BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY'S & THE GRASS HARP

Author: Truman Capote
Year: 1972 (1951 & 1958)
Publisher: Czytelnik
Language: Polish (Translator Bronislaw Zielinski)

In 1868, shortly after the civil war, the American journalist and writer John William DeForest coined the term “the Great American Novel” and delineated it as “the picture of the ordinary emotions and manners of American existence”. Without too much effort, some contenders for this esteemed distinction naturally spring to mind. Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird is one. Mark Twain’s Tom Sawyer another. The Old Man and the Sea, On the Road, Moby Dick, and Uncle Tom’s Cabin are but a few more monolithic examples of novels that catch defining aspects of Americanism, and I have argued elsewhere that F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby might potentially edge ahead of them all in the race for this prestigious title.

One book of equally unassuming proportions but comparable gravitas is Truman Capote’s “Sniadanie u Tiffany’ego” (“Breakfast at Tiffany’s”). It narrates the tale through a first-person male protagonist who happens to reside in the same New York apartment building as a rather frivolous, egocentric, and seemingly irresolute young woman by the name of Holly Golightly whom he gets to know as she repeatedly rings his doorbell when she returns from her nocturnal activities, having forgotten or lost her keys. While other tenants in the building grow irritated and tired of the reckless woman, the narrator develops a liking, akin to fascination, for her.

As the story progresses, the narrator, and the reader through him, bit by bit assemble the puzzle that is Holly Golightly. Through observations, conversations with her associates, the gifts she offers and her distinctive behaviour, the character is incrementally explored and new perspectives and dimensions uncovered. We learn about her humble origins and the driving force behind her erratic behaviour in the metropolitan environment.

In Holly Golightly, the new America, or more precisely a re-invented American dream, takes form. As the post-World War America underwent rapid transformation ultimately extricating itself from the aftermath of its Civil War trauma, society was subjected to considerable stress. Holly Golightly embodies the pursuit of material success and social mobility, the bedrock of the American Dream. Everybody can make it big. And to make it big means accumulating monetary wealth. But she also experiences the solitude of the transition between social classes. A country girl traying her wings in an unforgiving and unfathomable metropolis, Holly seems to reject authority and conformism but at closer scrutiny, she is just as entangled in the web of society as her new self as she was before. Only she lacks the tools and experience to control it.

A comparative analysis with the aforementioned The Great Gatsby may prove useful. Both novels are of modest proportions and although they were published three decades apart, they found their audience at about the same time in the years following the Second World War. Both stories grapple with the issues of identity as each of them portrays a character that arrives to the big city from the countryside to confront the frenzy of material pursuit, posturing, and competition that make up the American Dream.

While I somewhat enjoyed Breakfast at Tiffany’s, I was surprised to find the second story in the volume, “Harfa traw” (“The Grass Harp”) significantly more gratifying. By all standards it is a silly tale about two elderly sisters, Verena and Dolly Talbo, embroiled in a dispute over the commercial exploitation for a medication that Dolly has concocted. As a result of their rift, Dolly leaves the house where Verena and she have lived together since forever and takes refuge in a tree house in the woods not far from the town. Her maid and her and her sister’s nephew, who is also the narrator of this story accompany her.

SPOILER ALERT

Before long, they are joined by others who for one reason or another find it prudent to move in with them in the tree house, despite its unsuitability as a permanent settlement. Verena, always the authoritarian of the two sisters, calls upon the sheriff to track down her eloped sister and bring her back home again. Law enforcement, of course, translates the mission into something they can understand and after a confusing and wildly entertaining scene by the tree house, arrests the maid.

“Harfa traw” is a heartening tale of rebellion and personal integrity but also about reconciliation and the futility of quarrel. Predating “Sniadanie u Tiffany’ego” by several years it exudes a tone and environment entirely distinct. The characters are diverse and intriguing and their interaction consistently entertaining. Although some may find the ending somewhat anti-climactic, to me it harmonises with the story’s overall tone and glides into the sunset with just enough sentimentality to make it touching and enough screech to not make it sentimental. A sheer delight.  

 

CRIME AND SOCIETY

Author: Jerzy Sarnecki
Year: 2010
Publisher: Studentlitteratur
Language: Swedish

Crime, especially organised crime and gun violence, stands as the preeminent political concern in Sweden today. As always when a subject engages a significant audience, facts and data quickly succumb to guesses, prejudice, and bravado.

Motivated by this, I picked up a book that had been standing for a couple of years untouched on my bookshelf; “Brottsligheten och samhället” (not available in English but roughly translatable as “Crime and Society”) by Swedish criminologist Jerzy Sarnecki. As this particular edition was already out of print by the time I acquired it, I acknowledge its obsolescence and its obvious inability to address recent developments in Swedish crime. However, dismissing it as irrelevant would also be misguided as its methodology, models, and theories remain applicable rendering the insights into global and national trends, processes, and dynamics in criminal behaviour enduringly pertinent.

Across 9 chapters, Sarnecki’s book offers a broad, comprehensive, and basic overview of the field of criminology intended as an entry level textbook for Swedish university students.

Chapter 1: What is criminology?
Chapter 2: The starting points of criminological thinking
Chapter 3: The scope and characteristics of crime
Chapter 4: Socioecological and learning theories
Chapter 5: Strain, sub-culture theories, gangs, and criminal networks
Chapter 6: Symbolic interactionism, conspiracy to commit crime, postmodern criminology, conflict theory, and critical criminology.
Chapter 7: Theories of control, routine activities, and structures of opportunity
Chapter 8: Crime levels and societal flux
Chapter 9: Penalty

All chapters are characterised by the accessibility expected of an introductory textbook, while still being able to delve into certain theories and models with some depth. However, as a layman, I am immediately confronted with two problems.

1.      Sarnecki introduces criticism sections for some but not all the theories he presents and even where they are included, they seem cursory and superficial. Moreover, in some cases, he injects his own personal preferences and convictions arguably misplaced in a textbook intended for impartiality. Argumentation and propositions of this sort would be more appropriately saved for articles and seminars.

2.      Acknowledging the book’s tendentious inclinations, readers are left uncertain whether Sarnecki includes all the relevant research in this book or omits some for personal reasons.

Even so, the book is highly instructive, showing the complexity of the area of criminology and the wealth of knowledge researchers have accumulated. Chapters 4 and 5 in particular caught my attention, given the fierce debates and heavy politicisation surrounding the origins of criminal behaviour in contemporary Swedish public discourse. Sarnecki maintains, that introducing biology or ethnicity into the discussion of criminal behaviour is unhelpful and cites well-documented and repeated findings by the Chicago school and various socioecological studies as compelling evidence.

When reading about criminology, it is important to bear in mind that the discipline does not, and probably never will, possess the precision to predict who will commit a crime on an individual level. Nor does it claim to possess such ambitions. Its utility lies in providing tools to identify risk factors and to suggest countermeasures to remove the risk factors, not the individuals exposed to them.

In conclusion, I would advise anyone professing to know anything about crime and criminology to familiarise themselves with the works of any recognised criminologist. While many of the theories and conclusions that Sarnecki brings up have been and continue to be contested, fully in compliance with the very nature of academia, no one who is moderately literate and possesses at least a rudimentary capacity for rational thought, will accept “look around” or “my neighbour’s niece’s bike was stolen two years ago” as valid arguments. In the contemporary information society, where knowledge and facts are available at a keystroke, ignorance is a choice.

 

TYNNER

Author: Ulrike Längle
Year: 1996
Publisher: Collection S. Fischer
Language: German

Ennui. That frozen prison of aimless inanity. That subtle whisper of misery in the theatre of existential despair. That “feeling of being bored and mentally tired caused by having nothing interesting or exciting to do”*. It is a state all too familiar to most of us who have survived the slings and arrows of adolescence and entered through the gates of broken promises into the desert of mundanity.

