Charles Eliot Norton Lectures – serie

“A beautiful and necessary book...as brisk as it is insightful.”—Choice South Africa’s most celebrated artist on art, colonialism, and studio practice.Over the last three decades, the visual artist William Kentridge has garnered international acclaim for his work across media including drawing, film, sculpture, printmaking, and theater. Rendered in stark contrasts of black and white, his images reflect his native South Africa and, like endlessly suggestive shadows, point to something more elemental as well. Based on the 2012 Charles Eliot Norton Lectures, Six Drawing Lessons is the most comprehensive collection available of Kentridge’s thoughts on art, art-making, and the studio.Art, Kentridge says, is its own form of knowledge. It does not simply supplement the real world, and it cannot be purely understood in the rational terms of traditional academic disciplines. The studio is the crucial location for the creation of meaning: the place where linear thinking is abandoned and the material processes of the eye, the hand, the charcoal and paper become themselves the guides of creativity. Drawing has the potential to educate us about the most complex issues of our time. This is the real meaning of “drawing lessons.”Incorporating elements of graphic design and ranging freely from discussions of Plato’s cave to the Enlightenment’s role in colonial oppression to the depiction of animals in art, Six Drawing Lessons is an illustration in print of its own thesis of how art creates knowledge. Foregrounding the very processes by which we see, Kentridge makes us more aware of the mechanisms—and deceptions—through which we construct meaning in the world.

Shortlisted for the National Book Critics Circle Award in CriticismFrom the Pulitzer Prize–winning author of The Sympathizer comes a moving and unflinchingly personal meditation on the literary forms of otherness and a bold call for expansive political solidarity.Born in war-ravaged Vietnam, Viet Nguyen arrived in the United States as a child refugee in 1975. The Nguyen family would soon move to San Jose, California, where the author grew up, attending UC Berkeley in the aftermath of the shocking murder of Vincent Chin, which shaped the political sensibilities of a new generation of Asian Americans.The essays here, delivered originally as the prestigious Norton Lectures, proffer a new answer to a classic literary question: What does the outsider mean to literary writing? Over the course of six captivating and moving chapters, Nguyen explores the idea of being an outsider through lenses that are, by turns, literary, historical, political, and familial.Each piece moves between writers who influenced Nguyen’s craft and weaves in the haunting story of his late mother’s mental illness. Nguyen unfolds the novels and nonfiction of Herman Melville, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ralph Ellison, William Carlos Williams, and Maxine Hong Kingston, until aesthetic theories give way to pressing concerns raised by war and politics. What is a writer’s responsibility in a time of violence? Should we celebrate fiction that gives voice to the voiceless—or do we confront the forces that render millions voiceless in the first place? What are the burdens and pleasures of the “minor” writer in any society? Unsatisfied with the modest inclusion accorded to “model minorities” such as Asian Americans, Nguyen sets the agenda for a more radical and disquieting solidarity with those whose lives have been devastated by imperialism and forever wars.

“A classic for our time.”—Saturday ReviewThe Nobel Prize–winning writer on poetry as testimony to the upheavals of the twentieth century.For many years, Polish émigré Czeslaw Milosz’s poetry was relatively unknown outside of Eastern Europe. While his 1953 anticommunist tract The Captive Mind had solidified his reputation as a political thinker in the West, his poems languished in obscurity, distributed mostly by underground Polish presses evading censorship from the communist regime. Only once he won the Nobel Prize in 1980 did his unique poetic voice—prophetic, ironic, sometimes bitter, but always hopeful—gain wider recognition, from both English-speaking audiences and the Polish government itself, which could no longer suppress the brilliant, irascible defector. Collecting Milosz’s 1981–1982 Norton Lectures, The Witness of Poetry offers an unparalleled window into this heady moment in his career. Newly recognized as one of the great poets of his time, Milosz stages an ambitious defense of the need for poetry amid the ruins of a catastrophic twentieth century. Rather than reacting to the procession of world wars and totalitarian regimes by fleeing from reality into abstruse symbolism or “pure poetry,” Milosz argues that poetry must be “a passionate pursuit of the real.” Only then will poets liberate themselves from the cramped confines of a bohemian subculture and rejoin the “great human family.” And only then will poetry become “as essential as bread.” Introducing Western audiences to a wide range of Polish voices, from Adam Mickiewicz and Wislawa Szymborska to Oscar Milosz, his distant cousin, Milosz’s lectures vividly reveal that Polish poetry remains a wellspring of “incorrigible hope,” not despite but because of Poland’s calamitous history.

