The Genesis of Secrecy: On the Interpretation of Narrative (Charles Eliot Norton Lectures) (The Charles Eliot Norton Lectures) by Kermode, F (1979) Paperback

The Charles Eliot Norton Lectures

by Frank Kermode

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Genres: Religion, Literary Criticism, Criticism, Nonfiction, Literature, Writing, Theology

Paperback

First published January 1, 1979

About the author

Sir John Frank Kermode was a highly regarded British literary critic best known for his seminal critical work The Sense of an Ending: Studies in the Theory of Fiction, published in 1967 (revised 2003).

Reviews

[John David · Rating 4 out of 5]

“The Genesis of Secrecy” is a set of the collected and expanded Charles Eliot Norton lectures given at Harvard during 1977-1978. In this book, Kermode announces his task to be one of a secular interpreter (or anti-interpreter, as it were), completely unencumbered, yet still highly knowledgeable, of older Biblical-critical traditions and their concomitant dogma.

Hermeneutics is the main concern here. The Gospel of Mark is the real center of gravity, but Kermode’s catholicity draws him also to James Joyce and Henry Green, with some non-canonical Gospels thrown in for good measure. In the first lecture, “Carnal and Spiritual Senses,” the act of interpretation is likened to an attempt to transition from being an “outsider” to an “insider,” that is, someone with special, institutionalized knowledge about the text at hand. Interpretation is necessarily an act that always frustrates itself if it aims to find a concrete, absolute nugget of meaning; instead, the multiplicity and indeterminacy of hermeneutic practice, and our proclivity for allegorical and elliptical readings, mean that any essentialism is textually impossible. In fact, Kermode all but says that what it means to be a narrative is to have “hermeneutic potential.” His carnal and spiritual are reconfigurations of Freud’s manifest and latent, but without all the Freudian baggage. With biblical texts, he sometimes opts for the similar “pleromatist” instead of latent.

In another lecture titled “What are the Facts?,” he discusses the role of textual facticity in historical writing. This is especially controversial, considering that Kermode has chosen the Gospels as a main focus – texts whose historical facts are hard to square, to say the least. To add to the complexity of looking at the Gospels as historical documents, one must consider that the Passion narrative was foretold in the Old Testament, and therefore its authenticity was a prerequisite to the supposed authority of the Gospels. In short, Kermode makes the dubious claim that, as a textual outsider, it is well nigh impossible to discern historical writing from any other type.

It is uncertain whether Kermode knew exactly how close he is to poststructuralism here. It is not the case that all narratives dissolve into an incoherent semiological play of signs and signifiers when under interpretive scrutiny. Kermode’s approach results in a kind of textual nihilism. Interpretation always involves the interplay of intentionality and historical perspective, but there is no reason why that interplay must necessarily annihilate our ability to discern between genres, or what those genres are trying to accomplish. Kermode also never discusses his controversial choice of texts he uses to reach his conclusions. What would have happened had he chosen Sallust or Polybius, whose accounts can be checked against other texts and archaeological evidence? The choice of the Gospel of Mark makes Kermode’s arguments no less fascinating or thought-provoking, but it does make arguing the point much easier.

This is one of the best-known books of Kermode’s latter theory, and is indicative of a marked turn away from some of his earlier work, especially 1957’s “The Romantic Image,” which was a more traditional piece of criticism. In the earlier book, he accuses historians of applying some “false categories of modern thought,” rendering their work little more than “myth” or “allegory.” Many of Kermode’s attacks in “The Romantic Image” were driven by a call for a correspondence theory of truth between all kinds of texts – critical, historical, and literary. Unfortunately, “The Genesis of Secrecy” took a turn away from his earlier attempts at genre criticism, and toward what Kermode has elsewhere called “French utopianism.”