Many classic works of fiction have grappled with the concept of ennui. Albert Camus’ “The Outsider” (see my review from April 2023) examines the most extreme forms of complete indifference and other famous novels such as “The Great Gatsby” by F. Scott Fitzgerald explore the lengths to which the affluent go to fill the gaping hollow of an existence effectively devoid of pursuit. In non-fiction, Victor Frankl’s monumental body of work on the subject is second to none and is frequently cited among books that will change your life.

Ulrike Längle, an Austrian literary critic, university lecturer, and author, contributes to the contemplation on ennui through her concise novel, "Tynner." The narrative unfolds around Tynner, a middle-aged university reader in literary studies. Socially inept and markedly aloof, his limited engagements extend to perfunctory meetings with Mynner, a companion with whom connections seem sustained more by obligation than genuine affinity, and an awareness of his cleaning lady's presence, discernible solely through the sounds of her labour while he remains cloistered in his bedroom. Tynner’s ongoing project is the book that he is writing on the rift in the fabric of society.

As the layers of Tynner's existence unfold, we as readers realise that the greater his perceived discontent, the more enviable and gratifying his life becomes to external observers. He travels to foreign lands, engages in stimulating conversations, he dines at excellent restaurants and savours exquisite wines, he commands the allegiance of a friend ever-ready to avail himself for meetings, enjoys familial care, boasts robust health, and maintains financial prosperity. Paradoxically, he remains gripped by an overarching sense of misery, ensnared in the web of ennui.

There are several humorous episodes in the book wherein Tynner endeavours to liberate himself from his imagined malaise, yet paradoxically recoils when his miserable condition is jeopardised by the interventions of friends and family. It is only when he takes his fate in his own hands that he is finally saved. And salvation seems to have been on his doorstep the entire time.

Längle's novella appears to convey a subtle yet profound message: in the privileged landscapes of the Western world, many possess the prerequisites for happiness, or at least contentment and ease, only to grapple with some variation of self-imposed melancholy. Could it be that individuals, ourselves included, bear a burden of perceived failure, overlooking the myriad blessings that life bestows and which, if absent, would fundamentally change the nature, and our experience, of our unhappiness?

Längle's prose is as simple as it is straightforward and encapsulates an almost maternal sentiment for the protagonist. While not a pivotal piece of literature, and despite Längle's respectable role as the custodian of the Franz-Michael-Felder Archives in Bregenz, her personal contributions, including "Tynner," appear to occupy a relatively modest niche in the annals of 20th-century literature. Hesitating to diminish the significance or craftsmanship of "Tynner," it stands as a work of ordinary, albeit entertaining, literary quality suited for casual perusal. This may sound depressing in the ears of an author, and yet more than three decades after the book was published in Austria, somewhere in far off Scandinavia a banker is reading and pondering on it and inviting the readers of this blog to discuss its content. And that is more than most aspiring authors ever accomplish. Tynner may never have, but at least his creator actually finished her book on the rift in the fabric of society.

* The Cambridge Online Dictionary

TARTUFFE

Author: Molière
Year: Unknown (1664)
Publisher: Wydawnictwo "Klasyka"
Language: Polish (translator Tadeusz Boy-Żeleński)

In the English-speaking world, Molière is sometimes said to be the Shakespeare of France. Although Shakespeare predated Molière and for that reason may have some precedence, this comparison fails on two fronts. First, Shakespeare, although writing some comedies, mostly excelled in tragedies whereas Molière almost exclusively wrote farces and satires. Second, Molière holds a far more prominent status in France than Shakespeare does in England. In fact, the French language itself is traditionally referred to as “la langue de Molière”.

One of Molière’s most famous plays, and the one that nearly cost him his career and his good standing with King Louis XIV, was “Świętoszek” (“Tartuffe”). On the off chance that someone is reading these words and the even slimmer chance that that person is unfamiliar with this play, I suppose a spoiler alert is appropriate at this point.

The play opens with Orgon’s mother Madame Pellier chastising everybody in Orgon’s household, extolling Tartuffe’s piety and deriding her family’s inadequacies. She then declares that she will not stay for one more minute in the wretched place her son calls home. Orgon’s family tries to dissuade her and to convince her of Tartuffe’s fraudulent intentions, but to no avail. Orgon arrives and inquires about Tartuffe. He is told about the different accidents, ailments and misfortunes that each family member has suffered during his absence but is preoccupied with the well-being of Tartuffe alone, exclaiming “poor fellow!” at every bit of news about him, even though he is repeatedly told that Tartuffe has never been better. Tartuffe, who for a long time remains unseen in the play, is a self-proclaimed holy man who has obviously convinced Orgon that he is his path to righteousness and salvation.

This sets the stage for the play’s first half. The more Orgon’s wife, son, daughter, brother-in-law, and servants strive to expose Tartuffe’s deceit, the more Orgon defends him, even bestowing his estate and his daughter’s hand in marriage upon him. Moreover, he entrusts Tartuffe with a potentially incriminating secret letter.

A turning point presents itself when Tartuffe endeavours to seduce Orgon’s wife, Elmire. Although Elmire initially conceals the incident, Orgon’s son Damis, who has monitored the scene from a hiding place, exposes the truth. Forced to protect her own honour as well as that of Damis, Elmire tells her husband to hide underneath a table while she encourages Tartuffe to make advances toward her a second time. Seeing with his own eyes how Tartuffe has deceived his confidence, Orgon confronts him and commands him to leave his house at once. Tartuffe, however, retorts that by Orgon’s own decree Tartuffe is now the Master of the estate and he commands everyone to leave what he now considers his house. When they refuse, Tartuffe calls the authorities. The king’s soldiers arrive at the house and to everyone’s surprise arrest Tartuffe for fraud and deceit, a testament to the king’s astute judgment.

Already a celebrated playwright and actor with the king’s favour, Molière penned the play in 1664. Although it was met with acclaim from the audience at the premiere and even with the approval of the king himself, the Catholic Church took offence at its criticism of religious zeal and Tartuffe’s deceit. It swiftly moved to ban the play and pressured the king to withdraw his support. Molière revised the play to make it less controversial but that version, too, was banned. It was not until 1669 that a third and heavily revised version received the king’s approval and the Church’s acquiescence. This is the version we know today as the previous manuscripts were either lost or destroyed.

It is tantalising to imagine what the original “Świętoszek” might have contained that drew the Church’s ire. In a letter to the king, it appears that Molière sought to clarify that he was by no means criticising the Church or churchly people but rather the evildoers who take advantage of the king’s devout subjects. It is not entirely unreasonable to propose that the deus ex machina ending was added to flatter the king, but this is an unsubstantiated guess and it is even more uncertain if it contributed at all to tipping the scales in Molière’s favour.

Another speculation might be that Madame Pellier had a bigger role in earlier drafts. Either that, or she was not in them at all. For it seems that after she disappears after the opening scenes, she reappears only after Orgon has become aware of Tartuffe’s betrayal. Still being convinced of Tartuffe’s virtues she admonishes her son Orgon for having lost his faith in him. Orgon is furious that his mother refuses to believe him when he tells her about the true intentions of Tartuffe and to drive the point home, the maid Dorine says

“This is fair payment, sir, for what we received.
You wouldn't believe us; now you're not believed.”*

It is not unlikely that Madame Pellier’s naïveté was part of what sparked the vehement protests by the clergy, but it is also possible that Molière, after having removed most of the controversial material from the manuscript added a sweet and pious little lady to serve as a backdrop to Orgon’s awakening. We will probably never know.

On a higher level, Molière’s critique is not as much directed at the Church as at the gullibility of the general public. It is a curious quirk of the human mind that makes us prone to have faith on words alone but will ignore reality until we see it with our own eyes. Some would say that appealing to emotions is the easiest way to fool the masses. “Wenn du lügst, dann lüge gründlich, und vor allem bleibe bei dem, was du gelogen hast”**. Others would claim that faith comes directly from God and transcends the need for evidence.

Molière warns us against closing our eyes when we open our hearts.