“Trenchant and moving.”—Robert Boyers, Los Angeles TimesThe inexhaustible man of letters directs his critical gaze at his own profession—teaching.When we talk about education today, we tend to avoid the rhetoric of “mastery,” with its erotic and inegalitarian overtones. But the charged personal encounter between master and disciple is precisely what interests George Steiner in this book, a sustained reflection on the infinitely complex and subtle interplay of power, trust, and passions in the most profound sorts of pedagogy. Based on Steiner's 2001–2002 Norton Lectures on the art and lore of teaching, Lessons of the Masters evokes a host of exemplary figures, including Socrates and Plato, Virgil and Dante, Heloise and Abelard, Tycho Brahe and Johannes Kepler, Edmund Husserl and Martin Heidegger, along with spiritual leaders from Buddhist and Confucian sages to Jesus and the Baal Shem Tov.Pivotal in the unfolding of Western culture are Socrates and Jesus, charismatic masters who left no written teachings and founded no schools. In the efforts of their disciples—and in the passion narratives inspired by their deaths—Steiner sees the beginnings of the inward vocabulary, the encoded recognitions of much of our moral, philosophical, and theological idiom. He goes on to consider a diverse array of traditions and disciplines, returning throughout to three underlying themes: the master's power to exploit his student's dependence and vulnerability; the complementary threat of subversion and betrayal of the mentor by his pupil; and the reciprocal exchange of trust and love, of learning and instruction between master and disciple.Forcefully written and passionately argued, Lessons of the Masters is itself a masterly testament to the high vocation and perilous risks undertaken by true teacher and learner alike.

A leading feminist art historian on the nude body, from impressionism to postmodernism.To some viewers, Renoir’s Great Bathers is the very picture of female sensuality and beauty. To others, the sentimentalized, sexualized prettiness of the image embodies a whole tradition of masculine mastery and feminine display. Still others find in the bathers a feminine fantasy of bodily liberation. Juxtaposing these opposing points of view, Linda Nochlin deftly uncovers the dissonances surrounding artistic representation of the female form from the nineteenth century to the present.Nochlin begins by focusing on the painterly preoccupation with bathing, whether at the beach, in lakes and rivers, in public swimming pools, or in bathtubs. Why, she asks, did the nude figure, posed in or near water, become such a dominant trope in the history of Western art? Covering artists from Manet, Cezanne, Bonnard, and Picasso to late-twentieth-century and contemporary figures such as Philip Pearlstein, Anselm Kiefer, Alice Neel, and Jenny Saville, Nochlin develops a rich interpretative collage of the layered meanings ascribed to bodies in intimate settings. She concludes with a powerful essay on aging, infirmity, and death.A deeply personal book—Nochlin herself is depicted in more than one of the paintings she discusses, and her discussion of old age is inspired by her own looming mortality—Bathers, Bodies, Beauty draws on a lifetime of loving, hating, and wrestling with art to reveal both the visceral disappointments and supreme joys of seeing it from a feminist perspective.

How one of the foremost experimental composers of the twentieth century approaches his métier. Music is never confined to a single moment. Compositions play with our expectations of the future; musical notes are recorded on a page to be revived by future performers; and old compositions are remembered, quoted, and reconfigured in new ones. In his 1993–1994 Charles Eliot Norton Lectures, Luciano Berio skillfully explores the whirlpools and eddies of musical time, the intricate interplay between our moment-to-moment experience of music and the idioms, traditions, and histories that form our musical memory.Remembering the Future is full of insights into Berio’s own creative process. Writing these lectures, he says, “led me to formulate thoughts that might otherwise have remained concealed in the folds of my work.” Thematically wide-ranging—reflecting on transcription and translation, poetics and analysis, opera and the “open work”—Berio offers a trenchant assessment of both his contemporaries and his forbears, from Boethius to Boulez. Like his friend and sometime collaborator Umberto Eco, he was also a figure of formidable intellect, fluently engaging with Heinrich Schenker, Theodor Adorno, Walter Benjamin, Carl Dahlhaus, and other critical luminaries. But Berio wears his learning lightly. The cerebral complexity of these lectures is leavened with irony, humor, and arresting aphorisms. Ultimately, he points us back to the music: “The best possible commentary on a symphony,” Berio says, “is another symphony.”

"The standard work on the development of modern architecture."—Walter Gropius"Giedion’s accomplishment remains unmatched."—José Luis SertSigfried Giedion was an unlikely candidate for the Charles Eliot Norton Professorship in Poetry at Harvard. Trained as a mechanical engineer and an art historian, the Swiss polymath had a tenuous command of English and little name recognition when he accepted the prestigious yearlong post in 1938, narrowly edging out the novelist Thomas Mann. After his twelve Norton Lectures were published in 1941, however, they quickly captured the imagination of a generation of artists, architects, and students. Revised and expanded four times since its initial publication and translated into half a dozen languages, Space, Time and Architecture remains an unsurpassed classic in its field—a veritable bible of architectural modernism. Giedion delves deeply into the techniques that have made modern architecture possible, from the development of structural engineering to the increasingly sophisticated uses of concrete, glass, and steel. Yet he never loses sight of the human feelings and activities that bring structures to life. Starting with the one-point perspective that defined the Renaissance città ideale and moving through the stark geometries of Le Corbusier and Mies van der Rohe, he vividly illustrates how evolving conceptions of space, time, and motion have molded both the contours of our built environment and our daily lives. Weaving a rich visual tapestry, Space, Time and Architecture juxtaposes over five hundred architectural drawings and photographs with painting, sculpture, and industrial design to make surprising connections across scale and medium. Throughout, Giedion remains tenaciously convinced that architecture offers hope for a grand unification: of reason and emotion, of science and art, and even of human civilization itself.

