelligent and moving depiction of family drama and childhood struggle, interspersed with pleasaFor its first two books, The Mill on the Floss is an intelligent and moving depiction of family drama and childhood struggle, interspersed with pleasant digression and astute observation on the part of the narrator. However there is an abrupt change of tone and thematic direction in the third book, which re-frames the novel as a love story: a choice that perhaps could have been made to work were it not handled in such a haphazard and confused manner. In particular the character of Stephen Guest, introduced in this final book, seems better suited to a trashy romance, and stands at odds with the authenticity of the rest of the novel (his inclusion is so bewildering, the publisher felt it necessary to include an explanatory postscript). Nonetheless, even accepting the new narrative direction, one's expectation of an earned, satisfying resolution is denied by a tacked-on, incongruous conclusion, which sacrifices everything for a few poignant scraps. A very disappointing end to an otherwise outstanding novel....more
I am reminded of the popular idea within biology of the "Precambrian rabbit" - that is, a bunny found fossilised within a much earlier geological straI am reminded of the popular idea within biology of the "Precambrian rabbit" - that is, a bunny found fossilised within a much earlier geological stratum - considered something that would be so out of place as to call into question the entire Theory of Evolution. Tristram Shandy is like a literary Precambrian rabbit. Here is a work of pure postmodernism, published in the middle of the Eighteenth Century. Whereas even with other "revolutionary" works one can usually still trace a line of incremental innovation as styles are popularised and movements take hold, Tristram Shandy seems to appear fully formed and lacking the usual explanatory pedigree. It is (language aside) so unlike the works of its time and so very much like those that would become popular two hundred years later, that it's difficult to know what to make of it, except to acknowledge that perhaps in our quest to neatly define and categorise history we can sometimes overestimate the achievements of the recent past, and overlook the incredible capacity for human creativity that has been with us from the beginning....more
Dangerous Liaisons is a story of intrigue and sexual manipulation, set during the height of French aristocratic decadence. It is said that the novel, Dangerous Liaisons is a story of intrigue and sexual manipulation, set during the height of French aristocratic decadence. It is said that the novel, by drawing attention to the moral corruption of the upper classes, was actually a contributing cause of the French Revolution. The novel also highlights the severe imbalance between the sexes, derived from their difference in moral standing. Whereas a scandal would be utterly devastating for a woman, it could be borne by a man with little permanent damage.
The story is told entirely through letters, and I was surprised at how immersive an experience a purely epistolary novel can be. In fact it creates a unique, voyeuristic intimacy, and I enjoyed reading these representations of a lost literary art form. My main criticism of the novel is that its resolution was not entirely satisfying. It was a little too simple, convenient and moralistic, especially given the detail and complexity of the plot up to that point. I would have preferred something with a little more nuance....more
Wuthering Heights is a beautiful, dark spectacle. Its relentless gloom and utter lack of redemption seem extraordinary for its time, and refreshing inWuthering Heights is a beautiful, dark spectacle. Its relentless gloom and utter lack of redemption seem extraordinary for its time, and refreshing in a peculiar way. The choice of removing the narrative by two degrees from the novel's events has the effect of obscuring the motives of the principal characters, which leaves the novel unfortunately prone to a simplistic interpretation. One, however, must read between the lines. These are complex characters, caught in a web of causation that amplifies and perpetuates their flaws. I love the novel's ambiguity, its refusal to guide the reader to a clear destination, forcing you to seek your own way thorough its dark moors....more
Jacques the Fatalist is complex and witty, and contains some fairly interesting ideas about free will and determinism. I enjoyed Jacques' experimentalJacques the Fatalist is complex and witty, and contains some fairly interesting ideas about free will and determinism. I enjoyed Jacques' experimentalism and humour, though these are far less impressive given the novel's similarities and proximity to Tristram Shandy....more
The first thing to note about Tom Jones is that it is very, very long. Certainly, much longer than its simple love story and relatively few charactersThe first thing to note about Tom Jones is that it is very, very long. Certainly, much longer than its simple love story and relatively few characters would seem to require. I admit that I was not consistently enraptured all the way along, throughout all the little diversions, asides, and layered intricacies of plot. And as much as I enjoyed the novel, there were many times I just wished the thing to be brought to a speedy resolution.
So why the high rating? In short, Fielding’s writing is spectacular. It brims with enthusiasm, never losing steam or simply “going through the motions�. It soars with clarity and wit on every page. The influence of Don Quixote is apparent, and it retains much of that Quixotic flavour. But Tom Jones is far more polished and cohesive than its predecessor. Its characters are more developed and realistic, and its narrative is tighter and more focused. It represents a significant step forward for the novel. ...more
I didn't love Dead Souls as much as everyone else seems to have. While there are certainly many outstanding elements in its compelling, comical characI didn't love Dead Souls as much as everyone else seems to have. While there are certainly many outstanding elements in its compelling, comical characters and satirical reflections on Russian life in the early Nineteenth Century, I found the majority of the writing - particularly in the business negotiations that form the backbone of the novel - to be fairly repetitive, tiresome and drawn out.
