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(de Proprietatibus Litterarum. Series Minor) Rosemarie Waldrop & Rosmarie Waldrop-Against Language_ Dissatisfaction With Language_ as Theme and as Impulse Towards Experiments in Twentieth Century Poet
(de Proprietatibus Litterarum. Series Minor) Rosemarie Waldrop & Rosmarie Waldrop-Against Language_ Dissatisfaction With Language_ as Theme and as Impulse Towards Experiments in Twentieth Century Poet
(de Proprietatibus Litterarum. Series Minor) Rosemarie Waldrop & Rosmarie Waldrop-Against Language_ Dissatisfaction With Language_ as Theme and as Impulse Towards Experiments in Twentieth Century Poet
edenda cjirat
C. H. VAN SCHOONEVELD
Indiana University
Series Minor, 6
AGAINST LANGUAGE?
'dissatisfaction with language as
theme and as impulse
towards experiments in twentieth century poetry
by
ROSMARIE WALDROP
1971
MOUTON
THE H A G U E P A R I S
Copyright 1971 in The Netherlands.
Mouton & Co. N.V., Publishers, The Hague.
No part of this book may be translated or reproduced in any form, by print,
photoprint, microfilm, or any other means, without written permission from
the publishers.
I. Introduction 9
Various complaints against language 9 - Limits of language
are blamed as formerly those of the human mind in gen-
eral 10 - Language as cognitive 11 - Outline of the study
11.
D. Similarity Disorder: 50
Autonomy of the medium: sound versus meaning 51 - The
stress on arrangement: the truth of related facts 52 - The
refusal of metalanguage 57.
E. Chance: 64
Selection and combination 64 - Chance combination stresses
arrangement 65.
D. Exclusion of Metaphor: 85
Implications 85 - Poems without metaphors often turn into
one metaphor 86 - Avoiding both metaphors and the poem
as metaphor 87.
E. Reduction in Scope: 88
Reduction of the number of words 89 - Reduction of con-
tents 90.
Bibliography 124
Index 130
I
INTRODUCTION
The complaints are also much more varied and complex than
Steiner suggests when measuring language against the more exact
system of mathematics. They range anywhere from the charge that
language is too imprecise, too fluid, too simple, to the charge that
it is too rational, too rigid, too abstract. There is also the notion
that language was adequate in some mythical good-old-days, but
is used up and exhausted by modern mass media. I shall take up
some of these complaints in more detail later, that is, those that
have most relevance to poetry. For the others, just a few examples:
1
"Retreat from the Word", Kenyan Review, XXIII (Spring 1961), pp.
187-216.
9
Hermann Broch, Dichten und Erkennen (Zrich, Rhein-Verlag, 1955),
p. 203.
10
Yves Bonnefoy, L'Improbable (Paris, Mercure de France, 1959), p. 25.
11
Exception made for Paul Valry who analyses the process of creation,
and with a much more philosophical method than any other poet. Cf.
especially "Introduction la mthode de Lonard de Vinci", uvres, ed.
Jean Hytier (Paris, Gallimard, 1957), I, 1153-1233, and "La cration
artistique", Vues (Paris, La Table Ronde, 1948), pp. 285-309.
12 INTRODUCTION
12
" 'La posie ne rhythmera plus l'action: elle sera en avant.' (Rimbaud.)
Elle est donc dsormais conue comme un moyen d'action sur le monde,
capable de changer la vie." Andr Breton, quoted in Jean-Louis Bdouin,
Andr Breton (Paris, Seghers, n.d.), p. 23.
ls
I am using Charles W. Morris's terms, cf. "Foundations of the Theory
of Signs", International Encyclopedia of Unified Science, eds. Otto Neurath,
Rudolf Carnap and Charles Morris (Chicago, The University of Chicago
Press, 1938), I, 84.
INTRODUCTION 13
great mass of material which, if taken in a historical sequence,
would both be repetitious and introduce problems which distract
from my central concern. Another reason is that this approach
seems rare in the criticism of the field. There are of course ex-
tended studies of at least the older poets and movements. But if
these experiments are dealt with, it is often marginally and most
frequently in terms of personality, Weltanschauung, circumstances
of the time, etc. There are studies on single facets: lack of meta-
phor in Heissenbiittel, omission of verbs in Benn, negative attitude
towards metalanguage in Queneau,14 or, somewhat more general,
works like Donald Davie's study of syntax 15 or J. B. Barrre's La
cure d'amaigrissement du roman. All these studies focus on single
points and do not attempt to treat the phenomenon as a whole.
In the studies that give a synthesis of contemporary poetry or the
present situation of poetry, I found a predominance of the more
or less thematic approach (Leonhard's "dread and inebriation",17
Friedrich's "dehumanization", "empty transcendence", "magic",18
Bosquet's "approximation", irrationality, openness, etc.19 - to say
nothing of studies like that of Rudolf N. Maier, who treats poems
as symptoms of a general retreat from the world20).
What I am trying to examine is much narrower and more tech-
nical. Alfred Liede's Dichtung als Spiel: Studien zur Unsinnspoesie
an den Grenzen der Sprache21 is closest to my effort. These vol-
14
Roland Barthes, "Zazie et la littrature", Essais critiques (Paris, Editions
du Seuil, 1964), pp. 125-31.
15
Donald Davie, Articulate Energy (London, Routledge and Kegan Paul,
1955).
16
J. B. Barrre, La cure d'amaigrissement du roman (Paris, Editions Albin
Michel, 1964).
17
Kurt Leonhard, Moderne Lyrik (Bremen, Carl Schiinemann, 1963).
18
Hugo Friedrich, Die Struktur der modernen Lyrik (Hamburg, Rowohlt,
1956).
19
Alain Bosquet, Verbe et vertige (Paris, Hachette, 1961).
20
Rudolf Nikolaus Maier, Paradies der Weltlosigkeit (Stuttgart, Klett,
1964). "Welt" is defined as "das primr Gegebene, das Grndende, das
Elementare und Gewachsene, die Flle des Naturhaften und des Mensch-
lich-Seelischen" (p. 75).
21
Alfred Liede, Dichtung als Spiel: Studien zur Unsinnspoesie an den
Grenzen der Sprache, 2 vols. (Berlin, Walter de Gruyter, 1963).
14 INTRODUCTION
22
Roman Jakobson, "Linguistics and Poetics", in Style in Language, ed.
T. A. Sebeok (New York, MIT and John Wiley & Sons, I960), pp. 350-77.
25
Samuel R. Levin, Linguistic Structures in Poetry (The Hague, Mouton,
1964).
INTRODUCTION 15
less ineffable in his case. Thus his way to the ineffable does not,
like the way of the mystic, go via the infinite and supremely
meaningful but via the infinitesimal where all meaning ceases.
Yet the difference between the meaningful and meaningless in-
effable is spurious because all reasoned distinctions collapse at
the borderline of analysis. We simply cannot say anything about
what transcends the human reference point. Thus, at the limits
of the mind, the meaningful joins the meaningless, and the scientist
the mystic: the absolute is also the void. The bolder mystics knew
this long ago. Meister Eckhart holds that "Gott ist Nichts" 7 and
Angela of Foligno cries out to Him: "o nihil incognitum".8
This identification is very important for contemporary poetry.
There are a number of poets whose terminology and whose ef-
forts towards a transcendence puts them in the mystical tradition.
Yet they are not mystics in the normal sense of the word; they
are at best 'negative', or perhaps abstract mystics, since the trans-
cendence they try to explore is not God, but the void. Among
poets, Mallarm seems the first to say so explicitly (although some
of the German Romantics make steps in the same direction). He
sees the identity of the infinite and the nothing symbolized in the
fact that numbers grow larger by adding zeros: "si un nombre se
majore et recule, vers l'improbable, il inscrit plus de zros: sig-
nifiant que son total quivaut spirituellement rien, presque." 9
Consistently, his striving after "la notion pure" takes the form
of negation. This is still a mystical tradition: the rejection of all
earthly images to make way for the one image of God. But Mal-
larm is explicit about the aim: any object has to be denied as
soon as it is named, because anything that exists hides - not God,
but "the Nothing which is the truth". 10 As he writes to E. Lef-
* Cf. P. W. Bridgman as quoted by James B. Conant in The Limits of
Language, ed. Walker Gibson, pp. 21-2.
7
Quoted in Georges Bataille, L'Exprience intrieure (Paris, Gallimard,
1954), p. 15.
8
Ibid., p. 133.
Stphane Mallarm, uvres compltes, ed. Henri Mondor and G. Jean-
Aubry (Paris, Gallimard, 1945), p. 398.
10
Mallarm, Correspondance 1862-1871, ed. Henri Mondor (Paris, Gal-
limard, 1959), p. 206.
18 THREE CAUSES OF THE DISCONTENT
bure, "I have created my work only by elimination, and all ac-
quired truth was born only from the loss of an impression". 11 His
ideal poem would be silent, the "pome tu, aux blancs". 12 Lan-
guage, even when it denies all earthly objects, still stands in front
of the nothing. Even the word 'nothing' is still a word, and there-
fore still something. But since the silent poem is not possible,
Mallarm has to make do with approximations; such as to negate
every object as soon as it is named and, more important, to dis-
locate French syntax. This has two functions: it obscures meaning
which, too, hides the void which is the truth. And it gives an
impression of disjunction and fragmentation which Mallarm wel-
comes. For fragments approach the Nothing and are therefore
"preuves nuptiales de l'Ide". 1 3
If destruction thus became the Beatrice of Mallarm, as he put
it in a letter, 14 it is also that of the Dadaiste. A t first glance, there
seems to be little comparable between Mallarm who refines and
abstracts and negates things out of existence, and the more ag-
gressive, strident clowning of Dada. But there are a number of
connecting lines. The Dadaists agree with Mallarm that the Noth-
ing is the truth. In fact, this is one of the few things that this so
diverse group seems unanimous about. Tristan Tzara holds that
"Dada means nothing", 15 George Grosz, that "our symbol was
the void". 1 6 And there is the most explicit manifesto by Aragon:
11 Ibid., p. 2 4 5 .
12 Mallarm, uvres compltes, p. 367.
13 Ibid., p. 387.
14 Correspondance, p. 245.
15 Quoted in Henri-Jacques Dupuy, Philippe Soupault ("Potes d'aujourd'-
hui") (Paris, Seghers, 1957), p. 48 f.
18 Dada: Monograph of a Movement, ed. Willy Verkauf (Teufen [AR],
18
Cf. the account in Raoul Hausmann, Courrier Dada (Paris, Le Terrain
Vague, 1958), p. 79.
19
Quoted in Christopher Middleton, " 'Bolshevism in Art': Dada and
Politics", University of Texas Studies in Literature and Language, Vol.
IV, No. 3 (Autumn 1962), p. 413.
20 THREE CAUSES OF THE DISCONTENT
ing the limits of the mind and that which transcends them; it is
part of the transcendence itself. And even though Mon also has
less startling definitions for the poem, like "shape of articula-
tion", or "time happening and becoming visible", 30 it is clear that
"time" is not meant as a human concept (nor the statement as a
variant to Lessing), but as part of the process which "must al-
ways have begun before". We definitely come away with an
impression that "before Abraham was, poem is".