“An instant classic.”—Calvin Bedient, New RepublicMexico’s greatest modern poet reflects upon the twilight of modernity.If Octavio Paz was “one of the greatest poets that the Spanish-language world has ever produced,” as Mario Vargas Llosa once said, he was also an astoundingly erudite critic. Here, in his 1971–1972 Norton Lectures, the Nobel laureate offers a potent and prescient diagnosis of the condition of poetry in the wake of literary modernism.Poetry’s relationship with modernity, Paz argues, has always been tempestuous. If modern temporality posited the forward march of history toward the gates of a secular future, poetry is the “world of nonsequential time...a spiral sequence which turns ceaselessly without ever returning completely to its beginning.” And if modernity is the age of revolution, a negation of the past propelled by critical rationality, poetry chafes against the strictures of reason, aimlessly dwelling in dreams, eroticism, mythology, and other realms inaccessible to revolutionary fervor. Meanwhile, avant-garde attempts to embrace the “aesthetics of change” and recreate the revolutionary spirit in verse have exhausted themselves. What’s left, Paz maintains, is to return to the sinuous temporality of the poem itself, the irresolvable tension between the historical text and the abolition of history in the lyrical present.Mapping the changing meanings of modernity across a wide range of poetic movements, from English and German Romanticism, French Surrealism, and Latin American modernismo to the avant-garde experiments of Vicente García-Huidobro, Children of the Mire is not only a dazzlingly cosmopolitan work of literary criticism. It is also a revealing portrait of the one of the defining voices of Latin American literature.

Winner of the Charles Rufus Morey Book Award“A book of immense breadth...With its profundity and richness...this book is one no serious student of Chinese art can afford to be without.”—Ellen Johnston Laing, Ars OrientalisThe definitive study of the evolution of Chinese painting during the tumultuous seventeenth century.In The Compelling Image, one of the foremost experts on Chinese art explores the radiant paintings produced during the tumultuous period of the Manchu conquest of China. As the Ming dynasty crumbled, brilliant masters of the seventeenth century reconsidered their artistic relationship to nature and to the painting of earlier times, while European pictorial arts introduced by Jesuit missionaries profoundly influenced Chinese techniques.James Cahill’s authoritative survey begins with a relatively neglected artist, Chang Hung, who moved traditional forms ever closer to literal descriptions of nature, in contrast with the theorist painter Tung Ch’i-ch’ang, who turned the same traditional forms into powerful abstractions. A chapter focused on Wu Pin offers bold and controversial arguments about the impact of European art, as well as a related phenomenon: the revival of the highly descriptive early Sung styles. Looking closely at Ch’en Hung-shou, the greatest of the late Ming figure painters, Cahill examines a curious mixing of real people and conventionally rendered surroundings in portrait art of the period. He analyzes the expressionist experiments of the masters known as Individualists, and distinguishes these artists from the Orthodox school, concluding with a bold reassessment of the most eloquent of later Chinese painters, Tao-chi.Richly illustrated with over 250 images drawn from collections in the United States, Europe, Japan, and China, The Compelling Image is an essential guide to an exquisite era of Chinese art history.

“The clearest, most forceful statement on art by an artist of our time that I have read.” —Frank Getlein, New RepublicAn illustrated guide to artistic creation from one of the twentieth century’s most provocative and expressive painters.Can art be taught? For the celebrated activist-painter Ben Shahn, the answer was a qualified yes. Any would-be artist can take a few courses and dip their toes in the water. But a true education goes far beyond the classroom.The Shape of Content, compiled from Shahn’s 1956–1957 Norton Lectures, appeals for artists to break the confines of formal instruction. In wide-ranging reflections on art history, the problems of form, and his own career, Shahn conveys the stubborn determination required to move beyond dilettantism and toward an authentic voice. But he delivers no easy formulas. Critics celebrate artists’ seemingly effortless moments of inspiration, yet genuine achievement is always the fruit of prodigious labor. To the perennial questions of “What shall I paint?” and “How shall I paint it?” Shahn replies: Live and think and try. Read endlessly, develop and test opinions, and above all, don’t stop painting.A figurative realist in an age of high abstraction and an unabashed leftist at the height of the Cold War, Shahn was never quite at home in his own time. The accessibility and popularity of his work, and his sometimes-unfashionable humanism, made him a frequent target of critics during his life. And yet it is precisely these features that have since cemented Shahn as a giant of twentieth-century art. Today, his lectures offer potent lessons for anyone who shares his belief in the power of art to change minds and contest injustice.

