Existentialism is a Disappointment

 

 

I. 

 

We all know Heidegger's magnificent response to Sartre's post-War declaration that l'existentialisme est un humanisme; let's just say he wasn't impressed [a]. But rather less well known is the effect it had on a generation of young French intellectuals who had previously adored the author of L'Être et le néant (1943). 

 

This generation includes Michel Tournier, whose recollection of this time is worth sharing at length as it perfectly illustrates the intense punk rock seriousness with which philosophy was then taken and how sexy and scandalous Sartre's phenomenological ontology appeared to be - before he sold out to humanism ...

 

 

II.  

 

"In the darkest days of the War, some of us, depressed by the oppressive restrictions, formed a small group united by a common idea of philosophy - a narrow, even fanatical idea that might well have gone in hand with tumbrils and the guillotine. I was foolishly about to write that Deleuze had been the 'soul' of this group when suddenly I had a vivid image of the brickbats and howls with which that hated word would have been greeted by the adolescents we were then. [...] In any case, Deleuze did set the tone of the group, and it was he who sustained our ardour." [b]

 

"One day in the autumn of 1943 a meteor of a book fell on to our desks: Jean-Paul Sartre's Being and Nothingness. After a moment's stupor there was a long mulling over [...] the book exuded irresistible power; it was full of exquisite subtleties, encyclopedic, proudly technical, with an intuition of diamondlike simplicity running through it from start to finish. Already the clamour of the anti-philosophical rabble could be heard rising in opposition in the press. [...] We were exultant. Like Socrates's disciples in fourth-century Athens or Hegel's students at Jena in 1805, we had the extraordinary good fortune of seeing a philosophy born before our very eyes." [131]  

 

"On October 28, 1945, Sartre called us together. It was a mob scene. An enormous crowd pressed against the walls of the tiny venue. The exits were blocked by those who had not managed to gain entry [...] and women who fainted had to be piled on a convenient grand piano. The wildly acclaimed lecturer was lifted bodily over the crowd and on to the podium. Such popularity should have alerted us. Already the suspect tag 'existentialism' had been attached to the new system. [...] So what was existentialism? We were soon to find out. Sartre's message could be stated in six words: existentialism is a form of humanism. [...] We were devastated. Our master had retrieved that exhausted old figure of Man, still stinking with sweat and 'inner life', from the rubbish heap where we had left him [...] And everyone applauded." [132]

 

"That night we gathered in a café to mourn our loss. One of us thought he had found the key to what went wrong in a novel that Sartre had published in 1938 called Nausea. [...] Suddenly it was all too clear [...] Sartre had [... become] the Autodidact. Around the table we were unanimous in our forecasts of disaster [...] And the future seemed to bear us out [...]" [132-33]

 

It should be noted that, looking back over thirty years later, Tournier is prepared to admit that the reaction experienced by himself and his philosophical comrades was probably a bit harsh:

 

"This reaction to Sartre should be taken for what it was: a liquidation of the father by overgrown adolescents afflicted with the awareness that they owed him everything. With hindsight I can see all the juvenile excess in our condemnation." [133]

 

However, Tournier then importantly qualifies this:

 

"Yet I cannot help thinking that it contained a grain of truth. Sartre seems always to have suffered from an excess of moral scruple. Acute fear [...] undeniably diminished his powers and his creative potential. I am convinced that one cannot live a full and healthy life without a minimum of indifference to the woes of others. [...] Sartre's misfortune was that [...] he was a Marxist who was never able to give up the secret ambition of becoming a saint." [133]

 

And with that Tournier sticks the boot into Sartre in an even more brutal manner than Heidegger ... 

 

 

Notes

 

[a] For those who don't know ... L'existentialisme est un humanisme (1946) is a text by Jean-Paul Sartre, based on a lecture of the same title given in Paris on 29 October 1945. 

      Invited by Jean Beaufret in November 1946 to comment on Sartre's work and the development of existentialism in France, Martin Heidegger composed a response known in English as the Letter on Humanism (revised for publication in 1947). In this text, Heidegger distanced himself from Sartre and dismissed his thought as merely a reversed form of metaphysics which is oblivious to the truth of Being. 

      Those who wish to read a transcript of Sartre's lecture for themselves can do so by clicking here. Heidegger's response is also available as a pdf online or can be found in his Basic Writings, ed. David Farrell Krell (Routledge, 2010). My reading of Heidegger's Letter on Humanism can be found here.

 

[b] Michel Tournier, The Wind Spirit, trans. Arthur Goldhammer, (Collins, 1989), p. 128. Future page references to this work will be given directly in the post. 

      Note that I have very slightly modified the translation by Goldhammer in places. The original French text was published as Le Vent Paraclet (Gallimard, 1977) and readers who (rightly) worry about issues of translation are free to consult this if they wish.       

 

Why Even an Anti-Christ Reads the Bible

Cartoon by Will McPhail

willmcphail.com

 

 

I.

 

Someone asks why it is that for a self-professed anti-Christ and atheist I seem to refer so often to the Bible. And I suppose it's a fair enough question (though I don't much care for the implication that I'm some kind of crypto-theologian).

 

Well, apart from the fact that it is always wise to know what one's enemies believe, the fact is that the Bible continues to play an important cultural role and has crucial significance in the work of many of the authors that I love most. 

 

Writers such as D. H. Lawrence, for example, whose work can be read as a prolonged struggle to (re-)interpret the Good Book in a very different spirit than that sanctioned by the Church. As one critic notes:

 

"His writing, at all stages of his career, contains frequent references to biblical characters and symbols while, even when not invoking any particular passage from the Bible, his language is permeated by the rhythms of the Authorised Version." [1]

 

 

II.

 

Michel Tournier is another writer who, by his own admission, was a great reader of the Bible - a book that he describes as a huge attic in which you can find pretty much everything you may need; a constant source of inspiration.

Like Lawrence, Tournier might also be said to perform a creative misreading of the Bible for his own (perverse) ends:

 

"Impatient with conventionally pious glosses, which are too often likely to support the puritanical status quo which he deplores, he reads the Bible against the grain [...] seeking other and more surprising meanings. Further than this, he will recast a story completely, to change its meaning, like a composer who writes variations on a well-known musical theme. If the variations are memorable, they may for ever affect the way we react to the original melody.

      This (mis)reading of the Bible is thus central to the production of meaning in Tournier's texts and in particular to the ethical and metaphysical reflections they develop." [2]

     

Again, like Lawrence, Tournier takes up the cross (i.e., the religious challenge presented by Jesus to imagine a new way of life), but he doesn't follow the latter; indeed, he loses Christ in order to find himself and his own way of being in the world. 