Consistent with this change is another: the poets no longer
speak of expressing the void, or even expressing nothing, but the
very concept of expression is abolished. The poem does not ex-
press, it is. And its being, its "Artikulationsgestalt", is only per-
ceivable if not just the expressive but also the semantic values
are "reduced so far that they are completely absorbed" by the
eternal process of unrolling articulation.31
It is true, Heissenbiittel protests that the borderline his poems
reach by refusing expression and semantic values "is not the bor-
derline of nothingness, of speechlessness, of chaos . . . it is the
borderline of that which is not yet sayable". 82 But the difference
is small. For even the Dadaists by deliberately saying nothing
have extended the field of the sayable. With Heissenbiittel, it is
primarily language which partakes of the transcendence. In its
"kernel", its "inside", it dissolves into "the realm . . . which in
itself remains undefinable". 33 And the poem has to aim at this
kernel, this inside, where it presumably joins the larger process
of language dissolving into the undefinable.
Heissenbiittel, with his insisting on the "not yet sayable",
seems to work towards assimilating at least little parts of the un-
definable to language, towards pushing the point of dissolving
farther back by examining the beginnings of that process. Isidore
Isou keeps closer to the original Dadaists (and to Mallarm es-
. TWO: P U R E MATTER OR E N E R G Y
34
Isidore Isou, Introduction une nouvelle posie et une nouvelle
musique (Paris, Gallimard, 1947), p. 307.
35
Ibid., pp. 11 and 15.
36
Ibid., p. 17.
37
Cf. Andr Breton, "Position politique du Surralisme", quoted in Jean-
Louis Bdouin, Andr Breton ("Potes d'aujourd'hui") (Paris, Seghers, n.d.),
p. 24.
38
Frank Thiess, in Literatur-Revolution 1910-1925: Dokumente, Mani-
feste, Programme, ed. Paul Prtner (Neuwied, Luchterhand, 1960 ff.), II,
300.
3
Paul Hatvani, Literatur-Revolution 1910-1925, ed. Prtner, II, 214.
40
Jean Rousselot and Michel Manoll, Pierre Reverdy ("Potes d'aujourd'-
hui") (Paris, Seghers, 1965), p. 59.
24 THREE CAUSES OF THE DISCONTENT
plore their innermost self and the yet deeper level: the uncon-
scious which is the source of art and which transcends the in-
dividual. (At least the Surrealists hold to the latter.)
This level of the unconscious is not the ultimate aim, though.
Poetry would be as impossible there as in the silence of pure
spirit. The ultimate aim is a totality, a synthesis of conscious and
unconscious forces: Andr Breton's "surralit", and Gottfried
Benn's "archaisch erweitertes Ich". 41 Of course, this state is a
postulate. At present, the Surrealists are but trying to
throw a conducting wire between the too separate worlds of waking
and sleep, of external and internal reality, of reason and madness, of
the calmness of knowledge and love, of life for life's sake and
revolution.42
The worlds of waking and sleep are not only too separate, they
are not in balance. In Western culture, the world of waking, of
reason, dominates out of all proportion. And this is Breton's con-
ception of the fallen state of mankind. "If there was an original
sin", he says, it was the moment "when the mind seized, or
thought it seized, the apple of 'clarity'." 43 It would indeed be
difficult to find a Surrealist publication without invectives against
reason and logic, which has "systematically poisoned the Euro-
pean mind", 44 if we believe Philippe Soupault. The Expressionists
agree. Benn complains of the "progressive cerebralization" of
mankind 45 and thinks it Freud's great merit that he broke with
the predominance of reason in our concept of the individual:
"psychoanalysis took individuality out of the brain region and
connected it with a more general physical medium." 46 And the
most characteristic feature of Expressionist poetry, the juxtaposi-
41
Gottfried Benn, Gesammelte Werke (Wiesbaden, Limes, 1958-61), I, 81.
" Andr Breton, Les vases communicantes (Paris, Gallimard, 1955), p. 116.
43
Breton, in Maurice Nadeau, Documents surralistes: Histoire du Sur-
ralisme II (Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1948), p. 48.
44
Henri-Jacques Dupuy, Philippe Soupault ("Potes d'aujourd'hui") (Paris,
Seghers, 1957), p. 94.
45
Benn, Gesammelte Werke, I, 435.
4
Ibid., I, 92.
THREE CAUSES OF THE DISCONTENT 25
Or rather, the root, the grillwork of the garden, the bench, the sparse
grass of the lawn: all this h a d vanished. T h e diversity of things, their
individuality was o n l y appearance, a varnish. This varnish had melted,
and w h a t w a s left w a s monstrous s o f t masses, chaotic - naked, of a
frightening and obscene n a k e d n e s s . 5 2
58
Bachelard, Lautramont, p. 112.
5
Literatur-Revolution 1910-1925, ed. Prtner, II, 279.
60
See Kandinsky, Literatur-Revolution 1910-1925, ed. Prtner, II, 310.
61
R. C. Zaehner, Mysticism Sacred and Profane (New York, Galaxy
Books, 1961), p. 65. Zaehner is speaking of Rimbaud's "universal soul" as
foundation for his "materialist future" (in the letter to Paul Demny) which
most likely prepared the way for Breton's thought on these matters.
62
It is Ferdinand Alqui's despair all through his Philosophie du Sur-
ralisme (Paris, Flammarion, 1955), that Breton refuses a spiritual tran-
scendence even though he seems to come so close to one by rejecting the
world.
63
Nadeau, Histoire du Surralisme, p. 210. Dali's own definition is some-
28 THREE CAUSES OF THE DISCONTENT
the feminine, the soft, the liquid, the unconscious, collectivity, the
universe of total analogies (where everything is connected with
everything else by some similarity, where nothing is really 'closed'
and isolated). Still, writing ABOUT the viscous is not representing
the viscous. The problem of language vis vis an object which
eludes formulation is not solved by making the elusive object into
a theme. For this still means using conventional words, which
have been recognized as insufficient; it still means speaking of the
unfixable as if it were fixed.
Automatic writing tries to meet this challenge by approaching
autistic processes which in turn approach the conditions of the
total flux. Undirected thought is usually referred to as 'flow' (for
not having a direction or form of its own but instead following
outside stimuli, etc. in the most unforeseen directions). This is
also the recurrent description of automatic writing, no matter if
they are positive, implying absolute continuity, as with Breton, 68
or negative, as Aragon's later contempt for this "inexhaustible
diarrhea". 89
In trying to capture the flux and a prelogicai state of mind,
Surrealists (and certain Expressionists) try to avoid any stability
and instead try to keep up a dynamism of continual change. (Ap-
parently the opposite of the actual primitive thinker who tends
TOWARDS stability and logic.)70 The poet is "by nature the enemy
of all fixation". 71 "Beauty will be CONVULSIVE or will not be
at all", 72 Breton says at the end of Nadja. And convulsion, wheth-
er religious or erotic or other, is a liberation from the "ordered
life" of man, 73 from life according to laws. Laws of language and
laws of perception not excluded, since they too are subject to
becoming rigid, dead, ruts. And this tendency to solidify is so
68
Breton, Les manifestes du Surralisme, p. 52.
Quoted in Dupuy, Philippe Soupault, p. 43.
70
Cf. Paul Radin, Primitive Man as Philosopher (New York, Dover
Books, 1957), p. 244.
71
Bdouin, Andr Breton, p. 47.
72
Breton, Nadja (Paris, Gallimard, 1928), p. 215. Benn parallels this with
"Poetry must be exorbitant or not at all", Gesammelte Werke, I, 505.
73
Bataille, L'Erotisme, p. 102.
30 THREE CAUSES OF THE DISCONTENT
D o you really mean that? Poetry never puts one thing in place of
another, for it is exactly poetry which is feverishly endeavoring to
put the thing itself. 7 9
81 Ibid., p. 14.
88 Ibid., pp. 298-9.
83 Ibid., p. 19.
THREE CAUSES OF THE DISCONTENT 33
84
Ibid., pp. 82-3.
85
Ibid., p. 83.
86
Rilke, Smtliche Werke, ed. Ernst Zinn (Frankfurt, Insel, 1955 ff.), I,
716.
Ibid., V, 215.
34 THREE CAUSES OF THE DISCONTENT
beyond that into the 'interior' of things.88 And even for the re-
duced and limited aim of rendering surfaces he needs to give up
words (at least temporarily while trying to perceive things with-
out prejudice): "For who is still free in the face of forms which
have names?" 89 Rilke considers words conventional to an even
higher degree than the domesticated 'surfaces' of things. And
he questions the 'world' that words give us. It may only be the
weakest part of the world:
Wir machen mit Worten und Fingerzeigen
uns allmhlich die Welt zu eigen,
vielleicht ihren schwchsten, gefhrlichsten T e i l . 9 0
88
Ibid., V, 212.
8e
Ibid., V, 217.
80
Ibid., I, 741.
" Ibid., 1, 716.
2 Ibid., VI, 749-51.
Ibid., VI, 765 and 777.
Ibid., V, 240.
THREE CAUSES OF THE DISCONTENT 35
of 'surfaces': our time, he says, "has no things, no houses, no out-
side".5
Malte feels that the experience of the flux is incompatible with
words. It will disintegrate all meaning. Writing will be impos-
sible.96 Rilke, however, decides for the word even though it may
be untrue and render only the weakest part. This may be sur-
prising, but there are parallels that are familiar to all of us. Let
us look at Susanne Langer's description of the mechanism of
signification: if among two terms which "are merely correlated",
the subject finds one interesting but hard or impossible to per-
ceive and the other one available, the latter will become a sign,
and it may assume all the importance of the inaccessible term. To
use Mrs. Langer's own example: "If we are interested in tomor-
row's weather, the events now present, if coupled with tomor-
row's weather-phenomena, are signs for us. A ring around the
moon, or 'mares' tails' in the sky, are not important in them-
selves; but as visible, present items coupled with something im-
portant but not yet present, they have 'meaning'." 97 Similarly,
for Rilke, the fact that words are correlated with the inexpressible
reality, the "Innere", transfers the importance of the latter to
the words. Thus, what at first sight looks like an inconsistency
in Rilke's attitude turns out to be a general mechanism of the
human mind, or, if you like, a general human inconsistency. At
any rate, Rilke's transferring his attention from things to words
is not just resignation. He does not even try to make new words
or break substantially with the rules of combining them (although
he tries to parallel in the structure of his poems the mixture of
form and flux which he finds in things. He does so by using
rhyme, but having it fall on unstressed contiguity words like und
and dass). His turn to words is something like a fervent leap into
faith: 'saying' even adds a new dimension to things:
* Ibid.
Ibid., VI, 756.
97
Susanne . Langer, Philosophy in a New Key (New York, Mentor
Books, 1952), pp. 46-7.
36 THREE CAUSES OF THE DISCONTENT
98
Rilke, Smtliche Werke, I, 718.
Anatomy of Criticism (Princeton, N. J., Princeton University Press,
1957), p. 113.
100
Rilke, Smtliche Werke, I, 719.
101
Cf. Artaud, uvres compltes (Paris, Gallimard, 1956 ff.), I, 17-46.