Timeless lessons on the pleasures of listening, the dilemmas of composition, and the meaning of artistic freedom from a founder of musical modernism.In October 1939, Igor Stravinsky took the stage at Harvard not as a conductor but as a speaker. Invited to deliver the prestigious Norton Lectures, he had departed Europe just days after the outbreak of war, leaving behind not only a growing political maelstrom but also his life in France, where his wife, eldest daughter, and mother all had died in the previous year.Poetics of Music offers a snapshot of this pivotal moment in the composer’s biography and career. Delivered at the height of his neoclassical period, which blended the sculptural precision of classicism with distinctively twentieth-century cadences, Stravinsky’s lectures explore both the creative potential and the constraints of tradition. Though he achieved artistic immortality as a genre-defying experimentalist who scandalized audiences in Belle Époque Paris, the Stravinsky we find here is more circumspect, defending the dignity of formal conventions against the more anarchic currents of modernist experimentation. Tradition, he argues, is not a relic of a bygone past but a living force that animates the present. And true artistic freedom emerges not only in moments of revolutionary inspiration but also through strict deference to the formal requirements of the work.Like his compositions, Stravinsky’s lectures are ambitious and at times bombastic, punctuated by wit and polemic. Ranging widely from the phenomenology of rhythm to the fate of high culture in the Soviet Union, he invites us to reflect on what it is in music that compels us, whether we are hearing one of his polytonal works or a simple birdsong.

“An entertaining and shrewd little book … Ashbery is an accomplished raconteur.” —Charles Simic, New York Review of BooksThe most influential American poet of his generation appraises the lesser-known writers who shaped his own confounding, infinitely inventive work.John Ashbery was the quintessential “difficult poet.” When asked to explain his work, he typically responded by insisting that his poetry was its own explanation. Fittingly, then, when he was invited to deliver the Norton Lectures at Harvard in 1989, Ashbery declined to spell out what he put on the page. Instead, he offered rapt audiences a tour of his influences, the authors he turned to as a “jumpstart for times when the batteries have run down.”The poets in Ashbery’s personal canon—John Clare, Thomas Lovell Beddoes, Raymond Roussel, John Wheelwright, Laura Riding, and David Schubert—were all tragic figures in their own way, plagued by mental illness or poverty, ridiculed or barely recognized in their own lives, and in some cases, all but forgotten today. More importantly for Ashbery, each wrote poetry that somehow defies the reader. Clare’s sometimes-monotonous naturalism, Roussel’s exhausting maze of parenthetical clauses, and Wheelwright’s eccentric Anglican mysticism do not invite casual reading. But under Ashbery’s tutelage, we experience the idiosyncratic brilliance of these “other traditions,” discovering how they shaped not only Ashbery’s poetics but also the broader trajectory of twentieth-century literature, from surrealism to New Criticism.With inimitable charm, wit, and erudition, the lectures collected in Other Traditions elevate the imperfect and peculiar, affirming the literary virtues of Ashbery’s difficult predecessors. The result is a revealing self-portrait of one of the giants of American poetry, if only through a convex mirror.

“A wondrously limpid testament to the pleasures of reading.” —Steven Poole, The GuardianSix incandescent lectures on literature from the patron saint of mirrors, metafiction, and infinite libraries.For more than thirty years, Jorge Luis Borges’s Norton Lectures went unpublished. Recorded at Harvard in 1967 and 1968, the tapes gathered dust in a library vault until their discovery after his death. It was a twist that the author of Labyrinths would have relished. This volume assembles the recovered materials, offering a priceless window into the Argentinian master’s lifelong love affair with the English language.This Craft of Verse captures the cadences, candor, wit, and erudition of one of the twentieth century’s enduring literary voices. Though his avowed topic is poetry, Borges explores subjects ranging from prose forms—especially the novel—to literary history, translation theory, and philosophical aspects of communication writ large. Borges here draws on a wide range of literary examples—modern and medieval English, Spanish, French, Italian, German, Greek, Latin, Arabic, Hebrew, and Chinese. He brings characteristic eloquence and inexhaustible enthusiasm to readings of Plato, the Old Norse kenningar, Byron, Poe, Chesterton, Joyce, and Frost, as well as translations of Homer, the Bible, and the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám.Whether discussing metaphor, the origins of verse, or his own “poetic creed,” Borges gives a performance as entertaining as it is intellectually engaging. A lesson in the love of literature and the making of a unique artistic sensibility, This Craft of Verse is a sustained encounter with one of the writers whose place in the twentieth century will be forever remembered.

“Erudite, wide-ranging, and slyly humorous.” —The AtlanticOne of the great novelists and public intellectuals of our time gives a master class on the philosophy of fiction.Umberto Eco was fond of pointing out that all writing is narrative. He published his famed debut novel The Name of the Rose when he was forty-eight years old, yet he believed that everything he had written to that point—from treatises on semiotics to essays on mass culture—took the form of a story. To Eco, scholarship, much like fiction, was shaped by narrative. It was the stuff of life itself.Six Walks in the Fictional Woods, a collection of essays based on Eco’s 1992–1993 Norton Lectures at Harvard, illuminates fiction’s porous boundaries—in particular, the myriad ways that literary works conscript readers’ experiences and expectations. Fiction, says Eco, can offer metaphysical comfort by appealing to our desire for a smaller, more legible world, one that gives a definitive answer to the question of “whodunnit?” But it also makes demands of us, presupposing a model reader who possesses the cultural knowledge necessary to interpret the text, as well as a willingness to follow the never-quite-specified rules of the literary game.Whether he is dissecting grammatical ambiguities in Gérard de Nerval’s nineteenth-century romantic masterpiece Sylvie, studying the rhythms of Ian Fleming’s James Bond novels, or tracing the web of fraud and misattribution that produced the antisemitic conspiracy theory of The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, this is Eco at his very best: intellectually omnivorous, endlessly fascinated by hoaxes, and always an adept navigator of the narrative forests that surround us.

