My Big Fat Summer Reading List
Kai Frederik Lorentzen
lorentzen at hotmail.de
Sun Jun 2 04:41:25 CDT 2013
Why don't you try /The Adventurous Heart /(second version, 1938) by
Ernst Jünger?
Here's a sample (in the original the aphorism is called "Das Entsetzen"):
*"Terror - Berlin *
There is a type of thin, broad sheet metal that is often used in small
theaters to simulate thunder. I imagine a great many of these metal
sheets, yet still thinner and more capable of a racket, stacked up like
the pages of a book, one on top of another at regular intervals, not
pressed together but kept apart by some unwieldy mechanism.
I lift you up onto the topmost sheet of this mighty pack of cards, and
as the weight of your body touches it, it rips with a crack in two. You
fall, and you land on the second sheet, which shatters also, with an
even greater bang. Your plunge strikes the third, fourth, fifth sheet
and so on, and with the acceleration of the fall the impacts chase each
other closer and closer, like a drumbeat rising in rhythm and power.
Ever more furious grows the plummet and its vortex, transforming into a
mighty, rolling thunder that ultimately bursts the limits of consciousness.
Thus it is that terror ravishes man --- terror, which is something
altogether different from dread, fear, or anxiety. It is sooner related
to the horror realized on the face of the Gorgon, with its hair on end
and mouth opened in a scream, whereas dread more senses than sees the
uncanny and for just that reason is shackled by it the more strongly.
Anxiety lies yet distant from the limits and can maintain a dialogue
with hope, while fright . . . yes, a fright is what is felt when the
first sheet rips. In a deadly plunge, the screaming drumbeats and the
glowing red lights then intensify, no longer in warning but as an
appalling confirmation, all the way down to the terrifying.
Do you have any idea what goes on in this space that we will perhaps
someday plunge through, the space that extends between the recognition
of the downfall and the downfall itself?"
And here comes a review:
*"The Adventurous Heart: Figures and Capriccios, by Ernst Jünger (Telos
Press Publishing)
**Review by Gary Lachman
*In 1947, Albert Hofmann, the discoverer of LSD, wrote a fan letter to
the German writer Ernst Jünger. Hofmann had been reading Jünger for
years, but the book that really did it for him was /The Adventurous
Heart/ (1938). "Everywhere in his prose," Hofmann wrote about this
subtle but powerful work, "the miracle of creation became evident... No
other writer has thus opened my eyes." Hofmann soon returned the favor,
opening Jünger's eyes to the effects of LSD and psilocybin, during the
celebrated trips the two took together in the 1950s, '60s, and 70s, and
which Hofmann relates in /LSD: My Problem Child/ (1979).
Jünger himself was no stranger to drugs; in novels like /Heliopolis/
(1949) and in a later work, /Approaches/ (1970) -- neither of which have
English translations -- Jünger turned his sharp inner eye to the twists
of consciousness occasioned by psychoactive substances. But his first
trip with Hofmann, in 1951, holds an important but little known place in
the history of drug literature: it came three years in advance of Aldous
Huxley's more celebrated tryst with mescaline, recounted in /The Doors
of Perception/ (1954).
The language barrier no doubt keeps Jünger's precedence in the dark, and
one hopes that this first English translation of the book that gave
Hofmann's world "a new, translucent splendour," will lead to more of
Jünger being made available to English readers. One other link with
Hofmann should be mentioned: both men lived into their 100s. Jünger died
in 1998 at the age of 102; Hofmann in 2008, also at 102.
/The Adventurous Heart/ is a collection of short essays, thoughts,
stories, dreams, philosophical musings, and other unclassifiable
writings on a number of experiences: nature, death, travel, sex, drugs,
antique shops, museums, practically anything that caught Jünger's ever
inquisitive eye. It provides, as Jünger says, "small models of another
way of seeing things." This "other way" is what Jünger calls
"stereoscopy," the ability to see things in a dual aspect, perceiving
their surface and depth simultaneously. Or recognizing them as phenomena
and symbol at the same time: "its action," Jünger says, "consists in
grasping things with our inner claws."
Although Jünger was a decorated war hero, and his first, most well-known
work, /Storm of Steel/ (1920), depicts the Dionysian chaos of battle, in
his later years, Jünger sought adventure in less questionable ways.
Danger was always an attractant, but here it lies not in the wastelands
of WWI but in the sometimes disturbing "knowledge of hidden things."
Jünger's "stereoscopy" revealed to him the "secret correspondences
existing between things," and his reflections, written in an elegant,
often lapidary style, trigger in the attentive reader a similar effect.
Hence Hofmann's high (no pun intended) praise. "When we comprehend one
secret," Jünger tells us, "many others also draw near."
