Classics and the Western Canon discussion

“The Cult of the Phoenix”

Summary: What is the Cult of the Phoenix also known as “the People of the Practice” or “the People of the Secret?” The story offers many clues: “…what cannot be denied is that they, like Hazlitt’s infinite Shakespeare, resemble every man in the world.” “A punishment, or a pact, or a privilege – –versions differ; but what one may dimly see in all of them is the judgment of a God who promises eternity to a race of beings if its men, generation upon generation, perform a certain ritual. I have compared travelers’ reports, I have spoken with patriarchs and theologians; I can attest that the performance of that ritual is the only religious practice observed by the members of the cult. The ritual is, in fact, the Secret.”

Possible starting questions:
1) There are many hints in the story. Do you have any thoughts on what the Cult of the Phoenix is?
2) Does the author “play fair” with his readers?

In Spanish the title is 'La Secta del fenix." "Sect" is a better translation, I think. It's also closer to revealing the secret. (Phonetically, anyway.)

Thomas wrote: "In Spanish the title is 'La Secta del fenix." "Sect" is a better translation, I think. It's also closer to revealing the secret. (Phonetically, anyway.)"

Yes, definitely another hint by the author. Thanks, Thomas

“The South”

Summary: Juan Dahlmann works in a municipal library in Buenos Aires and owns an old family house in the South. “His work, and perhaps his indolence, held him in the city. Summer after summer he contented himself with the abstract idea of possession and with the certainty that his house was waiting for him, at a precise place on the flatlands. In late February, 1939, something happened to him.” In a hurry to examine a copy of Weil’s “Arabian Nights,” he takes the stairs instead of the elevator and in the dimness accidentally hits his forehead against the edge of a newly painted window someone forgot to close. He becomes seriously ill. “Fever wore him away, and illustrations from the Arabian Nights began to illuminate nightmares.” After eight days, his doctor and another man take him to a sanatorium to get an X ray. Upon arrival, “ his clothes were stripped from him, his head was shaved, he was strapped with metal bands to a table, he was blinded and dizzied with bright lights, his heart and lungs were listened to, and a man in a surgical mask stuck a needle in his arm. He woke nauseated, bandaged, in a cell much like the bottom of a well, and in the days and nights that followed, he realized that until then he had been only somewhere on the outskirts of hell.” He learns after painful treatments, that he had “been on the verge of death from septicemia.” He recovers and is released to go convalesce at his country house.

He boards a train, taking along “The Arabian Nights” to read. “Happiness distracted him from Scheherazade and her superfluous miracles; Dahlmann closed the book and allowed himself simply to live.” After a day’s journey, Dahlmann is let off the train at a different station than the usual one. He has to walk blocks to a country store to find a vehicle to get to his house. He decides to eat while he’s waiting for his ride. There is a group of three men drinking at another table, and an old man lying on the floor by the bar. “He was small, dark, and dried up, and he seemed to be outside time, in a sort of eternity. Dahlmann was warmed by the rightness of the man’s hairband, the baize poncho he wore, his gaucho trousers, and the boots made out of the skin of a horse’s leg… only in the South did gauchos like that exist anymore.” Suddenly he feels “something lightly brush his face.” The drinkers are throwing bits of bread at him. At first, he gets up to leave, but the storekeeper tells him to ignore them: “’they’re just feeling their oats’….Dahlmann brushed the storekeeper aside, faced the laborers, and asked them what their problem was.” One of the young men hurls insults and obscenities at him, then draws his knife and challenges him to fight. The storekeeper protests that Dahlmann is unarmed, when the old gaucho throws a dagger at Dahlmann’s feet. “Dahlmann bent to pick up the dagger, and as he did he sensed two things: first, that that virtually instinctive action committed him to fight, and second, that in his clumsy hand, the weapon would serve less to defend him than to justify the other man’s killing him….They went outside, and while there was no hope in Dahlmann, there was no fear, either.” In some way, this is the death he would have chosen on the first night in the sanatorium. “Dahlmann firmly grips the knife, which he may have no idea how to manage, and steps out into the plains.”

Some possible starting questions:
1) “The South” has a dreamlike quality that opens up different possible interpretations. How do you interpret this story?
2) What do you think “the South” symbolizes to Dahlmann?

As I think back over the book as a whole, it occurs to me that the famous Borges quote “I have always imagined that paradise will be a kind of library.” takes on a slightly different meaning after reading “The Library of Babel”, which challenges the usual conception of a library. What are your thoughts about the book as a whole? Do you have a favorite story?

Susan wrote: "“The Cult of the Phoenix”
2) Does the author “play fair” with his readers?

Yes and no. There are abundant hints, but the story’s focus on men seems a bit misleading. My Spanish is rudimentary, but he uses the word “hombres,” translated by Andrew Hurley as “men.” I’m reminded of the old saying that “it takes two to tango.”

Susan wrote: "“The South” has a dreamlike quality that opens up different possible interpretations. How do you interpret this story?”

I think the story can be read as a straight narrative about Juan Dahlmann, who finds more than he bargains for and may reach an epiphany about life when he finally returns to his plains roots in “the South.” And, perhaps the second half of the story can also be read as a fever dream during his life-threatening illness. The events and descriptions have a dreamlike quality, from the often opened but never quite read copy of “The Arabian Nights” to the unfamiliar train station to the old man to the bread pellets hitting the site of his original wound to the unexplained hostility of the three men. With that reading, it’s possible that Dahlmann only dreams about going south and never actually gets there.

Susan wrote: "Susan wrote: "“The South” has a dreamlike quality that opens up different possible interpretations. How do you interpret this story?”

I think the story can be read as a straight narrative about J..."