Both writers offer a disrespectful and disloyal reading of the Bible (some would say blasphemous); they treat it as "a corrupt text which needs to be interpreted and even reformulated" [3] in line with their own inner experience. 

 

Above all, what Lawrence and Tournier both desire is a version of the Bible which reinstates the body as central and "re-establishes the link between spiritual love (agape) and carnal love (eros)" [4].

 

Nowhere is this better illustrated than in Lawrence's The Escaped Cock (1929), a short novel which, for me, is the culmination of his work, placing the Christian tradition back within a wider religious context and giving us a Jesus unafraid to come into touch and rejoice in the sensual world.    

 

As David Gascoigne writes (with reference to Tournier's fiction):

"The moral implications of placing the body back at the centre of religion in this way are far-reaching. All human appetites, even the basest, are open to spiritualisation: it is not just the soul, but the whole person which is saved." [5] 

This is the gospel according to D. H. Lawrence and Michel Tournier ... And to fully understand it, you will need to know your Bible ...

 

 

Notes

 

[1] See T. R. Wright, D. H. Lawrence and the Bible, (Cambridge University Press, 2000), p. 1.    

[2] David Gascoigne, Michel Tournier, (Berg, 1996), pp. 98-99. 

[3] Ibid., p. 119.

[4] Ibid. 

 

[5] Ibid., p. 120. 

The Money Post

Alec Monopoly: Scarface Money Monops (2017) 

Acrylic on canvas with resin (30 x 48 inches)  

artsy.net

 

 

"Money makes the world go around / The world go around / The world go around 

Money makes the world go around / It makes the world go 'round." [1]

 

 

Despite this dynamic aspect - and all too predictably - D. H. Lawrence hated money - hated it! 

 

In one poem, for example, he calls it our vast collective madness and in another he says that money is a perverted instinct [...] which rots the brain, the blood, the bones, the stones, the soul [2]. 

 

In his 'Reflections on the Death of a Porcupine', meanwhile, Lawrence describes money as a golden wall which uniquely cuts us off from life; "not even the most fanatical dogmas of an iron-bound religion, can insulate us from the inrush of life and inspiration, as money can" [3].

 

Apart from these instances, there are many, many other occasions on which Lawrence delivers this anti-money sermon and even his fictional characters are obliged to trot out the same rhetoric. When not fucking Connie six ways from Sunday, for example, Mellors can't resist informing her that it is money - along with modern technology and forms of popular entertainment - which is to blame for sucking the spunk out of mankind [4].  

 

 

II. 

 

Interestingly, Lawrence's puritanical attitude towards money (and the love of money) aligns his thinking with those one might otherwise regard as his moral, political, and philosophical opponents: Christians, Marxists, and Freudians ...

 

This must surely make one suspicious of his thinking on this subject and question whether, as a matter of fact, money might be thought of in a more positive light; as that which creates happiness, rather than being at the root of all evil. 

 

That was certainly the view of the perverse materialist and utopian socialist Charles Fourier, who argued that happiness consists in having a number of diverse passions and - crucially - having the necessary financial means to satisfy them. In Fourier's ideal state, wealth is redeemed and money not only becomes desirable, but "participates in the brilliance of pleasure" [5].

 

Roland Barthes helps us understand why it is that Fourier insists that les sens ne peuvent avoir toute leur portée indirecte sans l'intervention de l'argent:   

 

"Curiously detached from commerce, from exchange, from the economy, Fourierist money is an analogic (poetic) metal, the sum of happiness. Its exaltation is obviously a countermeasure: it is because all (civilized) Philosophy has condemned money, that Fourier, destroyer of Philosophy and critic of Civilization, rehabilitates it: the love of wealth being a perjorative topos [...] Fourier turns contempt into praise [... and] everything, where money is concerned, seems to be conceived in view of this counter-discourse [...]" [6]

 

To advise his readers to seek out tangible wealth - gold, precious stones, and those luxury goods despised by our ascetic idealists - is, as Barthes says, a scandalous thing to do; a major transgression against the teachings of all those (including Lawrence) for whom money is something base and corrupting. 

      

I have to admit, I'm sympathetic to Fourier's view and have always smiled at a remark often attributed to Bo Derek: Whoever said money can't buy happiness simply didn't know where to go shopping.   

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Lyrics from the song 'Money, Money', written by John Kander and Fred Ebb for the big screen version of the musical Cabaret (dir. Bob Fosse, 1972). To watch the song being performed by Joel Gray (as the Master of Ceremonies) and Liza Minnelli (as Sally Bowles): click here. 

      Whilst this is still my favourite song written about money, mention might also be made of ABBA's 1976 single 'Money, Money, Money', written by Benny Andersson and Björn Ulvaeus: click here. And 'Money (That's What I Want)', a rhythm and blues track written by Berry Gordy and Janie Bradford and originally recorded by Barrett Strong in 1959, but which I remember as a single by the Flying Lizards in 1979: click here.          

 

[2] See the poems 'Money-madness' and 'Kill money' in The Poems, Vol. I., ed. Christopher Pollnitz, (Cambridge University Press, 2013), pp. 421-22. 

 

[3] D. H. Lawrence, 'Reflections on the Death of a Porcupine', in Reflections on the Death of a Porcupine and Other Essays, ed. Michael Herbert, (Cambridge University Press, 1988), p. 363.  

[4] D. H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley's Lover, ed. Michael Squires, (Cambridge University Press, 1993), p. 217. See also the closing letter written by Mellors to Connie (pp. 298-302), in which he again expresses his hatred for money and complains about the fact that modern people have conflated living with spending.    

[5] Roland Barthes, 'Fourier', in Sade / Fourier / Loyola, trans. Richard Miller, (University of California Press, 1989), p. 85. 

[6] Ibid., pp. 85-86.

 

 

To read another recent post on Fourier, click here. 

Couscous with Rancid Butter: Thoughts on Charles Fourier

François Marie Charles Fourier 

(1772 - 1837)

 

Le bonheur consiste à avoir de nombreuses passions 

et de nombreux moyens pour les satisfaire. 

 

I. 

 

Antisemitic pervert, feminist, and founder of utopian socialism, Charles Fourier (1772-1837) was - to say the very least - an odd duck. 