A shoutout to the translator Tadeusz Boy-Żeleński whose Polish translation, despite being almost a century old, still feels fresh and current. It appears to serve as a testimony to the importance of the French language to and the elitism among the theatre-going population of Poland during the 18^th and 19^th centuries, that the play had to wait over 250 years before it was translated.

 

* Molière, “Tartuffe or the Hypocrite”, translated by Jeffrey D. Hoeper (2009)
** Goebbels, Joseph “Aus Churchills Lügenfabrik”, Die Zeit ohne Beispiel. Reden und Aufsätze aus den Jahren 1939–41, (1941)

THE DWARF

Author: Pär Lagerkvist
Year: 1995 (1944)
Publisher: Albert Bonniers Förlag
Language: Swedish 

“The greatest evil perpetrated is the evil committed by nobodies”. The poignant quote by the Jewish German philosopher Hannah Arendt serves as a chilling prelude to Swedish novelist and poet Pär Lagerkvist's penetrating exploration of the human psyche in his literary masterpiece “Dvärgen” (The Dwarf”). While Arendt referred to people who instead of acting as humans, choose to see themselves as cogs in a fictitious machinery that they imagine compels them to act in one way or another, Lagerkvist identifies misery, pettiness, and inferiority complex as the source of evil. From his vantage point as a non-Jew in the Nordic landscape, he delves into the heart of evil, meticulously dissecting its origins and manifestations as illuminated by the rise of Nazism and the tumultuous era that followed.

The plot is set in 15^th century Italy in one of the many small principalities which at the time is embroiled in a conflict with one if its neighbours. The narrative unfolds through the eyes of the titular dwarf who serves at the ruler’s court. The dwarf makes detailed notes in his diary about his observations of people and events around the court, and also about himself and his role, as he perceives it, in how matters unfold.

The dwarf is a notoriously unreliable narrator. Everything we read is filtered through his evil, petty, vindictive, and self-aggrandising mind. The text is rife with value indicators which describe his astonishment, contempt, disgust, and hatred. From his lowly perspective, we learn what the world looks like to a deficient, small, and insignificant individual who in his inability to be part of society learns to hate it and aims to destroy it.

We get to know different aspects of the dwarf through his relationships to other characters.

The only authority in his life, and the only person he honours and respects is the ruler. But the dwarf, of course, judges him and admires him from his own base perspective where concepts like honour, honesty, generosity, etc are unknown. In his powerless insignificance, he seeks to bask in the ruler’s glory by sticking close to him, and he maintains an inflated perception of his own usefulness to the ruler until the end of the novel as a way to associate himself with power. He admires the ruler the same way the weakest minds of our own time admire leaders in whom they mistake mendacity, connivery, and violence for strength. From their decumbent position, they are quite simply incapable of making the distinction.   

Another interesting character is Bernardo, who is clearly modelled on Leonardo da Vinci as a genius of art, science, and engineering. The dwarf understands neither him nor any of the things he does, but he hates him and fears him in equal measure. He is particularly upset when he is commanded by the ruler to undress so that Bernardo can study him. This symbolises the aversion that fascists worldwide feel toward art and science. The scene where the dwarf throws a tantrum when he is forced to undress and submit to scrutiny illustrates fascism’s reluctance to being studied by sociology, psychology, or history. He musters a glimmer of approval when he sees the efficiency of Bernardo’s war machines on the battlefield but that is all the value that he is capable of discerning in the work of the great master. The dwarf understands death and destruction but knowledge is beyond his grasp and he therefore considers it a threat.

Early on in his diary, the dwarf makes clear that his abhors and loathes the ruler’s wife on account of her sensuality and her love affair with the handsome and popular Don Riccardo. At times it appears as though the dwarf might deep down be in love with her himself but being, as he is, aware of his own inadequacy, he turns his desire into hatred and relishes in the mental and physical torture he is able to unleash upon her. The dwarf's transformation of desire into hatred and the ensuing sadistic torment mirrors the self-esteem issues prevalent in fascist ideologies, where scorn becomes the currency of interaction.

This pattern is magnified by his encounter with other dwarfs whom he also hates as an illustration of the self-hatred that the dwarf carries in his heart. This self-hatred is scantily masked by grandiose monologues about dwarves being a separate species of an ancient lineage predating humans and therefore superior to humans. A trope akin to the Nazi myth of Aryan supremacy in the 1930s.   

On a whole, the dwarf represents the swathes of failed and morally bankrupt individuals in our community who externalise their self-hatred onto others. It is the dwarf who supports Russia’s brutality in Ukraine. It is the dwarf who wants to dismantle democracy in the West and replace it with an order of autocracy and oppression. It is the dwarf who spews his vile hatred, execration, and bitterness on social media with the sole purpose of making others feel as bad as he is. It is the dwarf who, in his own inability to understand it, denounces art, science, and tolerance. It is the dwarf who rejects the rights of the LGBTQ-community. It is the dwarf who delights in the misfortunes of his compatriots while at the same time professing his dedication to the flag.

Lagerkvist implores us to identify the dwarf inside ourselves as well as around us, and to neutralise him before it is too late. He knew from experience what he was talking about. Let us learn from him lest we need to make the same experience ourselves.  

THE ANARCHIST BANKER & A VERY ORIGINAL DINNER

Author: Fernando Pessoa
Year: 1995 (1922)
Publisher: Bokförlaget Pontes
Language: Swedish (translators Lars Axelsson and Margareta Marin)

”There are no norms. All people are exceptions to a rule that does not exist” is one of Fernando Pessoa’s most famous quotes and one that comes to mind when one reads his philosophical story “Den anarkistiske bankiren" (“The Anarchist Banker”).

It is not so much a story as a philosophical argument thinly veiled behind a simple dinner conversation between two friends. The essence of the discourse unfolds when one of them asks the other, who is a successful and prosperous banker, about his alleged past as an anarchist. The banker not only confesses to his anarchist roots but proclaims his current self the epitome of an anarchist.  The rest of the story is simply the banker explaining how it is not only possible to be a successful trader in stocks and currencies while at the same time being a practicing anarchist, but moreover why it is necessary.

The provocation presented by Pessoa is the apparent contradiction that a banker, whose entire business relies on a system of interconnected institutions based on an exchange of commonly agreed tokens of value which in turn is supervised by an authoritative regulator and enforcer, could possibly serve as a representation of a true anarchist. Still, Pessoa makes a compelling albeit not entirely unproblematic case for his anarchist banker. During the conversation, the banker shares his evolution from a young idealist who embraced anarchism over socialism or syndicalism to the revelation that radical anarchism cannot coexist with a collective. Society itself is by its very design, un-anarchic.

Pessoa has his banker make many interesting claims. The basic point of departure is that the anarchist rejects all structures which he claims to be imaginary and manufactured. Structures, by their very definition are limiting and therefore oppressive. One of the first consequences of this realisation is that anarchism must be superior to other forms of revolution or reform such as socialism as the latter presupposes some sort of government and value system. Since governments and money are in themselves oppressive, no matter how benevolent, socialism appears to be merely a variant of the unequal society it claims to want to do away with. On its best day, it will simply replace one type of government with another, hence one type of oppression with another. This is also the reason he early on in his political career decided to leave the group of anarchists that he had joined as a teenager, as that group, too, soon showed signs of hierarchy. It led him to the conclusion that true anarchism can never be achieved in cooperation with others. Society, therefore, at its very core is anti-anarchic and the only true freedom is consequently offered by a state of nature.