There is also the shopkeeper, who Dahlmann think he knows at first. It turns out that he only resembles a nurse in the sanatorium, but he knows Dahlmann's name (and for some reason Dahlmann is not surprised by this.) The second part of the story actually reminds me of some of the dreams Freud discusses where elements from waking life reappear in dreams. Dahlmann's experience is like Hladik's in "The Secret Miracle," but instead of finishing a novel, Dahlmann finishes a dream of going to his ranch in the South. But does he then die of septicemia? Or does he get killed by a gaucho? Probably, but maybe not....

Thomas wrote: "The South”. There is also the shopkeeper, who Dahlmann think he knows at first. It turns out that he only resembles a nurse in the sanatorium, but he knows Dahlmann's name (and for some reason Dahlmann is not surprised by this.) The second part of the story actually reminds me of some of the dreams Freud discusses where elements from waking life reappear in dreams. Dahlmann's experience is like Hladik's in "The Secret Miracle," but instead of finishing a novel, Dahlmann finishes a dream of going to his ranch in the South. But does he then die of septicemia? Or does he get killed by a gaucho? Probably, but maybe not....."

If the trip to the South is a dream Dahlmann has while he’s in the sanatorium, I’d guess it ends with either his death or his waking. I take the comment in the last sentence that “he may have no idea how to manage” the knife as ambiguous and a dream-like shift from the earlier statement that he doesn’t know, opening up the possibility that he may prevail after all. That interpretation does lean pretty hard on the word “may,” though.

Often as I read “Ficciones, I was dazzled by Borges’ creativity, innovation, and ingenuity. Even in translation, his prose delights. Writing the short summaries of each story underlined for me how relevant even small details are to the overall design and meaning. And, there were also times when I was frustrated, noticed there are virtually no women characters, and felt that puzzle making for the sake of puzzle making is a rather academic exercise. Looking back over the book, though, these complaints seem irrelevant to the power and delights of stories like “Tlon, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius,” “The Circular Ruins,” “The Garden of Forking Paths,” “Funes, His Memory,” “Death and the Compass,” “The Secret Miracle,” and “The South.”

Sorry that other interests and demands have kept me from "staying with" the readings and discussion. But I do want to share that I have been finding Richard Burgin's Conversations with Jorge Luis Borges a delightful side-read to Ficciones itself. Still working on finishing both.

Since I have been trying to learn Spanish for the past several years (via Duolingo) well enough to understand/read a bit, I am fascinated by the comments about Borge changing the Spanish language itself..

Susan wrote: "And, there were also times when I was frustrated, noticed there are virtually no women characters, and felt that puzzle making for the sake of puzzle making is a rather academic exercise. ."

I have similar feelings. I admire the subtle way that Borges builds his puzzles the same way I enjoy a good detective story. But they do tend to be emotionally dry, even when the ending is tragic. His characters seem to stand in for ideas, often abstract ideas, like time. He does magic with these ideas, but they lack warmth.

Portrait of a Lady may serve as an antidote to this.

Lily wrote: "Sorry that other interests and demands have kept me from "staying with" the readings and discussion. But I do want to share that I have been finding Richard Burgin's [book:Conversati..."

Borges must have been very conversable since there seem to be a number of books collecting his conversations with various people in addition to the one you mention. Here’s another one, in three volumes , no less: https://www.seagullbooks.org/conversa...

I’m guessing that some of his stories in Spanish might be available on line if you want to take a look at them. Apparently, one thing he’s known for are his sometimes surprising adjectives ;)

Thomas wrote: "... His characters seem to stand in for ideas, often abstract ideas, like time. He does magic with these ideas, but they lack warmth.

Portrait of a Lady may serve as an antidote to this."

Yes, and so may Othello ;).

Thomas wrote: "I have similar feelings. I admire the subtle way that Borges builds his puzzles the same way I enjoy a good detective story. But they do tend to be emotionally dry, even when the ending is tragic. "

I agree. I found the stories amusing at times, but I'd say that overall I felt more like I was reading academic exercises. And, as Susan said, virtually no women--so, consequently, not much space for me as a reader.

Thomas wrote: ... His characters seem to stand in for ideas, often abstract ideas, like time. He does magic with these ideas, but they lack warmth.

Portrait of a Lady may serve as an antidote to this."...

Maybe.... Depending how one chooses to read Henry James personification of society and human interactions within its constraints, whether "natural" or contrived?

(PoaL has always seemed to me a rather "cold", distanced look at society, its demands, its expectations, its hopes. But more on that later.)

Susan wrote: "As I think back over the book as a whole, it occurs to me that the famous Borges quote “I have always imagined that paradise will be a kind of library.” takes on a slightly different meaning after ..."

Say more, Susan?

Lily wrote: "Susan wrote: "As I think back over the book as a whole, it occurs to me that the famous Borges quote “I have always imagined that paradise will be a kind of library.” takes on a slightly different meaning after reading “The Library of Babel”, which challenges the usual conception of a library…” Say more, Susan?”

It was a little joke so there’s not much more to say. “The Library of Babel” is not my idea of a paradisiacal library. I suspect it’s not the kind of library Borges had in mind when he made that famous remark, but who knows.

(I’ve checked several times, and apparently “paradisiacal” is correct).

Lily wrote: "Maybe.... Depending how one chooses to read Henry James personification of society and human interactions within its constraints, whether "natural" or contrived?

(PoaL has always seemed to me a rather "cold", distanced look at society, its demands, its expectations, its hopes. But more on that later.)”

It sounds as though you and I will be coming at “A Portrait of a Lady/Henry James” from very different perspectives — should make for some interesting discussions..