“Brilliant…this book should encourage more literary critics to pick up their Bibles.”—Howard Eiland, Partisan ReviewThe celebrated critic deciphers the cryptic passages and concealed meanings in literature sacred and profane. In a passage from the Gospel of Mark that has spawned more exegetical disputes than perhaps any other, the disciples question Jesus about why he so often speaks in parables. “To you has been given the secret of the kingdom of God,” he replies, “but for those outside everything is in parables; so that they may indeed see but not perceive, and may indeed hear but not understand.” The ostensible meaning of this passage seems shockingly unchristian: the true sense of Jesus’s stories—their secret—is reserved for the elect, for the insiders. Outsiders be damned.In The Genesis of Secrecy, the prolific Frank Kermode draws upon this and other enigmatic passages in the Gospels to interrogate the fraught relationship between proclaimed meaning and concealed mystery, both in the New Testament and in modern secular literature. A resolute outsider to the rules and canons of Biblical exegesis, he asks how it is that textual dislocations or contradictory narrative elements are imbued with the grandeur of secret meaning. Departing from the Bible, he also asks what the art of interpretation looks like in a secular world, when the lines separating heresy from orthodoxy have become increasingly blurred.Moving effortlessly between Scripture, philosophical hermeneutics, narrative theory, and twentieth-century literature from Joyce to Pynchon, Kermode concludes, pessimistically, that esoteric truths of the text are glimpsed but never finally revealed. Divination begets further divination. Secrecy remains “the source of the interpreter’s pleasures, but also of his necessary disappointment.”

Without doubt the most influential American composer of the last half century, John Cage has had an enormous impact not only on music but on art, literature, the performing arts, and aesthetic thought in general. His insistent exploration of “nonintention” and his fruitful merging of Western and Eastern traditions have made him a powerful force in the world of the avant-garde.There have never been lectures like these: delivered at Harvard in 1988–89 as the Charles Eliot Norton Lectures, they were more like performances, as the audience heard them. Cage calls them “mesostics,” a literary form generated by chance (in this case computerized I-Ching chance) operations. Using the computer as an oracle in conjunction with a large source text, he happens upon ideas, which produce more ideas. Chance, and not Cage, makes the choices and central decisions. Such a form is rooted, Cage tells us in his introduction, in the belief that “all answers answer all questions.”Acting as a kind of counterpoint to the six texts here are transcripts (edited by Cage) of the provocative question-and-answer seminars that followed each presentation. Included with the book are two audiocassettes, one of Cage reading a mesostic (IV), allowing the listener to experience it as it was delivered, and one with a lively selection from the question-and-answer seminars that conveys the flavor of the event. The illustrations consist of fifteen different chance-determined prints from a single negative by Robert Mahon of the first autograph page of Cage’s Sixteen Dances (1951).I–VI is, in short, an experience of John Cage, where silences become words and words become silences, in arrangements that will disconcert and exercise our minds.

“Marvelously unconventional...a credo of intense individualism.”—AtlanticA brilliantly eccentric autobiography from one of the most widely read poets of the twentieth century. “Let me cordially warn you, at the opening of these socalled lectures, that I haven’t the remotest intention of posing as a lecturer.” So begins the first of six delightfully off-kilter “nonlectures” delivered at Harvard in 1952–1953. Gleefully flouting the conventions of the prestigious Charles Eliot Norton Professorship in Poetry, which had previously hosted T. S. Eliot, Igor Stravinsky, and other luminaries, E. E. Cummings declines to offer anything in the way of critical analysis, citing Rainer Maria Rilke’s contention that “Works of art are of an infinite loneliness and with nothing to be so little reached as with criticism.” Instead, six nonlectures presents a kaleidoscopic tour of the great poet’s life, influences, and favorite poems, from Chaucer, Wordsworth, and Swinburne to selections of his own work. After an autobiographical sketch of his youth in Cambridge, Massachusetts—including reflections on his father’s tragic death, accounts of his formative relationships with the pragmatist philosophers William James and Josiah Royce, stories from his days as a Harvard undergraduate, and readings of his earliest attempts at poetry—Cummings captivates with stream-of-consciousness musings on a dizzying array of subjects: freedom and democracy, New York and Paris, Lenin’s tomb and high-speed elevators, death and Santa Claus. Replete with digressions, irreverent wordplay, and, of course, parentheses, six nonlectures is a moving tribute to the spirit of artistic individuality, that dedication to unmitigated personal truth without which the poet “would cease to exist at all.”