This is a wonderful and interesting book, and one that everyone interested in modern criticism should be exposed to. I happen to disagree with its conclusions, but I found that it made me wrestle with some of the most fundamental assumptions I had about criticism as an act. Even considering the significant change in approach in the twenty years separating “The Romantic Image” and “Genesis of Secrecy,” Kermode never lost any of his scholarly cosmopolitanism and humane warmth, which is what draws me to read him again and again.

[Caroline · Rating 4 out of 5]

Oh, Frank: "This is the way we satisfy ourselves with explanations of the unfollowable world -- as if it were a structured narrative, of which more might always be said by trained listeners. World and book, it may be, are hopelessly plural, endlessly disappointing, we stand alone before them, aware of their arbitrariness and impenetrability, knowing that they may be narratives only because of our imprudent intervention, and susceptible of interpretation only by hermetic tricks.

Hot for secrets, our only conversation may be with guardians who know less and see less than we can; and our sole hope and pleasure is in the perception of a momentary radiance, before the door disappointment is finally shut on us." (125)

Hot for secrets, indeed. This book is wonderful.

[Peter · Rating 5 out of 5]

A brilliant, helpful work. But I have found that secrecy did not start with the New Testament. Moses Maimonides' A Guide for the Perplexed is rife with references to the importance of secrecy. It's a concept as old as the development of society, I expect.

Here is a piece of Kermode, on Jesus' teaching about the leaven of Herod:

Apostles on the boat: We forgot the bread, we only have one loaf! Jesus: “Beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and the leaven of Herod.” Apostles: “Is this why we have no bread? Or ‘He is angry because we have no bread’ …. Jesus: “Do you not yet perceive and understand? Are your hearts hardened? Having eyes you do not see, and having ears you do not hear?” …. Let me take you through it: five thousand were fed with five loaves: how many baskets of fragments were left over? Twelve, they correctly reply. Four thousand at the second feeding were served on seven loaves: how many baskets of fragments left over? Seven. Well then, don’t you see the point? Silence. Matthew’s Jesus: “How did you fail to see that I was not talking about bread? Beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees.”

Kermode’s analysis is like a light in the darkness. How much of western literature is based on the concept of secrecy and one source of that secrecy. I have never understood the scriptures like this before. After this, I re-read the entire New Testament (I don’t count the Psalms, although most editions of the NT include them), and it was an eye-opener!

Leaven meant an idea that was infectiously evil, the teachings of the Pharisees. The Pharisees and Sadducees study the Law and teach/interpret the law to guide the people. When they teach, the people do not share with each other. When they teach there is not any bread left over. The bread does not stretch to cover thousands. When they teach, the people go hungry.

Herod and the Pharisees were the movers and shakers of Judea. They were the wealthy landowners, the controllers of finance, local power brokers. It was they who controlled the land, who cut deals with the Romans to keep themselves ensconced in their positions. And what did they teach? Some form of the prosperity gospel, no doubt.

The Book of Mark in particular is an enigma enclosed in a riddle. One thing, and perhaps only one thing, is clear, however. And that is … Jesus of Nazareth did not take kindly to organized religion. Buncha F*ing Pharisees!!!

[Mike · Rating 2 out of 5]

This was a bit of a chore to get through, but luckily it was short. Overall, this was a bit of a disappointment.

Spoilers ahead...

“What is the interpret to make of secrecy considered as a property of all narrative, provided it is suitably attended to? Outsiders see but do not perceive. Insiders read and perceive, but always in a different sense. We glimpse secrecy through the meshes of the text; this is divinization, but what is divined is what is visible from our angle. It is a momentary radiance…” (p. 144)

In his book "The Genesis of Secrecy: On the Interpretation of Narrative," Frank Kermode explores the concept of secrecy in literature and its impact on the interpretation of narrative. He argues that secrecy is an important aspect of many narratives and that it often serves to create a sense of mystery and intrigue. He suggests that the interpretation of a narrative is influenced by the reader's understanding of the secrets it contains and that these secrets play a crucial role in shaping the reader's perception of the story.

