Do Not Cease Your Dance, Sweet Girls!

The final line-up of Pan's People (1975-76) 

(L-R: Ruth Pearson, Sue Menhenick, Cherry Gillespie, Lee Ward, and Mary Corpe) [1]

 

What we value when we watch a dance is not necessarily the choreography 

or the experience of beauty, but that which makes us feel happy to be alive ... 

 

 

I. 

 

I can't dance. But, like Zarathustra, I am no enemy to the cavorting of nubile creatures with fair ankles: 

 

"Do not cease your dance, sweet girls! No spoil-sport has come to you with an evil eye!" [2]

 

For whether one is watching a group of girls dance in the woods, like Zarathustra and his disciples, or Pan's People on an old episode of Top of the Pops, research suggests that doing so elicits a positive affective response (i.e., it makes you feel good; like a ray of sunshine on a grey day).  

 

 

II. 

 

Most people are aware that physical activities of any description have a beneficial effect on the person who is performing them, but what is less well known is that simply observing others engaged in such can lift one's mood and revitalise. 

 

And so it is that watching girls dance - if only on TV - can be both rousing and arousing and can trigger happy memories, even when the dance moves are not all that sophisticated or aesthetically of the highest calibre [3]. 

 

Watching dance, it turns out, is as effective at inducing measurable changes at various psychophysiological levels as listening to music. For watching girls wiggle around, kick their legs, and shake their bits increases neural activity in limbic structures of the brain and triggers the release of pleasure-related neurotransmitters (such as dopamine). 

 

And so, to quote Zarathustra once more: Do not cease your dance, sweet girls!  

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Pan's People was an all-female British dance troupe, formed and choreographed by Flick Colby, famous for their weekly appearances on Top of the Pops (BBC Television) from 1968 to 1976, dancing to hit records when the artists were unavailable (or unwilling) to perform in the studio. Despite a changing line-up, Pan's People quickly became a crucial element of the show (particularly appreciated by the dads watching at home). 

      As Julia Raeside writes: "Their often literal interpretations of song lyrics and their jaunty girlishness is what most will associate with them", although that's not to deny that, in their innocence and cutesy outfits, they could be provocatively sexy, too. See her article 'Why we fell in love with Pan's People', in The Guardian (30 May 2011): click here. 

 

[2] Nietzsche, 'The Dance Song', Thus Spoke Zarathustra, trans. R. J. Hollingdale (Penguin Books 1969), p. 131. 

      I am aware of the fact there are male dancers and that they also might delight those watching. However, here I'm adopting the perspective of a man who prefers, like Zarathustra and like Bill Cotton, to watch all female dance troupes such as Pan's People and Legs & Co., rather than mixed-sex troupes such as Ruby Flipper. Thus, the aim of this particular post is to contribute to an understanding of the mechanisms which underlie the emotional and aesthetic experience of a straight cismale when watching young women rhythmically move their bodies to music.     

 

[3] It might be noted that research has shown that whilst felt experiences of emotional pleasure seem to correlate with the physical aspects of the actual dance - it's choreography, if you like - sexual arousal is often triggered by something else (i.e., independently of the dance itself). 

      See Julia F. Christensen, Frank E. Pollick, Anna Lambrechts, and Antoni Gomila; 'Affective responses to dance', in Acta Psychologica, Vol. 168 (July 2016), pp. 91-105. For a review of this study by Christian Jarrett in The Psychologist (the journal of the British Psychological Society), click here.    

 

 

Bonus: Pan's People dancing to 'The Hustle' by Van McCoy and the Soul City Symphony in 1975: click here. 

      This may not be their best routine or performance, but it's a favourite of mine and millions of other viewers on YouTube nostalgic for a lost era. The track, by the way, got to number 3 in the UK singles chart and was released from the album Disco Baby (Avco Records, 1975). 

 

For a sister post to this one, with Legs & Co. dancing to Mike Oldfield's 'Blue Peter' (published 1 June 2025), click here.  

 

 

Thoughts Inspired by Three Short Stories by Chōkōdō Shujin

(The Tripover, 2025) 

Note: all page numbers in this post refer to this edition.

 

 

I. 

 

Our friends at The Tripover have a new book out; a debut short story collection by Chōkōdō Shujin that opens in a cabbage field and ends on the volcanic island of Iowa Jima, but mostly unfolds in that non-space of the excluded middle; the space that is in between here and there, now and then, fantasy and reality; the realm of fuzzy logic, dark limpidity, and what Nietzsche terms dangerous knowledge where imagination and memory meet. 

 

A good place for any writer to explore - even at the risk of losing their way ...

 

 

II. 

 

The name Chōkōdō Shujin will, of course, ring a bonshō bell for those readers familiar with Japanese literature. For it was originally the pen name adopted by Ryūnosuke Akutagawa; a writer viewed by many as a master of the structured short story who, tragically, topped himself in 1927, aged 35, after both his mental and physical health began to markedly deteriorate, leaving behind him over 150 short stories, as well as a wife and three children. 

 

Now, the author of this collection of tales writes under this name; honouring his dead hero whilst, at the same time, attempting to find his own voice and literary style. I have to say, that's either a brave and confident or foolish and conceited thing to do; a bit like a young philosopher deciding to publish a book under the name Zarathustra and thereby inviting comparison with Nietzsche.

 

Still, who knows, maybe it pays to call attention to oneself in this manner, though whether he’ll be nominated for the prestigious Akutagawa Prize [a] on the basis of this book remains to be seen ...

 

 

III.

 

Of the ten stories assembled here, there are three that most captured my interest and so, rather than write a review of the book as a whole, I'd like to make some brief remarks inspired by this trio of tales and the themes of agalmatophilia, sexsomnia, and suicide that reside at their dark heart [b].

 

Meguri 

 

As someone who has written often on the topic of agalmatophilia, I was naturally drawn to the longest story in Shujin's book entitled 'Meguri' - a term which, like many Japanese words, has multiple meanings depending on the kanji characters used. 

 

In the context of this tale, for example, it may refer to the circulation of souls contained within the statue; or it could refer to the manner in which the statue patrols the house at night, looking for love or seeking revenge.  

 

The proganonist, Sōtarō Takeshita, is haunted by the sculpted figure of a Chinese noblewoman with slender, finely carved wrists to which - as a cheirophile as well as a statue fetishist - he is particularly partial. 

 

Her beauty is a pale and perfect combination of coldness and cruelty and ever since falling and cutting his head on the statue as a young boy, Sōtarō has had a strange bond with her; one sealed with blood. At night, she often stands by his bedside, silent and motionless, disturbing his sleep, before returning to her place in the parlour at dawn. 