 

Nevertheless, he inspired a diverse range of thinkers and writers with a queer politics of desire that portrays heteronormative civilisation as inherently repressive and imagines some kind of libidinal revolution in which we can all be free to not only fuck whom we want, but when we want, where we want, and how we want.  

 

It's a politics that I subscribed to at one time and still find vaguely attractive even now, despite living after the orgy in a transsexual world of ambient pornography from which the illusion of desire is absent [1]. 

 

And despite the fact that we never did get the lemonade seas we were promised ... 

 

II. 

In the 20th century, Fourier's seminal importance was widely acknowledged amongst those searching for a form of radical politics outside of the Marxist mainstream; figures including André Breton, Walter Benjamin, and Herbert Marcuse all sang his praises. 

 

It seems clear that Michel Tournier was also writing (to some extent) under Fourier's influence, adapting the latter's rhetoric of sexual liberation for his own purposes. Like Fourier, Tournier privileges non-reproductive forms of eroticism and sticks up for the sexually deviant and marginalised (those whom the world often thinks of as monstrous). And like Fourier, he decries the social restraints and prescriptive norms that seek to regulate love and penalise pleasure.  

 

As one critic notes, for both of the above, "it is on the experence of the 'deviant' that a tolerant and humane social order must be based" [2]. However, whilst Fourier "provided a fantastic blueprint for the whole enterprise" [3], Tournier left details of this nouveau monde amoureux deliberately vague.

 

One suspects that, like D. H. Lawrence, Tournier realised that his role, as a novelist, is to help bring forth new feelings, not to suggest practical reforms [4]. And one can't help thinking he was probably wise to realise this. For as David Gascoigne reminds us, Fourier's "massive and whimsical elaboration of the structures of his ideal community are often so preposterous and parodical that they subvert systematisation even while mimicking it" [5].      

 

 

III.

 

I think my favourite text on Fourier remains that written by Roland Barthes [6]. It's many years since I read this essay and have doubtless forgotten some of the finer points regarding Fourier as a logothete, but I do recall Barthes opening with some très amusant remarks about couscous served with rancid butter. 

 

According to Barthes, the goal of Fourier's project was quite simple: to remake the world (via an obsessive form of writing) for the sake of pleasure. Never mind justice and equality; it's pleasure that counts for Fourier. And not pleasure conceived in a eudaemonic manner (i.e., as a form of ethical behaviour that produces wellbeing), but sensual pleasure that results in actual happiness and what Fourier terms Harmony.

 

The kind of pleasure we find in amorous freedom, fabulous wealth, and those other delights that are often condemned as forms of vice. Fourier dreamed of a world of fine weather, perfect melons, and little spiced cakes; a world in which one can enjoy the company of lesbians and there is no longer any normality.

 

As Barthes points out, this coexistence of passions isn't simply another form of liberalism and Fourier doesn't wish to unite people in the name of humanism: 

 

"It is not a matter of bringing together everyone with the same mania [...] so that they can be comfortable together and can enchant each other by narcissistically gazing at one another; on the contrary, it is a matter of associating to combine, to contrast. [...] There is no noble demand to 'understand', to 'admit' the passions of others (or to ignore them, indeed). The goal of Harmony is neither to further the conflict (by associating through similitude), nor to reduce it (by sublimating, sweetening, or normalizing the passions), nor yet to transcend it (by 'understanding' the other person), but to exploit it for the greatest pleasure of all and without hindrance to anyone." [7].

Ultimately, I don't quite know what to make of M. Fourier - the original 24-hour party person, for whom no day is ever long enough for all the merry assignations and pleasures it promises ... 

 

Ultimately, his erotic utopia in which everyone fucks forever sounds exhausting and one thinks again of Baudrillard's story of the porn star on set who turns to one of the other actors and asks: What are you doing after the orgy? 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] I'm using concepts developed by Jean Baudrillard. His argument is that signs and images have erased all secrets and ambiguity, making sex transparent and, at best, something that is simply acted out over and over again with a kind of ironic indifference, or a sense of nostalgia. Whilst we might perhaps challenge this, I think it certainly fair to say (as Michel Houellebecq says): We're a long way from Wuthering Heights.

      See Jean Baudrillard, 'After the Orgy' and 'Transsexuality', in The Transparency of Evil, trans. James Benedict, (Verso, 1993). 

     The line from Houellebecq is from his first novel, Extension du domaine de la lutte (1994), trans. into English as Whatever by Paul Hammond, (Serpents Tail, 1998) and refers to the progressive effacement of human relationships and passions.       

 

[2] and [3] David Gascoigne, Michel Tournier, (Berg, 1996), p. 91.

 

[4] The passage in D. H. Lawrence that I'm thinking of is this one:

 

"As a novelist, I feel it is the change inside the individual which is my real concern. The great social change interests me and troubles me, but it is not my field. I know a change is coming - I know we must have a more generous, more human system, based on the life values and not on the money values. That I know. But what steps to take I don't know. Other men know better."

 

See: 'The State of Funk', in Late Essays and Articles, ed. James T. Boulton, (Cambridge Universty Press, 2004), p. 221. 

 

[5] David Gascoigne, Michel Tournier, op. cit., pp. 92-93. 

 

[6] Roland Barthes's essay on Fourier can be found in the much underrated study, Sade / Fourier / Loyola, trans. Richard Miller, (University of California Press, 1989), pp. 76-120.  

 

[7] Ibid., pp. 99-100. 

 

 

For another recent post on Fourier, click here.  

Zoom: What Would D. H. Lawrence Do?

 

Sat at home, surrounded by screens, I am no longer anywhere, 

but rather everywhere in the world at once, in the midst of a universal banality. 

- Jean Baudrillard

 

I.

 

One of the things I admire about Christianity is the inherent challenge it poses: take up your cross and follow me. These words, spoken by Jesus, are not addressed to those who are merely looking for a new faith, but, rather, those who would establish an entirely new ethical practice or mode of being in the world [1]. 

 

As Nietzsche says, this evangelical way of life - which is often a difficult and dangerous way of life (i.e., one at odds with the world and which can get you fed to the lions) - is what distinguishes a Christian from a non-Christian; he or she doesn't merely think differently, they act differently [2].    

 

One finds a similar call to action in the work of D. H. Lawrence; a writer who demands a far greater level of committment from his followers than most others: "whoever reads me will be in the thick of the scrimmage, and if he doesn’t like it - if he wants a safe seat in the audience - let him read somebody else" [3].   

 

Like Jesus, to whom he is often compared [4], Lawrence wants his readers to join him in the fight against modern techno-industrial society (or Mammon) and lead radically different lives from their fellow citizens, founded upon contrasting values.