Kermode advances the idea that the relationship between secrecy and interpretation is a complex one and that the act of interpreting a narrative often involves the unraveling of secrets and the revelation of hidden meanings. He posits that the interpretation of a narrative is inherently a process of uncovering secrets and that the meaning of a story is often found in the spaces between what is said and what is hidden. The possible interpretations of a text, in many cases, can be endless. He writes, “What is meant and what it means are both actualizations of its hermeneutic potential, which, though never fully available, is inexhaustible” (p. 40).

Finally, Kermode argues that the concept of secrecy is central to the development of modern literature and that the genre of the novel, in particular, has been shaped by the use of secrecy and the interpretation of hidden meanings. He posits that the modern novel represents a departure from traditional forms of storytelling in that it often relies on the creation and interpretation of secrets to drive the narrative and engage the reader.

Overall, Kermode's main argument in "The Genesis of Secrecy" is that secrecy is a crucial aspect of narrative interpretation and that the understanding of secrets is central to the creation and interpretation of literature. He argues that the act of uncovering secrets and revealing hidden meanings is a fundamental part of the reading experience and that it plays a critical role in shaping the reader's perception of the story.

Hina and Hoti Stories

Mark discusses why Jesus spoke in parables in a way differently from Matthew. Mark used hina and Matthew used hoti, Greek words that render different interpretations.

From Mark we read:

Unto you it is given to know the mystery of the kingdom of God: but unto them that are without, all these things are done in parables: That seeing they may see, and not perceive; and hearing they may hear, and not understand; lest at any time they should be converted, and their sins should be forgiven them. (Mark 4.11-12)

The phrase “that seeing they may see and not perceive” comes from the Greek ἵνα βλέποντες βλέπωσιν καὶ μὴ ἴδωσιν – literally “In order that seeing they may see and not know.” The author discusses the hina ἵνα used in this context. Jesus is literally saying that he speaks in this way “in order that” people will not understand. The author notes this important use of the Greek stating that hina does not mean “because.” He notes that the experts “admit that Mark’s hina has to mean “in order that” and so we are left with a doctrine described by one standard modern commentator as “intolerable,” by Albert Schweitzer as “repellent,” and also, since the meaning of the parables is “as clear as day,” unintelligible. (p. 30).

He then gets into how Matthew softens this idea:

He answered and said unto them, Because it is given unto you to know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it is not given. (Matthew 13.11)

The Greek renders it thus: ὁ δὲ ἀποκριθεὶς εἶπεν αὐτοῖς ὅτι ὑμῖν δέδοται γνῶναι τὰ μυστήρια τῆς βασιλείας τῶν οὐρανῶν ἐκείνοις δὲ οὐ δέδοται

Here Matthew writes ὅτι ὑμῖν δέδοται γνῶναι τὰ μυστήρια τῆς βασιλείας = “because it is given to you all to know the mysteries of the kingdom,” a rather different way of reading why Jesus spoke in parables. The conjunction hoti - ὅτι can mean “because” or “since,” thus causing the author to write, “It has been argued that Matthew’s hoti has a causal force, that he is saying something like: It is only because the people lack understanding that the parables will have the effect of keeping them from the secrets of the kingdom” (p. 31).

Kermode argues that the comparison between "hoti" and "hina" stories highlights the idea that secrets and implicit meanings play a crucial role in shaping the interpretation of narrative. He posits that the meaning of a narrative is often found in the spaces between what is said and what is hidden, and that the interpretation of a story is inherently a process of uncovering secrets and revealing hidden meanings.

In this sense, Kermode argues that "hina" stories are more powerful than "hoti" stories because they rely on the reader's imagination and inference to construct meaning. He argues that the use of secrecy and implicit meaning allows the reader to engage with the narrative in a more personal and meaningful way, as they are forced to actively participate in the process of uncovering the secrets of the story.

