In this era of gross illiteracy and a complete lack of knowledge of even the most significant literary figures, I might be able to do a small service in my time writing in this "blog" by informing those who read these words of some of those figures I feel worth at least a passing level of acquaintance.
Hilda Doolittle is an example of just such an under-regarded figure in literary history. For those that know of her, the title of this entry will feel ridiculously redundant, as nearly all of Hilda Doolittle's work touched on the divine. She melded beautifully the religious tradition of cultures across the world into one masterful tapestry of connection to a greater divinity which each religion attempts to touch. By weaving together those universal symbols connected to what Jung referred to as the archetypes linked in the human "collective unconscious," H.D. unified eras, experiences and beliefs into one great timeless experience of "Now."
H.D. wrote her Opus, a trilogy of collected poems entitled The Walls Do Not Fall, Tribute to the Angels, and The Flowering of the Rod while residing in London among the devastation of German attacks in 1944. The first poem of her first collection is an example of this powerful conglomeration as she seamlessly melds the images of destruction with powerful religious symbolism. This pattern continues throughout her work as she flows seamlessly from the past to the present and from the mundane to the exceptional.
An excerpt of this work can be found online at:
http://www.legacy-project.org/lit/display.html?ID=97
H.D. sees the divine dwelling amongst the everyday. She sees ancient power shining through ruin and the exceptional peeking through the ordinary, and though the result isn't always hopeful or beautiful, the revelations are always profuse with awe. I find Hilda Doolittle worth reading because for me, she inspires fear, amazement, wonder and, most importantly, personal introspection and revelation. Though sometimes hard to follow due to her often non-linear narrative and her use of symbols that can be obscure, her work is most certainly worth the effort.
Copyright 2005 S.L. Olson
24 May 2005
20 May 2005
Dark Places
I have always been fascinated by the darkness.
There is something completely engrossing and simultaneously terrifying about being in the dark. As you stand at the edge of the unknown, looking out into the nothingness in front of you and wondering where your next step will lead or what will emerge, there is a shiver of electric anticipation that convulses through the body, even in places innately familiar in the daylight.
Within the darkness lurks the Alien, that deepest fear that gazes out through unfamiliar eyes (or, maybe more terrifying, through your own eyes) and watches, waiting for a chance to strike and take you from all that you know into a mortifying, whirling psychosis of change.
What little light is existent in the darkness is always enchanting. The moonlight that casts the world in a luminescent silver transforms the mundane into the magical. The candle's light flickers wildly, resisting with stubborn tenacity the embrace of the darkness that surrounds it. Even the trembling beam of a flashlight slicing through the blackness implies an impending menace gazing out just beyond the light's reach.
The darkness, to Jung, was often a symbol of the the unconscious and primal mind; the Shadow. It is that amorphous creature that speaks out of the obscurity. In Schaffer's book, Equus, it is that most terrifying beast of primal, guttural worship that modern man shrinks from and, in doing so, shrinks into an empty shell.
Moving through this darkness rather than shrinking from it results in an illumination and depth of personality that can only come from the other side of this type of experience. The ancient Greeks found transformation could result from seclusion into the suspended silence of the darkness underground, where they prepared for weeks for the moment of illumination that would come when they emerged into the presence of the gods at the Oracle, and countless tales from various mythologies from areas such as ancient Greece, Egypt and Sumer speak of Gods and men who take horrifying journeys into the darkness of the unknown to confront terrifying obstacles only to come around at the end a wiser and richer person.
My experiences with the darkness have been similarly transformative. While in the sacrosanct suspension of the blackness, whether it be alone in the darkness outside, confronting fears of what watches me from behind the nearest tree or bush, or confronting the vast mysteries and fear existant within the "inner space" of my own psyche, the darkness has transformed me. And I am better for it.
Worthy books about confronting the darkness:
In the Dark Places of Wisdom by Peter Kingsley
House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski
Equus by Peter Shaffer
Copyright 2005 S.L. Olson
There is something completely engrossing and simultaneously terrifying about being in the dark. As you stand at the edge of the unknown, looking out into the nothingness in front of you and wondering where your next step will lead or what will emerge, there is a shiver of electric anticipation that convulses through the body, even in places innately familiar in the daylight.
Within the darkness lurks the Alien, that deepest fear that gazes out through unfamiliar eyes (or, maybe more terrifying, through your own eyes) and watches, waiting for a chance to strike and take you from all that you know into a mortifying, whirling psychosis of change.
What little light is existent in the darkness is always enchanting. The moonlight that casts the world in a luminescent silver transforms the mundane into the magical. The candle's light flickers wildly, resisting with stubborn tenacity the embrace of the darkness that surrounds it. Even the trembling beam of a flashlight slicing through the blackness implies an impending menace gazing out just beyond the light's reach.
The darkness, to Jung, was often a symbol of the the unconscious and primal mind; the Shadow. It is that amorphous creature that speaks out of the obscurity. In Schaffer's book, Equus, it is that most terrifying beast of primal, guttural worship that modern man shrinks from and, in doing so, shrinks into an empty shell.
