Monthly Archives: August 2009

Today in the Frye Diaries, 22 August

ehl

1942:

[74] Cool weather, thank God, but I made the fatal mistake of going to the Kings’ [Harold and Marjorie] at night. I paid for it with an asthmatic night. I wish I could develop the art of automatically avoiding the echoes which are the major source of revision in my writing: why couldn’t I have said “Kings in the evening”?

1950: Frye’s account of the day after the night before of drinking with the Thurbers (it involves still more drinking).  He then describes a visit to a Catholic church a couple of days earlier, which in turn leads to some observations that anticipate the emerging Updikean vision of America in the 1950s.

[564] Sunday we nursed our hangovers and some people came in for yet another drink before lunch. Their neighbors the Lansings came: Mrs. [Elisabeth Hubbard] Lansing, who’s called City, is a writer of children’s books [pictured above], & breezed in surrounded with her own kids, like a Sistine Madonna. She was at the party last night, and I liked her.

[566] I forgot to say that on Friday Ken took us into one of the most beautiful modern churches I’ve ever seen. A little Catholic parish church dedicated to St. Thomas More, with clear glass windows and designs etched on them… [T]he whole effect was completely serene. I suppose the great appeal of Catholicism in the States today has a lot to do with the sense that the degenerate pseudo-Protestants who ought to be leading the country’s culture are shaking their nerves to pieces with indiscriminate drinking and fucking and chattering.  Well, we got on the train & went home to Boston. We went into the buffet car for a snack. Mem: don’t ever go again into a buffet car for a snack. Swindling the public on food has really got to be a fine art: all eating places are getting assimilated to the supper-dance clip joints.

Tomorrow: in bed with Jane Austen

Frye and Pynchon

pynchon-simpsons

Thomas Pynchon in an episode of The Simpsons

A note from Bob Denham:

According to Robert Murray Davis, Thomas Pynchon took Vladimir Nabokov’s course in the novel at Cornell and somehow discovered what Northrop Frye called “Menippean Satire,” a work based on the root meaning of satire, “satura,” medley, mixture. [“When Was Post-Modernism?” World Literature Today 75, no. 2 (Spring 2001): 295-8.]

Frye also cites Pynchon in a discussion about paranoia in Creation and Recreation.

Today in the Frye Diaries, 21 August

 

 

Thurber-7773321942:

[73] [Peter] Fisher claims the reason Westerners can’t get any charge out of Buddhist monks is that the average scholar to them is not a seeker of wisdom but a scribe: it’s a question of class.

1950:

Still in Massachusetts, Frye attends a cocktail party where he relays a greeting from Ned Pratt to Mark van Doren.  He then gets into an unpleasant conversation with a “mural painter named Bradford” who claims Blake “was a fourth-rate painter” with appeal only to “li’erary people.”  Although he eventually manages to slip away, Frye’s evening, while interesting, seems to go from bad to worse with drink:

[562]…Well, I drank several Manhattans & we moved on to the Thurbers. There I had a lot more drinks & dinner — well, supper — wasn’t served until very late, so I got horribly sick and had two long agonizing sessions in the can puking my guts up… Apart from that I enjoyed talking to James Thurber [pictured above], who told me all about Harold Ross, who seems to be a strange and attractive mixture of toughness and innocence — possibly a much stronger character than Thurber himself, who seems to me to have the insecurity of someone from central Ohio, who’s still trying to adjust himself to the big, bad city.  Now how in God’s name — I’m not drunk now — did I manage to compose a sentence like that, plopping one clause after another like horse turds and who-whoing like an owl?

The party goes on till five and “the conversation turns bawdy and often abusive.” Even so, Frye finds Thurber “completely charming and appealing.”

Tomorrow: dealing with a hangover

News

icon_news_32After three full days online, it looks as though our minor technical difficulties have been resolved — all our links now reliably function as they should. Click them with confidence.

We are getting a steady stream of emails from people with proposals for papers for the upcoming journal, Myth and Metaphor. Keep them coming.  Please also remember that we are looking for guest bloggers to post here at The Educated Imagination. We encourage anyone who feels they might have something to contribute — a nagging idea that won’t go away, an outstanding issue that hasn’t been resolved, a crazy insight that haunts your sleep — to drop us a line as soon as you can.  We want to post your work-in-progress here.

In other news, we are pleased to announce that Bob Denham has kindly agreed to allow us to provide his Northrop Frye Newsletter a permanent digital home at Myth and Metaphor.  We will, of course, link it here too once it is online.