Overall, Kermode's point when comparing "hoti" and "hina" stories is to highlight the idea that the use of secrecy and implicit meaning is an important aspect of narrative interpretation and that the meaning of a narrative is often found in the spaces between what is said and what is hidden.
The man in the Macintosh, boy in the shirt

In this chapter, Kermode discusses the mysterious nude character in Mark’s depiction of the arrest of Jesus in Gethsemane (Mark 14.51-52). Trying to lock down the identity of the man, Kermode theorizes one of three options:

1. It is Mark who is the young man.

2. The addition of this character is put here in the narrative to “lend the whole story verisimilitude” (p. 56).

3. This is a piece of narrative developed from Old Testament texts such as Genesis 39.12 (the story of Potiphar’s wife grabbing Joseph’s garment) and Amos 2.16 (“And he that is courageous among the mighty shall flee away naked in that day, saith the LORD.”)

The author stresses mankind’s desire for closure in written stories. He writes, “Such expectations of fullness survive, though in attenuated form, in our habitual attitudes to endings. That we should have certain expectations of endings, just as we have certain expectations of the remainder of a sentence we have begun to read, has seemed so natural, so much a part of things as they are in language and literature, that (to the best of my knowledge) the modern study of them begins only fifty years ago, with the Russian Formalist Viktor Shklovsky” (p. 65).

The author discusses how Matthew uses the Old Testament, fitting any reference in the text into his narrative no matter how loose the connection (p. 86-88), stating that “any Old Testament text had a narrative potential” (p. 88), as “it was all part of the business of being a writer” (p. 89). This using of the Old Testament was also problematic, as it did not always say the things the authors wanted it to say (hence the issue with Justin Martyr and his argument that Ps. 96.10 was a changed form of the original text, see p. 106-107). The author contends, “So far as I know, this was a unique way of writing history. In its extreme form it implies the abolition of the Old Testament except in its role as a type-source for the New – in short, “the total destruction of its historical character.” The entire Jewish Bible was to be sacrificed to the validation of the historicity of the gospels; yet its whole authority was needed to establish that historicity” (p. 107).

History versus Fiction

On page 112 Kermode writes, "Pilate's behavior at the Roman hearing is nowhere credible. It is most improbable that there could have been an event corresponding to the release of Barabbas..."
Frank Kermode asserts this because he sees Pilate's behavior at the Roman hearing as not credible or believable based on his own interpretation of the historical and cultural context in which the event took place. He argues that it is most unlikely that such an event as the release of Barabbas could have actually happened in reality. This is because Kermode views the story as a literary creation that has been added to the gospel accounts of the trial and crucifixion of Jesus in order to serve theological or narrative purposes, rather than as an accurate historical account.

Kermode does not assert that the stories of Jesus' crucifixion in the Gospel accounts are all fictitious, rather, he instead views the accounts as having a literary and theological purpose, and he sees elements of the story, such as Pilate's behavior and the release of Barabbas, as being added or altered in order to serve the literary purposes of the authors. However, he does not necessarily claim that the entire story is made up or invented. His view of the accounts as having a literary and theological purpose suggests that they contain elements of truth and history, but also elements of interpretation, retelling, and embellishment.

He doesn’t really specify which portions of the Gospel accounts of Jesus' crucifixion he views as historical. It’s possible that he sees some aspects of the story as having a basis in historical fact, but that the accounts have been shaped over time by the theological and narrative purposes of the authors and the early Christian communities that preserved and transmitted the accounts.