 

The author doesn't say that the young man masturbates as she stands looking down on him, but he does mention the motion of his trembling hands and I guess we can take this as rather coy way of suggesting such (the strange bond between them is thus sealed with semen as well as blood). 

 

As the servant Tatsuo says: "The master of this house has always been like a lover to her …" [36]

 

Unfortunately, the statue also has a propensity to kill - particularly intruders who break into the house. Following one such incident, the police are called and Detective Nishitani of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police almost immediately suspects strange goings on involving the statue. For whilst her face was very beautiful, there was the look of "malice in her piercing eyes" [26]. 

 

He interviews the young master of the house: 

 

"Nishitani's impression of Sōtarō was one of profound loneliness. Indeed, the young man seemed dead inside, as hollow as the statue, as if his soul had been stolen from his body." [30]

 

And, by the end of the story, that's precisely what has happened; Sōtarō's soul is stolen and imprisoned within the stone along with the lonely and tormented souls of many other poor wretches. 

 

That's probably not great; a bit like being in the sunken place that Chris finds himself in Jordan Peele's excellent psychological horror Get Out (2017). One is conscious, but robbed of agency and denied freedom of movement and the ability to communicate verbally with others.

 

Ultimately, the question of whether Sōtarō is dead, dreaming, mad, or perhaps suffering from locked-in syndrome (pseudocoma) isn't really answered, so I guess it doesn't really matter. Besides, human beings are remarkably resilient and can get used to almost any conditions: 

 

"Whether this was madness or death, it did not seem to be such a fearsome thing. It was far less unpleasant than his waking existence." [46]  

 

 

Nakajima Says

 

If ‘Meguri’ is a warning against the dangers of excessive masturbation - it leads to a loss of soul - then we might read 'Nakajima Says' as a warning not to daydream or meditate to the point at which one falls into a state of sexually violent somnambulism and one's thoughts begin to first fragment and then dissolve until "there is nothing left in mind, and only emptiness remains" [54]. 

 

This may be a desired goal for those who tie spiritual enlightenment to the overcoming of consciousness and moral agency, but I can’t personally see the attraction of sleepwalking along imaginary corridors or living in "an intense world of disconnection" [55]. No man is an island - even if his name is Nakajima.

 

Nor am I a fan of reaching a psycho-physiological state of numbness (hypoesthesia); building a BwO is an attempt to deliver man from his automatic reactions, it is not about becoming "free and empty" [59] of all feeling, gaiety, and dance so that one ends us belonging to that "dreary parade of sucked dry, catatonicized, vitrified, sewn-up bodies" described by Deleuze and Guattari [c]. 

 

However, I’m all for a little urban gardening; creating space for wild flowers and building a little pond for crabs and catfish to live. And if this is what Nakajima suggests we do, then that's great, although I’m extremely wary of the idea that this involves controlling the natural landscape and "requires an immersive contemplation of the ego" [58]. 

 

It turns out that Nakajima has a girlfriend - Sonoko - whose lovely name means child of the garden. She possesses, we are told, "the poise and mystery of a café waitress" [61] and no doubt her smile is ineffably sweet, her figure divinely slim [d]. 

 

But her beauty doesn't justify grabbing her hair and pulling her to the ground ... And Nakajima's sexual aggression, fuelled as much by Sonoko's silence as her appearance - "Why doesnt she scream or cry?" [61] - is as reprehensible as his desire to subdue nature and empty himself of all thought and feeling like a sleepwalking zombie.

 

Of course, it might be that Nakajima - if ever charged with rape or sexual assault - would offer a criminal defence based on a medical diagnosis of sexsomnia; a condition which can occur at the same time as other parasomnia activities and lead to an abnormally high level of sexual tension dangerously coupled with decreased inhibitions [e].  

Does living in a dream not only become a reality, but enable one to escape culpability ...?  

 

 

The Scent of Roses 

On the suicide of Ryūnosuke Akutagawa, 1927 

 

"No one could be surprised by Akutagawa's death [...] For two years, he had meticulously planned his voluntary death." [83] 

 

Indeed, the letter he left behind was so carefully crafted and revised, that it was more like a beautiful prose poem than a hastily scribbled suicide note stained with tears and full of errors. 

 

Akutagawa understood what it was to practice joy before death; i.e., to constantly imagine how best to construct a beautiful, stylish - some might even say chic - exit from this life and keep at hand the instruments that might facilitate such. 

 

In Akutagawa's case, this meant a small bottle of poison:

 

"Always the aesthete, he had no desire to throw himself in front of a train or from a roof. His vanity, too, was the reason for having decided against hanging, although he had attempted to do so on more than one occasion. Akutagawa was a strong swimmer, which precluded drowning; as his hands shook from the sleeping pills that he took even in the daytime, seppuku was not an option, despite his prowess as a martial artist." [87]

 

His wife, Fumi, appears to have understood her husband's desire for a voluntary death; her first words on discovering his body were to congratulate him:  "'I'm so happy for you, darling'" [84].

 

For to die at thirty-five ensured he would "always be remembered at the height of his beauty and talent" [85]. But it's not so easy dying at the right time; Zarathustra speaks of it as a difficult and rare art [f]. So well done Akutagawa, whose death was widely reported throughout the world and served as an inspiration to those who know their Nietzsche. 

 

What wasn't reported, however - and here comes the fictional twist in the tale - was that Akutagawa's close friend, the artist Ryūichi Ōana, could not bear the thought of never seeing his face again. And so, whilst standing alone by the casket, he found himself tempted to do something that even he considered monstrous; namely, remove the nails and open the rectangular pine box ....

 

"Ōana knew very well that the dead man in the casket would be quite unrecognisable after four days, when dry ice was in such short supply. There was no doubt in his mind that, if he were to see such a face, he would remember it with horror until the end of days. And yet he could not overcome the desire - no, the need - to see Akutagawa one last time." [89]

 

Shujin continues:

 

"With a strength beyond himself, he pried the lid from the casket, holding his handkerchief to his nose. Ōana was, indeed, startled. The face before him remained unchanged from the day he had painted the death mask, pale and at peace, his lips slightly parted, as though he had at last seen eternity and found himself in a state of grace." [89]

 

That's a nice way to close a story. 

 

And it reminds one of the famous case of Ellen West, who, like Akutagawa, also died after taking a lethal dose of poison, having spent her last hours reading, writing, and snacking. Her psychiatrist, Ludwig Binswanger, a pioneer in the field of existential psychology and much influenced by Heidegger, said after viewing the body of his patient:  'She looked as she had never looked in life - calm, happy, and peaceful.' 

Although whether a scent of roses pervaded her room, I cannot say ... 

