New Or Old

I was thinking I might write an essay discussing who was right: Emily Dickinson or Homer. Emily Dickinson writes:

The Robin's my Criterion for Tune--
Because I grow--where Robins do--
But were I Cuckoo born--
I'd swear by him--
The ode familiar rules the Noon--

[from #285]

But Telemachos in Homer (Lattimore's translation) says:

"There is nothing wrong in his singing the sad return of the Danaans.
People, surely, always give more applause to that song
which is the latest to circulate among the listeners."

(Odyssey, Bk. 1, ll. 350-352)

So which is it? New or old? Familiar or strange?

My first thought was I could reconcile them in some way. (That's my temperament in any case.) Maybe with nature we prefer the familiar, but with human constructs we seek variety? That nature is continuously fulfilling, but man's constructions are inherently thin, so we need to see something new. That's a little hard on Tolstoy or on Homer, but it could be true. But men go seek novelty in nature, too, climb to the top of Mount Everest or penetrate to the heart of the Amazon, and it's mostly to see new things. So maybe not.

Then it occurred to me, it's mostly men in jungles or on snowy peaks. Could this be a difference between Emily and (Mr.) Homer. (For I'm assuming it is Mr. Homer, pace Samuel Butler.) But Thoreau contemplated Walden Pond and women climb Everest these days. It's likely an accident of history that most explorers were men.

That was the essay I was going to write. Because of course there must be a truth. But I couldn't figure it out. Maybe they're just both right? Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself.

Who Do I Write Like?

OK. This is the gizmo making the rounds at the moment. The Significant Other (who's writing for Playboy at the moment) entered part of the article and it reported back, "James Joyce." Oh yeah? I can do that, I thought. Let's find out.

Actually I pride myself on using a variety of styles, so prima facie proof of success would be if it produced different models for different pieces. My two stories in Antigonish Review? Dan Brown and Stephen King. Ouch. But then three pieces in the late lamented Lichen are styled like David Foster Wallace, William Gibson, and Margaret Atwood. That sounds a bit better. My stories in Feathertale produce H. G. Wells and another David Foster Wallace. The H. G. Wells seems unlikely, but then I haven't read any H. G. Wells, so I'll reserve judgment. My story in Grain claims Robert Louis Stevenson as patron. As Borges' favorite English author, I'm not going to fight that.

Pretty good variety, so I guess that proves what I thought about my own writing and maybe suggests the tool isn't entirely hokum. But still no James Joyce. So I tried chapters from the N.I.P. (novel in progress), which is written in a deliberate mix of styles. We get J. K. Rowling, Vladimir Nabokov, Kurt Vonnegut, and Margaret Mitchell (!) plus some more David Foster Wallace. Have I got your attention yet?

But still no James Joyce.

Susan Sontag

I've been reading the first volume of Sontag's journals. From her entry for 1/15/57. To become erudite in 1) Life and philosophy of Abelard 2) Marine biology, esp. jellyfish 3) Baron Bunsen 4) Philosophy of Spinoza 5) Book of Job I find I've become very fond of the young Sontag. This is both funny and admirable.