THREE CAUSES OF THE DISCONTENT 37
orcism against the too obtrusive things and their death implica-
tion.102 Perhaps I ought to mention Alain Bosquet who, in dozens
of poems on the subject of language and particularly in the book-
length poem Premier Testament, gives an explicit rendering of
what Rilke suggests ("J'ai dit 'pomme' la pomme; elle m'a dit
'mensonge' ").*< He adds another very plausible reason for the
affirmation of the word in spite of all the talk about its failings
that we find in so many poets. Even though the poet may profess
to prefer 'things', it is really more than likely that he likes his
words and is unwilling to give them up under any circumstances:
Rilke too flirts with the idea of leaving the human point of view
and becoming like things, but it always seems to imply a definite
loss of speech, as when the flowers in Sonette an Orpheus (II,
14) would blossom and praise the 'convert' to all their silent
102
Cf. Jean Tardieu, in Anthologie de la posie franaise depuis le Sur-
ralisme, ed. Marcel Balu (Paris, Editions de Beaune, 1952), p. 119; and
Jean Follain, Tout Instant (Paris, Gallimard, 1957), pp. 9-10.
103
Alain Bosquet, Premier Testament (Paris, Gallimard, 1957), p. 15.
104
Ibid., p. 17.
105
Francis Ponge, La rage de l'expression (n.p. [Lausanne], Mermod,
1952), p. 45.
108
Ponge, Le grand recueil II: Mthodes (Paris, Gallimard, 1961), p. 198.
38 THREE CAUSES OF THE DISCONTENT
107
Ibid., pp. 17-8.
Ibid., pp. 12-3.
109
Heidegger's term. Cf. Sein und Zeit (Tbingen, Max Niemeyer, 1963),
p. 69.
110
Cf. the postscript of Eugen Gomringer, 33 konstellationen (St. Gallen,
Tschudy Verlag, 1960), n o pagination. Gomringer's analogies are to in-
dustrial products or architecture. On the other hand, Bertold Brecht and
Hans Magnus Enzensberger use the same term, but in a different sense: the
book of poems should be used, i.e. read, thought about, not just given as a
present and put on a shelf to look nice. For a most explicit statement of this,
cf. the insert, "gebrauchsanweisung", in Enzensberger's Verteidigung der
wlfe (Frankfurt, Suhrkamp, 1957).
THREE CAUSES OF THE DISCONTENT 39
Registering the distance between the object and me, and the object's
own distances (its external distances, that is to say, its measurements),
and the distances between objects themselves. 114
But in another essay he describes his narrators as:
no longer just a man who describes the things he sees, but at the same
time one who invents the things around him and who sees the things
he invents. 115
Thus even measuring is humanizing. And if we widen this insight
beyond Robbe-Grillet's narrator, we are back with the total
elusiveness of the world of things. But it is not exclusively a
problem of language. It is, as I suggested before, a problem of
the limits of the mind. Being human we can never know any-
thing except within a human frame of reference. If 'things' have
a being beyond the surfaces our conventions have isolated, it
is inaccessible. It is as inaccessible as the void and the flux for
which our concepts also establish at best a kind of 'surface'.
A. IMPLICATIONS
1 Cf. for instance the poem "Prometheus" or the lines "Dass ich mit
Gttersinn/Und Menschenhand/Vermg zu bilden", Werke, ed. Erich Trunz
(Hamburg, Christian Wegner, 1948), I, 62.
2 Rmy de Gourmont, " L a dissociation des ides", in La culture des ides
(Paris, Mercure de France, 1964), pp. 61-89. The essay was written in 1899.
* Nietzsche, Werke in drei Bnden, ed. Karl Schlechta (Mnchen, Hanser,
1954), II, 323.
THE METHOD OF DISRUPTION 41
4
Baudelaire, uvres completes, ed. Y.-G. LeDantec (Paris, Gallimard,
1954), p. 773.
5
Bachelard, Lautramont, p. 55.
6
Gottfried Benn, Gesammelte Werke, IV, 56 and passim.
7
Paul Valry, "Introduction la mthode de Lonard de Vinci", uvres,
ed. Jean Hytier (Paris, Gallimard, 1957), I, 1225.
8
'Syntactical' in Charles W. Morris's sense of any relation among signs
rather than in the narrower grammatical sense.
9
Northrop Frye, Anatomy of Criticism, p. 61.
10
Thophile, uvres potiques, ed. Louis-Raymond Lefvre (Paris, Gar-
nier, 1926), p. 94.
42 THE METHOD OF DISRUPTION
reference to ask, how can he identify these two terms, how are
they similar, and what does the identification mean? Yet this step
is habitual and more or less natural for any speaker.
This is important, for it establishes that a technique of disrup-
tion as such is nothing revolutionary in language. The newness
must then consist in transferring the device from the area where
we are used to it to a different one.
It seems already a very small such step when a sunk metaphor
is used literally. When Robert Musil has Baroque and Gothic
statues wring their hands and then goes on describing them in
terms of laundry,14 or when Boris Vian has prescriptions "exe-
cuted" by a "guillotine de bureau",15 we automatically expected
the figurative substitution and are surprised to find the literal
sense used. The clash is stronger than in the case of metaphor,
perhaps because the mental operation is double (from the literal
to the figurative and back to the literal) or perhaps simply because
this playing with a metaphor is less common and has therefore
not become an automatic response.
Apart from this basic example, there may be clashes within the
semantic dimension when conventions are broken, be it conven-
tions of values or of reality. The clashes will be the harsher the
closer the context comes to establishing a direct contradiction of
the usual definition of the word used. Thus Morgenstern's house
built from the interstices of a wooden fence,16 or even Baudelaire's
"aimable pestilence",17 seem to clash more than Breton's image
of "la rose tte de chatte" 18 (although Breton would argue that
contradiction still belongs to the FIELD of the word and is there-
fore expected). At any rate, these clashes within the semantic
14
Robert Musil, Der Mann ohne Eigenschaften (Hamburg, Rowohlt,
1952), p. 192: "die Seele rang die Krper wie ein Stck Wsche, aus dem
man das Wasser presst."
15
Boris Vian, L'Ecume des jours (Paris, J.-J. Pauvert, 1963), p. 94.
w
Christian Morgenstern, "Der Lattenzaun", Alle Galgenlieder (Frank-
furt, Insel, 1950), p. 59.
17
Baudelaire, uvres compltes, p. 121.
18
Andr Breton, Pomes (Paris, Gallimard, 1948), p. 42.
44 THE METHOD OF DISRUPTION
Verhalten,
ungeffnet in Ast und Ranke,
um in das Blau des Himmels aufzuschrein :
nur Stamm, Geschlossenheiten,
hoch und zitternd,
eine Kurve. 2 2
20
Jakobson, Fundamentals of Language, p. 71 f.
21
Lichtenstein, Gesammelte Gedichte (Zrich, Arche, 1962), p. 44.
22
Benn, Gesammelte Werke, III, 42.
46 THE METHOD OF DISRUPTION
But the second line could also read: "You, cloud takes the lead."
" Char, Le marteau sans matre (Paris, Jos Corti, 1953), p. 15.
THE METHOD OF DISRUPTION 47
In the latter case, "you" could either be the burnt enclos (unlikely
because of the line arrangement) or it could be an entity by itself,
perhaps a person whose attention is directed to the burnt en-
closure and the cloud. But even if we decide on the least elliptical
possibility (that "you" is the cloud) the uncertainties persist. Was
the burning "enclosure" the "torch" of the title? Or did the "torch"
set it on fire? Or is torche possibly a bunch of straw - all the
"prodigal" has left after the fire? Is the "cloud" a cloud of smoke,
a real cloud, a cloud of worries, doubt, suspicion, a cloud of vague
dreams? Why is the cloud which seems to lead away from the
double enclosure of enclos en quarantaine nevertheless a "cloud
of caverns"? Nothing of all this is ruled out as would happen in
an explicit context. It is true, we come away with a sense of a
definite opposition between the artificial restrictions of the quar-
antined enclosure which is burnt and the cloud. There is, in this
poem, a hierarchy - not logical but emotional and dynamic (re-
striction versus free movement, brul - a static past participle -
versus an imperative: passe devant). The cloud leads to enclosures
too, but those seem rather refuges, caverns and hypnotic sleep,
subterranean and subconscious resistance against restrictions. Yet
the cloud retains all the shades that the code of the French lan-
guage can give it, (even the negative ones of worry and doubt -
caverns and hypnosis might well cause some apprehension). We
might again call it an archetypal cloud, a slightly abstract essence
of a cloud.
Among the effects of diminishing contiguity (which, as I have
shown, vary somewhat from poem to poem) this tendency towards
what I have called the archetypal is perhaps most important.
Reducing the ordinary context's modifications and restrictions,
we approach a word that in the manner of an archetype combines
a certain remoteness and abstraction with an all-inclusiveness of
possible concrete and limited meanings, a word of quasi-mythic
status. This becomes very apparent when we find poems where
the single word is the poetic unit throughout, as in August
Stramm's "Angststurm":24
14
Stramm, Das Werk (Wiesbaden, Limes, 1963), p. 98.
48 THE METHOD OF DISRUPTION
Grausen
Ich und Ich und Ich und Ich
Grausen Brausen Rauschen Grausen
Trumen Splittern Branden Blenden
Sterneblenden Brausen Grausen
Rauschen
Grausen
Ich.
Except for the second line with its connecting "und", this poem is
indeed a heap of single words, of one-word sentences. The line
arrangement, though it combines up to four nouns in one line,
does not provide any relation between these - other than rhyth-
mical. The longer lines make the reader speed up.
There is nothing specific about the poem. The first word fixes
the emotional state of dread and is repeated every few words as
if this one name, if only said often enough, would communicate
what it stands for without further explanation. It is the procedure
of magical conjuring. Another word is repeated as often: "Ich".
Indeed, "Ich" and "Grausen" make up half of the body of the
poem. There is a strong sense of "I am alone" in the "Ich und
Ich und Ich und Ich" of the second line, just as the impact of the
poem as a whole is that of an "I" alone with his fear in an un-
canny, but vague world. What are we told about this world? What
causes the dread? We can infer that it is dark because there are
some blinding flashes of light ("Blenden"). And there are sounds,
But they are presented by gerunds, abstracted from their agents,
from anything definite. The first association are those of wind
("Brausen"), trees or water ("Rauschen"), the sea ("Branden"),
and breaking ("Splittern"); but, except for the last, all the words
might be used for something else. We could be in a forest, at a
coast, on a battlefield. The very vagueness of the circumstances
makes it a poem about fear as such, about a basic emotional
state. It is true, that this state of fear includes a dramatic climax
after all, it is an ("Angststurm") which is achieved by careful
arrangement. The word which seem to indicate a relaxation of
the fear ("Trumen") is followed by those verbs that indicate
suddenness and which also have a brighter vowel sound than the
THE METHOD OF DISRUPTION 49
au of "Grausen" and" Brausen" into which the poem then settles.
But this does not distract from the effect of momentary insight
into a quasi-archetypal state.
Here we have the syntactical equivalent of the epiphany, the
momentary vision - as in John Barton Wolgamot's In Sara,
Mencken, Christ and Beethoven there were Men and Women
where catalogues of names turn into a festival of personality.
Anti-contiguity poets would accept R. G. Collingwood's verdict
that art "is essentially the pursuit of truth. But the truth it pursues
is not a truth of relation, it is a truth of individual fact." 25 Pro-
grammatic statements about the "monadic unity" of the word
abound,26 especially from the Futurists, Expressionists, and the
'Konkrete poesie' group. Marinetti proclaims "Mots en libert",
Herwarth Waiden announces: "Word reigns, tears the sentence
to pieces."27 Or Franz Mon: "die vokabel hat keine folge mehr." 28
But it has been enriched by all the overtones which the folge,
the sequence, would have ruled out and thus has been enriched
in expressiveness. Thus, the 'telegraphic style' is reconcilable with
the expressive theory of poetry which became dominant with the
Romantics. If poetry is expression, why not retain only that word
of the sentence which has the strongest charge of meaning and
do away with all the little connecting and qualifying words which
only distract. The expressiveness is enhanced by the absence of
qualification.