 

 

Notes

 

[a] The Akutagawa Prize is a Japanese literary award presented biannually to a promising young writer. It was established in 1935 by Kan Kikuchi, then-editor of Bungeishunjū magazine, in memory of Ryūnosuke Akutagawa and is sponsored by the Society for the Promotion of Japanese Literature.

 

[b] Let me say at the outset that this is not strictly speaking a faithful reading or critical assessment of the tales, so much as a perverse reimagining in line with my own interests rather than the intentions of the author Chōkōdō Shujin. Apologies to him -and his publishers - should they feel I've taken excessive liberties with the text and in any way detracted from the original stories.

 

[c] See Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, trans, Brian Massumi (The Athlone Press, 1996), p. 150. 

[d] Regular readers of Torpedo the Ark will recall the recent post on the sexual politics of waitressing (12 March, 2025), in which I referenced a poem by Robert W. Service that includes the lines "Her smile ineffably is sweet / Divinely she is slim" - click here.   

 

[e] The number of alleged sex offenders claiming sexsomnia as a legal defence is rapidly growing; the argument is that a person who commits an act whilst asleep (i.e., not fully conscious - even if their eyes are are wide open) cannot be held criminally responsible for that act; that there has to be intent on their part and the act has to be voluntary, for a crime to have been committed. 

 

[f] See Nietzsche, 'Of Voluntary Death', in Thus Spoke Zarathustra (1883). For Nietzsche, as the great comedian of the ascetic ideal, it is of course all about timing: 'Many die too late and some die too early. Still the doctrine sounds strange: Die at the right time.' 

 

 

Click here for a sister post to this one based on another tale found in Nakajima Says and Other Stories (2025). 

And Then This: More Random Thoughts on Samuel Beckett

Stephen Alexander: God Save Samuel Beckett (2024) 

(à la Jamie Reid) [1]

 

 

There are many reasons other than his dark humour and finely crafted words to admire the esteemed Irish writer Samuel Beckett; not least of all the fact that he was stylish, courageous, and free from the spirit of revenge ... 

 

 

Samuel Beckett: Style Icon 

 

With the possible exception of Albert Camus, Sam Beckett was the best-looking of all those twentieth-century intellectuals troubled by questions of nihilism, absurdism, and existentialism. 

 

Already as a sports mad teen, he'd adopted the classic sharp haircut that he was to favour for the rest of his life. I'm not quite sure whether we should refer to his Barnet as coiffed or quiffed, but, either way, it's inspired generations of stylish young men ever since (although as one commentator notes, a thick head of hair is a prerequisite if you really want to achieve the look) [2].  

 

And then there are the glasses: once Beckett found a small, round, steel-rimmed pair of specs that perfectly suited his face and signalled his fierce intelligence, he again stuck with them for life.

 

As for his clothes, Beckett initially liked to wear suits that appeared just a little too tight and ill-fitting, but he eventually settled for a look featuring a simple pair of slacks worn with a turtleneck sweater and a sports jacket. Beckett also had a penchant for raincoats, French berets, and soft suede shoes: "In fact, such was the staying power of this particular ensemble that to this day Beckett continues to be cited as a paragon of uniform dressing." [3]        

 

Ultimately, despite claiming he had no interest in fashion, Beckett was something of a dandy who understood the importance of style and who blurred the line between smart casual and shabby chic. He may have picked up some pieces from the local charity shop, but he matched them with expensive silk scarves and famously liked to be seen carrying a Gucci shoulder bag in the 1970s. 

 

 

Samuel Becket: Hero of the Resistance

 

Unlike that cowardly toad Jean-Paul Sartre - who basically sat out the German Occupation of France during the Second World War and whose role in La Résistance was, at best, what might be described as modest rather than fully engaged - Beckett, a resident of Paris for most of his adult life, was an active member of the Resistance (working as a courier) and he was awarded the Croix de Guerre in March 1945 by General Charles de Gaulle [4]. 

 

It has to be remembered that, as an Irishman, Beckett could have easily returned to Dublin from Paris when the Germans invaded in 1941. But he didn't. He stayed. And he joined the Resistance, frequently risking arrest by the Gestapo. After his unit was betrayed in August 1942, Beckett was forced to flee to the South of France, seeking refuge in the small village of Rousillion. Here, he worked on a farm, but still took part in operations against the German forces when called upon to do so.

 

After the Germans were defeated and France was liberated, Beckett returned to Paris. After the War, he rarely spoke of his experiences and would often downplay his role in the Resistance (again, cf. Sartre), describing his activities as no more than boy scout stuff. 

 

Samuel Beckett: Overcoming the Spirit of Revenge

 

In January 1938, Beckett was almost fatally stabbed when he refused the services of a notorious Parisian pimp who went by the (slightly ironic) name of Prudent. 

 

After recovering in a private hospital room - generously paid for by his former mentor James Joyce - Beckett attended a preliminary court hearing at which he asked his assailant why he had not only pulled a knife on him, but plunged the blade into his chest. 

 

Prudent replied: Je ne sais pas, Monsieur. Je m'excuse. 

 

Taken aback somewhat by Prudent's honesty in admitting that he lacked any explanation for his actions (i.e., any logical motive) - coupled to his well-mannered request for forgiveness - Beckett decided he no longer wished to press charges and the case was dropped. 

This story is open to a very obvious Christian interpretation. Only Beckett, of course, was not a Christian. In fact, according to one commentator: "Christianity is Samuel Beckett's fundamental antagonist: his thought, his aesthetics and his writing cannot be fully understood in isolation from his lifelong struggle with it." [5]

 

Beckett was thus a writer working within the shadow of self-proclaimed anti-Christ Friedrich Nietzsche, rather than the shadow of the Cross (although I'm sure that there are significant differences to be drawn between the two authors) [6].

 

And so I think the tale of Beckett and Prudent the Pimp might best be understood with reference to Nietzsche; a philosopher who wishes to have done with judgement and conceives of revenge as something that should only be found in the souls of venomous spiders, not men. Only a human tarantula who lives in a cave of lies and deals in hidden revengefulness mistakes the latter for justice. 

"'That man may be freed from the bonds of revenge: that is the bridge to my highest hope,'" says Zarathustra [7]. 

 

And it seems that Beckett shares his arachnophobia and mistrusts all in whom the urge to punish is strong.   

 

 

Notes

 

[1] This portrait - done in the style of Jamie Reid's 'God Save ...' series of posters for The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle (dir. Julien Temple and starring the Sex Pistols, 1980), features a teenaged Sam Beckett in 1920, looking like a punky link between Arthur Rimbaud and Shane MacGowan.

 

[2] See Jane Hardy, 'Stand aside, David Beckham - now Samuel Beckett is turning heads', in the Belfast Telegraph (6 July, 2012): click here. 