“Learned, lucid, fearless, and funny.”—New YorkerA spirited indictment of overinterpretation from the grand dame of English literary criticism.“Minds, like doors and mouths, are made to shut as well as to open,” quips Helen Gardner in her 1979–1980 Charles Eliot Norton Lectures. A vigorous and elegant champion of traditional literary values, Gardner takes aim here at what she sees as a creeping subversion of these values as a “whirl of new doctrines” sweeps through the academy. Deconstruction, the Nouvelle critique, antithetical reading: all these exalt the open-ended interpretations of the theorist and the reader above the work of literature itself. They ask for “a mind so open that it cannot ever be shut on anything.” In Defence of the Imagination is not, then, a defense of the reader’s right to “import meanings” to the text. Rather it is a defense of the imaginative and intellectual work it takes to understand literature as the author wrote it. It takes imagination to interpret a poem in light of an author’s biography, or to grasp in a deep way the traditions that shaped an individual novel. Still, Gardner believes that the value of literary tradition remains, in an important sense, objective. Giving too much license to readers, whether by assigning only “relevant” contemporary novels to undergraduates or radically reinterpreting Shakespeare’s plays to pander to modern sensibilities, dulls our ability to truly inhabit the literary past and impoverishes our own world in the process.Pugnacious and charming in equal measure, In Defence of the Imagination ultimately affirms the value of a life devoted to the study of literature. Gardner’s own lucidity, range of reference, and passionate concern for reading are in themselves powerful affirmations of her argument.

“A magnum opus.”—George Steiner, New Yorker“Grippingly, even excitingly, readable.”—Edward Said, London Review of BooksWhat Charles Rosen’s National Book Award–winning The Classical Style did for the music of the Classical period, this volume brilliantly does for the Romantic Era. An exhilarating exploration of the musical language, forms, and styles of the Romantic period, it captures the spirit that enlivened a generation of composers and musicians, and in doing so it conveys the very sense of Romantic music. In readings uniquely informed by his performing experience, Rosen offers consistently acute and thoroughly engaging analyses of works by Schubert, Schumann, Mendelssohn, Bellini, Liszt, and Berlioz, and he presents a new view of Chopin as a master of polyphony and large-scale form. He adeptly integrates his observations on the music with reflections on the art, literature, drama, and philosophy of the time, and thus shows us the major figures of Romantic music within their intellectual and cultural context. Rosen covers a remarkably broad range of music history and considers the importance to nineteenth-century music of other cultural developments: the art of landscape, a changed approach to the sacred, the literary fragment as a Romantic art form. He sheds new light on the musical sensibilities of each composer, studies the important genres from nocturnes and songs to symphonies and operas, explains musical principles such as the relation between a musical idea and its realization in sound and the interplay between music and text, and traces the origins of musical ideas prevalent in the Romantic period. Rich with striking descriptions and telling analogies, Rosen's overview of Romantic music is an accomplishment without parallel in the literature, a consummate performance by a master pianist and music historian.

“[Bloom] is the Satan of criticism...he is heroic even in those passages in which we are permitted to suspect that he may be a charlatan.”—Dennis Donoghue, New York Review of BooksThe most prodigious literary mind of his generation on the transcendent acts of self-creation that define the Western canon, from the Torah to Samuel Beckett.John Milton’s contemporary Andrew Marvell once confessed that reading Paradise Lost troubled his faith. Milton’s lyrical prowess was beyond doubt, but precisely because of his poetic genius Marvell feared “That he would ruin (for I saw him strong) / The sacred Truths to Fable and old Song.” If heaven, hell, and rebelling angels were reduced to fodder for the poet’s imagination, how could they remain objects of sincere religious belief? In this fascinating series of lectures, delivered at Harvard in 1987–1988, Harold Bloom confirms Marvell’s worst fear: all serious poets, Bloom argues, must ruin the sacred truths, unraveling cherished beliefs and literary traditions to create a world in their own image. From the earliest source documents of the Torah, written by a hypothetical author called the Yahwist or simply “J,” to the heretical reinterpretations of Judaism in Freud, Kafka, and Gershom Scholem, Bloom shows us how great authors construct the new by destroying the old. In the process they wrest divinity from the hand of the deity: Milton’s Satan, infinitely more complex and compelling than his God, embodies the author’s pursuit of humanity and literary greatness against the strictures of received religion; Wordsworth, prophet of nature, “celebrates his own godhood”; and Shakespeare’s characters, as much as the Bible’s, establish a ubiquitous and inescapable framework for representing the human personality.Brisk and impassioned, Ruin the Sacred Truths gives us Bloom in all his dimensions. Jewish Gnostic, reverent Freudian, and relentless proselytizer of the sublime, he was convinced, above all, that if salvation could be found anywhere, it would be in poetry.