Kermode quotes Spinoza:

“The Bible leaves reason absolutely free,” it is of divine origin, but it is accommodated to human understanding, which may ascertain its meanings, but must not confound them with truths. “It is one thing to understand the meaning of Scripture, and quite another to understand the actual truth.” (p. 119)

He continues:

“It was through the English Deists, some of whom were with better cause thought shocking, that Spinoza influenced the European tradition of biblical scholarship from the late eighteenth century on. A hundred years after Spinoza, Johann Michaelis could state that there was no reason to think the evangelists inspired in their account of history, and Lessing argued that “if no historical truth can be demonstrated, then nothing can be demonstrated by means of historical truths.” Kant calmly dismissed the argument about history as irrelevant: “Why should we entangle ourselves in such terribly learned investigations and disputes over a historical narrative, which we should always have left where it belonged, (among the adiaphora [matters of indifference]) when it is with religion that we have to do?” And so on, until David Friedrich Strauss. (p. 119-120)

Kermode ends his book stating that all this searching out for hidden meanings in the text will lead to disappointment (p. 126). His final blow comes at the end of the book, “Hot for secrets, our only conversation may be with guardians who know less and less than we can, and our sole hope and pleasure is in the perception of a momentary radiance, before the door of disappointment is finally shut on us” (p. 145).

Overall, I did not like this book. It rambled, and tried to unlock some bits of the gospels, but largely fell short and was a bit of a chore to get through. I was required to read this by my academic program, and it was a disappointment, just like his take on finding secrets in the gospel narratives.

[Brandon Hawk · Rating 4 out of 5]

In this book, Kermode's main interest is in hermeneutics: "The history of the rules and theory of interpretation--of hermeneutics as it used to be, before philosophy appropriated it--is closely linked with that of biblical exegesis" (vii). Thus, he uses literary methodologies to examine New Testament narratives, specifically focusing on the "different ways in which narratives acquire opacity" and the problems of the virtual impossibility of interpretation (75)--constantly extrapolating what he finds in the biblical texts to understanding literary interpretation more broadly. Overall, this is a successful project, as his studies provide not only secular readings of the biblical gospels but also ways for coming to terms with the fundamental problems of literary analysis.

The most prominent themes of hermeneutics, for Kermode, are "insiders" and "outsiders" of interpretive communities, the inexhaustibility of interpretation, and the ultimate disappointment of interpretation. Essentially, interpretation "is an intrusion always, and always unsuccessful" (27). A particular quotation exemplifies his claims:
"The pleasures of interpretation are henceforth linked to loss and disappointment, so that most of us will find the task too hard, or simply repugnant; and then, abandoning meaning, we slip back into the old comfortable fictions of transparency, the single sense, the truth" (123).
Here we encounter what seems to be a type of theory of critical despair, as the critic is apparently meant always to flounder.

What Kermode offers, however, is not just a theory of critical despair. He also insists that interpretation must not stop, that the literary critic must continue to attempt to follow the unfollowable and understand the inconceivable riddles of narratives. Again, some quotations from Kermode exemplify his stance of critical hope:
"The desires of interpreters are good because without them the world and the text are tacitly declared to be impossible; perhaps they are, but we must live as if the case were otherwise" (126). Furthermore, "hope is a symptom of the interpreter's disease"--a foundation for what Kermode continually calls the spes hermeneutica.
Again, he also claims that, for biblical authors, early interpreters, and continuing up to today in some form, "The belief that a text might be an open proclamation, available to all, coexisted comfortably with the belief that it was a repository of secrets" (144). For Kermode, this quality is, essentially, the legacy of biblical narrative, the critical reading of the world, and the basis of hermeneutics.

[Jocelyn · Rating 5 out of 5]

Kermode had me on p. 2. "Interpreters usually belong to an institution, such a guild as heralds, toastmasters, thieves, and merchants have been known to form."

[Ryan Elian · Rating 5 out of 5]

Kermode writes with style, plot, a start and an end. In this particular instance Kermode discusses interpretative method and art. He insists that virtue of interpretation begins with history and their methods are of double use in the narratives. The first part of the book shows extreme Platonistic idea of narration, as quest to truth and meaning. This is not in vain as the other part explains its’ implication and application quite clearly. Although the quest begins in the ecclesiastical and in the canonicals, readers must know that Kermode stands as an outsider, he refers his art as secular. Further readings on institutional prejudice and subjective intervention is apparent and repeated throughout the book. One sometimes wonder if such method needs discussion at all. Our quest for sense although temporary and momentary, always require meaning. The obscurity of such meaning, however temporary, must exist, as a sensical device, for readers and inquirers alike.