August Stramm's experiments include nearly all the features
that Jakobson mentions for "contiguity disorder". Besides one-
word sentences, he usually uses infinitives rather than inflected
verb forms; and he disregards grammatical categories, using
nouns as verbs, verbs as adjectives, etc. Coinages like schmiege,
in the line "Durch schmiege Nacht",29 could be abridged from
schmiegende, geschmiegte, schmiegsame, or any derivation of
Collingwood, Principles of Art (New York: Galaxy Books, 1958), p. 288.
26
Bazon Ph. Brock quotes Wilhelm von Humboldt saying this, "Zur
poetischen Syntax", Movens, p. 115.
" Literatur-Revolution 1910-1925, ed. Prtner, I, 411.
28
Mon, Artikulationen, p. 20.
2
Stramm, Das Werk, p. 40.
50 THE METHOD OF DISRUPTION
D. SIMILARITY DISORDER
When poets speak about the medium of language (and are not
complaining) one often gets the impression that they are thinking
primarily about the phonetic aspects of the word, its physical
properties as it were. At any rate, poets have long had a grudge
against the transparency for concepts or things which is usually
attributed to words and considered their advantage - by philo-
sophers: "A symbol which interests us also as an object is dis-
tracting," says Susanne Langer.32 It distracts from what is symbol-
ized. But this is exactly what poets would like: attract attention
to their words as objects. Just as a painter might draw attention
to a color rather than to the object painted in it. Is this not one
38
Heissenbiittel, ber Literatur, p. 223.
31
Mon, Artikulationen, p. 44.
38
Langer, Philosophy in a New Key, p. 61.
THE METHOD OF DISRUPTION 51
of the reasons for rhyme and any formal links between words?
Sartre accepts it as the difference between prose and poetry that
the latter treats words as things.33 But, unlike painters (who do
not have to paint representational pictures), the poets are normally
frustrated in this attempt because reference is part of their me-
dium. Wilbur M. Urban tries to console them when he speaks of
the "intrinsic expressiveness" of words that enables them to
"conjure up. . . the object itself" rather than just give a reference
to it.34 But this "intrinsic" quality is seen in relation to the
reference function even though it has the fancy name "conjuring".
And Urban's primary example of this expressiveness is onomato-
poeia; yet onomatopoeia depends on reference, as can be seen in
homonyms. In the phrase, "the little birds cheep", 'cheep' is ono-
matopoetic. The same sound has no resonance of that sort at all
if you say: "The little birds are cheap". So it seems to me that
the word needs the reference in order to be expressive. And this
holds not only for onomatopoeia, but all cases in which a sound
pattern or rhythm is credited with producing an effect alone.
(Hence the possibility of parody, like Pound's denying "the furies
and surges" of Blake's metric with:
you not only subordinate, but "short circuit" the sense.371 suspect
this desire plays a part in any literary cultivation of obscurity
even when there are other reasons (as probably religious ones in
the case of the troubadours). Mallarm is certainly a case in
point, and so is the use of foreign words by Pound, occasionally
by Apollinaire, of scientific terms by Benn. I am not saying
that creating opacity is their only function, but it is ONE.
Susanne Langer suggests that poetry can use periodic suspen-
sions of propositional sense analogous to dissonances in music.38
But in contemporary music, dissonances need no longer be re-
solved. So, if we continue Mrs. Langer's analogy, it leads directly
to the claims of the linguistic 'materialists' which Ludwig Tieck
mockingly preformulated as: "Why should contents of all things
be the contents of a poem?"3" Or in their own (i.e. Max Bense's)
more serious terminology: "Aesthetic information . . . is developed
as an arrangement of signs in which the signs are treated purely
as factors of ordering, not as meanings."40
Bense concedes that a text can have meaning, or "semantic co-
information", but it does not have to. What counts, is arran-
ging materials in an order of low entropy, i.e. of high unlikeliness
and surprise.41 Surprise, as I said before, is implied in disruption,
and therefore an aim of all the poets mentioned in this chapter
(in fact, once we have become aware of the connection of surprise
and disruption, it becomes obvious how ubiquitous this technique
is in contemporary poetry). So, naturally, the anti-contiguity poets
also work towards surprise. For them too, likeliness, clichs, fixed
molds for experience are the enemies, the veil that hides truth.
But while they conceive of truth as individual fact, as something
like the unanalysable 'simple' of near-numinous stature that needs
37
The phrase is Paulhan's: "l'attention que l'on porte aux mots comme
tels, en se prolongeant, peut tre dangereuse: tout au moins marque-t-elle
un retard, et comme un court-circuit du sens." Les Fleurs de Tarbes (Paris,
Gallimard, 1941), p. 111.
38
Langer, Philosophy in a New Key, p. 212.
3
Quoted by Alfred Liede, Dichtung als Spiel, I, 121.
40
Bense, Programmierung des Schnen: aesthetica IV (Baden-Baden, Agis-
Verlag, 1960), p. 30.
41
Ibid., passim, e.g. pp. 89 and 92.
THE METHOD OF DISRUPTION 53
to be taken out of any mold, the pro-contiguity poets I am going
to deal with now reject this way as impossible. For them, all truth
is truth of relation. The elements of language as of human ex-
perience are always more or less the same. Knowledge is finding
new ways of combining them, new perspectives.
One way in which combination assumes importance is by becom-
ing playful and variable (this can be achieved by methods as
simple as omitting punctuation or, in German, the capitals of
nouns). First an example that stands between the two groups,
attracting attention to the arrangement as well as enriching the
overtones of a single word: the first stanza of Apollinaire's "Le
Pont Mirabeau":
Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine
Et nos amours
Faut-il qu'il m'en souvienne
La joie venait toujours aprs la p e i n e 4 2
The two effects seem in perfect balance: the small confusion that
makes us very conscious of the sequence of lines and the asso-
ciation of amour and Seine turns out to be quite wanted.
Now let us consider the altogether different effect of a poem by
Hans Arp:
" Apollinaire, uvres potiques, eds. Marcel Adma and Michel Dcau-
din (Paris, Gallimard, 1959), p. 45.
54 THE METHOD OF DISRUPTION
43
Arp, Gesammelte Gedichte, eds. Marguerite Arp-Hagenbach and Peter
Schifferli (Wiesbaden, Limes, 1963), I, 62.
THE METHOD OF DISRUPTION 55
Ibid., p. 64 f.
4
Tristan Tzara, L'Homme approximatif (Paris, Editions Fourcade, 1931),
p. 17.
THE METHOD OF DISRUPTION 57
sequence of lines all starting with qu'on. The anaphoric parallel
makes us expect a corresponding parallelism of enumeration.
Instead it masks a chain effect as I described it above. Worse:
we expect at least a grammatical parallelism, but the que suddenly
changes its function, the relative pronoun turns into the conjunc-
tion in "qu'on fume la pipe vieille d'aigles". We come away with
a curiously vague idea of what we read.
Helmut Heissenbttel is the poet who uses the symptoms of
similarity disorder most consistently. At the same time he makes
the impossibility of naming and defining his subject matter, so
that he constantly moves along the border which he does not
allow himself to cross. Here is a relatively simple example:
"schwarze Johannisbeeren".50 The first line reads: "jemand geht
hin und macht was." It is a grammatically complete sentence, but
leaves us quite unsatisfied. We expect the following sentences to
tell us who this "someone" is. All we learn is that he is male
(he is referred to as "he") and that he is not just anybody
("genausowenig wie jemand irgendjemand ist"). Our subject fulfills
its function in the sentence, but frustrates our expectation of iden-
tification. This would probably not disturb us if we found out
what it is that he makes (or does). But instead of qualifications or
definitions of the object we are given a series of subordinate
clauses:
jemand geht dahin und macht das weil er da wo er hingeht was findet
was sich machen lsst und er findet das weil das was sich machen
lsst und was er macht was ist was da wo er hingeht und was macht
ist.
nouns later on, but not for either subject or object. The verbs
which name the activity are the vaguest to be found in the lan-
guage. The other point of interest is what we find instead of nouns.
We find either pronouns - which have an implicit reference to a
context which is, however, not given. And we find subordinate
clauses: "da wo er hingeht" instead of a place name, "das was
sich machen lsst und was er macht" instead of the object. In
other words, this text replaces names by either a context or a
reference to a context.
A more difficult example is "Einstze" I:
berall: immer und berall: je und je: morgens mittags und abends
sogar im Bro: ein dies dies ist ein: wasfrein: wie am wenn auf oder
in das heisst als was andersartiger als: und das was wenn nichts als
dies und so fort: Fixierung fixiert: in der Lage ich man leit in genau
ins man: chanisch chanisiert pfern: meta fern: Domizil mizivil zivil:
ein Zel mir griffig mir greifend mir Kiel 5 1
61
Heissenbiittel, Textbuch 1 (Olten, Walter, 1960), p. 39.
THE METHOD OF DISRUPTION 59
"and so on" which ends the next phrase: "and that which when
nothing but this and so on".
"Fixierung fixiert." We have reached a new stage. Here is a
complete sentence even though it is a bit tautological. It seems
to give us the reason for the failure of naming. What Heissen-
bttel is trying to say defies being "fixed". Not that it is something
esoteric, after all, the text affirms at length that it is always and
everywhere. Thus the difficulty of naming and defining is declared
an everyday problem. Or is the statement that "fixation fixes", that
any pinning down, any formulation establishes a rut, the state-
ment which we have been waiting for? Is it this process which is
taking place always and everywhere? In that case, the difficulty
of naming extends even to the name of the process which makes
naming possible.
The rest of the text tells more about this process of fixation.
It fixes "in der Lage ich man". Does Heissenbiittel mean to
say that it fixes us in the traditional pattern of subject ("I") versus
an impersonal object (represented by the impersonal pronoun
"one")? Or does definition, fixation put us in a position where
the "I" becomes identified with the impersonal collective "man",
where everything personal is lost in favor of the larger, cruder
mold which fits everyone and is therefore communicable? The
second half of the phrase seems to support the latter interpreta-
tion. I read "leit in genau ins man" as still referring to "Fixie-
rung" and meaning that "fixation leads into, exactly into the
impersonal 'one' ". This is to say, I take "leit" as a shortened
form of leitet. "Leit" could of course be an imperative, but the
fact that from here on words appear in obviously atrophied form
and the context makes a mangled third person singular more likely.
The impersonal character of "man" is not all that goes with
fixing. It is also mechanical or mechanized. These words appear
as "chanisch chanisiert". Note that here it is part of the stem
that is atrophied, not an ending. It is the part that carries meaning
which is suppressed also in the next word, "pfern". I do not know
what word was mangled into this form. It might have been the
dative plural of any number of words such as "Hpfer" or "Tup-
60 THE METHOD OF DISRUPTION
fer". The form "pfern" might also have come about through
combination of "Pferdestrke" (which might well be an asso-
ciation of "mechanical") and the word "fern" which follows.