 

[3] Theo Coetzer, 'Bibliophile Style: Samuel Beckett', on the menswear blog Habilitate (17 April, 2023): click here. 

      As Coetzer rightly goes on to point out: "The ostensible disregard for appearance implied by wearing the same thing day after day can arguably be rooted in precisely the opposite impulse - a careful consideration, in other words, of what one looks like and the desire to control the messaging of one's clothing."

 

[4] The Croix de Guerre is a French military decoration, created in 1915, and commonly awarded to  foreign fighters allied to France who distinguish themselves by acts of heroism. Like Beckett, the American-born singer, dancer, and actress Josephine Baker was also awarded this medal for her wartime efforts with the Resistance - not something that Simone de Beauvoir could ever boast of. 

      Baker and Beckett were also both awared the Médaille de la Résistance by the French government for their efforts in fighting the German occupation. 

 

[5] Erik Tonning, 'Samuel Beckett, Modernism and Christianity', chapter in Modernism and Christianity (Palgrave Macmillan, 2014), pp. 104-123. Lines quoted are on p. 104. 

 

[6] Richard Marshall explores the complexity of the Nietzsche-Beckett relationship in his essay 'Beckett the Nietzschean Hedonist' in 3:AM Magazine (21 April 2013): click here to read online. 

 

[7] Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, trans. R. J. Hollingdale (Penguin Books, 1969), p. 123.    

 

Click here to read what is effectively part one of this post: And Then What: Random Thoughts on Samuel Beckett (09 October 2024).  

On the Nature of the Ridiculous (and the Ridiculous Nature of the Sex Pistols)

Sex Pistols

Photo by Richard Young (1976)

 

"We have passed beyond the absurd: our position is absolutely ridiculous." [1]

 

 

I. 

 

Gavin Butt is a professor at Northumbria University and someone who knows more than most - certainly more than me - about the connections between visual art, popular music, queer culture, and performance [2].

So when he privileges the term ridiculous in his work I'm confident he has very good reasons for doing so. 

 

However, that doesn't mean I can't briefly reflect upon this concept myself in contradistinction to what some regard as the more profound (and serious-sounding) philosophy of absurdism and then say something about the Sex Pistols. 

 

 

II. 

 

The crucial aspect of the ridiculous is that it solicits, incites, or provokes laughter; often of a mocking or cruel nature, but not always. If you're someone like Georges Bataille, then you'll probably find everything ridiculous - one recalls the following short poem:

 

Laugh and laugh 

at the sun 

at the nettles 

at the stones 

at the ducks 

 

at the rain 

at the pee-pee of the pope 

at mummy 

at a coffin full of shit [3]  

 

For Bataille, this laughter is liberating; by viewing the entire universe as ridiculous - including death and the excremental nature of the decomposing corpse - he feels able to escape from what Zarathustra terms the Spirit of Gravity.

 

This may seem synonymous with the sublime philosophical idea of absurdism, but, actually, it's not the same thing at all. Finding existence laughable is very different from finding it meaningless; one is expected - as a creature of reason - to be angst-ridden by the latter idea, not gaily indifferent to the fact or able to smile when standing before the nihilistic void [4].

Being ridiculous makes one in the eyes of those who insist upon moral seriousness at all times an inferior being; shallow and lacking dignity. But I would counter this by saying it makes us Greek in the sense understood by Nietzsche: i.e., superficial - out of profundity! [5].

 

 

III.

 

One might also view punk - in its more playfully anarchic manifestation as given us by Malcolm McLaren - as an attempt not merely to challenge authority, but to escape from enforced seriousness. 

 

The Sex Pistols - and those closely associated with them, such as members of the Bromley Contingent - were ridiculous because they advocated for a Lawrentian revolution:

If you make a revolution, make it for fun,

don't make it in ghastly seriousness,

don't do it in deadly earnest,

do it for fun.

Don't do it because you hate people

do it just to spit in their eye. [6]

Po-faced punks concerned about social justice might recoil from this, but, for me, the idea of tipping over the apple cart simply to see which way the apples will roll, is crucial. McLaren encouraged the youngsters under his spell to be childish and irresponsible - to be everything this society hates - to make themselves ugly and grotesque: in a word, ridiculous [7]. 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] I'm slightly misquoting the American actor, director, and writer Ronald Tavel, who coined the phrase Theatre of the Ridiculous in 1965 initially to describe his own work. Tavel himself ends this sentence with the word 'preposterous'. 

 

[2] I had the pleasure of listening to Butt speak at the Torn Edges symposium held at the London College of Communication on 20 March 2024 - an event exploring the points of contact and crossover between punk, art, design, and history. 

      Although his paper was rather more Pork than punk, that was fine by me and his discussion of Warhol's 1971 play in relation to the Theatre of the Ridiculous - a genre of queer experimental theatre - was fascinating.  

 

[3] The original poem by Bataille, entitled 'Rire' ['Laughter'], can be found in volume 4 of his Oeuvres complètes, (Gallimard, 1971), p. 13. The English translation is from the Preface to Nick Land's The Thirst for Annihilation: Georges Bataille and Virulent Nihilism, (Routledge, 1992), p. xvii.

 

[4] In a sense, I'm following Hobbes here who distinguished between the absurd and the ridiculous, arguing that the former is to do with invalid reasoning, whilst the latter is simply about laughter. For non-philosophers, however, the absurd and the ridiculous are pretty much now regarded as synonymous. 

      As for the sublime - with which the ridiculous is often juxtaposed - it's interesting to note just how quickly one can pass from the former to the latter; one small misstep is all it takes.

 

[5] Nietzsche, The Gay Science, Preface to the second edition (4).

 

[6] D. H. Lawrence, 'A Sane Revolution', The Poems, Vol. I, ed. Christopher Pollnitz (Cambridge University Press, 2013), p. 449. 

 

[7] Not only ugliness, but deformity is considered by some to be essential to the ridiculous; one recalls that Johnny Rotten in part based his hunched over stage persona on that of Richard III and would perform in an exaggerated physically awkward manner.    

Reflections on Nietzsche and the Dark Triad

 

First proposed by Delroy L. Paulhus and Kevin M. Williams in 2002, the dark triad is a psychological theory of personality that collates (sub-clinical) narcissism and psychopathy with Machiavellianism [1].

 

Whilst these three things are conceptually distinct, they clearly intersect with one another and each is associated with often callous and manipulative interpersonal conduct [2]. Narcissim, for example, is characterised by self-obsession; psychopathy by anti-social behaviour; and  Machiavellianism by moral indifference to others. 