 

Perhaps not surprisingly, however, most readers choose to discreetly ignore this revolutionary aspect of his work - and this even includes members of the D. H. Lawrence Society ... 

 

 

II.

 

According to a senior figure within the above - who shall remain nameless - the most exciting thing to emerge out of lockdown (due to the coronavirus pandemic) is the massive extension of social media. 

 

It is, he says, not only a necessity for all of us to embrace new technology, but a wonderful opportunity for members of the Lawrence Society to move online and experience the delights of virtual meetings, rather than suffer the inconvenience of physically gathering in the actual world. 

 

Indeed, he seems to be something of an evangelist for the communications and technology company Zoom, describing his own use of the software as an uplifting experience. 

 

Maybe it is: I don’t know, 'cos I don't use Zoom.

 

But what I do know, however, is that Lawrence was profoundly troubled by transcendent ideals of uplift which run counter to his gargoyle aesthetic and dreams of climbing down Pisgah back into the nearness of the nearest (as Heidegger would say). 

 

He, Lawrence, was particularly concerned by forms of technology that stimulate false feeling and counterfeit notions of community: 

 

"The film, the radio, the gramophone [and now the internet], were all invented because physical effort and physical contact have become repulsive to man and woman alike. The aim is to abstract as far as possible." [5] 

 

Lawrence would thus surely regard social media as just another attempt by hyper-conscious individuals to experience everything in their heads and to exchange the sheer intensity of life lived in the flesh for a virtual sensation. His fear is not that this results in a loss of soul, but in a denial of the body and corporeal reality: 

 

"The amazing move into abstraction on the part of the whole of humanity […] means we loathe the physical element [...] We don't want to look at flesh-and-blood people - we want to watch their shadows on a screen. We don't want to hear their actual voices: only transmitted through a machine.” [6] 

 

The fact that many people prefer to interact with family and friends via a video link is, I think, rather sad. But the fact that a Lawrentian would choose to celebrate this and act as cheerleader for an American tech giant strikes me as, well, problematic to say the least ...

 

For whilst it's not mandatory for an admirer of Lawrence to agree with everything he wrote and live a faultlessly Lawrentian lifestyle, they might at least take his work seriously enough to accept that the question concerning technology remains of vital philosophical import. 

 

Indeed, one might suggest that it has never been more crucial than now to examine our (obsessive) relationship with the screen, which, since the first lockdown in the spring of last year, has become virtually our only communicative interface with the world. 

 

We work online, we shop on line, we play online and thus our professional lives, social lives, and even love lives are all mediated via screens ... If that isn't something to concern members of the D. H. Lawrence Society, then what is?       

 

 

Notes

 

[1] See Matthew 16:24. The New International Version of this line reads: "Then Jesus said to his disciples, 'Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.'"   

 

[2] See Nietzsche, The Anti-Christ, trans. R. J. Hollingdale, (Penguin Books, 1990), section 33.

      Of course, as Nietzsche goes on to say, hardly anybody who has called themselves a Christian has understood this and risen to the challenge that Jesus presented. Nevertheless: "Even today, such a life is possible, for certain men even necessary: genuine, primitive Christianity will be possible at all times ... Not a belief but a doing, above all a not-doing of many things [...] To reduce being a Christian, Christianness, to a holding something to be true, to a mere phenomenality of consciousness, means to negate Christianness." Ibid., section 39.

[3] D. H. Lawrence, letter to Carlo Linati (22 Jan 1925) in The Letters of D. H. Lawrence, Vol. V, ed. James T. Boulton and Lindeth Vasey, (Cambridge University Press, 1989), letter number 3341, pp. 200-01.  

[4] See Catherine Brown, 'D. H. Lawrence: Icon', in D. H. Lawrence and the Arts, ed. Catherine Brown and Susan Reid, (Edinburgh University Press, 2020), pp. 426-441. 

      Brown notes of Lawrence: "Christ-like he preached an idiosyncratic vision of salvation both parabolically and explicitly, denounced hypocrisy and materialism, prioritised content over form and soul over intellect, liked children and communal living, prophesised destruction, was poor and physically weak, died in pain and believed in a kind of resurrection." [427] 

[5] D. H. Lawrence, 'Men Must Work and Women as Well', in Late Essays and Articles, ed. James T. Boulton, (Cambridge University Press, 2004), p. 277.

[6] Ibid., p. 283.

 

 

For a follow-up post to this one, click here. 

The Filth and the Fury (Or Never Mind the Sex Pistols - Here's the Borborites)

O fangeuse grandeur! sublime ignominie!

 

 

I. 

 

I've always been fond of a bit of base materialism, thus my fascination with the works of Georges Bataille who knew a thing or two about constructing a down and dirty philosophy of excess and excrement (or muck and mysticism as one critic described it) and seeking some kind of transcendent limit-experience via the transgression of social and sexual norms. 

 

But of course, torpedophiles are likely to know all this; there's been shitloads of stuff written on Bataille over the last thirty years - not to mention loads of shit stuff - beginning with Nick Land's classic (if fittingly unorthodox) study The Thirst for Annihilation (1992). 

 

And so my interest here is in not in Bataille, but members of a Gnostic sect who might be said to prefigure the modern writers with whom we are more familiar. Known as the Borborites (or Borborians), their name derived from the Greek word βόρβορος, meaning dirt, muck, or sewage. 

 

It is thanks to this etymology that the term Borborites can probably best be translated as the filthy ones ...

 

 

II.

Like other early Christian sects, there's not a great deal known about the Borborites and what details we do possess were often written by their opponents (so must be read with a degree of scepticism). 

 

It seems that the Borborites based their creed on a number of texts which they deemed sacred, but which would later be branded as heretical; these include, for example, the Gospel of Eve, the Gospel of Philip, and The Apocalypse of Adam. 

 

The figure who most captured their religious imagination, however, was Mary Magdalene and they produced a body of literature revolving around the question of her status and significance, as well as the precise nature of her relationship with Jesus, whom they acknowledged as a teacher, whilst rejecting his Father as an imposter deity [1]. 

According to Epiphanius of Salamis, a 4th-century saint who assembled a compendium of heresies known as the Panarion [2], one Borborite work, known as The Greater Questions of Mary, contained a shocking episode in which Jesus took Magdalene for a walk to the top of a mountain, whereupon he pulled a fully-formed woman from out of his side and engaged in sexual intercourse with her.   

