Translated material
"Symbol is a dangerous word"
Umberto Eco on semiotics, occult writings and the influence of Borges on Plato
A year ago, Umberto Eco, an Italian writer and literary critic, author of the novels “The Name of the Rose” and “Foucault’s Pendulum,” died. For the section “Instructions for Survival,” where ideas and advice from writers are published to resolve existential questions and everyday troubles, “Gorky” selected the thinker’s thoughts on the purpose of literature and criticism, the “Manifesto of the Communist Party,” Aristotle and what to do with the latest series “ Pokemon."About readers
Naturally, I belong to that category of readers who prefer a novel or poem in a paper volume and remember what its spine and volume are. I have heard that recently a generation of computer scientists has grown up who have not read a single book in their entire lives, but with the advent of e-books they have come at least a little closer to the reading world and learned, for example, who Don Quixote is. Of course, they acquired new knowledge, but their vision worsened. And if future generations find harmony (psychological and physical balance) with the electronic book, the power of Don Quixote will remain unchanged.
On the influence of literature
By influencing the formation of language, literature creates national identity and community. Earlier I mentioned Dante, but imagine what Greek civilization would be like without Homer, the German people without the Lutheran translation of the Bible, the Russian language without Pushkin, India without the Mahabharata.
About scoundrels
Scoundrels who, out of nothing to do, unite in gangs to kill passers-by by throwing stones from an overpass, or set a little girl on fire, whoever they are, do not become such because they have been corrupted by Newspeak, a new computer slang (it is unlikely that they have access at all to the computer). They simply have nowhere to catch even the echoes of that system of values that is drawn from books and refers to books, for the path to it lies through education and the discussions accompanying it.
About the dangers of interpretation
One should not get too carried away with a free interpretation of the text. There is a dangerous heresy, typical of the literary critic of our time, according to which we can see anything in a literary work by reading it as we please. This is wrong. Literary works call us to freedom of interpretation, because they allow us to perceive what we read from different angles and confront us with the ambiguity of both language and life itself. But to continue this game, according to the rules of which each generation of readers reads literary works in their own way, it is necessary to proceed from a deep respect for what I usually call the intention of the text.
About the correct interpretation
Any interpretation must proceed from immutable literary truth. What to answer to those who claim that D'Artagnan experienced a homosexual attraction to Porthos, that the Nameless One is mired in vice due to an insatiable Oedipus complex, and that the nun from Monza is corrupted by communist ideas (a hypothesis that would resonate with some politicians of our time), that Panurge Is his actions guided by hatred of nascent capitalism? In the novels themselves it is impossible to find any phrases or hints that would somehow confirm such sophisticated interpretations. The world of literature is a kind of test for an adequate perception of reality.
About collages
I think it would be wonderful and even instructive to try to rewrite existing stories of how to transfer Chopin from piano to mandolin: this would allow us to hone our musical skills and understand why the timbre of the piano was more “consubstantial” with the Sonata in B-flat minor. It would be useful for developing taste and understanding of forms to create a collage from fragments of “The Betrothal of the Virgin Mary” with “Girls from Avignon” and the latest series of “Pokemon”. In fact, many great artists have done this.
About the "Manifesto of the Communist Party"
In addition to being distinguished by its poetic expressiveness and memorable metaphors, the Manifesto remains a masterpiece of political rhetoric and rhetoric in general. It should be studied in school along with the speeches against Catiline or Shakespeare's monologue of Mark Antony over the body of Caesar. If only because, given Marx’s deep knowledge of classical culture, it was these texts that influenced his manifesto.
About occult writings
Since my youth, I have accumulated a whole shelf of books devoted to the occult sciences. One day I came across a stupid little book about the Rosicrucians - that’s when I got the idea to create my own “Bouvard and Pécuchet” from mystical nonsense. After this, I begin to collect second-rate occult writings and historically accurate literature about the Rosicrucians. It was only when I had already written most of the novel that Borges’s “Tlen, Ukbar, Orbis Tertius” caught my eye, where he mentions the Rosicrucians, relying, as often happened to him, on secondary sources (De Quincey) and understanding the essence of the issue better, than scientists who have spent their whole lives on this.
About Borges
Borges is the author who talked about everything. It is impossible to find a topic in the history of culture that Borges would not touch upon. One of the researchers noted that Borges could have influenced Plato’s “Parmenides” when he wrote his “Pascal’s Sphere”, in which the same characters were drawn as those of the ancient author.