The prose ranges from tight, beautiful and perceptive moments, to pages of rambling dialogue and description. The entire work is uneven, lacking focus, direction and unity of style. There is no logic to it: it just seems to shift tone, pace and direction at random. Sometimes that can be a calculated artistic choice, but I don't think it was intentional in this case. Despite the novel's moments of brilliance, it often felt like Gogol was simply wandering, lost and out of his depth. The lack of any sort of resolution to this unfinished work only compounds the frustration. ...more
Vanity Fair may be brilliant, but it is extremely bloated and uneven. For each page that features interesting characters and compelling dialogue, one Vanity Fair may be brilliant, but it is extremely bloated and uneven. For each page that features interesting characters and compelling dialogue, one must trudge through a greater measure of dull, relentless and misplaced description, aside and detail. Thackeray just goes on and on, spilling onto the page everything he can possibly think of, without any consideration for what is interesting and what is not. The story seems not to be driving anywhere in particular, but it drives on regardless, and the driver enjoys nothing more than tediously pointing out each minute element of the scenery passed along the way.
This is a novel built on comic wit and satire, which, I've come to realise, aren't really my thing, especially when coupled with Nineteenth Century concerns and sensibilities and packaged in bland realism. Give me a metaphor now and then, or something! Of the mostly unappealing and forgettable cast of characters, Becky was the one I felt least indifferent too, and she represents almost all of what I enjoyed about this novel. I found myself frequently tuning out when she wasn't around, barely expending the effort to keep track of which Crawley was which, or who was married to whom, or in which park did each now happen to take their walks of an afternoon (as compared to last week), and who enjoys a little claret with their meals now and then, and is tonight's veal to their liking? - all for very little payoff.
I think to enjoy this novel you have to have some sort of affinity for its excesses, to be captivated by its time and place, its wit and voice and style, in order to follow, eagerly and attentively down each unremarkable cul-de-sac. For my part, I followed, but reluctantly, and with very little enthusiasm. If Vanity Fair were about 300 pages shorter I might have enjoyed it, but as it stands I'm just pleased to have gotten through it. ...more
Gargantua and Pantagruel is a bawdy feast of wordplay and erudition; a wild departure from the simple tales of The Decameron. It is unfortunate that sGargantua and Pantagruel is a bawdy feast of wordplay and erudition; a wild departure from the simple tales of The Decameron. It is unfortunate that so much of the linguistic inventiveness is obscured by the need for translation, as well as forgotten references and changes in meaning and pronunciation over time. However the translator did an excellent job of conveying the spirit of Rabelais� original words in contemporary English.
The edition I read is the newer Screech translation, containing all five books appearing in published order (a departure from the conventional order, where Gargantua appears first), as well as several supplemental almanacs and prognostications, which provide some interesting context but are by no means integral to the experience. If you are looking to read the whole of Gargantua and Pantagruel, research the edition - another one I came across in a bookshop did not contain all five books (I've found these Penguin Classic editions to be fantastic in general, offering a lot of additional information and commentary).
Of the five books, I enjoyed the first two the most. They have more of a roguish and irreverent tone, which at times feels surprisingly contemporary. Book three is concerned almost entirely with arguments for or against Panurge’s marriage, and books four and five (this last having disputed authorship) detail the naval voyages of Pantagruel. Some episodes are interesting; others not. But the chapters are short, so one is not stuck in one place for very long. I found the extensive philosophical musings which featured more heavily in the later books (especially the third) to be quite tedious, framed as they are in biblical and historical authority, and concerned with questions that are no longer pertinent.
All of which makes Gargantua and Pantagruel something of a mixed bag as a reading experience. I wholeheartedly agree with Alex's advice to read the first two books and skip the rest....more
Don Quixote is a massive, complex work. At its centre is the familiar comical farce of a delusional hidalgo and his squire, from which foundation CervDon Quixote is a massive, complex work. At its centre is the familiar comical farce of a delusional hidalgo and his squire, from which foundation Cervantes finds room for a multitude of philosophical and psychological digressions, uncovering themes and implications so wide-ranging as to defy concise encapsulation.
Foremost is the likable character of Don Quixote himself, whose blend of intellect and delusion is something familiar to us. Don Quixote speaks to the power of fantasy, and we are sympathetic towards his desire to do good and to strive for something greater than himself. But his character also hints at the potentially damaging capacity of self-deception as an isolating container for ideology, and an engine for misguided action. There is something of David Foster Wallace in Cervantes' conflicted esteem and criticism of this double-edged potential of entertainment (the analogy of chivalry romances being the TV of their time being hopefully not too much of a stretch).