 

As if this weren't enough, Jesus then proceeded to eat his own ejaculate and, turning to Mary, told her: Thus we must do, that we may live. At this point, Mary fainted and had to be helped to her feet by Jesus who chastised her for being of little faith. 

I'm not quite sure what to make of this cum-eating Christ, but it's an amusing narrative to consider. As are the other elements of sexual sacramentalism which, according to Epiphanius, formed an important role in Borborite ritual. He informs us, for example, that the Borborites performed their own obscene version of the eucharist (i.e. what would become known as a black mass), in which - scorning the use of wine and wafers - they would consume menstrual blood and semen. 

 

Epiphanius also insists that the Boborites had a penchant for eating aborted foetuses obtained from women who became pregnant during religious sex rituals, but I find such hard to swallow (even when mixed with honey and various spices) [3].       

 

In conclusion: unlike most other Gnostics who, because of their belief that the flesh was evil and formed a prison for the spirit, practised celibacy, fasting, and various other forms of self-denial, the Borborites were more cheerfully libertine than grimly ascetic and that makes them rather more attractive in my book. 

 

To paraphrase Dick Emery, ooh, they were awful ... but I like them.   

 

Notes

 

[1] According to Borborite theo-cosmology, there were eight heavens, each under a separate archon (ruler). In the seventh, reigned Sabaoth, creator of heaven and earth and the God of the Jews, believed by some Borborites to take the form of an ass or pig. Jesus - whom they considered a celestial being and not born of Mary (in accordance with the doctrine docetiem) - belonged to the eighth heaven, reigned over by Barbeloth, the supreme deity and Father of All.   

 

[2] Epiphanius was a 4th-century bishop considered a saint and a true defender of the faith by both the Orthodox and Roman Catholic Churches. He is best remembered as the man who assembled a compendium of heresies known as the Panarion (c. 375-78), a work which discusses numerous religious sects and philosophies from the time of Adam onwards, detailing their histories and condemning their unorthodox beliefs and practices. According to Epiphanius, when he was a young man, he had dealings with the Borborites, but declined their invitation to join them, instead informing the local Church authorities of what they were up to and therby ensuring they were excommunicated and exiled. 

[3] Similar accusations of ritual child abuse and eating babies etc. would continue to be made by the Church against those it feared and hated or regarded as heretics; not just Gnostics, but Jews, pagans, witches, Satanists, et al. For Christians, this blood libel is the worst of all conceivable charges you can lay against those regarded as non-believers.     

Holy Trichophilia! It's Hairy Mary Magdalene!

 Detail from an illustration in the Nuremberg Chronicle (1493),

depicting the assumption of a hirsute Mary Magdalene

 

 

I. 

 

Hair fetishism - or trichophilia as it is known by aficianados - is an erotic partialism in which an individual finds hair sexually arousing to look at, touch, smell, or lick. Whilst usually head hair is the object of fascination, some trichophiles express a preference for underarm hair, pubic hair, or hair on other areas of the body. 

 

Similarly, whilst some trichophiles have a penchant for dry hair, others insist it's only sexy when wet; some like long, straight blonde hair, carefully styled and groomed, others are excited by short, curly dark hair left to grow in a wild, natural state.  

 

Ultimately, like other members of the kinky community, hair lovers subscribe to a libertine philosophy of live and let live. Or as one trichophile joked: 'When it comes to hair fetishism, the only rule is hirsute yourself.'             

 

 

II. 

 

One of the defining characteristics of mammals, hair - a biomaterial primarily composed of the protein alpha-keratin - doesn't have any inherent value or sexual significance; these things are ascribed to it culturally.

 

Those brought up within the three main Abrahamic religions - Judaism, Christianity, and Islam - seem to find hair - particularly female hair - problematic and associate various moral, magical, and erotic properties with it. 

 

Thus, Muslim women, for example, are expected to wear a hijab whilst in the presence of any male outside of their immediate family and Christian women in the West were also, until fairly recently, expected to cover their heads in church, thereby retaining modesty whilst at prayer.         

 

And speaking of Christian women ...

 

 

III.

 

Apart from the Virgin Mary, Mary Magdalene is arguably the most important woman in the Bible [1] and the subject of great controversy (and confusion) amongst the Church Fathers. For according to some sources, she was not only a woman of independent means, but also a former prostitute who had been possessed by seven demons [2]. 

 

In addition, she was also abnormally hairy, as depicted in numerous works of European art from the 15th-century onwards.

 

Just to be clear on this latter point: Mary didn't just have long luscious locks like Rapunzel; this gal was covered in thick hair - some might even call it fur - like some kind of wild woman of the woods or sideshow freak. Only her hands, breasts, face, knees and feet were free of hair.  

 

Whilst this might just be an artistic metaphor of some kind [3], it's also possible that Mary suffered from some form of hypertrichosis. And, if so, what does this tell us about Jesus; was his obvious affection for Mary - something that used to aggrieve his male disciples - a sign of his trichophilia? 

 

Maybe: that would certainly help explain, for example, the time he allowed his feet to be dried by a sinful woman using her long hair [4].   

 

Of course, it could be that Mary's condition only manifested itself after her time with Jesus. Some believe, for example, that in her later life she became a religious recluse and cared nothing for possessions - not even clothes which gradually fell away, and that her hair grew in order to protect her modesty [5].

 

Ultimately, who knows what the truth is in Mary's case? She is thought to be an actual historical figure, but very little is known about her life and she seems to have left behind no writings of her own. So let's just close this post with another fantastic image showing Mary in all her hairy glory ...

 

 

Mary Magdalene carried by Angels

(c. 1490-1500)

Suermondt-Ludwig-Museum, Aachen

Notes

 

[1] Mary Magdalene is mentioned by name twelve times in the canonical gospels, which is more than any other woman apart from the Virgin Mary. She was an important follower of Jesus and was not only present at the crucifixion, but at the resurrection also. Indeed, according to some accounts, she it was who discovered the empty tomb and she it was whom the newly risen Jesus instructed not to touch him (on the grounds that he had not yet ascended unto his Father). She is also a favourite amongst the Gnostic authors, some of whom imagine that she and Jesus eventually married. See for example the non-canonical 3rd-century text known as the Gospel of Philip: click here.   

 

[2] The portrayal of Mary Magdalene as a repentent prostitute began after a series of Easter sermons delivered in 591, when Pope Gregory I conflated her with Mary of Bethany (sister to Martha and the zombie-like Lazarus) and the unnamed hussy who anoints Jesus's feet in Luke 7:36-50. This resulted in a widespread belief that she was a former bad girl; a belief which has persisted within the popular imagination to this day, despite the attempt by Pope Paul VI in 1969 to quash it once and for all.