“The most sophisticated study of popular culture, considered on a world scale, that we have yet had.”—New RepublicThe acclaimed author of Anatomy of Criticism on the role of romance as a literary genre in Western culture. At a time when literary criticism was dominated by close reading of individual works, Northrop Frye’s sweeping, millennia-spanning investigations of the recurring symbols and archetypes that shape our literary traditions made him one of the most influential critics of his generation. Here, Frye brings his encyclopedic knowledge to bear on romance, a genre whose tropes have echoed through Western literature since the Homeric epics.With its shipwrecks and magic potions, its plots of mistaken identity and the rescue of maidens in distress, romance has often been deemed unworthy of serious critical attention. Critics praise other aspects of The Odyssey or The Faerie Queene, for example, while forgiving the authors’ indulgence in childishly romantic plots. For Frye, however, romance is far more than a puerile form of escapism. Rather, it constitutes a vital mythological universe, a “secular scripture” whose hero is man, paralleling the sacred scripture whose hero is God. Its plot elements—the descent into a lower world or escape into a higher one, the discovery of true identity and the breaking of enchantment, the quest where the end is the beginning transformed—form nothing less than “the structural core of all fiction.” Drawing freely from an enormous range of sources, from Dante and Milton to Lewis Carroll, from fairy tales to dime novels, The Secular Scripture ultimately argues that the Word of God and the word of man are cut from the same cloth. By recovering our own human mythologies, appreciating them in all their artifice, we can, like God in Genesis, look over the vast romance we have created and see that it is good.

“A powerful diagram of the moral life from Shakespeare to the present...a book crowded with insights.”—Geoffrey Hartman, New York TimesOne of the twentieth century’s foremost literary critics traces the idea of the self across five hundred years of Western cultural history.“One cannot both be sincere and seem so,” André Gide once wrote. Attempting to inhabit sincerity to satisfy social expectations makes it into a posture or a persona—a self-defeating enterprise. What, then, does the oft-repeated injunction to “be yourself” really mean? In his 1969–1970 Norton Lectures, Lionel Trilling argues that this simple piece of advice has been the source of centuries of moral perplexity. In Elizabethan England, being true to oneself was seen as a means to an end. “To thine own self be true,” Polonius famously advised Laertes in Hamlet, “And it must follow, as the night the day / Thou canst not then be false to any man.” But this vision of the “honest soul,” whose pursuit of self-knowledge brings harmony with external society, gradually collapsed under the weight of modern literature and philosophy. Drawing a line from Rousseau, Robespierre, and Jane Austen through Hegel, Freud, and Joseph Conrad, Trilling brilliantly shows how sincerity was displaced by the more strenuous ideal of authenticity, in which genuine selfhood became a product of alienation and negation, a ceaseless purge of both social artifice and self-deception. In his final lectures, he presciently notes the rising embrace of deliberate inauthenticity, a development that rapidly accelerated after his death.Moving fluidly between philosophy, literature, cultural history, and psychoanalysis, Sincerity and Authenticity is a bravura performance, unraveling our labors of self-definition with the wit and effortless sophistication that made Trilling a foremost literary critic of the twentieth century.

“A summation of his beliefs about music as he looked into the final quarter of the 20th century...Bernstein’s talks still seem surprisingly fresh. But words were nearly as much Bernstein’s métier as music.”—New York Times Six in-depth lessons on the language of music from the legendary, Grammy Award–winning conductor.The varied forms of Leonard Bernstein’s musical creativity have been recognized and enjoyed by millions. These lectures, a special monument in Bernstein's legacy, also make fascinating reading. “Nobody anywhere presents this material so warmly, so sincerely, so skillfully,” says the composer Virgil Thomson. “As musical mind-openers they are first class; as pedagogy they are matchless.”Bernstein considers genres ranging from folk and pop to Hindu ragas, along with symphonic works from Mozart and Ravel to Ives and Copland. Drawing on Noam Chomsky’s linguistic theory, he suggests that each has roots in a “worldwide, inborn musical grammar,” and explores how this grammar generates such a staggeringly diverse array of musical dialects. He also mines his own experience as a master composer and conductor to delve beneath music’s aesthetic surface, discovering the hidden acoustic transformations that create unconscious resonance for listeners. Finally, examining twentieth-century crises in the music of Schoenberg and Stravinsky, Bernstein discovers a new iteration of the deep poetry of musical expression—finding, even in the throes of experimentalism, echoes of all that had come before.Armed with nearly one hundred notated examples and abundant charisma, Bernstein shows here that, in addition to being a consummate musical prodigy, he was also a master teacher. These talks remain among the composer’s greatest achievements.

The elder statesman of literary modernism traces the reciprocal relationship between poet and critic. No individual did more to shape the trajectory of twentieth-century criticism than T. S. Eliot. A self-described “classicist,” his repudiation of the Romantic era’s emphasis on subjectivity and self-expression in favor of a rigorous analytical focus on literary tradition influenced critics for generations to come. Yet Eliot was not entirely comfortable with his place in the canon. “Tradition and the Individual Talent,” the universally anthologized 1919 essay that laid out his views in their most programmatic form, was, in his own estimation, “the most juvenile” of his critical writings. He believed that the 1932–1933 Norton Lectures collected here, in contrast, reflected his mature thought. In place of the sweeping pronouncements of his earlier work, these lectures offer a shrewd and sensitive account of criticism as a product of history. Beginning with the development of the field in the age of John Dryden, when critics turned poetry into the province of an intellectual aristocracy, Eliot explores how a long line of English poet-critics responded to the unique demands of their time. Johnson, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Shelley, Keats, Arnold, and Richards each mined the past to offer a fresh answer to the question, “what is poetry?” And Eliot brilliantly shows how the poetic strengths—and shortcomings—of each were intimately connected to their critical work. Trenchant and authoritative, The Use of Poetry and the Use of Criticism reveals that Eliot himself is no exception to this rule. His deep erudition, his existential doubts, and his yearning for order animate these lectures as much as his best poems.