By this argument, Pessoa positions himself in stark contrast to philosophers such as Thomas Hobbes (see review of April 2022) who made the point that the state of nature is the basest form of human existence waging perpetual all-on-all war and that society in general, and a strong government in particular, are necessary for human well-being. Not quite as radically, but still in conflict, Pessoa rejects Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s teachings. Rousseau claimed that society was a necessary consequence of human nature and not, as Hobbes argued, in contradiction to it, but for Pessoa this is not the breeding ground for the benign social contract that Rousseau proposed. Even natural collective structures such as wolfpacks and herds of cattle require hierarchies and must therefore be rejected as oppressive regimes. The true anarchist lives independent of every other living being and does neither force his will upon anyone nor accept anyone to impose their will on him. The only situation where a person could become an adversary to an anarchist is if that person attacks him and his liberties. Two anarchists can never be a threat to each other. Therefore, the drive to dominate others by employing the advantages provided by nature (such as a higher energy level or a higher intelligence) is a perversion of nature, not a direct consequence of nature.

The banker goes on to explain that institutions are the oppressors; not the people who man the institutions. He substantiates his point by saying that if you kill a number of bankers or judges or politicians you will have accomplished nothing to tear down the institutions. But if you dissolve the financial or legal or parliamentary system, you can remove the institution without harming one single individual. The banker thus scoffs at his former anarchist friends who run around planting bombs and attacking people. He himself decided to go after the institution itself. And what better way than to attack it from the inside. But not for the collective. After all, each anarchist fights his own fight. The banker’s aim was to free himself from the institutions. After having identified money as the most important one, he decided to accumulate enough money to become independent of it. That is why he went into banking and his vast success and growing personal wealth proved him right. He is financially independent and therefore, in his mind, the ultimate anarchist.

A simple analysis helps to identify several problems with Pessoa’s reading of the human nature and anarchism.

First, Pessoa let’s his banker argue that hierarchies, such as those he identified in his group of anarchists, are the result of acquired social behaviours and are not part of human nature. Thinkers before Pessoa have conversely argued that the will to power is the most essential driving force in the human being. Where there is a will, there is a power relationship. Pessoa here makes an unsubstantiated claim and builds his continued argument on it. If this claim is shown to be false, and if our species is indeed a herding animal that creates social structures like other herding animals, the rest of the banker’s argument is effectively nullified.

The second problem is the banker’s understanding of his own role in proliferating anarchism. The aim of anarchism, as commonly understood by Pessoa and others alike, is to tear down all structures of oppression, including the state and all systems of government and society, including the monetary system. The failure to do away with the economy as such is in fact one of the banker’s main objections to socialism. By participating in the capitalist system to make himself financially independent, the banker claims to have defeated money. However, by his very participation, he has reinforced the institution of finance and capitalism. The argument that the banker seems to put forth is that he is doing what everybody should do. If all people everywhere would go into finance to become billionaires, the monetary system would collapse and so would the entire capitalist society. However, looking at it this way, the same would happen if everyone decided to be a postman or barber, too, and hence there is no connection between the banker’s choice of arena for his resistance and his goals.

The term resistance brings me to a third problem with Pessoa’s philosophy. If we accept Michel Foucault’s claim that power is a dynamic and not a one-directional force, then resistance becomes part of the definition of power. By agency alone, every individual becomes a participant in an ongoing and ever-present power interaction. By choosing a particular area of society to act within, and becoming an active player on that arena, the banker by his mere resistance makes himself a tool for power. By participating in the stock markets, even by resisting the rules and governance of it, one reinforces it. As Foucault argues, regime change is just replacing one form of power structure by another. On this backdrop, a truer form of anarchism might be advocated by Etienne de la Boetie in his short book “Discourse on Voluntary Servitude” (see my review of July 2021) where he argues that the best form of resistance is not active counteraction to the ruler, but rather the refusal to act at all. After all, once the two friends have finished their dinner, someone has got to pay for it.  

I largely omitted the second text in this small volume, “A Very Original Dinner”, which is one of Pessoa’s early works from when he was still a teenager and wrote in English. This is a very unremarkable story obviously inspired by Edgar Alan Poe, and although well-written and partly entertaining, it is not nearly as interesting as I am beginning to understand most of Pessoa's later output to be. 

In conclusion, Pessoa's thought-provoking discussion challenges preconceived notions of anarchy, society, and resistance. While not without its logical problems, his narrative invites readers to delve into the complexities of these topics, ultimately enriching their understanding of the enigmatic world of government and society. Exploring Pessoa's work was a delight, offering an unexpected literary journey, and an opportunity to become acquainted with Portugal's foremost writer since the days of Luis de Camões.

 

 

A SMALL CORNER OF HELL

Author: Anna Politkovskaya
Year: 2003 (2002)
Publisher: Ordfront
Language: Swedish (translator Stefan Lindgren)

Chechnya. 26th of March. The year is 2000. The Russian 160^th armoured regiment is stationed near the town of Urus-Martan, or Martanthi in the Chechen language, in the southwest vicinity of Grozny. The commander’s name is Colonel Yuri Budanov. Today is his daughter’s second birthday and Colonel Budanov has invited the senior officers of the regiment to a modest celebration. Before long they are all in a drunken stupor. As the clock advances toward midnight, Colonel Budanov decides that he wants to go to the nearby village of Tangi-Chu. He says he knows where to find pretty girls and takes four of his officers with him. They pull up outside the humble farmhouse of the destitute Kungayev-family and break inside. Colonel Budanov knows what he is talking about. The family’s eldest daughter, eighteen years old Elza Kungayeva, is an extraordinary beauty. To the sound of her parents’ and younger siblings’ tearful laments, anguished pleas, and futile resistance to protect her, the five soldiers roll Elza, kicking and screaming, up in a carpet and carry her off to their awaiting vehicle. Back at the regiment, Elza is repeatedly raped, beaten, and tortured. When Elza endeavours to break free in a bid to escape, Budanov grabs her by her throat and extinguishes her young life by strangulation. Her expired body is disposed of in a makeshift grave in a grove right outside the regiment’s encampment.

The singularity of this narrative does not emanate from the events themselves, for such atrocities were regrettably commonplace during the course of the second Chechen war, and conceivably during the preceding conflict as well. What makes Colonel Yuri Budanov stand out is that he was actually prosecuted for his deeds. The catalyst for this was that his superior officer, General Vladmir Shamanov, was on vacation at the time. Shamanov had garnered notoriety for shielding his subordinate from law enforcement, a prerogative facilitated by Russian law. Consequently, the next morning, instead of reporting to General Shamanov, the events form the night before were reported to General Valery Gerasimov*. General Gerasimov possessed a divergent disposition from Shamanov. Not only did he allow the police to enter the compound and apprehend Colonel Budanov, he attended in person to open the gates for them.

But Russia would not be Russia if the story ended there. Owing to the emergence of fabricated evidence and spurious testimonies, Budanov was acquitted by the judiciary. This triggered an unusual and widespread surge of public protests in Moscow and elsewhere, culminating in a re-evaluation of the case by a higher court. This time, the court adopted a somewhat different approach. It ordered Budanov to submit to a psychological evaluation. Conveniently, the results purported that Budanov had suffered a transitory psychosis in the exact moment the crime was committed but never before and never thereafter. This would mean that he could not be sentenced for his actions on the night of the 26^th of March, but there was also no reason to separate him from his command. Budanov was a free man. Elza Kungayeva’s remains were returned to her grieving family - for an ‘administrative fee’.

These chronicles and many others, about corruption, abuse, lies and deceit, politics and money, children whose eyes turn black when they hear the Russian language, and a whole people being all but wiped out by its own government without a word being spoken in their defence by the international community, can be found on the pages of Anna Politkovskaya’s book “Tjetjenien” (“A Small Corner of Hell”). It is a scathing assault on Russian politics and a detailed account of the bestiality and savagery that the Russian army unleashed on the Chechen population. Politkovskaya tells the story of people who otherwise would never have been heard. I knew it would be a harrowing read and still it was worse than I had imagined. If you are surprised by the reports from Mariupol, Bucha, and Bakhmut you just have not been paying attention.

Four years after this book was published, on the 7^th of October 2006, Anna Politkovskaya was shot dead in her own home. Perhaps it was a coincidence that the assassination took place on Vladimir Putin’s birthday. Maybe it was not. But the fact remains that one of the most dangerous voices challenging the Kremlin had to been silenced. And that no matter how badly we want it in the West, Russia is not about to change.