That would mean that the surroundings determined which part of
the word would survive. A t any rate, the difficulty with naming
persists. First we were given contiguity words which mainly
build contexts. Now, when we finally find words with more
meaning, the words are atrophied.
Next comes the word "metaphors", but as a pun: "meta fern."
Metaphors are farther than far away, they are beyond "far"; they
are definitely out of reach. Elsewhere, Heissenbttel speaks of
his never using images or metaphors because they are unambigu-
ous and identifiable - "part of that language which is exactly
unavailable". 52 Instead of the unavailable metaphors, the last two
lines have progression by overlapping syllables ("Domizil mizivil
zivil") or by different derivations from the same root ("griffig mir
greifend"). Both are procedures that use contiguity rather than
similarity. The words seem to refer to metaphor, or still to "Fix-
ierung". Both notions are related in his description of metaphors.
All the following words suggest the ideas of security or singleness
which can also be easily reconciled with this description. I have
already quoted the sequence that involves "domicile" and "pri-
vate". The pair "ein Zel" suggests both einzeln and eine Zelle,
"mir griffig mir greifend" the notion of being reachable which is
reinforced by "mir Kiel" if we take "Kiel" as the keel of a boat
on to which you might be able to hold. "Kiel", however, also has
the possibility of meaning "Federkiel" and, with "quill", writing.
The possibilities of writing and of naming are very closely
connected. Thus we have come full circle thematically. This text
tries to write while rejecting the easy, secure, unambiguous name
or metaphor or definition. I have another suspicion about the
end. The words "Domizil", "Kiel", and the pseudo-word "Zel"
seem to approach an unmentioned word from different angles
of sound: Ziel, "goal". Is "goal" the unnamable notion the whole
text turned around? Or is metaphor actually the aim? Is it to
" ber Literatur, p. 223.
THE METHOD OF DISRUPTION 61
53
Jakobson, Fundamentals of Language, p. 67.
M
Ibid., p. 73.
55
Heissenbiittel, Textbuch 2 (Olten, Walter, 1961), p. 17.
62 THE METHOD OF DISRUPTION
("bad light there is a draft through the windows badly heated . . ."
or later: "he knows that he is making an effect that he is successful
now he smiles he has noticed it they are applauding"). This
counterpoint which gives us some of the reality the speaker cannot
define is free of 'similarity disorder'. But we are not surprised
that the speech after a while disintegrates into heaps of contiguity
words like: "Etwas worber man nicht reden kann. Etwas das
etwas wovon etwas worber." Here, as in Einstze I, Heissen-
bttel comes close to what Jakobson quotes as a typical utterance
of similarity disorder:
Ich bin doch hier unten, na wenn ich gewesen bin ich wees nicht,
we das, nu wenn ich, ob das nun doch, noch, ja. Was Sie her, wenn
ich, och ich wees nicht, we das hier war ja . . . 5 6
By the time all the changes are rung, everybody has had "it"
with everybody else, including himself. On the other hand, the
poem "Endlsung" is one of the most powerful poetic statements
about Germany's "unbewltigte Vergangenheit" that I have seen.
54
Quoted in Fundamentals of Language, p. 65.
" Textbuch 5 (Olten, Walter, 1965), p. 26.
THE METHOD OF DISRUPTION 63
Here Hitler's "final solution" for the Jews is talked about without
being mentioned (except in the title). Likewise, the Nazis are re-
ferred to as "those who just simply thought of that". The prose
poem is too long to quote in full, but here is a sample from about
the middle (after most of the elements have been established in
shorter sentences):
das haben die sich ausgedacht und da sind sie drauf gekommen als
sie was anfangen wollten zu machen aber auf was sie dann gekom-
men sind das war nicht was wofr man sein kann sondern wogegen
man sein kann oder noch besser was wozu man die meisten rumkrie-
gen kann dagegen zu sein denn wenn man die meisten rumkriegen
kann gegen was zu sein braucht man nicht mehr so genau mit dem
zu sein wofr man sein kann und dass man damit nicht mehr so
genau sein braucht hat seine Vorteile denn wenn die meisten sich nur
austoben knnen ist es ihnen meistens ganz egal wofr sie sind 58
The power lies exactly in the fact that the text does not state
what it was "they" thought of, what it was they could get people
to be against, etc. Nothing but this circling around an unnamed
middle could convey so much ambivalence. It seems to range
through a whole scale of reactions-from shying away from the
horrible and grappling with something that seems incomprehen-
sible to pushing off responsibility. Paradoxically, the refusal to
name is more expressive (in this case) than naming could be.
The texts that refuse similarity, like Heissenbttel's, are far
more disconcerting than those which abolish contiguity. Jakobson
suggests a reason: that "the principle of similarity underlies
poetry. . . Prose, on the contrary, is forwarded essentially by
contiguity."59 But I wonder whether Jakobson is not being carried
away here by his delight in universalizing this bipolarity. It seems
to me that he accepts as 'poetry' what is really only Romantic
poetry whose essence is indeed the metaphor. Perhaps Stramm is
less disconcerting than Heissenbttel simply because two centuries
of fragments in the name of expression have sufficiently prepared
58
Ibid., p. 12.
59
Fundamentals of Language, p. 81 f .
64 THE METHOD OF DISRUPTION
E. CHANCE
60
The phrase is Heissenbttel's, Textbuch 1, p. 20.
61
Christopher Middleton describes this genesis of his poem " P a t a x a n a d u "
in a letter to Bernard Waldrop of September 22, 1963. It is a variant of the
" S + 7 " method of Jean Lescure. Cf. Cahiers du College de 'Pataphysique',
Dossier 17 (22 Sable LXXXIX).
THE METHOD OF DISRUPTION 65
The most curious line is: "The poem will resemble you." This is
the point the Surrealists elaborate in their games: chance becomes
revelation of the unconscious, of the hidden correspondences.
Breton says, "Chance is still the great veil we must lift. I said it
could be the form of manifestation of external necessity which
69
Breton, Situation du Surralisme entre les deux guerres (Paris, Editions
de la revue Fontaine, 1945), no pagination. Cf. also C. G. Jung's essay
"Synchronicity: A n Acausai Connecting Principle", in C. G. Jung and
W. Pauli, The Interpretation of Nature and the Psyche, trans. R. F. C. Hull,
Bollingen Series LI (New York, Pantheon, 1955), pp. 1-146.
67
MacLow's play The Marrying Maiden was produced by the Living
Theater, New York, in 1960. The words were chosen from the / Ching,
according to the program notes. Cf. also his note on the composition of
22 Light Poems (Los Angeles, Black Sparrow, 1968).
68
Arp, Gesammelte Gedichte, I, 46.
Ibid.
70
Reinhard Dhl, Das literarische Werk Hans Arps 1903-1930 (Stuttgart,
Metzler, 1967), p. 149.
THE METHOD OF DISRUPTION 67
would expect. Arp makes the disparate elements more palatable
by making the poem the account of a series of dreams. Syntax is
occasionally regularized. Contradictions are eliminated:
. . . erstens ist es staunend billig und zweitens kostet es v i e l . . . 7 1
In the later version, Arp establishes for the beginning the context
of living in a dark country. The word "pig" does not fit this
context, therefore it is made into a metaphor, prepared by another
animal metaphor:
. . . Vom tageslicht bleibt nur ein drftiger krnz brig, die finsternis
ist eine quallige spinne ein stummes schwein ... 74
71
Arp, Gesammelte Gedichte, I, 47.
72
Ibid., p. 53.
13
Ibid., p. 47.
74
Ibid., p. 48.
68 THE METHOD OF DISRUPTION
F. F R A G M E N T A T I O N SMALLER T H A N T H E W O R D
75
Cf. Mon, Artikulationen, p. 15.
70
Heissenbiittel, Textbuch 1, p. 39.
77
Denis Roche, Les ides centsimales de Miss Elanize (Paris, Seuil, 1964),
p. 35.
THE METHOD OF DISRUPTION 69
The same is true for the combinations of letters in Marinetti's
"ortographe libre expressive" which tends to deform and remodel
the spelling of words, mostly in agreement with onomatopoetic
tendencies (e.g. multiplying an important vowel).78 It is equally
true for all the attempts to adapt French orthography to the sound
of the spoken language, from Raymond Queneau's "Doukipu-
donktan"79 to the systems exemplified in the special 'Lettrisme'
number of the magazine Bizarre.80
Beyond these examples, in 'lettrisme' or 'sound poetry' proper,
the distinction becomes meaningless: both the semantic code and
the known combinations are abandoned. So is any pretense of
communication (the poems are not in 'secret languages'),81 but
not the claim to expressiveness. This expressiveness is, however,
as problematical as that of onomatopoeia. It seems to me that
the sound in Ball's "Elefantenkarawane" are heavy only because
of the title. And the following lines from Isidore Isou's Introduc-
tion une nouvelle posie are expressive only if we know that
and M stand for soupir and gmissement, and that the title of
the poem is "Larmes de jeune fille":
M dngoun, m diahl hna fou
82
h s n i o u n in h l i a n h l (V) p n a i o u
78
Cf. F. T. Marinetti, Les mots en libert (Milano, Edizioni Futuriste di
"Poesia", 1919), p. 51.
78
This is the first word of Queneau's novel Zazie dans le Mtro (Paris,
Gallimard, 1959), p. 7.
80
Number 3 2 / 3 3 of Bizarre (1964) is dedicated to "littrature illettre ou
la littrature la lettre". Beside sections on Lettrisme and calligraphy, they
have examples of "Jargons", like Queneau's.
81
Liede sees secret languages along with sound symbolism and onomato-
poeia as keys to sound poetry. Cf. Dichtung als Spiel, II, 221 ff.
82
Isou, Introduction une nouvelle posie, p. 334.
70 THE METHOD OF DISRUPTION
HHH HH HH HHH
HHH
HHH HHH
AAA
Olalala O A O A lala
Plinius (i.J. 1847) 3
They are directed against "people who cannot read, only under-
stand".84 And there are those which are in pursuit of the "Urlaut",85
half magical or sacred incantations of the elemental, the 'simple',
the numinous.89 This pursuit has logically led to poems of single
letters and finally to Isou's "aphonisme" or silent recitation.87
But even before we reach silence, these experiments leave
literature. Unlike the poems that atrophy similarity or contiguity,
unlike even the poems which leave these functions to chance,
Ball's "gadji beri bimba" needs the "cadence of sacerdotal lamen-
tation"88 he read in it, Isou's poems have to be recited or seen.
The experiment with phonetics leaves literature proper for a quasi-
musical or quasi-theatrical performance. The experiment with
letters, likewise, leads to a new mixed genre. In the extreme
cases, it leads to pure graphic art which happens to use the
shapes of letters as its elements.
83
Merz, N o . 4 (July 1923), quoted ill Liede, Dichtung als Spiel, II, 248.
84
Letter to Hausmann, in Raoul Hausmann and Kurt Schwitters, PIN
(London, Gaberbocchus Press, 1962), p. 11.
85
So Rudolf Blmner, in Literatur-Revolution, ed. Prtner, I, 445.
86
Cf. the account of Hugo Ball's recitation in the Gregorian chant of a
"magical bishop", in Flucht aus der Zeit. In Dada: Eine literarische Doku-
mentation, ed. Richard Huelsenbeck (Hamburg, Rowohlt, 1964), pp. 158-9.
87
Cf. Isidore Isou, "Les grands potes lettristes: du lettrisme l'aphonis-
me", Bizarre, N o . 32/33, p. 66.