      As for the demon possession, see Luke 8:1-3 and/or Mark 16:9. Luckily, Jesus was an excellent exorcist and soon put the girl right in mind and body. Consequently, she was completely devoted to him.

 

[3] That is to say, Mary Magdalene's hair suit is an iconographic feature - not the result of any medical condition - whose depiction borrows from religious drama and legend. 

 

[4] See Luke 7:36-50 in the New Testament. Lines 36-38 in the New International Version read:  

 

"When one of the Pharisees invited Jesus to have dinner with him, he went to the Pharisee's house and reclined at the table. 

      A woman in that town who lived a sinful life learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee's house, so she came there with an alabaster jar of perfume.       

      As she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them."

 

So touched is Jesus by this (rather kinky) act of love, that he immediately forgives the woman her sins. 

 

[5] Unfortunately, this is another mistaken belief which is again due to the conflating of Mary Magdalene's life with that of another Mary, namely, Saint Mary of Egypt, a 4th-century prostitute who did indeed become a Christian ascetic and is venerated within the Orthodox and Coptic tradition as a Desert Mother.    

 

 

On Erotico-Religious Lactation (Or Get Your Tits Out for the Saints)

St. Bernard of Clairvaux being treated to a squirt 

of fresh breastmilk by the Blessed Virgin Mary 

 

 

I. 

 

As I'm not a great lover of dairy products or female breasts, lactophilia has limited erotic appeal for me. 

 

However, for some individuals - and we're talking adults here, not babies - there's nothing more arousing (whilst, paradoxically, at the same time strangely comforting) than to suckle on a mammary gland swollen with rich, creamy milk.   

 

I suspect that had D. H. Lawrence chosen to develop the kinky relationship established between Sir Clifford Chatterley and Mrs Bolton, this is the direction it would have taken. For the former had already adopted an infantalised role in relation to the latter and liked nothing better than to feel her arms around his shoulders as he put his face on her bosom and allowed himself to be gently rocked and kissed like a baby:

 

"He would hold her hand, and rest his head on her breast [...] And he would gaze on her with wide, childish eyes, in a relaxation of Madonna-worship [...] letting go all his manhood, and sinking back to a childish position that was really perverse. And then he would put his hand into her bosom and feel her breasts, and kiss them in exaltation, the exaltation of perversity, of being a child when he was a man.

      Mrs Bolton was both thrilled and ashamed, she both loved it and hated it. Yet she never rebuffed or rebuked him. And they drew into a closer physical intimacy, an intimacy of perversity, when he was a child stricken with [...] an apparent wonderment, that looked almost like a religious exaltation: the perverse and literal rendering of 'except ye become again as a little child.'" [1]   

 

As I say, breastfeeding would seem to be the natural next step in this illicit love affair. But what really interests is how Lawrence stresses not just the erotic but also the religious aspect of the relationship - something that is crucial but often overlooked and which I'll pick up on below in section III ...

 

II. 

 

Breasts, particularly the nipples, are almost universally recognised as erogenous zones; certainly in Western culture. So it's no surprise that their stimulation is a common aspect of human sexual behaviour. But what some might find surprising is that milk production can be induced by regular suckling on the breast of a woman even when she's not pregnant or nursing an infant (note: this may require both patience and practice).  

 

Thus it isn't all that odd - and perhaps not even all that uncommon - that many couples proceed from oral stimulation of the nipples to actual breastfeeding. Indeed, lesbians regard this as a perfectly normal expression of affection and tenderness (much as they do golden showering, or so I'm told). 

 

That said, many people would still regard erotic lactation as a queer practice that goes against accepted norms and values, though that isn't something that troubles me; as I said at the opening of this post, I'm more lactose intolerant than intolerant of that which gives pleasure to others (be that producing milk, consuming milk, or just playing with breastmilk in a wet and messy sexual context).           

 

 

III.     

 

Those who know anything about the history of European art in the Middle Ages will be able to vouch for the fact that there are a number of erotico-religious works depicting the Virgin Mary breastfeeding not just the infant Jesus, but also adult males [2]. 

 

Perhaps the most famous example of this is the Lactation Bernadi (or, as it is known in English, the Lactation of Saint Bernard). An example of one work illustrating this visionary experience is shown above.

 

Now, you might think that it would be regarded as sinful or blasphemous to consume something intended to provide sustenance for Our Lord. But apparently not; apparently it's okay to drink Our Lady's sacred milk squirted straight from source (albeit from some distance). In fact, it's seen as a sign that the recipient is blessed and on the road to sainthood. 

 

Another interpretation of the story is that Mary allowed Bernard to sample her milk in order to demonstrate that she is Mother of the Church and, via the Church, the mother of all mankind. Or that she was attempting in her own manner to directly offer spiritual nourishment (her milk thus paralleling the role played by the blood of Christ). 

 

Either way, as someone once joked, it proves that Mary was the original MILF: Mother Imparting Liquid Faith ...  

 

 

Notes

 

[1] D. H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley's Lover, ed. Michael Squires, (Cambridge University Press, 1993), p. 291.   

[2] After the Council of Trent (1545-1563), clerics discouraged nudity in religious art and the use of the Madonna Lactans iconography began to fade away. However, pictures involving St. Bernard being gifted milk by the Virgin survived even into the late Baroque period.

 

 

On the Risen Christ

Jesus with Erection - a satrirical image from 

the student newspaper The Insurgent (2006) [1]

 
 

I.

 

For me, the most daring, most beautiful, and most philosophically important of all D. H. Lawrence's tales is The Escaped Cock (1929). In this short novel, he makes a major contribution to the Nietzschean project of a revaluation of all values as advocated in The Anti-Christ (1895).

 

And he does this by insisting upon what Leo Steinberg describes as a long-suppressed matter of fact: that as well as being a Man of Sorrows keen to show us his wounds, the resurrected figure of Christ was also a bringer of joy, proud to sport an erection. 

 

In other words, just like the Renaissance artists who produced a large body of devotional imagery centred on the penis of both the baby Jesus and the 33-year-old crucified Christ, Lawrence obliges us to "recognise an ostentatio genitalium comparable to the canonic ostantatio vulnerum" [2]. 

 

Whilst many Christians still prefer to look away, Lawrence emphasises in the phallic second part of his tale that if Christ rose, he did so in the flesh in order to experience the pleasures of the latter, including the pleasure of feeling "the blaze of his manhood and his power rise up in his loins" [3]. 