There are indeed many secrets here, too many to do justice to in a short
review. Who knew so much is contained in the color red? Or in the
activities of beetles -- Jünger was a keen entomologist. Or in a tiger
lily, whose "narcotic stamens" awaken associations with an "Indian
conjurer's tent"? Read this book slowly, while walking, preferably in a
rugged landscape, or a foreign city -- Jünger didn't use the term, but
he was a master psychogeographer - dipping in every now and then. The
"secret harmony of things," I guarantee, will be revealed to you, and
you will find, no doubt, that your heart is adventurous too."
http://www.realitysandwich.com/rs_review_2
Finally, a sample from an interview with the translator:
*Maxwell Woods*: How do you see Jünger's thought fitting into our
current social, political, literary, and academic landscapes? How do you
perceive the renewed task of translating Jünger both affecting and being
affected by this current location?
*Thomas Friese*: I'm glad you put the question in a current
context---because there are two Jüngers that can be spoken of, even if
the second grew out of the first, its developmental prerequisite. The
second, the mature author, is the "current" Jünger, the man who
gradually evolved into an anarch, starting more or less with this book,
after leaving behind early experiments in the world of action and
politics. I find the first interesting only to the degree that it helps
explain the second. Let's not forget: his first phase covered from 22 to
about 42 years of age, 9 works or so---the second from 42 to 102, with
47 or 48 works! By the way, only 11 of these 59 works have ever been
translated into English---not the case for French, Italian, or Spanish,
which are more or less complete. Odd, no?
Sticking with the current, relevant Jünger, let me give you two answers.
First, his thought only fits into the current landscape in the sense
that an ecological niche can have its place and even thrive within a
broader landscape fundamentally unfavorable to it. At its deepest level,
Jünger's thought is anarchic, intended for other anarchs and aspiring
anarchs---and so its fit with society is secondary, as is its
contribution to "improving" society. It naturally reckons with the outer
world, with society, which it seeks to understand and adapt its survival
strategy to accordingly, without compromising its essence---this is
pragmatism, like watching a weather report to know how to dress. But
social acceptance or veneration is more or less irrelevant to it.
On the other hand, this does not mean that an anarch like Jünger, while
pursuing his own goals, has nothing to contribute to society. On the
contrary, the radically independent thought of anarchs often brings the
most fundamental changes to society, precisely because they lie outside
of it, uninfluenced by it. Moreover, the anarch follows what Jünger
calls the "fundamental law," the dictates of one's own conscience, and
these may require him to contribute, even at his own risk. Jünger's
publication of/On the Marble Cliffs/and/The Peace/pre-- and during World
War II are two good examples.
But although there is much in his thought that academia could engage
with and society benefit from, its main audience is the individual; it
seeks not to improve the world in general, which Jünger saw as a vanity,
but to help the individual discover and develop himself---and thereby
gain a position to help others do the same for themselves.
As such---to come back to your question---while his thought may
sometimes coincide with certain social, political, literary and academic
streams, it is an organic whole that cannot be identified with any of
these, though attempts are still made, on the left and right. Clearly
even the mature Jünger was no liberal, but neither was he a conservative
in a political sense; he was conservative by nature but apolitical. He
was not an academic, though as intellectual as its highest
representatives. And even as a writer, he cannot be placed
satisfactorily into any literary stream or school.
This makes him a difficult case---and so critics make it easier for
themselves and stick to the first few years, whose pattern was more
conventional. As Jünger says, whenever anarchs interact with society,
there will always be at least some friction, albeit usually perceived
more by the anarch than the society. Earlier you mentioned
Nietzsche---his relationship with academia demonstrated this conflict,
though he was not yet an anarch in Jünger's sense. For Jünger too, the
situation can at best improve only marginally---but that is not
critical, important is only that his thought reaches a few more latent
anarchs out there.
(By the way, since I have used the word so often, I should also caution
your readers not to mistake Jünger's anarch for an anarchist; the
fundamental differences even define the anarch---a full exposition of
the anarch can be found in/Eumeswil/, for any interested readers.)
Regarding the second answer. Beyond the address to the anarchic
individual, there is much yet to be discovered in Jünger's writing to
help our society understand its present and future. His prophetic
insights into the atrocities of World War II in/On the Marble Cliffs/are
well known. But his later works contain so much that is only now
materializing in the real world, and yet remains unknown to readers. For
example, the remarkable insights into technology and morality, the
internet, and intellectual property in/The Glass Bees/, or into the
geo-political configurations of the future in/Eumeswil/, or the
relationship of death and culture in/Aladdin's Problem/, to touch on a few.
http://www.ernst-juenger.org/2012/12/interview-with-translator-of.html
You cannot travel in the outer world? Become a psychonaut!
On 01.06.2013 12:40, alice wellintown wrote:
> This summer I can't travel. I like to read about the places I go, but
> this year, as the Bee Gees say, "I'm goin nowhere." We'll,
> maybe that means I'm stayin alive. The blind fury is sharpening her
> shears, but the ceremony of innocence is waving not drowning. So, I've
> a short stack that needs fattening and battening in the fields of
> words. Toss me a bone to suck the marrow from you sheep you pigs you
> dogs not dead.
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