88
Huelsenbeck, Dada, p. 159.
IV
A. IMPLICATIONS
1
Cf. The Savage Mind (Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1966),
p. 23 ff.
2
Cf. Wittgenstein: "But it is important that the signs 'p' and ' ~ p ' can
say the same thing. For it shows that nothing in reality corresponds to the
sign *~p'." (Tractatus, 4.0621.) Or Bergson: " . . . there is no absolute void
in nature . . . what there is and what one perceives is the presence of one
thing or another, never the absence of anything whatever. Absence exists
only for a being capable of remembering and expecting." (uvres, p. 733.)
72 THE METHOD OF NEGATION
3
Burke, "Definition of Man", The Hudson Review, Vol. XVI, No. 4
(Winter 1963-64), p. 501 f.
4
Daumal, Posie noire, posie blanche (Paris, Gallimard, 1954), p. 26.
5
Weiss, Der Schatten des Krpers des Kutschers (Frankfurt, Suhrkamp,
1960), pp. 20-21.
* Divine Names, I, 5 as quoted in Bataille, L'Exprience intrieure, p. 15.
THE METHOD OF NEGATION 73
7
Mallarm, uvres compltes, p. 67.
8
Ibid., p. 68.
9
Ibid.
10
Ibid., p. 65.
11
Segalen, Stles, ed. Henry Bouillier (Paris, Pln, 1963), p. 43.
12
Textbuch 1, p. 6.
74 THE METHOD OF NEGATION
13
Ezra Pound, The Literary Essays, p. 11.
14
Some Imagist Poets (Boston, Houghton Mifflin, 1915), pp. VI-VII.
15
Jean Paulhan, Les fleurs de Tarbes, p. 82 f.
1
Hans Werner Richter quoting Wolfgang Weyrauch in "Fnfzehn Jahre",
Almanach der Gruppe 47, ed. H. W. Richter (Hamburg, Rowohlt, 1962),
p. 8.
17
Cf. the first stanza, Ausgewhlte Gedichte, ed. Walter Hllerer (Frank-
furt, Suhrkamp, 1960), p. 25:
Dies ist meine Mtze,
dies ist mein Mantel,
hier mein Rasierzeug
im Beutel aus Leinen.
THE METHOD OF NEGATION 75
how much more the fact that the most 'concrete thing' words can
refer to, the physical world, is an abstraction. However, the poem,
or even a single image, can in turn become an experience, a
'whole' experience in Jespersen's sense. (I suppose it is something
like this that phrases like "A poem should not mean but be" try
to suggest. As soon as we ask for the meaning, we repeat Jesper-
sen's division). For the poem qua experience it is irrelevant
whether it uses words with or without physical objects of refer-
ence. I am not denying that the quality of the experience is differ-
ent in these lines by J. V. Cunningham:
Yes, we are all
By sense or thought
Distraught.23
and in one like:
The jewelled steps are already quite white with dew 24
But in either case, the experience is an experience with WORDS.
So, while it would be a serious attack against, and change of, lan-
guage if you could avoid abstraction, this is really impossible.
The desire to eliminate 'abstraction' from poems can nearly be
reduced to anti-discursiveness. At least, there is a close link. By
using words that refer to physical objects the poet may be able
to conjure up qualities of the object that defy being verbalized
easily (like smell, or the feel and texture of the "jewelled steps").
Therefore, these words are better suited to becoming the quasi-
numinous 'simples' than words that refer to concepts (like "sense"
or "thought"). Concepts can always be defined in discursive
terms. Secondly, anti-abstractness is often given as the theoretical
basis for the technique of juxtaposition which I have already
mentioned as a device directed against discursiveness.
Fenollosa laments the Western "pyramids" of abstraction where
we extract from a row of cherry trees the concept "cherry or
cherry-ness", from "cherry, rose, sunset, iron-rust, flamingo" the
23
J. V. Cunningham, "L'Esprit de gometrie et l'esprit de finesse", The
Exclusions of a Rhyme (Denver, Alan Swallow, 1960), p. 41.
" Ezra Pound, "The Jewel Stairs' Grievance", Personae (Norfolk, Conn.,
New Directions, 1926), p. 132.
THE METHOD OF NEGATION 77
quality "red" and so on "until we reach the apex 'being' ",25 If I
understand him right, poetry is the better the closer it stays to
"the poor neglected things at the bases of the pyramids".26 Thus
"cherry, rose, sunset, iron-rust, flamingo" is preferable to "red".
Accepting Fenollosa's idea that these rows of basic things and
actions are still discernible in the Chinese ideogram, Pound calls
his technique of "examination and juxtaposition of particular
specimens" the "ideogrammic method".27 As Fenollosa claims
for the ideogram, the effect of the juxtaposition is basically meta-
phoric:
IN A STATION OF THE METRO
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.28
It is metaphoric because there is an immediately obvious simila-
rity in the visual structure, the white on black, of the two images.
There is ambiguity as in the examples of anti-contiguity: For
instance, the perspective of the metaphor is not determined. We
do not exclusively look at A in terms of 29 or vice versa, but
stand as it were between the two terms and can apply the
process both ways. (We will finally consider petals as perspective
on faces, but for a reason extrinsic to the poem: we think our-
selves most important. Or, to put it less facetiously, faces have
greater biological and psychological relevance for us than petals.30
25
Ernest Fenollosa, The Chinese Written Character as a Medium for
Poetry (San Francisco, City Lights Books, n.d.), p. 26.
2e
Ibid., p. 27.
27
Pound, The Literary Essays, p. 61.
28
Pound, Personae, p. 104.
29
This description of a metaphor is Burke's, Grammar of Motives (New
York, Braziller, 1955), p. 503 f.
30
Cf. . H. Gombrich: "Ours is a structured universe whose main lines of
force are still bent and fashioned by our biological and psychological needs,
however much they may be overlaid by cultural influences. We know that
there are certain privileged motifs in our world to which we respond almost
too easily. The human face may be outstanding among them . . . we cer-
tainly are ever disposed to single out the expressive features of a face from
the chaos of sensations that surrounds i t . . . Our whole perceptive apparatus
is somehow hypersensitized in this direction of physiognomic vision."
78 THE METHOD OF NEGATION
BATAILLE
POIDS + ODEUR
Midi 3/4 fltes glapissement embrasement toumbtoumb alarme Gar-
garesch craquement crpitation marche Cliquetis sacs fusils sabots
clous canons crinires roues caissons juifs beignets pains--huile
cantilnes choppes bouffes chatoiment chassie puanteur cannelle
fadeurs flux reflux poivre . . . 34
I quote this excerpt not because Dblin very neatly pins down
Marinetti's dogmatism as well as his oversimple interpretation
of the adjective's function. I quote it mainly because it expresses
a feeling of 'amputation'. So far I have been stressing how ex-
clusion patterns are natural because they are tied to the process
of selection. However, these patterns have been felt to do violence
to language. Jean Paulhan, for instance, has great misgivings about
any sort of "privation" as a remedy in literature. He fears that the
wish to break only with what is too conventional in language,
will lead close to breaking with all language.38
As for verbs, Marinetti tolerated them, but only in the infini-
tive39 which is again consistent with the general agrammatism of
anti-contiguity and anti-discursiveness. His justification is (again)
not too well formulated. The infinitive is indeed more "elastic"
than finite forms; but why should it be less "subject to the of
the writer who observes and invents"?40 There can be cases where
the reader is at liberty to connect the infinitive with a different
noun than the writer had had in mind, where the relationship
37
Dblin, "Futuristische Warttechnik: Offener Brief an F. T. Marinetti",
Prtner, II, 66.
38
Cf. Les fleurs de Tarbes, p. 31.
39
Literatur-Revolution 1910-1925, ed. Prtner, II, 47. Also: Les mots en
libert, p. 13.
40
Ibid., p. 48.
THE METHOD OF NEGATION 81
47
H e is quoted to this effect in Literatur-Revolution 1910-1925, ed. Prt-
ner, I, 178. Cf. also his earlier Beitrge zu einer Kritik der Sprache (Stutt-
gart, Cotta, 1902), III, 94-102.
48
Quoted in Carl Van Vechten, "A Stein Song", Selected Writings of
Gertrude Stein, ed. Carl Van Vechten (New York: Modern Library, 1962),
p. XXII.
THE METHOD OF NEGATION 85
D. EXCLUSION OF METAPHOR
DER RADWECHSEL
Ich sitze am Strassenhang.
Der Fahrer wechselt das Rad.
Ich bin nicht gern, wo ich herkomme.
Ich bin nicht gern, wo ich hinfahre.
Warum sehe ich den Radwechsel
Mit Ungeduld?
The poem is still symbolic. It still speaks with "Beziehung auf das
Innere des Bewusstseins".54 Heissenbiittel, as we might expect
after the examples I quoted earlier, tries to stop such going
beyond the text. The most he will allow is skirting the metaphor,
skirting a symbolic relation:
52
Akzente, Vol. XII, No. 2 (April 1965), p. 99.
53
Brecht, Gedichte (Frankfurt, Suhrkamp, 1960-64), VII, 7.
54
Heissenbiittel quotes this phrase by Hegel with obvious disdain in
"Kriterien fr den Begriff des Gedichts im 20. Jahrhundert", Sprache im
technischen Zeitalter, N o . 9 / 1 0 (1964), p. 777.
THE METHOD OF NEGATION 87
geh ich
immer zu
zu
immer geh ich
wieder zu
ich
geh zu
immer wieder
immer zu
geh ich
wieder zu rck 53
In spite of the fact that few words are used and the few constantly
repeated, it is clear that the single word in this text is much less
important than the typographical arrangement. It is the latter
which articulates the poem. It combines the "zu" of "zurck"
with other words so that we find "geh ich zu", "I go on" (or, if
we want to assume an incomplete statement, "I go to") and
"immerzu". The arrangement gives us new phrases which how-
ever do not add any new meanings or even overtones; both
"immerzu" and "ich geh zu" only underline the repetitive and
continuous character of the basic sentence: "immer wieder geh
ich zurck." The repetition of the words in varying order (if we
read line by line) serves the same function. Or, if we read the
text like an orchestral score, it is again the spacing that produces
the wave effect or perhaps contraction-expansion effect which
goes only too well with the words.
There is a temptation not to stop here, with the look at the
pattern and the savoring of the various combinations. There is a
temptation to interpret this "again and again I go back". On the
simplest level it could be a metaphor for a circular or pendulum
movement. Does it perhaps refer to frustration and starting over?
Does it talk about the daily routines we have to go through? Is it
about the difficulty of making a decision or about the relation
between two people? None of these suggestions are convincing. (In
contrast to Char's " L a torche du prodigue" where nearly all the
overtones made some sense and were hard to reject.) Here we are
55 Heissenbiittel, Textbuch 4 (Olten, Walter, 1964), p. 23.
88 THE METHOD OF NEGATION
given too little to go beyond what the words actually say, beyond
the sheer repetitiveness of always going back. It is impossible to
make this text symbolic. Brecht's "I don't like to be where I
come from./ I don't like to be where I am going" allows a quite
precise analogy on the symbolical level, e.g. man between two
kinds of non-existence, before conception and after death. Heis-
senbttel's text only gives a structure. The structure can be applied
to a number of relations, but not by analogy. It is somewhat like
a geometric shape: the shape of a circle can be seen in many
different circles, but one circle is not simply SIMILAR to another:
the shape is IDENTICAL. Thus the structure of "always going back"
is identical in the examples of interpretation I attempted. In the
two Brecht lines, the structure of being between two states is also
identical on the literal and the symbolic level, but it is qualified
enough not to fit just ANY "in between". Heissenbttel's poem,
like the ones discussed earlier, seems to move right on the border-
line of 'significance'. It seems to demand a symbolic interpretation
and yet refuses it. It attracts our attention to that which it does
NOT do. It does not allow us to overlook the refusal of going
beyond the structure, of metaphoric transference, of similarity.