Moving through this darkness rather than shrinking from it results in an illumination and depth of personality that can only come from the other side of this type of experience. The ancient Greeks found transformation could result from seclusion into the suspended silence of the darkness underground, where they prepared for weeks for the moment of illumination that would come when they emerged into the presence of the gods at the Oracle, and countless tales from various mythologies from areas such as ancient Greece, Egypt and Sumer speak of Gods and men who take horrifying journeys into the darkness of the unknown to confront terrifying obstacles only to come around at the end a wiser and richer person.
My experiences with the darkness have been similarly transformative. While in the sacrosanct suspension of the blackness, whether it be alone in the darkness outside, confronting fears of what watches me from behind the nearest tree or bush, or confronting the vast mysteries and fear existant within the "inner space" of my own psyche, the darkness has transformed me. And I am better for it.
Worthy books about confronting the darkness:
In the Dark Places of Wisdom by Peter Kingsley
House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski
Equus by Peter Shaffer
Copyright 2005 S.L. Olson
12 May 2005
"Publishability"
I have spent the last six months or so getting myself buried in writing a book. My excuse for jumping into this maddening mess is that writing a full work is required for graduation with honors from the college I attend, but I am also planning on having the book successfully published and marketed, which is why I opted to work on a novel rather than a book of criticism or poetry.
Also, to be honest, a part of me wants to know if I can actually do it.
My novel is centered around the Trojan War, specifically around some of the main characters and Gods most involved in that drama. Since I didn't simply want to rewrite The Iliad, I have "rewritten history" a little bit in a couple of places and refocused some of the main conflict not upon the humans entrenched in the war, but I instead chose to focus upon why the Gods would allow such a thing to happen, ignoring the fact that much criticism and myth emphasizes the childishness and pettiness of the Gods. I just can't accept the supposition that such squabbling, sniveling creatures could be believable as creators and caretakers of humanity. I don't want them to be perfect, but I certainly don't want them to be so childish, either.
While my story is actually coming along relatively nicely (I am almost 100 pages in, writing roughly part-time), I have been continually plagued by concern about my book as a product. I am worried I'll write five hundred pages and submit the work to an agent or publisher who will read the first twenty pages (if that) and say, "No one gives a damn anymore about what happened to some stupid people three thousand years ago. Write something about an angsty teenager on prozac with a psychotic mother who is addicted to the written word and killed her boyfriend in a fit of jealousy and maybe we'll talk to you."
However, I do find some consolation in that history seems to be experiencing a resurgence in public interest... and not just in World War II documentaries, either. The success of reccent films based on more distant historical dates such as Troy and Kingdom of Heaven offer me a bit of solace that history isn't dead in the hearts of all people. I have contemplated a European release as well, as I have been informed by some friends "Across the Pond" that ancient history (and especially ancient Greece) is still very much alive in the interest of much of the European public.
When I look at the book, I am writing about that which appeals to people on the most visceral level... the intracacies and complexities of relationships, love, the burden of responsibility for a people or race, and the danger of a gluttonous greed for power. As I read ancient texts, I am always struck by how very little has changed over such a great span of time, and I am hoping that my work is eloquent enough to make these characters come alive and be identifiable to a modern audience.
Copyright 2005 S.L. Olson
Also, to be honest, a part of me wants to know if I can actually do it.
My novel is centered around the Trojan War, specifically around some of the main characters and Gods most involved in that drama. Since I didn't simply want to rewrite The Iliad, I have "rewritten history" a little bit in a couple of places and refocused some of the main conflict not upon the humans entrenched in the war, but I instead chose to focus upon why the Gods would allow such a thing to happen, ignoring the fact that much criticism and myth emphasizes the childishness and pettiness of the Gods. I just can't accept the supposition that such squabbling, sniveling creatures could be believable as creators and caretakers of humanity. I don't want them to be perfect, but I certainly don't want them to be so childish, either.
While my story is actually coming along relatively nicely (I am almost 100 pages in, writing roughly part-time), I have been continually plagued by concern about my book as a product. I am worried I'll write five hundred pages and submit the work to an agent or publisher who will read the first twenty pages (if that) and say, "No one gives a damn anymore about what happened to some stupid people three thousand years ago. Write something about an angsty teenager on prozac with a psychotic mother who is addicted to the written word and killed her boyfriend in a fit of jealousy and maybe we'll talk to you."
However, I do find some consolation in that history seems to be experiencing a resurgence in public interest... and not just in World War II documentaries, either. The success of reccent films based on more distant historical dates such as Troy and Kingdom of Heaven offer me a bit of solace that history isn't dead in the hearts of all people. I have contemplated a European release as well, as I have been informed by some friends "Across the Pond" that ancient history (and especially ancient Greece) is still very much alive in the interest of much of the European public.
When I look at the book, I am writing about that which appeals to people on the most visceral level... the intracacies and complexities of relationships, love, the burden of responsibility for a people or race, and the danger of a gluttonous greed for power. As I read ancient texts, I am always struck by how very little has changed over such a great span of time, and I am hoping that my work is eloquent enough to make these characters come alive and be identifiable to a modern audience.
Copyright 2005 S.L. Olson
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