 

An individual located within the dark triad might not be prone to committing criminal acts, but they're almost certainly a cold fish at best, or a really nasty piece of work at worst.

 

Interestingly, however, although each of these personality traits are regarded as being problematic by psychologists, Nietzsche seemed to think they are vital to human well-being: man needs what is most evil in him for what is best in him, as Zarathustra famously says [3]. 

 

Nietzsche argues that a certain level of self-love is essential, for example - certainly preferable to self-loathing and shame; that narcissism has its place as an active joyful force within an economy of desire. Indeed, Zarathustra suggests that it is from out of such that a new type of virtue may develop [4].

 

As for Machiavellianism, well, whilst Christian moralists might react with horror at the thought of any one acting in their own interest rather than loving their neighbour, or indulging in self-sacrifice, Nietzsche thought highly of the arguments set out in The Prince, Machiavelli's seminal essay, published posthumously in 1532, and acknowledged as one of the founding texts of modern political philosophy [5].    

 

Does this mean, therefore, that the Übermensch is some kind of psychopath? 

 

Hardly. 

 

It might, however, indicate that there remains something troubling in Nietzsche's political philosophy (particularly in its grand phase) and it's interesting to note how individuals with dark triad personalities - and I would number my younger self amongst them - are often attracted to extremist ideologies and prone to authoritarianism (often at odds with the radicalism they dream of) [6].      

 

However, we must note in closing, this is true for romantic idealists on the far left of the political spectrum, as well as young fascists. Indeed, today, it is often the wokest amongst us who are the most darkly triadic and who, whilst masquerading as the compassionate, leap into the black hole of fundamentalism [7].      

 

 

Notes

 

[1] I'm aware that a fourth trait - sadism (defined as the enjoyment of cruelty) - has now been added to this theory of personality, creating a so-called dark tetrad, but here I'm discussing the original concept in relation to Nietzsche's philosophy as  proposed by Paulhus and Williams in 'The Dark Triad of personality: Narcissism, Machiavellianism, and Psychopathy', Journal of Research in Personality, 36 (6): 556–563, (Dec. 2002).   

[2] In 1998, John W. McHoskey, William Worzel, and Christopher Szyarto provoked a controversy by claiming that narcissism, psychopathy, and Machiavellianism are more or less interchangeable. See their 1998 paper, 'Machiavellianism and psychopathy', in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 74 (1): pp. 192–210. Readers interested in having access to this text should click here.

 

[3] See the section entitled 'The Convalescent' in Book III of Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra. I am quoting here from Walter Kaufmann's translation in The Portable Nietzsche, ed. Walter Kaufmann, (Penguin Books, 1994), p. 331. 

[4] See also Herbert Marcuse writing in Eros and Civilization (1955) where he argues that narcissistic joy passes beyond immature autoeroticism and may possibly contain the germ of a different reality principle.

[5] Readers interested in the relationship between the two writers might like to see Don Dombowsky's 2004 work, Nietzsche's Machiavellian Politics (Palgrave Macmillan), particularly chapter 4 (pp. 131-167). In brief, Dombowsky argues that the foundation of Nietzsche's political thought is a radical aristocratic critique of democratic society, heavily influenced by his reading of The Prince:

"Nietzsche did not read Machiavelli as Spinoza or Rousseau did, as someone who revives republicanism and defends democratic freedoms [...] but adheres to what has been called the 'vulgar' conception of Machiavellianism. Rousseau would have considered Nietzsche to be a 'superficial and corrupt' reader of Machiavelli. What Nietzsche adapts from Machiavelli are his conceptions of virtù (at the operational basis of his ethics) and immoralism (at the operational basis of his political conception) based primarily on a reading of The Prince." (131-32)

[6] I discuss all this at length in Outside the Gate (Blind Cupid Press, 2010).

[7] Jordan Peterson is very alert to this and often warns about the zen fascism of those on the woke left who claim to act in the name of Love and social justice (or diversity, equity, and inclusion). So too is the writer, broadcaster, and satirist Andrew Doyle, and readers might find a recent discussion between these two figures on the political puritanism of our age interesting: click here.  

 

 

Interactive bonus: readers who wish to know if they perhaps have a dark triad personality might like to take a short online test: click here.

Why You Should Never Wish Happy New Year to a Nietzschean

 

 

I. 

 

I don't know the origin of the zen fascist insistence on wishing everyone a happy new year, but I suspect it's rooted in the 18th-century, which is why in 1794 the Archange de la Terreur - Louis de Saint-Just - was able to proclaim: Le bonheur est une idée neuve en Europe ... [1]

 

Such a new idea of happiness - one concerned with individual fulfilment in the here and now and realised in material form, rather than a deferred condition of soul which awaits the blessed in heaven - had already become an inalienable right of citizens in the United States.

 

Whether Jefferson was inspired by the English empiricist John Locke - or by the French philosophe Jean-Jacques Rousseau - is debatable. But, either way, the pursuit of happiness was declared a self-evidently good thing that all Americans should uphold and practice [2].        

 

It might also be noted that 1776 was the year that Jeremy Bentham famously wrote that ensuring the greatest happiness of the greatest number was the mark of a truly moral and just society [3].   

 

 

II. 

 

So what's the problem?

 

Well, the problem for those who take Nietzsche seriously, is that this positing of happiness in its modern form as the ultimate aim of human existence makes one contemptible. 

 

That is to say, one becomes the kind of person who only seeks their own pleasure and safety, avoiding all danger, difficulty, or struggle; one becomes one of those letzter Menschen that Zarathustra speaks of [4].    

 

Nietzsche wants his readers to see that suffering and, yes, even unhappiness, play an important role in life and culture; that greatness is, in fact, more often than not born of pain and sorrow. This is why his philosophy is a form of tragic pessimism.

 

And this is why it's kind of insulting to wish a Nietzschean happy new year ... [5] [6] 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Louis de Saint-Just made this remark in a speech to the National Convention entitled Sur le mode d'exécution du décret contre les ennemis de la Révolution (3 March 3, 1794) - only four months before he went to the guillotine, aged 26, along with his friend and fellow revolutionary Robespierre.  

[2] The famous line written by Thomas Jefferson in the 1776 Declaration of Independence reads: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

 

[3] This phrase - often wrongly attributed to J. S. Mill - can be found in the Preface to Bentham's A Fragment on Government (1776). 

[4] See Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, 'Zarathustra's Prologue', 5.

 

[5] Similarly, one should refrain from wishing happy new year to a devotee of Larry David; or, at any rate, be aware that there's a cut off after which it's no longer appropriate to do so. See episode 1 of season 10 of Curb Your Enthusiasm, entitled 'Happy New Year' (dir. Jeff Schaffer): click here.