E. REDUCTION IN SCOPE
Ibid.
58
Weinheber, Smtliche Werke, ed. Josef Nadler (Salzburg, Otto Mller,
1954), II, 425.
59
Gomringer, 33 konstellationen, no pagination.
90 THE METHOD OF NEGATION
Face lave d'oubli dans l'effacement des signes, pierre affranchie pour
nous de son relief et de son grain? - et de plus haut encore et de
plus loin, la Mer plus haute et plus lointaine . . . inallusive et pure de
tout chiffre, la tendre page lumineuse contre la nuit sans tain des
choses?...62
2
Rousselot and Manoll, Pierre Reverdy, p. 126.
3
Ibid., p. 138.
94 THE METHOD OF BORROWING
tion, let us say a colon after "lueurs" and perhaps a dash after
"coeur" - although the colon would immediately stress a logical
relationship that is not there as the poem stands and that would
tend to rob "lueurs" of at least some of their physical presence
by making them metaphors for "heart" and "emotion". Punctua-
tion could even less produce the sense of movement that the dia-
gonal of line beginnings immediately gives us (and which perhaps
saves "Et l'motion" from being altogether heavy and sentimental
as it seems in (l). 4
It is Arno Holz who has most consistently used typographical
arrangement to articulate rhythm. He decided on the line as
rhythmical unit for his mammoth poem Phantasus, and at the
same time believed in a "necessary rhythm". Hence much of his
revising consisted in changing the Une arrangement of word se-
quences which themselves seemed absolutely right to him. The
perfect line arrangement would be the one which best "projects
their [the words'] inner melody" onto the page.5 This is an idea
Ezra Pound, William Carlos Williams, . E. Cummings, Charles
Olson, and Robert Duncan have accepted wholeheartedly. Charles
Olson specifies in his essay "Projective Verse":
It is the advantage of the typewriter that, due to its rigidity and its
space precisions, it can, for a poet, indicate exactly the breath, the
pauses, the suspension even of syllables, the juxtapositions even of
parts of phrases, which he intends. For the first time the poet has
the stave and the bar a musician has had . . . If a contemporary poet
leaves a space as long as the phrases before it, he means that space
to be held, by the breath, an equal length of time. If he suspends a
word or syllable at the end of a line . . . he means that time to pass
that it takes the eye - the hair of time suspended - to pick up the
next line. 6
4
On the related question: can typographical arrangement make prose into
poetry, cf. the exchange of letters on Hugh McDiarmid's "Perfect" in The
Times Literary Supplement, 1-21-1965 to 2-18-65, especially the letters of
Edwin Morgan (1-28-1965, p. 67) and W. A. S. Keir (2-4-1965, p. 87).
5
Arno Holz, "Evolution der Lyrik", Werke, ed. Wilhelm Emrich and
Anita Holz (Neuwied, Luchterhand, 1961-64), V, 93.
6
Charles Olson, Selected Writings (New York, New Directions, 1966),
p. 22/23.
THE METHOD OF BORROWING 95
The other possibility of articulating a poem by space is that it
gets away from the strictly linear sequence and thus allows various
combinations of the given words and also moves towards a simul-
taneous effect. Mallarm's Un coup de ds seems the first work to
exploit systematically the multiple combination. It is true that
Henri Mondor and G. Jean-Aubry claim that the poem is to be
read on the right and left side of the page at the same time, simply
descending.7 They obviously derive this from Mallarm's remark
about the poem: "le vaisseau y donne de la bande, du haut d'une
page au bas de l'autre."8 But there are several facts that speak
against this view. For one, Mallarm (who speaks about the poem
mainly in musical terms) notes that the place "in the middle, on top,
or at the bottom of the page indicates the rising or descending of
the intonation".9 It seems to me odd that Mallarm should mention
RISING intonation, if all he had in mind was DESCENDING. Accord-
ing to Mondor and Jean-Aubry, Mallarm simply wanted a wide
page - which he surely would have suggested. But, and this is
more important, there are suggestions for various combination in
the text itself. The words of the main motif "UN COUP DE DS
JAMAIS N'ABOLIRA LE HASARD" are, after all, scattered
through the text. It is only the typography that makes you isolate
them from the rest of the text with the sanction of the title - as
one possibility. Moreover, there are pages that descend in a more
or less steady diagonal from the left top corner to the right bottom
corner and can indeed be read only in one sequence - which by
itself would not mean anything, but in combination with the
other arguments seems to me to speak for a plotting of more linear
sections against pages like the one on the following page.
7
Mallarm, uvres compltes, p. 456, editor's note.
8
Letter to Andr Gide, quoted by Valry, uvres, I, 627.
uvres compltes, p. 455.
96 THE METHOD OF BORROWING
I
I
v
<fc>
w
Mallarm, uvres compltes, pp. 466-7.
THE METHOD OF BORROWING 97
It is certainly possible to read line by line horizontally. And this
is undoubtedly the primary sequence intended. It is also possible
to read down the left page and then down the right, which gives us
a different grouping, also intended, I think at least as overtones:
The "insinuation au silence" is no longer "enroule avec ironie",
but takes place "dans quelque proche voltige" (the ship's flying
or vaulting, being a plaything of the waves, the "Hasard", the
flight of thought, the throw of the dice); and it is this voltige which
is "enroule avec ironie" (the irony is now directed more against
the artifice, the mastery, the seemingly effortless effort than against
the "insinuation au silence" with its implications of death and the
absolute); the "mystery" is no longer hurled into a "whirlpool of
mirth and horror", but becomes this whirlpool through apposition,
etc. What is the point? It is that every word becomes connected
with nearly every other word on the page by either contiguity or
grammar. And the point of that? It powerfully supports the
"simultaneous vision of the Page" 11 which Mallarm explicitly
wanted to create through the typography. I think that the com-
plexity of the poem and the typography makes you dwell on the
single page long enough to allow even a testing out of partial
readings that the typography suggests, like: "Une insinuation /
au silence / dans quelque proche tourbillon d'hilarit et d'hor-
reur / voltige autour du gouffre . . ."
Beyond this spatial rather than linear arrangement for the
purpose of multiple combination, and beyond rhythmical consi-
derations, there are instances where space itself begins to speak,
as it were. This happens with the blank space in the center of
Gomringer's "schweigen" which I quoted on page 91. This also
happens in such concrete poems as Emmet Williams' (see page
98).
As he has commented, "The particular poem says what it does,
and does what it says." 12 It is clear that the words without the
spatial arrangement would be nothing. However, this poem could
11
Ibid., p. 455.
12
Emmet Williams, Anthology of Concrete Poetry (New York, Something
Else Press, 1967), n.p.
98 THE METHOD OF BORROWING
15
Ernst Jandl, sprechblasen (Neuwied, Luchterhand, 1968), p. 20.
THE METHOD OF BORROWING 99
e
ee
eee
oooooooooooooooo
ooooooooooooooo
OOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOO
OOOOOOO
eooooooo
eeooooooo
14
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
14
Ibid., p. 95.
15
Cf. George David Birkhoff, "A Mathematical Theory of Aesthetics",
Collected Mathematical Papers (New York, American Mathematical Soci-
ety, 1950), pp. 382-535.
100 THE METHOD OF BORROWING
L.I.F.T.K.E.Y.B.O.A.R.D.L.I.D.E.M.P.T.Y.T.H.E.M.I.N.D.
42"
L.I.F.T.K.E.Y.B.O.A.R.D.L.I.D.E.M.P.T.Y.T.H.E.M.I.N.D.
42"
18
I am thinking of 'modal' criticism, e.g. Northrop Frye's Anatomy of
Criticism; Angus Fletcher's Allegory: The Theory of a Symbolic Mode
(Ithaca, N.Y., Cornell University Press, 1964); Empson's Some Versions of
Pastoral (London, Chatto & Windus, 1935); etc.
19
Cf. Ernst Cassirer, Die Philosophie der symbolischen Formen, II, 51,
and Jean Piaget, The Child's Conception of the World, trans. Joan and
Andrew Tomlinson (Paterson, N.J., Littlefield, Adams & Company, 1960),
p. 161.
102 THE METHOD OF BORROWING
new reality",28 which Alfred Liede, for instance, has taken to mean
that dream is not a door to any knowledge (as it was for the
German Romantics), it is "just the place where the leftovers of
a destroyed world are heaped up".29
Liede makes really two claims. One is that dream provides no
new knowledge, i.e., no new material for poetry since it does not
bring a new reality. (I am disregarding his assumption that dream
does bring a new reality if you, as the German Romantics, think it
does.) Breton's full statement is, however, that "dreams takes all
its element's from reality and does not imply the knowledge of
another or new reality". I have emphasized 'elements' because
this is the word which Liede apparently overlooks and which
makes clear that Liede is saying something analogous to: "This
writer does not provide any new knowledge because he uses only
words we already know." Liede overlooks the factor of arrange-
ment which is exactly the point where dream differs from thought
even when it uses the same elements. Ferdinand Alqui observed
in relation to Surrealist games that if you eliminate the logical
sense, the mind, changing its attitude, will discover others.30 No
new material, it is true, but new arrangements, new perspectives,
and therefore certainly new knowledge. Besides, it may be that
even this is too modest a claim. Charles Fisher seems to corro-
borate the 'nothing new' view when he reports on his experiments
with subthreshold visual perception and its role in dreams: "It is
entirely possible that the dream work cannot compose a new
visual structure any more than it can a new speech."31 Yet at the
same time he stresses that subthreshold perception is not normally
available to awareness - which puts the cognitive nature of the
surrealist experiment beyond doubt. It is still not another reality
that is made available, but it is parts of this reality that had not
come into awareness.
Liede's second claim is rather widely shared: dream is chaos,
28
Andr Breton, Les Vases communicants, p. 156.
29
Alfred Liede, Dichtung als Spiel, I, 126 f.
30
Ferdinand Alqui, Philosophie du surralisme, p. 138.
91
Tauber and Green, Prelogical Experience, pp. 83-4.
THE METHOD OF BORROWING 105
"the leftovers of a destroyed world". This is the issue most rele-
vant to my argument. For, if dream is chaos, poetry's borrowing
from it would indeed be without value, especially since I have
claimed that the borrowing is used for arrangement. But is it
chaos? Or is it a system with a principle of organization that
poetry can indeed borrow? Considering the incoherence of the
texts, the absence of a focus of thought and a hierarchy of rele-
vance in relation to the focus, autism seems indeed chaotic.32
From the point of view of logic it certainly is. Liepmann tells us
that association progresses by similarity or contiguity.33 But this
is too general a law to be of any help.
