The paranoid and Narcissus

“Almost all of our relationships begin and most of them continue as forms of mutual exploitation, a mental or physical barter, to be terminated when one or both parties run out of goods.

But the seed of a genuine disinterested love, which is often present, is ever to develop, it is essential that we pretend to ourselves and to others that it is stronger and more developed than it is, that we are less selfish than we are. Hence the social havoc wrought by the paranoid, to whom the thought of indifference is so intolerable that he divides others into two classes, those who love him for himself alone and those who hate him for the same reason.

Do a paranoid a favour, like paying his hotel bill in a foreign city when is monthly cheque has not yet arrived, and he will take this as an expression of personal affection – the thought that you might have done it from a general sense of duty towards a fellow-countryman in distress will never occur to him. So back he comes for more until your patience is exhausted, there is a row, and he departs convinced that you are his personal enemy. In this he is right to the extent that it is difficult not to hate a person who reveals to you so clearly how little you love others.”

*

“Narcissus does not fall in love with his reflection because it is beautiful, but because it is his. It it were his beauty that enthralled him, he would be set free in a few years by its fading. ”After all,” sighed Narcissus the hunch-back, “on me it looks good.”"

- W. H. Auden, “Hic et Ille,” Encounter April 1956

Horae Canonicae: Forbrytelsen i Audens tidebønnsyklus

For et par år siden skrev jeg en tekst for Litteraturtidsskriftet Lasso om Audens diktsyklus Horae Canonice, syv dikt strukturert etter de katolske tidebønnene. Det sentrale motivet, som diktene sirkler rundt men aldri portretterer direkte, er en ugjerning; det som vekselvis blir kalt et drap, en henrettelse, en dåd og en offerhandling. I denne syklusen utforsker Auden betydningen av “det som har skjedd” – den usagte forbrytelsen – for individet og kollektivet, med henblikk på begreper som skyld, ansvar og sivilisasjon. I bakgrunnen ligger langfredag og korsfestelsesmotivet.

Merkwürdige Liebe

A friend of mine has complained that I relate everything we discuss to Auden. Being so quotable, he’s become a kind of conversational Deus ex Machina, occasionally allowing me to score some cheap points or short-circuit a debate with an aesthetically pleasing quip (or poignant remark. Rhymed.). And… it’s true. But… hey, you know what? I just watched Dr. Strangelove and… I’m just saying…

Ah, all these quotes

After all, the most characteristic human actions as distinguished from those of any other animal, are two: first, laying down one’s life for one’s friend; and second, cutting off one’s nose to spite one’s face. 

- W. H. Auden

The art of life, of a poet’s life, is, not having anything to do, to do something.

- H. D. Thoreau

Happy birthday, Auden.

Auden with Spender and Isherwood on the beach

Wystan Hugh Auden was born on the 21st of Feburary, 1907.

Today I have marked the anniversary by listening to Auden’s own recorded readings of his poetry and to readings by other people on youtube. I also found a short documentary from 2000 that I hadn’t seen before: Tell Me The Truth About Love.

Reading some of his poems for myself, I once again remembered how much I enjoy the rythm and sound of Auden’s lyrics. I decided to record a few of my favourites, three poems from the collection Another Time, and two from the Sonnet Sequence “Sonnets from China,” which first appeared in Auden and Isherwood’s Journey to a War. 

Enjoy the poetry, the Norwegian accent and the background noise from the street outside our apartment.

Lullaby (from Another Time)

Wrapped in a yielding air (Another Time)

Another Time (from Another Time)

Sonnet I from “Sonnets from China” (Originally published in Journey to a War, the cycle was later cut down and edited slightly. This version is from Collected Poems, I think)

Sonnet XI from “Sonnets from China”

Auden with Cecil Day-Lewis and Stephen Spender. One of my favourites.

An older Auden in a characteristic pose, his face deeply wrinkled after one year too many of cigarettes, alcohol and Benzedrine. He used to compare his own face to a “wedding cake left out in the rain”

Impressive research, sloppy readings.

I have just received Aidan Wasley’s The Age of Auden: Postwar Poetry and the American Scene (2011) in the mail, and it’s proving to be a rewarding read so far.

The beautiful drawing on the cover is by Don Bachardy

Wasley’s volume is eloquent, informative and (unlike this review) blessedly short: At just above 200 reasonably accessible pages, you can read it in a day if you have a day to spare.

Auden’s later poetry is sometimes described as the American Auden, with reference to his permanent “exile” in the U.S. from his 1939 emigration onwards. In this book, Wasley investigates the “American” part of this phrase: How did Auden see America, how did he attempt to find his “American voice”, how did he position himself in relation to American literary history? And most importantly, how did he influence the next generation(s) of American writers?