I was surprised at how quickly I was drawn into Don Quixote, though after the first few episodes I was skeptical that the simple premise would be able to sustain such a lengthy work without becoming tiresome or repetitive. But I believe maintaining the engagement of the reader was at the forefront of Cervantes's mind, as he is constantly playful and inventive, moving first in the direction of more complex and involved plots, then to deeper explorations of his characters, and to wider societal and philosophical considerations. Surprisingly, through much of the latter half of the First Part, Don Quixote himself is largely absent from or tangential to the plot.
But perhaps the most striking and unexpectedly progressive element of the novel is its meta-fictional aspect: the way it plays with perspective and authorship, and blends and contrasts fact and fiction. Don Quixote, which depicts a fictional world, is acknowledged also as an artifact of the real world, which is then inserted back into the fictional world - all of which has strange implications for those living in both. As described within the novel, authorship is split between the narrator (presumably Cervantes) and at least three other authors, in addition to a fifth author of an alternative, "unauthorised" version of the Second Part of Don Quixote. Though the first three are understood as fictional, the last is in fact real, and the alternative Second Part was actually published in Cervantes' lifetime, and is likely to have motivated him to write the "official" version. The implications of "true" and "false" versions of fictional narratives is brilliantly and humourously explored throughout the Second Part. The novel itself never relinquishes its own veracity.
However in my opinion, the Second Part's preoccupation with meta-fiction detracted from its storytelling. While the plot of the First Part had moved progressively towards a "novelistic" structure containing an overarching narrative with subplots, the Second Part regressed to a more traditional, episodic format. Additionally, the plot of the Second Part relied heavily on deceptions created by other characters who were, like the reader, "in on the joke", in order to provoke amusing responses from Quixote and Sancho. I felt something was lost of the purity and authenticity of their adventures through these contrived manipulations. The consistency and realism also suffered in the Second Part, as certain actions of characters became noticeably incongruous to their personalities. Sancho's wisdom in governance, for example, is amusing in its irony when contrasted with his ordinary foolishness, but it is out of place with his character and undermines any serious analysis of his development.
Though Don Quixote is generally recognised as the first "great novel", I'm not convinced it is correct to call it a novel (the precise definition of which I am finding difficult to pin down). It certainly does not feel like a modern novel. Character development is not its driving force so much as humour and satire, and despite some moves towards a narrative arc, it retains a meandering, episodic structure which does not seek resolution. These elements seem to align Don Quixote more with literature's past than its future, though it is clearly a work which strives to free itself from tradition, and succeeds in breaking a lot of new ground....more
Though Frankenstein is uneven in the quality of its prose and editing, the soul of the novel is extraordinary. Drawing from the frightening promise imThough Frankenstein is uneven in the quality of its prose and editing, the soul of the novel is extraordinary. Drawing from the frightening promise implied by the discovery of electromagnetism and other recent advancements in this age of scientific adolescence, in harnessing unknown, hidden potentials of natural power; the spirit of the novel is pure science fiction, but the microscope is directed entirely at the human psyche. A genuine sense of despair and isolation permeates this character study of Frankenstein and his creation, which in addition to exploring themes of responsibility, purpose and belonging, strikes more abstract and general overtones.
There is a naive exuberance in the writing, as exemplified by the strange, ad hoc use of nested narratives. But criticisms aside, Frankenstein is a notable achievement for its time, and most accomplished for so young an author....more
Jane Eyre has saved me from a string of disappointments. I found it to be not only highly engaging but also surprisingly complex and thematically richJane Eyre has saved me from a string of disappointments. I found it to be not only highly engaging but also surprisingly complex and thematically rich, despite its framing as a simple love story.
On the surface one may criticise certain contrivances of plot, improbability of occurrences, and strangeness of characters (many are typical of the novels of this time), but one cannot fault the telling: Jane's voice, her passion and perceptiveness, and her deep morality, which is grounded not in religion or idealism, but in her own experiences and her own humanity. Her experience of hardship never devolves into pathos-evoking melodrama, and her response to adversity is refreshing. She is a confident and strong-willed person, but she is also humble, hard-working and is never selfish or vindictive. Though she does not lack in courage or strength, she always takes a stance of forgiveness and reconciliation toward her persecutors - a very Christian ideal.