 

This is his glory and triumph over death, not some mad fantasy of ascension that defeats the whole point and purpose of his Passion. All that suffering - including the terrible effort of leaving the tomb - doesn't make sense if he is simply obliged to "lurk obscurely for six weeks on earth" [4] before then being whooshed up to heaven on a cloud and never put down again.      

 

Flesh and blood, as Lawrence says, belong to the earth - and only to the earth. And Jesus was risen flesh and blood: both mortal and sexed. Christ's erect penis signifies his humanation and whilst St. Augustine might find the male member shameful (not least of all in its disobedient nature), the man who died does not.  

 

And those who, like Lawrence or Michelangelo, do what they can to stress this fact are not being sacrilegious; on the contrary, the "rendering of the incarnate Christ ever more unmistakably flesh and blood is a religious enterprise because it testifies to God's greatest achievement" [5].         

 

 

II.         

 

So, where are we now? Are we finally prepared to acknowledge Jesus as a man of flesh and blood, if not, indeed, accord the Son of Man a place alongside Osiris and Dionysus within a pantheon of ithyphallic deities? 

 

Probably not. Jesus with Erection, the satrirical image seen at the top of this post, still caused controversy when it was published in the student newspaper The Insurgent in 2006, with all the usual suspects rising to the bait. 

 

The picture, one of twelve iconoclastic images depicting events in the life of Jesus, was intended to demonstrate that Christians could be just as easily (and deeply) offended as those Muslims who were offended by the Danish cartoons of Muhammad [6]. 

 

However, one suspects that those responsible for the images of Christ published in The Insurgent knew very well that whilst some Christian groups and individuals might vociferously protest, there weren't going to be riots in the streets and no one was likely to be killed [7]. 

 

Their provocation was not, therefore, quite as daring, nor as radical, as it might first appear and the image lacks all the potency, profundity, and piety of those works of Renaissance art discussed by Steinberg, or, indeed, of Lawrence's beautiful novella.  

 

 

Notes

 

[1] The Student Insurgent is a radical political journal published by a collective of students and community members. The paper's coverage shifts periodically, but has covered anti-capitalist, environmentalist, and anti-war topics and expressed solidarity with such groups as the Animal Liberation Front and Earth First! 'The Jesus Issue', featuring images of Jesus - including Jesus with Erection - was produced in response to the Jyllands-Posten Muhammad cartoons controversy (see note 6 below). 

 

[2] Leo Steinberg, 'The Sexuality of Christ in Renaissance Art and in Modern Oblivion', essay in October, Vol. 25, (Summer, 1983), p. 1. Published by the MIT Press. Available to access on JSTOR: www.jstor.org/stable/778637   

 

[3] D. H. Lawrence, 'The Escaped Cock', in The Virgin and the Gipsy and Other Stories, ed. Michael Herbert, Bethan Jones and Lindeth Vasey, (Cambridge University Press, 2005), p. 159.  

[4] D. H. Lawrence, 'The Risen Lord', in Late Essays and Articles, ed. James T. Boulton, (Cambridge University Press, 2004), p. 270. 

[5] Leo Steinberg, op. cit., p. 10.

      When I mention Michelangelo, I'm thinking of his marble sculpture Cristo della Minerva (1519-21), usually known in English as the Risen Christ. Admittedly, this figure does not have a hard-on, but, nevertheless, the sexual organs are exposed in order to show that Christ's sexuality is uncorrupted by sin and free of shame. It might also be noted that during the Baroque period a bronze loincloth was added and that this has remained in place ever since - an act of sheer barbarism carried out in the name of propriety.     

[6] The Muhammad cartoons controversy began after the Danish newspaper Jyllands-Posten published twelve editorial cartoons on 30 September 2005, most of which depicted the founder and prophet of Islam.  This led to violent demonstrations around the world which resulted in a more than 250 reported deaths. 

[7] It's not that Christian fundamentalists are any less fanatic than Islamists, but Christianity doesn't hold to the strong tradition of aniconism that Islam subscribes to and the idea of blasphemy has no legal basis any longer in the West, with most laws relating to it having now been repealed. In the US, of course, the First Amendment protects all forms of free speech and any attempt to draft or enforce blasphemy laws would violate the Constitution. 

Colaphology: On the Politics and Pleasure of Turning the Other Cheek

Iconic image of Tyler Durden 

by digital artist Gedo: gedogfx

 

If you turn the other cheek, you will get a harder blow on it than you got on the first one. 

This does not always happen, but it's to be expected. And you ought not to bitch about it if it does happen. 

 - The gospel according to St. Tyler

 

 

It's commonly believed that when Jesus instructs his followers to turn the other cheek he is offering a moral rejection of revenge and retaliation and promoting a politics of pacifism and non-violence [1]. 

 

But couldn't it be that, actually, this is a form of ironic defiance; one that not only confuses one's enemy but renders them (momentarily at least) impotent; a strategy that Baudrillard calls seduction and cheerfully describes in terms of the revenge of the object [2].   

 

We see a perfect illustration of this in the scene from David Fincher's Fight Club (1999) in which Tyler Durden allows himself to be savagely beaten by the owner of Lou's Tavern when the latter discovers that his basement is being used as an illicit venue. 

 

Having repeatedly struck Tyler full in the face, Lou is at a loss what to do next; he has been robbed of his power to act by Tyler's mocking passivity and so can only concede to Tyler's request to be allowed continued use of the basement as a fight club [3].   

 

Of course, there's something perverse (if not psychotic) about Tyler's behaviour in this scene; his mad laughter betrays the fact that - to paraphrase Adam Ant - there's so much happiness behind his tears [4]. 

 

Similarly, the passion of Christ also involved a masochistic acceptance of extreme pain, humiliation, and martydom, so that the Son of God could achieve his moral victory with tongue pressed firmly in turned cheek as he hangs naked and erect upon the Cross [5].

 

 

Notes 

[1] See Matthew 5: 39 in the New Testament. The King James Version reads: "But I say unto you, that ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also." 