*This is the same General Valery Gerasimov who in 2023 would become the supreme commander of the Russian war effort in Ukraine.

 

THE BROTHERS LIONHEART

Author: Astrid Lindgren
Year: 1973
Publisher: Rabén & Sjögren
Language: Swedish

The year 2023 marks the 50th anniversary of Astrid Lindgren's enduring masterpiece, "Bröderna Lejonhjärta" ("The Brothers Lionheart.") This tale emerged nearly two decades after her inaugural foray into the realm of high fantasy with the timeless classic, "Mio, My Son." While the latter multiple times as a child, I regrettably never embarked upon the journey through the pages of the former. The outline of the story was well-known to me, of course, yet the actual text remained a stranger. As 2023 dawned as "the year I finally read...", it felt apt to commemorate this momentous anniversary by immersing myself in its paper and ink, at long last.

Legend has it that Astrid Lindgren's inspiration for writing the tale of two brothers bound by death and the afterlife was kindled during a visit to a cemetery. There, she encountered a tombstone, bearing tribute to three brothers who departed from this world in the same year and now rested together in eternity.

The relationship between Jonatan and Karl Lejon, aged thirteen and ten, respectively, constitutes the core of this narrative. Jonatan, endowed with intellect, charisma, and a radiant personality, basks in the affection of all who know him, both at home and at school. In stark contrast, Karl is sickly, shackled to a bedridden existence, distorted by ailment, and burdened with a self-perception of inadequacy. He is also the narrator of the story.

Karl is fully aware of his impending death and in an endeavour to console his ailing brother, Jonatan tells him of the afterworld, which he calls Nangijala. Tragedy strikes when Jonatan shortly thereafter succumbs to an accidental fire in a valiant attempt to rescue his younger sibling. Karl is completely destroyed by the loss of his brother and finds solace only in the thought of an expeditious passage to Nangijala where he believes that they will be reunited. It is in this enchanted realm that their adventures commence. Nangijala, a realm teeming with wonder, yet veiled in shadows far more sinister than the brothers could have ever imagined.

There are two accepted interpretations of this tale. One posits that the Lejon boys, bestowed with the epithet "Lionheart" for their valour and courage in the afterlife, are indeed transported to a tangible realm postmortem. The other, perhaps more in alignment with Lindgren's own intent as revealed in interviews, suggests that the entire narrative unfolds as a product of Karl's fevered longing for Jonatan, an imaginary manifestation of his yearning.

As a child, one reason I never managed to get past the first chapters lay in the profound bond shared by Jonatan and Karl. Jonatan's unwavering devotion to his ailing sibling and his tragic demise left a lump in my throat, rendering me incapable of progressing further. As an adult, I embarked on this literary voyage once more, only to find the lump returning, a testament to Lindgren's remarkable craftsmanship. She possessed the rare gift of identifying the precise spot at which to linger, sometimes with one simple sentence, to punch a hole in one’s armour, granting the emotions unbridled freedom. Writing primarily for children, she was unconstrained by the burdens of pretension, while being confined to a restricted vocabulary to forge a supremely honest, direct, and compelling story of good and evil, courage and cowardice, and loyalty and betrayal.

I do not claim to be an expert in the domains of either fantasy or children's literature, yet I am unequivocal in my conviction: "Bröderna Lejonhjärta" stands as an indomitable masterpiece, an opus transcending the bounds of time and age.

HEART OF DARKNESS & TALES OF UNREST

Author: Joseph Conrad
Year: 2018 (1899)
Publisher: Arcturus Publishing
Language: English

This summer, I seem to spend an unusual amount of time in the literary wilderness. Already having reviewed Henryk Sienkiewicz’s “In Desert and Wilderness” (see review from June 2023) and Rudyard Kipling’s “The Jungle Book” (see review from August 2023), the time has come for me to try Joseph Conrad’s classic novella “Heart of Darkness” on for size.

“Heart of Darkness” is a cornerstone in modernist literature and delves into the complexities of imperialism and the darkest alcoves of the human psyche. Published in 1899, it remains a subject of critical analysis and debate, as it raises profound questions about the consequences of colonialism and the conflicted relationship of 19^th century Europeans to the ethnocentric and largely arbitrary distinction between civilization and savagery.

This story of modest proportions, provides a blistering critique of European imperialism and the rapacious exploitation of Africa. The novella's setting along the Congo River serves as a microcosm for the larger imperial project, where European powers used to extract ivory and resources with little regard for the indigenous populations. Conrad's portrayal of the company's brutality and the dehumanisation of Africans underlines the moral bankruptcy of imperialism. The Congo becomes a symbol of the darkness that lurks beneath the veneer of European civilisation. Although Africa is sometimes referred to as ‘the dark continent’, the darkness in Conrad’s story does not come from there. It comes from Europe.

The character Kurtz, in particular, epitomises the corrupting influence of power on a European mind. Initially portrayed as an idealistic and talented ivory trader, Kurtz descends into madness and brutality in the heart of Africa. This transformation raises questions about the perversive effect of unchecked power and the capacity for evil embedded in European mentality.

In simplified terms, it may appear straightforward to argue that the Nietzschean concept of will to power manifests itself in its full glory in Conrad’s novella. The company's exploitation of Africa and its resources, driven by a relentless quest for profit, could be cited as examples of the inherent human desire for control and mastery over others and over nature. Nietzsche’s ideas of master and slave mentality also come to mind. I find it useful for the understanding of Conrad’s critique of colonisation to dwell for a while on why Nietzsche’s concepts of master and slave morality do not in fact apply.

Among the key concepts of Nietzsche’s thinking is the distinction between Macht (power) and Kraft (strength), which is not always correctly understood by his readers. The idea of Kraft is largely associated with the ability to impose ones will upon another by force. Macht, on the other hand, is first and foremost directed at the individual’s ability to take control over one’s own actions, reactions, emotions, and ultimately course of life. If that includes imposing one’s will on others, so be it, but it is not the essential meaning of the core concept. This also relates to the Master and slave morality dichotomy. The Master morality is characterised by intrepidity, individualism, and nobility, whereas the slave is characterised by conformity, submission, and humility.

Looking at Heart of Darkness through the Nietzschean prism, one will be bound to see that the colonisers established and maintained their domination of Africa by the use of strength, but their actions are governed exclusively by external forces such as greed and the pursuit of social status. Their interest for self-development, high-mindedness, courage, and individualism is close to nil. The characters’ conformist pursuits push them to extremes and make them commit unthinkable actions in the name of obedience and submission to social expectations. They are, by the looks of it, driven by slave morality and unable to obtain power without losing their minds. Conrad’s genius is thus to turn the self-aggrandised image of colonial Europe against itself as if he were holding up a mirror to a boastful creature thinking itself to be a prince, only for it to see that it is in fact a frog. To Nietzsche, the will do power leads to the rise of the Übermensch. There is no sign of an Übermensch in “Heart of Darkness”.

Now, while “Heart of Darkness” is a powerful critique of colonialism, it has also been criticised itself for its racist undertones. Some argue that Conrad's portrayal of Africans and his use of racial stereotypes reflect the prejudices of his time. This aspect of the novella has led to ongoing debates about whether the work is inherently racist or a condemnation of racism. My position in this ongoing debate, which also encompasses many other works of art from times long past, is that each writer in his or her time, uses the language that is available to them. There is a reason Mozart did not compose jazz tunes. Conrad used the language and the symbols available to him at the time. Even if he had been capable to write any differently, his message may not have been intelligible to the readers of his era. His intentions and his anti-colonial agenda could not be clearer and I am not willing to sacrifice that on a conceptual altar that was not erected until a century later.