 

[6] Having said that, see the post published on 1 Jan 2016 entitled 'Sanctus Januarius' for a Nietzschean new year's message: click here. 

Nietzsche Popped My Cherry: Reflections on Heidegger's Hymen

Artwork by Wesley Johnson

 

The hymen is neither consummation nor virginity, neither the veil nor unveiling, 

neither the inside nor the outside. It is that which stands between; 

the intimate binding middle that brings together two bodies whilst holding them apart.

 

 

Someone from Wisconsin - America's dairyland - who, when not making cheese, likes to read European philosophy and listen to old school punk rock, suggests with reference to a recent post that perhaps what Heidegger means by the phrase Nietzsche hat mich kaputt gemacht is that Nietzsche was the one who took his philosophical innocence or purity - his virginity, if you will - and that the phrase might productively be read in relation to Derrida's thinking on the hymen [1].      

 

That seems to me to be a clever and helpful insight. And I do like the idea of Heidegger being broken by Nietzsche in the sense of being fucked and fucked hard (or fucked up and fucked over). One can't help recalling Deleuze's interpretation of the history of philosophy in terms of penetrating (and being penetrated by) those authors who move us most (something that ultimately results in monstrous offspring) [2].

 

The key thing is that inspiration comes not from above, but from behind and below and that there is no immaculate conception; there is, rather, pain, violence, bloodshed ... Philosophy is not an ideal love of wisdom, but a perverse form of libidinal materialism. 

 

Heidegger isn't merely stimulated by Nietzsche's ideas, he's ravished and broken by the insistence with which Nietzsche imposes himself; Nietzsche infiltrates, inseminates, and impregnates. Which is why Zarathustra's instruction to his followers to lose him and find themselves, isn't so easy. Once the hymen has been torn - and one's virginity is lost in the very act that proves its existence - there's no going back; one is fatally wedded to Nietzsche for life.      

 

  

Notes

 

[1] Unfortunately, my knowledge of Derrida is very limited; as far as I understand it, hymen indicates both proximity and separation; i.e., the relation and the difference between two bodies. But what this tells us - or how we are supposed to think la logique de l'hymen in relation to the Nietzsche/Heidegger relationship - I'm not quite sure. 

      For Derrida's description of the hymen as a kind of mediating space, see 'The Double Session', in Dissemination, trans. Barbara Johnson (University of Chicago Press, 1981), pp. 210-215 

 

[2] See Deleuze, 'Letter to a Harsh Critic', in Negotiations, trans. Martin Joughin, (Columbia University Press, 1995), p. 6. 

Travels in Hyperculture With Byung-Chul-Han 1: We Are All Tourists Now

 

In nil sapiendo vita iucundissima est

 

 

I.

 

As Jarvis Cocker correctly observed back in 1995: Everybody hates a tourist [a]. 

 

However, according to German philosopher Byung Chul-Han, writing ten years later in his 2005 study Hyperkulturalität [b] - and in agreement with the British ethnologist Nigel Barley - we are all more or less tourists dressed in Hawaiian shirts today; not because of a universal desire to explore faraway lands and experience foreign cultures, but because there are now no faraway lands or foreign cultures in a globalised world [c].

All that remains post-globalisation is hyperculture, or what some refer to as supermodernity; an era of accelerated technological change that results in a transformation of time and space - and, indeed, our very humanity. 

 

Hyperculture goes way beyond anything foreseen by Zarathustra, though perhaps he glimpsed something of it when he flew into the future [d]. To understand it a little better, let's take a closer look at Byung Chul-Han's study ...  

 

 

II.

  

The Greeks, of course, had a profound understanding of culture in terms of harmonious manifoldness; that is to say, unity in diversity cultivated on the very soil of discord and difference. Culture, for the Greeks, is what Nietzsche regards as the giving of style to various forms of life (whereas barbarism - the very opposite of culture - is precisely a "lack of style or a chaotic jumble of all styles" [e]).  

 

Byung Chul-Han also returns to the ancient Greeks on the question of culture. His reading, however, is informed by Hegel rather than Nietzsche, although in his Lectures on the Philosophy of History (1837), the former also speaks of the genesis of Greek culture in terms of heterogeneity and otherness in need of being overcome. 

 

In other words, whilst Greece was born of an original chaos of peoples, it was only via a long process of discipline and breeding that the true spirit of Greece could unfold. 

 

But whilst Hegel "tries to do justice to the fact" [3] that heterogeneity is an elementary aspect of the Greek character, once they have forged a European identity he stresses the importance of belonging to a happy home in which there is no longer any desire for that which is outside or alien; the foreign is now dismissed and it's all about family and fatherland.

 

This might have some negative consequences - such as being unable to see beyond one's own position or hear strange sounds - but, as Herder argues, it is precisely this myopia and deafness that allows for a state of cheerful self-contentment: "'National happiness' emerges because the 'soul' forgets the 'manifold dispositions' that dwell within it and elevates a part of itself to the status of the whole" [5].   

 

This type of happiness is unknown or of little interest to tourists in Hawaiian shirts. For they lack style, that is to say, lack the self-discipline needed for culture in the old sense characterised by closing one's eyes and one's ears to certain sights and sounds in order to see what is near to hand and hear the song of one's own soul. 

 

Han writes:

 

"Their happiness is of an altogether different kind; it is a happiness that emerges from an abolition of facticity, a removal of the attachment to the 'here', the site. In their case, the foreign is not 'sickness'. It is something new to be appropriated. The tourists in Hawaiian shirts inhabit a world that unbounds itself, a hypermarket of culture, a hyperspace of possibilities." [5-6]

 

Thus, these tourists in a hypercultural reality - which some, like Ted Nelson, term Xanadu - are just as content as natives living in a spiritual homeland bound by borders and rooted in bio-terrestrial reality (blood and soil), and they are certainly freer in many regards.  

 

 

III. 

 

The irony, of course, is that we were promised by the globalists that new modes of transport and new communications technology would open up the world and expand our horizons. But globalisation has shrunk cultural space and condensed everything:

 

"Heterogeneous cultural contents are pushed together side by side. Cultural spaces overlap and penetrate each other. This unbounding also applies to time. Not only different sites but also different time frames are de-distanced [...] Cultures implode; that is, they are de-distanced into a hyperculture." [9]

 

Again, some seem perfectly okay with this (although their happiness is reminiscent of that experienced by Nietzsche's letzter Mensch, which he describes as the happiness of a flea). Others, however, are not so pleased and feel obliged to offer resistance:

"There are many for whom [hyperculture] means the trauma of loss. Re-theologization, re-mythologization and re-nationalization are common reactions to the hyperculturalization of the world. Thus, hypercultural de-siting will have to confront a fundamentalism of sites." [10]

That doesn't sound great. Deleuze and Guattari, who famously discuss all this in terms of de- and reterritorialization, warn of the dangers of attempting to recodify the world and form neo-territorialities based upon past ideals and the invention of new falsehoods. Ultimately, such neo-territorialities are, at best, "artificial, residual, archaic" [f] and, at worst, prone to quickly becoming fascistic.   