      This moral teaching forms a key component of Jesus's Sermon on the Mount, but its interpretation is far from agreed. New Testament scholar R. T. France, for example, rejects the translation of the word anthistemi, as 'resist' in the general sense of the term. In the original Greek, he says, ἀνθὶστημι translates more accurately as 'do not resist by legal means'. For France, therefore, the view that Jesus is advocating a politics of non-violence - to the point of facilitating further aggression agaist oneself - is a misunderstanding

      As for the curious fact that Jesus explicitly speaks of the right cheek being hit, this is probably best explained not in terms of the left-hand being associated with evil (though there are numerous instances of this association to be found in the Bible), but as evidence of a back-handed slap; still a powerful gesture of contempt today. To slap with the palm of the hand is an act of violence, but it is not a grave insult nor intended to remind the person being struck of their social inferiority. 

      See: R. T. France, The Gospel According to Matthew: An Introduction and Commentary (Varsity Press, 1985). 

 

[2] See Jean Baudrillard, Seduction, trans. Brian Singer, (St. Martin's Press, 1990). 

      Arguably, there is a parallel (of sorts) between Baudrillard's thinking on seduction and the revenge of the object and Christian anarchism à la Tolstoy. Whilst I wouldn't want to make too much of this, it might also be noted how the American biblical scholar and theologian Walter Wink - a key figure in the movement to reform Christian belief in line with postmodern philosophy - clearly picks up on the subversive elements of Jesus's teaching which challenge traditional power structures by turning the tables. See his book Engaging the Powers: Discernment and Resistance in a World of Domination, (Fortress Press, 1992).       

 

[3] To watch this scene from Fight Club (dir. David Finch, 1999), starring Brad Pitt as Tyler Durden and featuring Peter Iacangelo as Lou, click here. 

[4] Adam and the Ants, 'Beat Me', B-side of the single 'Stand and Deliver' (CBS Records, 1981). The track - an old song from Adam's punk days - later featured on the compilation album B-Side Babies (Epic Records, 1994): click here. 

      Those readers interested in the kinky aspects of face slapping as a form of rough play practiced within the world of BDSM might find this short introduction on bound-together.net of interest. 

 

[5] The phenomenon of the death erection amongst executed prisoners is well-documented. Although usually associated with hanging, or other forms of swift, violent death, who knows what unintended side-effects crucifixion might produce. As the art historian and critic Leo Steinberg reminds us, a number of Renaissance artists depicted Jesus with a post-mortem hard-on. Perhaps not surprisingly, these works were suppressed by the Church for several centuries. 

      See: The Sexuality of Christ in Renaissance Art and in Modern Oblivion (University of Chicago Press, 1996).  

This post - a contribution to the new science which was born on 22 August, 1975, in a church in Berlin, and named colaphology by Michel Tournier - is dedicated to Catherine Brown. 

Additional Thoughts on Síomón Solomon's 'The Atonement of Lesley Ann'

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego 

by Simeon Solomon (1863)

 

 

I.

 

Síomón Solomon's The Atonement of Lesley Ann (2020) - a theatrical ghost-cum-love story (based on actual events) - continues to haunt my imagination ... [1]

 

After reading and re-reading the script (kindly given to me by the author) over the Christmas and New Year period, it has suddenly triggered thoughts of Stockhausen's seminal work Gesang der Jünglinge (1955-56) [2], which, like Solomon's play, features the voice of a child which it seamlessly integrates with electronic sounds, creating a new (and rather terrifying) listening experience.  

It's possible that Solomon was hoping to create something similar with his use of music and audio effects including police sirens, radio static, and the howling wind of Saddleworth Moor. However, without attending a performance of the work one cannot say how successful he is in this. 

 

 

II.      

 

Gesang der Jünglinge is based on mytho-biblical events described in the Book of Daniel [3], wherein the Babylonian King Nebuchadnezzar throws three young Jews - Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego [4] - into a super-heated furnace after they refuse to bow down to a giant golden statue made in his image. 

 

Miraculously, they are unharmed and are heard singing praises to God who has sent an angel to protect them from the flames, transforming their intense heat into a cool dawn breeze [5]. Naturally astounded by what he has witnessed, Nebuchadnezzar commands his people to henceforth worship Yahweh, God of the Jews, and he appoints the three holy youths to high office. 

 

 

III.

 

According to Michel Tournier, it was Gesang der Jünglinge that he repeatedly listened to whilst writing Le Roi des aulnes (1970) [6] - not Schubert's Erlkönig (1815) as many might imagine - and he explains that his novel and Stockhausen's composition share a similar terrible logic that requires the sacrifice (or murder) of small children and the presence of an ogre ...

 

If you listen to Gesang der Jünglinge, says Tournier, what is most striking is that only pre-pubescent voices can be heard and that the joyful and triumphant end of the Bible story is of no interest whatsoever to Stockhausen:  

 

"He keeps only the sound of crystalline voices rising out of the torture of the flames. Bodies tortured in the fire are represented by voices tortured in a thousand ways by sophisticated electronic devices. Voices? In fact there is only one voice, electronically multiplied by repeated recording overdubbed upon itself; the child sings in chorus with himself. Children, torture from which there is no escape, a single voice overdubbed upon itself - in all these ways Stockhausen's piece resembles The Erl-King." [7]   

 

And in these ways also both the above works feel strangely present in The Atonement of Lesley Ann ...

 

Notes

 

[1] For an earlier post written on this work by Síomón Solomon, please click here. And for further thoughts, click here.

 

[2] Karlheinz Stockhausen's Gesang der Jünglinge ('Song of the Youths') brought together the two (previously opposing) worlds of German elektronische Musik and the French musique concrète. Those who wish to listen to the astonishing result, can click here.  

 

[3] See the Book of Daniel, 3: click here for the King James Version of the story or here for the New International Version. 

 

It is generally accepted amongst modern scholars that the Book of Daniel originated as a collection of stories among the Jewish community in Babylon and Mesopotamia in the Persian and early Hellenistic periods (5th to 3rd centuries BCE), expanded by the visions of chapters 7-12 in the Maccabean era (mid-2nd century). It is also agreed that Daniel is a legendary rather than a purely historical figure.   

 

[4] These are the Babylonian (or Chaldean) names that the three Jewish children were given; their original Hebrew names were Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah. 

 

[5] In Christian interpretations of this story, the angel is in fact Jesus and he is depicted in icongraphy with a cross upon his halo. The story thus has great significance for members of the Christian faith.

 

[6] Michel Tournier, Le Roi des aulnes (Éditions Gallimard, 1970). Translated into English as The Erl-King, by Barbara Bray, (Atlantic Books, 2014).   

 

[7] Michel Tournier, The Wind Spirit, trans. Arthur Goldhammer, (Collins, 1989), pp. 104-05. Note, I have slightly modified the translation from the original French text, Le vent Paraclet, (Éditions Gallimard, 1977).