Jane's and Rochester's romantic, brooding love, is of a questionable nature. Built on an unclear and seemingly arbitrary basis, it is yet held, quite unreasonably, in the face of extreme adversity. Both Rochester and Jane are described as physically unattractive, and certain aspects of Rochester's manner make his character similarly unattractive to the reader (his actions and motives are at all times highly suspect). Something of the basis for the primary characters' mutual attraction is conveyed in their interactions. There is a way that each tempers the other, and their love seems built upon a sort of taming, of mutual dependence and reciprocal control. There is a sense that they are each at once both dominant and submissive toward each other. This is, I suppose, a form of equality - possibly even a revolutionary one in the Victorian Era - but it does not seem to me to be a healthy or stable condition. Yet there is a forcefulness and honesty in this depiction that speaks directly to a desperate human need for deep connection. This is an earnest passion, elemental in nature, quite unlike the detached, superficial affections of Pride & Prejudice.
The later section of the novel featuring St. John Rivers invokes a sort of spiritual conflict, which, though awkwardly handled at times, creates a fascinating contrast to the passions of Rochester. Here is the real crux of the novel, as Jane is required to choose between the conflicting elements of her own nature. In choosing passion over servitude, self-determination over duty, she acknowledges and rejects the false morality of the religious path, in favour of her own convictions. While I'm not entirely won over by the character of Rochester or the nature of their relationship, I'm struck by Jane's courage and the implications of her decision. It is an argument in favour of equality and self-determination, and in support of intelligence and reason, while simultaneously acknowledging that passion is essential to human happiness. It affirms the Christian virtues of equality, fairness and acceptance, while rejecting its coldness and lack of humanity, and hints at the possibility of a humanistic, rather than divine basis for morality....more
Despite George Eliot's insight into the human condition, her adroitness at creating entire, breathing characters, and her talent for description, therDespite George Eliot's insight into the human condition, her adroitness at creating entire, breathing characters, and her talent for description, there's simply no avoiding the fact that Middlemarch is an incredibly dull novel. Yes, Middlemarch is a wonderful and subtle account of the realities of middle-class life (what struck me in particular was its mature handling of the subject of unhappiness, not as a dramatic device, but as an earnest exploration of often overlooked human realities, so uncommon for its time period), yet the reality of this novel is page after page of overdrawn descriptions and inconsequential dialogue, all directed towards bringing to life the Reform era, a period I did not find of much interest either politically or in terms of its societal attributes.
Peace If I'm honest, I wasn't all that captivated by the characters, whose concerns of money and love seemed fairly trifling, both in comparison to thePeace If I'm honest, I wasn't all that captivated by the characters, whose concerns of money and love seemed fairly trifling, both in comparison to the seriousness of war, and by relation to their extreme privilege, at a time when wealth was generated directly by the ownership and exploitation of other people. I understand this interpretation ignores historical context, but it is hard to take seriously the ennui suffered by princes and counts who glide comfortably above much deeper and more significant suffering. It may have been easier to overlook these problems were not any significant mention, let alone thoughtful treatment of the subject entirely absent from this novel. That is not to say that there is nothing of significance in the characters and the story of War and Peace, just that apart from its length, it is not particularly distinguished among the novels of its period, and if that were all there was to it, I would have been disappointed.
War The sections concerning the Napoleonic wars are alone worth the price of admission. Tolstoy's thesis of a chaotic human history - one whose direction is defined not by the grand actions of great figures, but by cumulative accidents and the mysterious chaos of the mob - these ideas are most compelling. Tolstoy examines the ethereal nature of Napoleon's genius, and the narrative that surrounds it. He questions the importance of military tactics in determining the outcome of battles, acknowledging that so much is determined by the accumulation of factors that are hidden in the minds of individuals, which pass, fleeting and unnoticed. These questions probe deep into human psychology: the myriad heuristics and biases we unconsciously employ in order to impose a logical causal sequence; a coherent narrative, across essentially chaotic events. Tolstoy argues that power and control are in many ways an illusion we are compelled to create. Taking the example of Napoleon, historians are in retrospect able to build a narrative arc of a rise - defined by genius - and a fall - precipitated by a loss of genius. Yet in which direction does the causal arrow fly: did Napoleon's genius win him Austerlitz, or was the victory at Austerlitz simply attributed to genius after the fact?
The perspective that these ideas engender is not limited to the battlefield, but can be applied to all areas of human endeavour. One can see it in political movements, or in the corporate world (where I spend most of my time): there is a natural human inclination to elevate, to create narratives of leadership and power, to attribute success to individuals, where it is more correctly attributable to groups, or in many cases, simply to luck and circumstance. Aside from bulwarking against the potentially catastrophic outcomes of such tendencies (the creation of dictators and despots, for example), we must understand that there is a critical tension here: these tendencies are in fact necessary for stable human societies to function in the way they always have. Why else would we agree to follow others, or cooperate in groups, if not for our compulsion to build and accept the stories we invent about ourselves, our cultures and our leaders? What else is power, but narrative?...more
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