Having said that, my final note is on the writing itself. Picking up this title, I was fully aware of Conrad’s legendary use of the English language, having read some of his works before. I braced myself for a ride on the rapids of linguistic contortion. I was however rather disappointed by the end result. In my view, the purpose of advanced use of language is to increase accuracy of the communication and to embellish or deepen the story telling. In Conrad’s case, more often than not, I found the choice of less frequently used words in the English language pointless. As if the writer was looking for, or even manufacturing, opportunities to squeeze in an odd, technical, or archaic word into the text. Some sentences seem to be there just to show off a particular vocabulary. Even still, despite all this forced variety, the word “brooding” occurs no less than five times in the first few pages of the book. One would think that a writer who by all conceivable accounts seems to have swallowed a thesaurus, would have managed to find a synonym for his favourite word.

“Heart of Darkness” is not the only story in this volume. It is followed by a series of five short-stories under the collective title “Tales of Unrest”.

“Karain – A Memory” is one of Conrad’s early Malay stories and is about how a Dutchman bulldozes into a fragile Malay society and brings dishonour to the people. It tells about their revenge and their remorse as manifested by an imagined ghost haunting their chieftain.

“The Idiots” is set in Europe, more specifically in Brittany. The story describes how a couple has one child after the other, each with a mental disorder and how the stress that this puts on the family leads to fatal consequences.

“An Outpost of Progress” brings the reader to West Africa. Two moderately qualified administrators for a trading post are duped by their local foreman into accepting outrageous terms for a transaction of ivory which ultimately leads to a deadly rift between them.  

“The Return” is based in the City of London and circles around how an up-and-coming gentleman’s response to his wife almost (but not actually) cheating on him spirals out of control and about how artificial appearances clash with human desire.

“The Lagoon” brings Conrad back to the rivers of Malaysia and tells the story of an indigenous man who is so blinded by love for a woman that he is capable of no other decisions than those which will immediately guarantee his possession of her.

Though still composed in a language that is varied and advanced, none of these short stories suffers from the same conspicuous linguistic preternaturalness that encumbers “Heart of Darkness”. The title of the collection as a whole is quite appropriate as there is a disturbance, a tension, or an element of asymmetry or disequilibrium in each of them that is enough to incinerate the entire fabric of reality for the characters. I particularly enjoyed “An Outpost of Progress” which I found to capture the frailty of European self-image and our inability to make rational decisions when required to act off-script in a foreign environment. The savage inside of us, Conrad seems to say, is never farther away than our next act of greed, ambition, or desire. For a species that has the audacity to call itself ‘the thinking man’, we sure are governed a lot by our primal instincts.

Finally, a shoutout to Peter Gray and Peter Ridley for the beautiful cover.

THE JUNGLE BOOK

Author: Rudyard Kipling
Year: 1961 (1894)
Publisher: Instytut Wyd. "Nasza Ksiegarnia"
Language: Polish (translator Józef Birkenmajer)

In the heart of savage wilderness, amidst the ever-shifting fabric of primal existence, dwells the chronicle of a being in search of his own essence. Within this narrative tapestry, the central figure, Mowgli, emerges as a voyager on the tempestuous sea of identity formation. An orphaned child, cast adrift upon the verdant tides of the jungle, Mowgli becomes an interface, a point of juncture, between the uncouth wilderness of beasts and the supposedly cultured dominion of man. His identity hangs suspended like a pendulum swaying between two irreconcilable worlds. “Ksiega Dzungli” (“The Jungle Book”) by Rudyard Kipling thus explores the microcosm of humanity's scattered attitude toward nature and its ceaseless quest for a home.

The jungle itself can be construed as an embodiment of the dialectic that man has struggled with since the beginning of abstract thought. Here, the Hegelian thesis of nature clashes with the antithesis of civilisation. Nature and culture are pitted against each other as mutually exclusive opposites. Mowgli, the feral child, incarnates this contradiction. He is caught in the in-between, as it were, balancing on the cusp of human society and untamed biology. His very existence mirrors the Hegelian struggle for self-realization, oscillating between individuality and universality.

Mowgli’s interactions with the jungle's inhabitants, be it the motherly panther Bagheera or the sage bear Baloo, evoke the timeless conundrum of self-discovery. In these relationships, the reader is witness to a vaudeville of influence, power, and vulnerability within a matrix of order, tradition, and honour. The matrix is put on trial by the disruptive force that is the vindictive and ruthless tiger Shere Khan. This is the disturbance that is required to ignite the dialectic. The boy in need of protection faces his fiend and by defeating him becomes a man; the synthesis. The self-realisation through conflict. The rise of a man among wolves.

Although the tale of Mowgli has established itself as the most famous of the stories in “Ksiega Dzungli”, significantly influenced, no doubt, by the Walt Disney-rendition, it is actually but one of several stories in the volume. Another noted entry is that of Rikki-Tikki-Tavi. Here, the titular mongoose stands as a metaphorical benchmark, emblematic of the primal tenacity inherent within the natural world. While Mowgli grapples with humanity as an intrinsic quality in himself, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi faces off with the perils of nature as a self-proclaimed guardian of a human family. Eager to be of service to his adopted tribe, he puts himself in harm’s way, not once but repeatedly, by challenging the fierce serpents Nag and Nagaina and protecting the humans from the legless lepidosaurs’ deadly bite. While Mowgli is torn between his biological and his circumstantial natures, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi does his best to make a place for himself in a foreign world. His struggle is with his milieu, not his own being. 

Much as I acknowledge that the book was written with young readers I mind, as always, I refuse to allow this to stand as an excuse for poor writing. On the contrary, given the restraints of the immature audience’s limited knowledge and intellectual abilities, the task of a writer for children is perhaps even more challenging than to one who is free to employ the full palette of linguistic nuance. Kipling was not a novice writer when he put together “Ksiega dzungli”. More than a decade earlier he had already established himself as a journalist and poet, and one would think that he would have a good command of the written word and the ability to identify and adapt to his recipients. As my copy is a translation, I will not comment on Kipling’s use of language but the dramaturgy and character development are in my view unsatisfactory. Both are sketchy and disjointed and they lack the immersive cadence that I have learned to expect from truly accomplished writers.

Despite all, the primary benefit of having read Kipling’s famous stories is to counterbalance Walt Disney’s distorted version of the jungle and to learn what Kipling had intended when he wrote his stories. There is a depth and a message in them that, if not done away with completely, are glossed over and trivialised in the animated film. This message, albeit clad in an outdated literary cloak, is still relevant to humanity today as our destructive effect on the climate serves as a shocking reminder of our inescapable dependence on our ecosystem.      

BUMNECDOTES, LIMERICKS, AND EPITAPHS ARE SPONSORED BY THE RUSSIAN MOB

Author: Krzysztof Daukszewicz
Year: 2008 (2004)
Publisher: Ksiegarnia Bellonia
Language: Polish

Every nation has the government it deserves, if we are to believe the Sardinian philosopher and diplomat Joseph de Maistre. Equally true perhaps, and tightly linked to Maistre’s reflection, is that every nation has the comedians it needs. For Poland, such a comedian, satirist, singer, and poet is Krzysztof Daukszewicz.

He made a name for himself already during the Polish communist era, for example as a member of the legendary satiric theatre group Kabaret Pod Egida, and has continued to be a successful commentator on current affairs in various artforms on television, on stage, and in written form as a columnist and writer.

Against this backdrop, I was understandably excited about his little collection of observations and anecdotes titled “Meneliki, limeryki, epitafia, sponsoruje ruska mafia” (not available in English but a lacklustre attempt at a translation could sound like “Bumnecdotes, Limericks, and Epitaphs Are Aponsored By the Russian Mob”). The Polish word “menel” translates to bum or hobo in English, implying both homelessness and an intimate relationship to alcohol, and denotes a most commonplace phenomenon in the Polish cultural landscape. I expected a collection of both highs and lows, a goody bag of thought-provoking musings and downright daft cock-and-bull-stories from the writer’s encounters with bums around Poland intermingled with each other, and in the end something profound to tie it all together into a coherent critique of a society that aspires to be a Christian superpower but remains incapable of sparing five measly loaves of bread and two fish to feed its weakest members. All of the above would have been compatible with Daukszewicz’s work in the past.  