Today in the Frye Diaries, 19-20 August

youngfrye

Frye occasionally quipped that some undertakings are as short-lived as a new year’s resolution. He may have had his own diaries in mind. Frye started seven separate diaries between 1942 and 1955.  Five of them dutifully commence in January and, of those, only one makes it to September; one lasts till March, one till April, and one till May. Another doesn’t make it past January 13th. His diary for the entire year of 1953 consists of four entries in March. His first diary, begun in the summer of 1942, he manages to maintain till mid-November, making it the latest month of any year that Frye records to any significant extent. Which is to say that drawing on anniversary occasions from the diaries is a haphazard endeavor at best. Still, while we find our footing here and build our readership and contributor base, this kind of exercise promises nutritious tidbits. What Frye says in a throwaway observation often reveals more than many people manage with their best shot. We’ll make this first entry a two-fer, covering both the 19th and the 20th of August.

Continue reading

Calling Guest Bloggers

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Thanks first of all to those who submitted comments and sent emails in response to our first post.  It looks like most people are eager to see the new journal, Myth and Metaphor, come online.  That should happen very soon, so please remember that we are looking for contributions to our inaugural issue.  We are accepting both peer reviewed academic papers and articles of general interest.  Your paper need not be about Frye, but should address some aspect of literature, the imagination and culture that is more or less relevant to Frye readers.  Truth is, we look forward to all submissions from any quarter. 

The first response from our readers has been enthusiastic enough that we have arranged with our endlessly patient tech support adviser to open up a Guest Blogger option at the site.  We hope to have many of you posting here as regularly as possible.  Send us a draft post or an outline of one via email.  We’ll take care of the rest. 

Meanwhile, be sure to check in regularly.  We have a number things in the works.  And always feel free to contact us.  We are always glad to hear from you.

Frye Online

fryemose

Welcome to The Educated Imagination, a blog dedicated to Northrop Frye. 

What would have been Frye’s 97th birthday passed just this last month, it is the dog days of summer, many people (if not most academics) are doing as little as they can credibly get away with, and that perhaps makes it a particularly good time to launch this blog. A companion online journal, Myth and Metaphor, will be appearing shortly. More about that in a moment.

The purpose of this blog is to provide an online meeting place for the Frye community, which, we hope, will extend beyond the university to include those who maintain a lively interest in literature and the arts.

You’ll notice that we are more or less a blank slate at this point: an out-of-the-way site that Google still struggles to locate (so please remember to bookmark us), one post, two external links (one academic, the other appropriately festive), and a remarkably unsexy email address (fryeblog@gmail.com). We hope therefore that you’ll soon inundate us with advice, observations, queries, and requests. We wish the blog to take on the life of the community it is intended to serve, and to do so in the spirit of the man to whom it is dedicated. We are, that is, open to all comers. 

The Educated Imagination is fully accessible to anyone who visits the site. We enourage you to subscribe to our Entries RSS so that you’ll be notified via your RSS Reader when a new post goes up. While you’re at it, why not subscribe to the Comments RSS as well in order to be informed of the latest comments posted by members of the Frye community at large? (If you need to, you can link to our RSS FAQ to find out how RSS works.) Please also send us anything you think we ought to know about, whatever it is. We are on the lookout for audio, video, vintage photos, heartwarming anedcotes, you name it. Send us links you have but we don’t.

We are also calling for contributions to our online journal, Myth and Metaphor, which should be up and running very soon. Myth and Metaphor will include both peer reviewed scholarship and articles of general interest to reflect Frye’s broad readership. If you’re sitting on an article that hasn’t yet found the right home, consider this an open invitation, even if it isn’t about Frye. If it deals with literature, culture or the imagination in a way that is literate, cultured and imaginative, send it to us. Until the journal is operational, feel free to submit it to our email address here.

In the meantime, let’s get the conversation rolling. Drop us a line simply by hitting the “Comment” link below. Or send us an email. We will always be happy to post it. 

This blog, of course, shares its name with Frye’s celebrated little book. Chapter 4, ‘The Keys to Dreamland,” ends with this often cited observation:

Literature is a human apocalypse, man’s revelation to man, and literature is not a body of adjudications, but the awareness of that revelation, the last judgement of mankind.

It’s almost 50 years since Frye wrote those words, whose terms of reference may now seem quaint at best. But those who continue to read him no doubt continue to feel their power. Frye begins The Educated Imagination by asking a series of simple questions about the study of literature. Perhaps we should begin by doing the same. Why, after a half century of undeniably radical changes in the study of literature and the arts, does Frye’s critical vision remain so compelling? Why does he regard criticism as a “revelation,” and what does he think is being revealed? Responding to these kinds of questions may serve as part of our purpose here.