But I'm not sure how much we need to worry: mythical time (in which everything and everyone has a fixed place) is surely over. And so too is (linear) historical time. We are left, then, like it or not, living in this time; the time characterised by Vilém Flusser as that of the bit (rather than the image or the book):

 

"It lacks any comprehensive horizon of meaning. It is de-theologized, or de-teleologicized, into an 'atom-like' 'universe of bits', a 'mosaic universe' in which possibilities 'buzz' like points, or 'sprinkle' like 'grains', as 'discrete sensations' [...] 

      In this 'universe of points' [...] Dasein is surrounded by freely hovering possibilities. In this way, the 'universe of points' promises greater freedom. After all, the future is 'everywhere' that I 'turn to'." [12]

 

Heidegger might not like it - may think it compromises authenticity, dis-inherits Dasein, and produces a dictatorship of the They - but  I have to admit, I rather like the sound of this space-time that is more vortex than void, particularly as it allows also for increasing interconnectedness (with others and with things), expanding the future by creating an abundance of relations and possibilities. 

 

Whether this is driven by Eros, or a more perverse inclination, is debatable. But it's certain that even though hyperculture may help to bring about new forms and possibilities of being, Heidegger would not be persuaded to consider the upside of life today: "Faced with a colourful patchwork society, he would invoke the 'we' of a community of fate." [14]       

 

Ultimately, Heidegger is interested in dwelling, not travel and tourism. And he would fail to see that hyperculture is not merely universal monoculture. Sure, you can buy a Big Mac anywhere in the world - but it's fusion food that really defines what's going on today: 

 

"This hypercuisine does not level the diversity of eating cultures. It does not just blindly throw everything into one pot. Rather, it thrives on the differences. This allows it to create a diversity that would not be possible on the basis of preserving the purity of local food cultures. Globalization and diversity are not mutually exclusive." [16] [g]

 

 

IV.

 

As might be clear, devising a (non-essentialist) model of contemporary culture that is able to capture the dynamism of what's unfolding today isn't easy. And to be fair, Byung-Chul Han does a pretty good job. 

 

One understands from reading his essay how hyperculture is detached from any origin and brings heterogeneous elements together in such a manner that ideas of near and far, indigenous and foreign, become untenable; how culture is now boundless and unrestricted and we are all tourists within it. Not so much nowhere, as prepared to bid farewell to a here "that used to give Being its auratic depth, or rather the semblance of an aura" [34].           

 

We might also describe this culture as rhizomatic in nature - and Han credits Deleuze and Guattari for developing a concept in their work which "proves suitable for the description of certain aspects of hyperculture" [27]. He also summarises it for readers unfamiliar with the idea:

 

"The 'rhizome' denotes a non-centred plurality that cannot be subjected to any comprehensive order [...] Thus, a rhizome is an open structure whose heterogeneous elements constantly play into each other, shift across each other and are in a process of constant 'becoming'. The rhizomatic space is a space not of 'negotiation' but of transformation [...] Rhizomatic distribution, even dispersal, de-substantializes and de-internalizes culture and thereby turns it into hyperculture." [27-28]    

 

We can contrast this with an arboreal model of culture with its deep roots and branches. Further - and finally - rhizomatic hyperculture is not one of inwardness or remembrance. It has, if you like, no soul; or, to use Benjamin's favoured term, no aura - "the resplendence and radiance of a specific 'here and now' that cannot be repeated there [34]. 

           

Still, as Han notes, there's no need to lament de-auratization in terms exclusively of loss (such as loss of origin, loss of essence, loss of authenticity, or even loss of Being as Heidegger would have it). Maybe - just maybe - something good will come of all this; "another reality, which shines in the absence of the auratic" [36].

 

The question is: "When the 'here and now' becomes a repeatable there and later" [37], will we have gained more than we lose? 

 

To find out how Byung-Chul Han answers, readers are invited to click here for part two of this post.

 

 

Notes

 

[a] Pulp, 'Common People', single release from the album Different Class (Island, 1995). 

[b] Byung-Chul Han, Hyperkulturalität: Kultur und Globalisierung, (Merve Verlag, 2005) This text has now been pulished in an English translation by Daniel Steuer, (Polity Press, 2022) and page references given above refer to this edition of the work, rather than the German original. 

[c] Just to clarify at the outset: when Byung-Chul Han speaks of a hypercultural tourist, he does not necessarily mean someone who is always jet-setting or globetrotting: such a person is already a tourist when at home; there is no here or there or any final destination to arrive at. 

[d] See Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, 'Of the Land of Culture'. 

      Han credits Nietzsche with being "one of the few thinkers capable of looking far ahead, of resonating with vibrations that came from the future" [31]. Indeed, I might be being unfair to Zarathustra in suggesting that the idea of hyperculture was beyond his ability to conceive. Perhaps the thing that ultimately lets Nietzsche down is his insistent aestheticism, which "tends towards a re-teleologization, a re-theologization, of culture" [33].  

[e] Nietzsche, 'David Strauss, the Confessor and the Writer', in Untimely Meditations, trans. R. J. Hollingdale, (Cambridge University Press, 1992). p. 6. 

[f] Gilles Deleuze and Félix, Guattari, Anti-Oedipus, trans. Robert Hurley, Mark Seem, and Helen R. Lane, (The Athlone Press, 1994), p. 257. 

[g] Interestingly, it's not just Heidegger who has an issue here. As Han reminds us: "Out of a fear of diversity, Plato already condemned the use of spices and the manifold dishes of Sicilian cuisine." [17] Amusingly, the attempt to maintain cultural purity and defend national cuisine always leaves one with egg on face. 

Richard Lovatt Somers: Notes Towards a Character Study (Part 1)

Detail from 'The Struggle' (1992) 

Garry Shead: D. H. Lawrence Series

etchinghouse.com.au

 

I. 

 

In his Introduction to the Cambridge Edition of Kangaroo, Bruce Steele argues that whilst the novel is "in many respects thinly disguised autobiography", uncritical emphasis on this pervasive element has led to the mistaken assumption that the character Richard Lovatt Somers is identical with Lawrence as narrator, even though "Lawrence as narrator [...] is often sharply distinct from his character Somers and frequently critical of him and his views" [a].  