Regrettably, despite the inspired title, I found that my expectations were not met. True, some of the anecdotes are witty and the outsiders that Daukszewicz has met in all corners of Poland over the years are sometimes both original and eloquent, but on a whole the ambition of the book does not seem to aim beyond the occasional laugh at the expense of people who are already struggling at the bottom of society and who serve mostly as facetious conversation starters and empty validations of our own normality, much like the village idiots of yore. The limericks, of which there are significantly fewer than the bumnecdotes, rarely follow the form of traditional limericks and equally rarely end in a funny or piquant punchline. The epitaphs are sometimes unintelligible, sometimes flat, and sometimes just in poor taste.

The highlight is the ultimate section where Daukszewicz takes on the Polish governments (both the present at the time the book was published and earlier ones). In this section, some of his keen eye for the absurd and well documented knack for undressing power come to the fore. The final entry, “Abridged minutes of the investigative committee” is actually brilliant in both form and execution.

All in all, “Meneliki, limeryki, epitafia, sponsoruje ruska mafia” is a quick and light read which unfortunately misses the mark. It does not reflect the inimitable sense of humour and sharp satirical pen of Krzysztof Daukszewicz’s who has produced significantly more powerful work both before and after this collection.

DOCTOR GLAS

Author: Hjalmar Söderberg
Year: 2010 (1905)
Publisher: Albert Bonniers Förlag
Language: Swedish

“Doktor Glas” (“Doctor Glas”) by Hjalmar Söderberg is one of the most influential modernist novels in Swedish literature and stands as a poignant and thought-provoking exploration of morality, inner conflict, and the intricacies of the human mind. Set against the backdrop of early 20^th century Stockholm, Söderberg masterfully delves into the mind of his protagonist, Doctor Tyko Glas, unravelling a gripping narrative that traverses the boundaries of ethical dilemmas and personal desires.

One of the most notable achievements of "Doktor Glas" is Söderberg's nuanced portrayal of the main character’s moral quandaries, which take centre stage throughout the novel. At its heart, “Doktor Glas” constitutes a response to e.g. Dostoyevsky’s monumental work Crime and Punishment, in which similar themes are explored from a Russian perspective half a century earlier, as well as to much of Friedrich Nietzsche’s writing on good and evil. The doctor's moral compass is challenged when he becomes entangled in the life of a young woman, Helga Gregorius, who seeks his assistance in escaping her oppressive marriage to the odious Pastor Gregorius. This catalyst for moral conflict sets in motion a series of events that propel the narrative forward while simultaneously plunging Glas into a profound examination of his own values and beliefs.

SPOILER ALERT

Whereas Dostoyevsky’s Rodion Raskolnikov commits his act early on in the story and spends the rest of the novel grappling with the consequences of his decision, Tyko Glas spends a considerable amount of time contemplating and legitimising his actions before he executes on them. Although he rationalises his actions as warranted and altruistic, two interesting observations about the underlying reason for his actions stand out to the reader:

1. It is clear from the beginning, long before Helga Gregorius visits his cabinet, that Glas despises and even hates Pastor Gregorius, Helga’s husband;

2. Helga does not outright ask Glas to neutralise her husband. All she asks is that he intervenes to give her some degree of independence from her nuptial duties.

Although, Glas tries to explain his actions as inevitable in order to rescue Helga from the pastor, and the first-person perspective allows the reader to follow the string of thoughts that Glas employs to talk himself into this conclusion, as an outsider, the reader would be forgiven for not totally accepting Glas’ narrative at face value. While Raskolnikov dug himself ever deeper into guilt, Glas swims on top of his faux justification of his deed. In Nietzschean terms one might say that Master morality is Raskolnikov’s starting point and Glas’ destination. As Nietzsche explicitly named Christian morality as slave morality, it is no coincidence that Doctor Glas’ antagonist is a pastor. What better way to challenge the slave morality imposed on us by the Church than to murder a man of the cloth? This aligns perfectly with Nietzsche's view of transcending societal constraints and moral dogmas in the pursuit of individual flourishing.  

Söderberg's prose, marked by its elegant and evocative style, serves as a vessel for the novel's exploration of complex themes. The author expertly balances moments of introspection and philosophical contemplation with vivid descriptions of the city and its inhabitants. Through rich and vivid language, Söderberg creates an atmospheric backdrop that complements the narrative's exploration of human desires, societal constraints, and the yearning for personal liberation. The author’s choice to tell the story in epistolary form through the processed first-person thoughts of the protagonist helps to make the events really come to life and become relevant to the reader.  All characters, including the doctor, are sketchy and we only get to know what we absolutely need to know in order to follow the story, but for a book this size, that is not a negative thing. The purpose that this short book was supposed to serve and the questions it was supposed to raise, come across with considerable vitality, which by any account is what Söderberg must have intended. “Doktor Glas” is a remarkable book despite its modest dimensions and I warmly recommend it to anyone who is interested in the discourse of morality, social restraints, women’s rights, and the human psyche.

THE ART OF WAR

Author: Sun Tzu
Year: 2019 (1910/~500 BC)
Publisher: Modernista
Language: Swedish (translator Bertil Häggman)

Some 500 years BC, or so the story goes, Sun Wu applied for a position as a military commander at the helm of King Helu’s army in what is today the Southern Jiangsu province of China. To test his leadership skills, the king asked him to train the royal concubines in performing military manoeuvres. Sun Wu accepted the challenge, divided the concubines into two groups, and appointed the king’s two favourite mistresses as officers in charge of each of them respectively. He proceeded to give the women basic military training but when it was time to present the king with the results, the women could not help but giggle and, understandably, make a joke out of the whole situation. Sun Wu declared that if the subordinates fail to obey orders, it is the leader’s responsibility to ensure that the orders have been clearly communicated and correctly understood. He therefore resumed training and applied strict pedagogical assiduity to secure complete understanding among the king’s concubines. Upon the next performance in front of the king, the women again found the situation bizarre and giggled through it. Sun Wu then declared that if the orders have been understood but still not followed, it is the fault of the officers, and had both the king’s favourite concubines severely punished, some versions of the story say executed. After this, Sun Wu no longer experienced any problems in exercising control over the women in his two units. And that is how he got the job.

Many years later, now known by his honorary name Sun Tzu, he would put his experiences, observations, and theories from and about the battle field into writing in what is today known as “Krigets konst” (“The Art of War”) in the Western world. Across 383 maxims grouped into 13 chapters dealing with such things as planning and evaluating, cunning, terrain, manoeuvring, attack by fire, and the usage of spies, Sun Tzu shares his philosophy on how to command an army and lead it to victory.

Unlike many other texts from antiquity, Sun Tzu’s writing was never lost and rediscovered but seems to have been part of Chinese philosophy, military training, and history since its inception until today. This notwithstanding, the origins of the book and even the purported originator himself remain disputed. The name of Sun Wu does not show up in the historical record until at last 300 years after his assumed death and is conspicuously missing from a contemporary source, Zuo Zhuan, that lists the most influential civil servants of the realm, including military commanders, and ought to have included a person as illustrious as he is claimed to have been. Furthermore, the name Sun Tzu simply means ‘Master Sun’ in Mandarin and it appears that there was another member of the Sun family a few generations later, Sun Bin whose historicity can be unambiguously confirmed, and he went by the honorary name Sun Tzu as well. It could well be that the two were conflated over time.