Let us look at one of the obvious dream devices the Surreal-
ists use: metamorphosis. Changes like:
Les meubles font alors place des animaux de mme
taille qui me regardent fraternellement
Lions dans les crinires desquels achvent de
se consumer les chaises 34
or even:
Ma femme au ventre de dpliement d'ventail des jours
Au ventre de griffe gante 35
may well remind us of dreams where anything may change into
anything else. We may for a moment feel like a Winnebago Indian
for whom
No organic objects had any permanent form originally. They were all
a sort of tertium quid, neutral beings, that could at will transform
themselves into human beings or spirit-animals. 36
The impression of chaos will be the greater the more frontiers of
concepts and categories are crossed. Lautramont's "Le Tout-
Puissant, chang en rhinocros" is much more shocking in this
32
Cf. H. Liepmann, ber Ideenflucht (Halle, Carl Marhold, 1904), p. 84.
33
Ibid., p. 20.
34
Breton, Pomes, p. 103.
35 Ibid., p. 66.
38
Paul Radin, Primitive Man as Philosopher (New York, Dover, 1957),
p. 250.
106 THE METHOD OF BORROWING
37
Lautramont, uvres compltes (Paris, Corti, 1953), p. 354.
38
Robert Desnos, Domaine publique, p. 39.
THE METHOD OF BORROWING 107
Is this not much too appropriate and clever to come from the
unconscious? And what about the literary allusion (one of the
things that bother Raymond)? In the second collection, L'Aumo-
nyme, even the pronounciation of figures, letters, and solfge is
used: "des ponts NMI", " toute 8-S", "trop f ^ pour
boire".39 Marcel Jean sees puns even at the conception of a
number of Surrealist paintings, for instance of Dali's "montres
molles" in "The Persistence of Memory". He noticed that their
shape resembles a tongue which one "montre molle" to the doctor.
As another possibility he considers the English "watch your
tongue".40
While this may sound like conscious cleverness, Jean Piaget
found in his experiments with children that puns and any kind
of verbal resemblance are the most natural connections for autis-
tic and syncretistic thought to make.41 This seizing on an external
similarity of sound regardless of the meaning of the words is the
same principle that connects the church steeple with the phallus.
It also goes with the kind of punning literalness that a dream
may use on a figurative expression. Tauber quotes a man dream-
ing that he is swimming in the sea, having a hard time against the
waves, and finally thrown against a rock. It turns out that he had
been advised, the day before, 'not to swim against the tide' in
his business venture.42 Does Marcel Jean's theory of the "Montres
molles" still seem so far fetched?
If the seizing on formal, external similarity without regard to
meaning is an autistic activity then this is indeed one of the links
between poetry (and for that matter, all art) and autism. At least
it is a considerably more concrete link than speaking of inspira-
tion, or of creativity being rooted in the preconscious. The il-
logical nature of grouping words by formal similarity has been
readily conceded from the side of the logicians. J. Edeline, in an
article on the "logical aspects of puns in poetry", sees verbal anal-
38
Ibid., pp. 69, 70.
40
Marcel Jean, Histoire de la peinture surraliste, p. 218.
41
Piaget, The Language and Thought of the Child, trans. Marjorie Gabain
(New York, Meridian, 1955), p. 167.
42
Tauber and Green, Prelogicai Experience (New York), p. 43, note 2.
108 THE METHOD OF BORROWING
48
Ibid.
49
James Joyce, Finnegans Wake (New York, Viking, 1939), p. 3.
50
Andr Breton and Philippe Soupault, Les Champs magntiques (Paris,
Au Sans Pareil, 1920), pp. 25-6.
110 THE METHOD OF BORROWING
Breton and Eluard have sneered that there are "two kinds of verse:
verse and arithmetical operations".51 And, popularly, this inspirati-
onal-romantic stance is rather widely shared. Poetry and dream?
Yes. But nothing seems farther from poetry than mathematics.
At best, it will be conceded that, in regular verse, stresses or
syllables are numerically fixed, that the lines in a stanza will be in
numerical proportion which, however, will seem rather external
to poetry.
In her book on nonsense, Elizabeth Sewell points out quite
incidentally that any repetition contains the mathematical notion
of a series:
The crucial point is this: that a recurrence, whether of a sound as in
rhyme, a particular letter or group of letters as in alliteration, or a
group of words as in a refrain, is still a series. If we were speaking
loosely, we might say that each instance is identical with every other;
but that is just what it is not. Strictly speaking there is no question
of identity between one occurrence of a refrain and the next. They
seem precisely similar, but the mind says, 'Here it comes again, for
the third time,' or 'Here it is again, a bit farther down the page.' The
implicit notion of a series is there. 5 2
51
Andr Breton and Paul Eluard, Notes sur la posie, no pagination.
52
Elizabeth Sewell, The Field of Nonsense (London, Chatto and Windus,
1952), p. 76.
63
Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, 6.3: "The exploration of logic means
the exploration of everything that is subject to law."
THE METHOD OF BORROWING 113
-Logic
Number -
-Language-
Dream -
Nightmare-
I do not agree with the diagram since it posits logic as the only
way of ordering, whereas I have shown dream as a different
system of order in the preceding section. I also disagree with
Miss Sewell's neat division of functions (Number organizes
"sound-look" the physical aspect of the word, Dream organizes
reference).55 But this is only of marginal relevance here. I have
mentioned the participation of mathematical and autistic principles
in all poetry to stress again that borrowing from these systems
does not mean going into territory alien to poetry.
I have claimed to discern borrowing from mathematics which
must be more definite than these implied relations. I do not mean
such things as Robbe-Grillet's using geometric terms for exact
description or Marinetti's preferring mathematical signs to punc-
tuation. There is one arithmetical principle that has been used
with some consistency in recent poetry (mostly, but not exclusively
by the "konkrete poesie" group). It is the principle of permutation.
54
Sewell, The Structure of Poetry (London, Routledge and Kegan Paul,
1951), p. 50.
53
Ibid., p. 84.
114 THE METHOD OF BORROWING
56
Claus Bremer, tabellen und Variationen, "konkrete poesie", No. 5
(Frauenfeld, Switzerland, Eugen Gomringer Press, n.d.), no pagination.
THE METHOD OF BORROWING 115
57
Eugen Gomringer, 33 konstellationen, no pagination.
116 THE METHOD OF BORROWING
next two lines ask whether the statements are reversible: "are
shadows words?" After all, in mathematics, if a equals b, b also
equals a. But the affirmative answer to this question would be
exactly the combination we saw rejected. A mathematical proce-
dure is used to deny that the nature of this combination game is
altogether mathematical. Gomringer thus stresses the fact that,
although the arrangement is a mathematical pattern, the poem
consist of words. And the word "sind" is not the same as an
"equals" sign. It is wider; it includes a number of non-reversible
usages, e.g. the meaning of "belonging to the class of". After the
two questions that are answered only by omission, the two original
statements are reformulated as questions. Perhaps it is not quite
certain that words are shadows and games.
The group of second lines is permutated in exactly the same
way as the first lines (except for the sequence of "schatten" and
"spiele" and the last line):
schatten werden worte
spiele werden worte
werden worte spiele
werden worte schatten
werden spiele worte
werden schatten spiele
Again we start with statements: "shadows become words" and
"games become words". They seem a variation on the "sind"
series, but there is a difference. The lines no longer give definitions
but processes. This immediately widens the field of reference for
"schatten" and "spiele" which in "worte sind schatten" remained
limited to metaphorical possibilities for words (I made no attempt
to exhaust even those - e.g. the aspect of instability of shadows,
the mixture of light and dark, the reference to the dead). The
metaphorical aspects are still perhaps strongest, pointing again at
the abstraction at the basis of language. Signs are disembodied.
Objects do not become words, only something much less material
does: shadows, the play of light around an object, and games. It
sounds like Kierkegaard's thinking it silly to consider nature a
language since "language is the most perfect medium exactly
118 THE METHOD OF BORROWING
58
Quoted in Max Bense, Die Theorie Kafkas (Kln, Kiepenheuer & Witsch,
1952), p. 19.
THE METHOD OF BORROWING 119
Ibid.
82 This is only with some modification true of longer texts, in which there
are so many possibilities of combination that it ceases to be a sufficient
structural principle. Mon adds additional requirements, e.g. arranging the
words alphabetically by line, by according to how many letters a word has,
etc.
VI
CONCLUDING REMARKS
I have shown that the poets who are seriously dissatisfied with
our conventions of language (and do not just take this attitude as
an excuse or because it is fashionable) are working at the borders
of the unsayable and unknowable. They are trying to explore the
areas bordering pure spirit or the void, unformed matter or
energy, and the realm of 'things' considered as having a self-
sufficient being alien to man. A n d since our language is our world,
changing the language seems a possibility of changing our ways
of seeing and thus to some extent changing what is seeable and
knowable. Even people who cannot accept this Whorfian episte-
mology as justification of the experiments will hardly expect a
defense. After all, it is experimentation which keeps art, and in
this case language, from freezing into clichs, and not only lan-
guage, but with it perception, experience, thought. And in spite
of the fact that a certain amount of repetition, habit and clich
forming is necessary, any psychologist will tell us that our usual
danger is not too little rigidity, but too much. A s Ernest G .
Schachtel says,
1
E r n e s t G . Schachtel, Metamorphosis: On the Development of Affect,
Perception, Attention and Memory (New York, Basic Books, 1959), p. 288.
122 CONCLUDING REMARKS
Pound, Ezra 51-52, 75-78, 94, 99 Stramm, August 47-50, 63, 78-79,
Proust, Marcel 36, 91 81, 84
Surrealism 20, 23-30, 65-66, 102-
Queneau, Raymond 13, 69, 114 111, 119
Swinburne, Algernon 74
Symbolism 74
Raddatz, F. J. 75
Radin, Paul 105 Tardieu, Jean 37
Ray, Man 27 Tauber, E. S. 102, 107
Raymond, Marcel 102-103, 107 Thophile de Viau 41
Reverdy, Pierre 93-94 Thomas Aquinas 25
Richter, H. W. 74n. Tieck, Ludwig 52
Rilke, R. M. 12, 33-38, 61 Tzara, Tristan 18-19, 21, 25, 56-57,
Rimbaud, Arthur 12, 30, 41 65
Robbe-Grillet, Alain 39, 85, 113,
123 Ungaretti, Giuseppe 74
Roche, Denis 68 Urban, W. M. 51
Romanticism 17, 23, 30, 49, 63, 74
Rzewcz, Tadeusz 86 Valry, Paul lin., 41, 75
Russell, Bertrand 10, 16 Varendonck 102
Vian, Boris 43
Saint-John Perse 91
Saporta, Marc 114 Waiden, Herwarth 49
Sarraute, Natalie 90 Weinheber, Josef 89
Sartre, Jean-Paul 25-26, 34, 51 Weiss, Peter 72, 90
Schachtel, E. G. 121 Whorf, Benjamin 121
Scheler, Max 16 Williams, Emmet 97-98
Schoenberg, Arnold 100 Williams, William Carlos 94
Schwitters, Kurt 69-70 Wilpert, G. v. 123
Segalen, Victor 73 Wittgenstein, Ludwig 10, 11, 71n.,
Seidler, Ingo 81. 112, 116
Sewell, Elizabeth 112-113 Wolgamot, John Barton 49
Soupault, Philippe 24, 28, 109-111
Stein, Gertrude 14, 84, 123 Zaehner, R. C. 27n.
Steiner, George 9 Zukofsky, Louis 36
DE PROPRIETATIBUS LITTERARUM
edited by
C. H. VAN SCHOONEVELD
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