[Matt · Rating 5 out of 5]

Kermode writes with such clarity and subtle wit. This volume was recommended to me by my dissertation advisor, who I think was teasing me a little for writing such meandering, paranoid prose. Kermode pokes fun at this aspect of some modern literary criticism (and manages a few barbs at the big names of literary theory, like Jonathan Culler), but also ultimately endorses readings which poke around for things hidden in a text. (Or does he? I couldn't ever really tell if he was being ironic or not.)

The meat of this study is an interpretation of the Gospels, Mark in particular. Kermode offers a secular reading which avoids much of the theological baggage of these texts, but still provides an interesting literary journey. When I finished, I couldn't help thinking of Alain Badiou's Saint Paul: The Foundation of Universalism. That book works feverishly to produce something concrete and real from the works of Paul. Kermode does the opposite. He goes in search of secrecy and indeterminacy. And yet, both Badiou and Kermode propose that we must read these texts as we are, not as we think we should be or as we thought they were read when they were written.


There is an essay by Umberto Eco in Interpretation and Overinterpretation, which attempts to identify postmodern literary theory with the paranoiac ravings of Hermetic philosophers. That piece seemed overdone to me, but Kermode makes a more convincing argument in this book about groundlessness of some literary readings. And yet, he does not rail against this position as Eco does. Instead, he adopts the position more like that of Culler's praise of overinterpretation in the same book.

[Chris Marquette · Rating 4 out of 5]

Provided valuable insight into the interpretation of Gospel of Mark, and how one goes about interpreting texts in general. Kermode weirdly had the tendency to get depressing, occasionally including brief meditations on how the inevitable disappointment one experiences in the attempt to understand literature also applies to life. At other times he strayed slightly from his stated thesis, providing only tangentially related opinions regarding works as diverse as Joyce's Ulysses and Henry Green's Party Going. The inclusion of Kafka in his discussion of parable seemed more relevant to me. Having said all this, I appreciated all of the book; his digressions added to the general aim of his argument, even if they weren't effectively integrated into it, and, further, they were fascinating in themselves.

[Rebecca · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a brilliant work on the narrative complexity of the Gospels--brilliant in both its hermeneutics and semiotics. What is especially valuable is the level of comprehension. Kermode does not resort to lofty diatribes to further enshroud the delicate polemics of biblical narrative, but instead relies on varied and astute scholarship which he communicates clearly to almost any reader. A wonderful resource for narrative theory in general to understand how meaning is related and hidden.

[Barbara Lock · Rating 5 out of 5]

I admit (am embarrassed?) that I spent time trying to divine the secret within this book. There’s a secret, right? It’s not just methods of literary criticism but a revelation of esoteric truth only available to the initiates, yes? I won’t say what meaning I gleaned, only that I was fascinated by Kermode’s interpretation of demons in the gospel of Mark as being consistent with excessive manliness....

[Dave H · Rating 5 out of 5]

coolness

[Lysergius · Rating 4 out of 5]

Picked this up in a second hand bookshop. Quite an intriguing analysis of the gospel of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. Fascinating

[Nathan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Great readings on modern problems in hermeneutics.

[Andrew Lucas · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a landmark work from one of the great literary critics of the 20th Century. Kermode uses the Gospel of Mark as a springboard to range broadly across narrative fiction more generally, in each chapter working his way back to Mark for a discussion of the specific implications of some specific text. It's a dense work; every sentence is invested with meaning and in a single light reading I didn't absorb it sufficiently. This is a book to be carefully studied. If you're interested in the Gospel of Mark as a work of literature, this is an essential addition to your collection.