Whoever took the time to write down their thoughts about warfare in the 5^th century BC, the effort was not in vain. Military commanders, but also rulers, business leaders, teachers, philosophers, and artists over the centuries have drawn inspiration from the wisdom contained therein. However, as history has shown, the structure of the book, although simple and translucent, does provoke some misunderstanding. As is far too common in the world, many readers have difficulties grasping a bigger picture if faced with a smorgasbord of easily digestible information nuggets. Consequently, it is easy to understand why some reviews point to one part of the book as the key, omitting another that some other review might in turn consider essential. After all, this is how most Christian fundamentalists read the Bible. One may see declarations such as ‘The Art of War is about deception’ or ‘the best way to win a battle is to make your troops desperate.’   

I do not by any means claim to understand “Krigets konst” better than anyone else, but as a person who has spent most of his professional life in management positions in one way or another, my observation is that the leitmotif throughout Sun Tzu’s notes is knowledge, preparation, and patience.

The knowledge about the soldiers. Knowledge about the enemy. Knowledge about the terrain. Knowledge about technology and weapons. This also includes the obstruction of the enemy’s knowledge which is where deception and spreading of false information comes into the picture.

“All warfare is based on deception”

“Though the enemy be stronger in numbers, we may prevent him from fighting. Scheme so as to discover his plans and the likelihood of their success. Rouse him, and learn the principle of his activity or inactivity.”

Preparation is about ensuring allegiance of the troops before marching out. Preparing exit routes and defence lines. Preparation of supply lines and marching paths. And preparation by acquiring knowledge.

“Knowing the place and the time of the coming battle, we may concentrate from the greatest distances in order to fight.”

“Now the general who wins a battle makes many calculations in his temple ere the battle is fought. The general who loses a battle makes but few calculations beforehand. Thus do many calculations lead to victory, and few calculations to defeat: how much more no calculation at all! It is by attention to this point that I can foresee who is likely to win or lose.”

Patience, to tie it all together, can be applied to taking the time to prepare properly and making sense of collected intelligence. Patience is not allowing oneself to be provoked.

“The good fighters of old first put themselves beyond the possibility of defeat, and then waited for an opportunity of defeating the enemy”

“He who exercises no forethought but makes light of his opponents is sure to be captured by them.”

Co-incidentally; knowledge, preparation, and patience also seem to align with the five traditional cardinal virtues in the Chinese culture which are benevolence, uprightness of mind, self-control, wisdom, and sincerity, which are values that Sun Tzu must have been intimately familiar with.

Lastly, a few notes on the translation. The first translation into French came as early as 1772 and is likely to have been read by Napoleon Bonaparte. However, not until the English translation by Lionel Giles in 1910 did the book gain global fame, which was further amplified by the success of Mao Zedong in defeating the nationalists and establishing the People’s Republic of China. Lionel Giles work has since become the benchmark for many other translations, including the one into Swedish that I have read. I find Bertil Häggman’s version from 1989 to be airy with a good flow, but I am particularly happy that the translation also includes Lionel Giles’ annotations which, although not always comprehensible, provide context and oftentimes detailed explanations of what it is we are reading. When it comes to reading antique Chinese texts on warfare, at least This Banker sometimes needs a helping hand to put the pieces together.

 

THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA

Author: Ernest Hemingway
Year: 1975 (1952)
Publisher: Stiftelsen Litteraturfrämjandet
Language: Swedish (translator unknown)

”A man can be destroyed, but not defeated” is one of the most well-known quotes from what is arguably Ernest Hemingway’s most prominent novel, “Den gamle och havet” (“The Old Man and the Sea”) from 1952. In his inimitable minimalistic writing style, Hemingway manages to encapsulate the whole message of the novel in one potent sentence.

SPOILER ALERT

“Den gamle och havet” is a story about Santiago, an old fisherman well past his prime who has had a streak of really rotten luck not having caught a single fish for eighty-four days. His misfortunes have become the talk of the town, and the parents of his young helper and apprentice have even taken the boy away from him and allocated him to a boat that has proved to be more successful in recent times. The boy, deeply loyal to his mentor, keeps visiting Santiago and run errands for him but he cannot act against the will of his parents and therefore cannot sail with his aged friend.

Santiago knows that the gossip around town is that he has been cursed and even that he is finished as a fisherman, but he does not pay much attention to it. He is too old and experienced to believe in such nonsense. After all, he has been through this before. Rather than praying to God or performing magical rituals, he relies on his knowledge, experience, and patience.

On the eighty-fourth day of fishing without catch, like all days before it, Santiago sails out onto the Sargasso Sea in his small fishing-boat. Reading the signs of the sea and the animal life in and above it, he soon picks up the trail of what should be an attractive prize. When the fish bites his hook, the fight is on. Hour after hour, day after night after day, Santiago struggles with the largest fish that he has ever encountered and when it finally breaks the surface of the sea, Santiago’s assumption that it must be an enormous marlin is confirmed. This monstrosity is even bigger than Santiago’s boat. After finally having killed it, he ties it to the side of his vessel and turns the bow toward Havana, which during the prolonged tussle has disappeared below the horizon.

Alas, to kill the marlin, Santiago has to drive his harpoon through it, spilling its blood into the ocean. An ocean rife with all types of sharks. Soon enough, the first sharks begin to attack the carcass and Santiago attempts to fight them off. He uses his harpoon to kill the first ones. When one of them disappears with it lodged to its dead body, he ties his knife to one of the oars and continues the fight. When the knife breaks, he proceeds to hitting the feeding sharks over their heads with the rudder. Shark after shark annihilated or chased away, but not before taking a chunk of the marlin with it. When Santiago finally reaches the shores of his fishing village, all that remains of the once mighty fish is the head, the tail, and the spine to hold them together, meticulously cleaned of all meat.

It takes a great writer to make a story about a fishing trip, albeit one involving a remarkable catch, thrilling, touching, and thought-provoking at the same time, and Hemingway does just that. The protagonist’s fight against the forces of nature but also his musings about life, death, love, fate, and the meaning of identity and personal integrity are all interwoven into the fabric of the story in a way that it never loses pace. The reader never gets the feeling that the author pauses the chain of events for philosophy. It is all embedded in the progress of the plot. This short, simple, and linear novel without any elaborate subplots, interpersonal drama, despicable villains, betrayal, misunderstandings, money, sex, or violence is consequently laden with symbols. It is the universe captured in the meeting between a modest man in a tiny skiff and a fish.

No matter how important our personal challenges seem to us, on the vast ocean of life they are but insignificant trifles. The ocean is too great to be aware of every single fish in it, no matter how big, or every single man in a dinghy on it, no matter how determined.

“The ocean is very big and a skiff is small and hard to see.”

Santiago did not blame bad luck for his poor performance. Nor did he blame God, the weather, the fish, his boat, or his equipment. He certainly did not blame himself. He was old enough to know that any fisherman sometimes goes through a bad patch. He did not give up. He set out to sea like he had done every single one of the days prior to this one.

His epic battle with the fish goes on for two days. The old man’s endurance, experience, attention, and ingenuity are put to the test as never before. He is old and not as agile as he used to be. And he is alone. This is his fight. To each and every one of us, to Santiago as well as everyone else, that struggle is essential not for survival alone, but for the definition of who we are. We are, Hemingway seems to say, defined by our actions and choices more than by their outcomes. To choose to continue to live is to choose to continue to choose.

“- They beat me Manolin, he said. They truly beat me.
- He didn't beat you. Not the fish.”

Santiago’s marlin would have brought him a small fortune if he had been able to haul it back in one piece to the market. But he ended up not receiving even a dime. The man is destroyed but not defeated.

We learn one more thing in the very end of the story. While Santiago is recovering after the ordeal, two groups of people notice the remains of the fish by his boat. The first are his peers in the village. Those who looking at the carcass are able to assess and appreciate the old man’s achievement. The other is a group of tourists who mistake the animal for a shark and shrug it off as a mere curiosity. How often do you allow tourists to determine the value of your accomplishments and to put you down by the force of their numbers and ignorant confidence?

It is no mystery why “Den gamle och havet” has become a classic not only in American but in world literature, and Hemingway’s Nobel Prize and widespread renown are, in my view, very well motivated.