About the symbol
Symbol is a dangerous word. I always advise my students not to overuse it and to carefully monitor the context in which it is used and what meaning it acquires in each specific case. To be honest, I myself have ceased to understand what a symbol is. I tried to define the symbol as a specific textual strategy. But in addition to this strategy - I will return to it later - a symbol can be either a completely clear concept (an unambiguous expression in a certain context) or a rather complex one (a polysemous expression that obscures the meaning of the content). Such ambiguity is explained by the ancient origin of the term and is justified not only by the etymology of the Greek word συμβáλλειν, but also by the tradition that this etymology created. The symbol is like a sheet of paper written on both sides, on which one side hints at the other, but they never appear before our eyes together. If someday someone nevertheless presents both of these expressions together, freeing them from layers of additional meanings, they will lose their ambiguity. But what attracts us to these two separated elements of the symbol is precisely the constant absence of one of them, and in separation, as we know, passion grows stronger.
About genuine criticism
If we want to deeply analyze a text and understand how it was created, neither reviews nor literary history will help us. The only acceptable form of literary criticism becomes semiotic analysis of the text. Semiotic reading is akin to competent critical analysis, because it also leads to an understanding of all aspects and possibilities of the text, showing why it might be liked, but, unlike reviews and literary history, without imposing a positive assessment. A review, being, in essence, a recommendation, usually cannot avoid an evaluative approach to the content of the text, unless the reviewer comes across as completely indecisive; historical analysis, at best, will tell us about the fate of the work in different eras and about its various interpretations. The analysis of the text (always semiotic, even when one does not realize it or does not admit it) performs a function that Hume wonderfully described, recalling an episode from Don Quixote in the essay “On the Standard of Taste”:
“I have reason to consider myself a wine connoisseur,” Sancho says to the squire with a huge nose. This property is inherited in our family. Two of my relatives were once called to taste wine in a large barrel. The wine was supposed to be excellent because it was old and from good grapes. One of them tasted it and, after careful consideration, declared that the wine would be good if it were not for the faint taste of leather that he detected in it. Another, tasting in the same way, also expressed a positive judgment about the wine, but noted a noticeable aftertaste of iron in it. You cannot imagine how they made fun of their judgments. But who had the last laugh? When the wine barrel was empty, an old key with a leather strap tied to it was found at the bottom.”
In the same way, genuine criticism has the last laugh, because it allows everyone to pronounce their judgment, and then explains the reason for each judgment.
About catharsis
Catharsis can act as a homeopathic remedy and as an allopathic medicine. In the first case, catharsis occurs with the spectator of the tragedy, who actually experiences compassion and fear to the point of shuddering and is thus cleared of them, feeling almost physiological relief. In the second case, the text of the tragedy seems to force us to observe suffering from a certain distance, detached in the spirit of Brecht, and we are freed from suffering, not experiencing it, but appreciating how it was presented.
About Aristotle
I remember the thrill I felt in my youth: I felt marginalized, like a little sodomite in Victorian society, when I suddenly discovered that the Anglo-Saxon tradition had always taken Aristotle’s poetics seriously, without interruption.
About me
As a fiction writer, I'm a rather strange type. I actually started writing stories and novels between the ages of eight and fifteen. Then I gave up this business to return to him as an almost fifty-year-old husband. Before this time of matured shamelessness, I seemed embarrassed for thirty years.
About writing
I know that there are writers who get up in the morning at eight o’clock, half an hour later they sit down at a typewriter (computer) and write until noon, following the rule “not a day without a line,” and then they drop everything and go for a walk until the evening. I can't do that. First of all, a novel requires a lot of preparation. First I read, make cards, draw character portraits, place maps, time diagrams. Something with a felt-tip pen, something on the computer, depending on the moment, on my location, on the nature of the idea that came to mind. Sometimes I write on the back of the ticket while I’m on the train, other times in a notebook, on a card, sometimes with a ballpoint pen, sometimes with a voice recorder. If necessary, I would at least write it down with blackberry juice.
About the reader
Books are written only for the Reader. A writer who swears that he writes only for himself is blatantly lying. And it’s scary to think how godless he is. Even in the exclusively secular sense of the word. Truly unhappy and wretched is he who does not believe in the future Reader.