And that's true - but doesn't go far enough. For I would not only challenge the ridiculous idea that Somers is identical with the narrator, but interrogate also the belief that the narrator can be identified with an Author who resides outside (and above) the text and in whose person is found the very origin of the work and its ultimate truth.       

      

In this post, therefore, I'm concerned only with Richard Somers and not interested in making any attempt to tie Kangaroo as a work of fiction to Lawrence's own memories, foreign travels, political views, or sexual fantasies. As Deleuze says, creative writing that is overly reliant upon autobiography is not only often bad writing, but dead writing; for literature dies from an excess of authorial input just as it does from an overdose of reality.

 

 

II.

 

Richard Somers is a queer fish: a small, foreign-looking, slightly comical figure, with a pale face, dark beard, and an absent air of self-possession that spoke not only of his (in)difference, but innate superiority and sensitivity (as indicated by his Italian suit and brown shoes).

 

His middle name, Lovatt, suggests either something wolfish about his nature, or something rotten; either way, he doesn't like to be cheated by taxi drivers - but then, who does? Nor does he find humorous house names very amusing - but then ...

 

To be fair, Somers could be charming - when he wanted - but mostly he liked to keep himself to himself and not to "speak one single word to any single body" [19] - except Harriett, his wife, "whom he snapped at hard enough" [19]. The thing he hates most of all is "promiscuous mixing in" [36] and informality. 

 

Unfortunately, Somers can't help feeling himself in touch with (and responsive to) others due to the fact he possessed "the power of intuitive communication" [37]. However, despite this, Somers "would never be pals with any man" [38].    

 

Somers was a writer of poems and essays, with an income of £400 a year (i.e., about twice the average wage in 1922). So, whilst not rich, he was able to globe-trot, admiring the local flora whilst despising the natives and forever asking himsef why he had ever bothered to leave England: Somers "wandered disconsolate through the streets of Sydney" [20], longing to be back in London.

 

Still, if the city disappoints, the Australian bush makes a tremendous impression upon him: "Richard L. had never quite got over that glimpse of terror in the Westralian bush" [15]. He was sure a menacing spirit of place had been watching him as he walked amongst the ghostly pale trees. Watching - and waiting to grab him. For as a poet, Somers felt himself "entitled to all kinds of emotions and sensations which an ordinary man would have repudiated" [14].

 

But of course, as the narrator of Kangaroo notes: "It is always a question, whether there is any sense in taking notice of a poet's fine feelings." [15] Or indeed, his prejudices - of which Somers has many; mostly rooted in his snobbishness, such as his dismissal of Australians "with their aggressive familiarity" [21] as barbarians, lacking in class and culture. For Somers, there has to be rule - otherwise there's just a form of irresponsible anarchy and bullying.    

 

"Poor Richard Lovatt wearied himself to death struggling with the problem of himself, and calling it Australia." [28] That's an interesting remark. But what is Somers's problem? I'm not sure - perhaps we'll find out by the end of this character study ... And maybe we'll find out too what lesson it is that Somers thinks the world has got to learn [31] - or why it is he seems so fascinated by the legs of young men in bathing suits on the beach [27]. 

 

But maybe not: maybe Somers will always remain something of an enigma: for it was "difficult to locate any definite Somers, any one individual [...] The man himself seemed lost in the bright aura of his rapid consciousness" [38]. Somers, we might say, is mercurial and light-footed. He's also a reckless chess player; "very careless of his defence" [39], which is odd for someone so guarded in other respects.

 

For a man who, by his own admission, never takes any part in politics, Somers does seem to hold a number of very definite political views; as might be expected of a writer of essays on social and political topics, such as the future of democracy or the fate of capitalism. And his views might best be described as national socialist in character (all that talk of blood and soil), or as a kind of demonic radicalism (all that talk of dark everlasting gods).    

 

Somers also fancies that it's his "own high destiny" [92] to be a leader of men one day and to make some kind of opening in the world. Though, push comes to shove, he can't commit to any cause, party, or movement. Nor even to Benjamin ('Kangaroo') Cooley. Something always stops him; "as if an invisible hand were upon him" [106]. 

 

Thus, whilst Somers might crave living fellowship with others, he does not want affection, love, nor comradeship. For living fellowship, it turns out, is a synonym for the mystery of lordship. That is to say, the thing which the dark races still know:

 

"The mystery of innate, natural, sacred priority [...] which democracy and equality try to deny and obliterate [...] the mystic recognition of difference and innate priority, the joy of obedience and the sacred responsibility of authority" [107] [b].

 

At other times, however, Somers rejects the human world entirely - and I think I like him best at such moments; when he is filled with cold fury and contempt for mankind and cares only for the dark cold sea, dreaming (in what is perhaps my favourite section of the novel) of becoming-fish: 

 

"To have oneself exultingly ice-cold, not one spark of this wretched warm flesh left, and to have all the terrific, ice energy of a fish. To surge with that cold exultance and passion of a sea thing! [...] No more cloying warmth. No more of this horrible stuffy heat of human beings. To be an isolated swift fish in the big seas, that are bigger than the earth; fierce with cold, cold life, in the watery twilight before sympathy was created to clog us.

      They were his feelings now. Mankind? Ha, he turned his face to the centre of the seas, away from any land. The noise of waters, and dumbness like a fish. The cold, lovely silence, before crying and calling were invented. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, as if it had relapsed away from speech altogether.

      He did not care a straw what [...] anybody said or felt, even himself. He had no feelings, and speech had gone out of him. He wanted to be cold, cold, and alone like a single fish, with no feeling in his heart at all except a certain icy exultance and wild, fish-like rapacity. [...] Who sets a limit to what a man is. Man is also a fierce and fish-cold devil, in his hour, filled with cold fury of desire to get away from the cloy of human life altogether, not into death, but into that icily self-sufficient vigour of a fish." [125]  

 

As Zarathustra might say: Man needs what is most piscean in him for what is best in him ... [c]  

 

 

This series of notes for a character study of R. L. Somers is continued in part two of this post: click here.  

 

 

Notes

 

[a] Bruce Steele, Introduction to D. H. Lawrence's Kangaroo, ed. Bruce Steele, (Cambridge University Press, 1994), p. xxiii. All future page references to this work will be given directly in the post.  

[b] This is, of course, a fantasy of the reactionary imagination and one which I have discussed recently on Torpedo the Ark in terms of natural aristocracy: click here. I also discuss the politics of this passage in chapter 5 of Outside the Gate, (Blind Cupid Press, 2010), see pp. 100-126, and will comment further on Somers's politico-theological speculations in part two of this post. 

[c] I'm paraphrasing a famous line written by Nietzsche in Thus Spoke Zarathustra - see the section entitled 'The Convalescent'.