“A bombshell...this is a book that explodes many received ideas about abstraction...[It] is certainly one of the most remarkable books ever written on the subject. What makes it so remarkable, of course, is that Stella is unquestionably the most celebrated abstract painter of his generation.”—Hilton Kramer, AtlanticWorking Space affords a rare opportunity to view painting from the inside out, through the eyes of one of the world’s most prominent abstract painters. Frank Stella describes his perception of other artists’ work, as well as his own, in this handsomely illustrated volume.Stella uses the crisis of representational art in sixteenth-century Italy to illuminate the crisis of abstraction in our time. The artists who followed Leonardo, Michelangelo, Raphael, and Titian searched for new directions to advance their work from beneath the shadow of these great painters. Caravaggio pointed the way. So today, Stella believes, the successors to Picasso, Kandinsky, and Pollock must seek a pictorial space as potent as the one Caravaggio developed at the beginning of the seventeenth century. Stella sees Caravaggio as the pivot on whom painting turns, his consummate illusionism prompting the advance of a more flexible, more “real” space that allows painting to move and breathe, to suggest extension and unrestricted motion. Following Caravaggio, Rubens’ broad vision of fullness and active volume gave painting a momentum that helped propel it into the nineteenth century, where it came to rest in the genius of Géricault and Manet, themselves the precursors of modern painting.Unfortunately, both contemporary abstract art and figurative painting have become trapped by ambiguous pictorial space and by a misguided emphasis on materiality (pigment for pigment’s sake). Pictorial qualities have given way to illustrational techniques. Abstract art has become verbal, defensive, and critical, caught up in theology masquerading as theory. Stella asserts that painting must understand its past, make use of the lucid realism of seventeenth-century Italy, and absorb a Mediterranean physicality to reinforce the lean spirituality of northern abstraction pioneered by Mondrian and Malevich. Working Space will provoke discussion and argument, not least because Stella offers nontraditional evaluations of the works of giants such as Raphael, Titian, Michelangelo, Picasso, and Pollock, as well as lesser-known figures including Annibale Carracci, Paulus Potter, and Morris Louis. The artist’s powers of discernment and the profusion of his ideas and opinions will dazzle and engage professionals, amateurs, and students of art.

“The Origin of Others combines Toni Morrison’s accustomed eloquence with meaning for our times as citizens of the world.” —Nell Irvin Painter, New RepublicAmerica’s foremost novelist reflects on the themes that preoccupy her work and increasingly dominate national and world politics: race, fear, borders, the mass movement of peoples, the desire for belonging. What is race and why does it matter? What motivates the human tendency to construct Others? Why does the presence of Others make us so afraid?Drawing on her Norton Lectures, Toni Morrison takes up these and other vital questions bearing on identity in The Origin of Others. In her search for answers, the novelist considers her own memories as well as history, politics, and especially literature. Harriet Beecher Stowe, Ernest Hemingway, William Faulkner, Flannery O’Connor, and Camara Laye are among the authors she examines. Readers of Morrison’s fiction will welcome her discussions of some of her most celebrated books—Beloved, Paradise, and A Mercy.If we learn racism by example, then literature plays an important part in the history of race in America, both negatively and positively. Morrison writes about nineteenth-century literary efforts to romance slavery, contrasting them with the scientific racism of Samuel Cartwright and the banal diaries of the plantation overseer and slaveholder Thomas Thistlewood. She looks at configurations of blackness, notions of racial purity, and the ways in which literature employs skin color to reveal character or drive narrative. Expanding the scope of her concern, she also addresses globalization and the mass movement of peoples in this century. National Book Award winner Ta-Nehisi Coates provides a foreword to Morrison’s most personal work of nonfiction to date.

One of the greatest living poets in English here explores the work of six writers he often finds himself reading "in order to get started" when writing, poets he turns to as "a poetic jump-start for times when the batteries have run down." Among those whom John Ashbery reads at such times are John Clare, Thomas Lovell Beddoes, Raymond Roussel, John Wheelwright, Laura Riding, and David Schubert. Less familiar than some, under Ashbery's scrutiny these poets emerge as the powerful but private and somewhat wild voices whose eccentricity has kept them from the mainstream--and whose vision merits Ashbery's efforts, and our own, to read them well.Deeply interesting in themselves, Ashbery's reflections on these poets of "another tradition" are equally intriguing for what they tell us about Ashbery's own way of reading, writing, and thinking. With its indirect clues to his work and its generous and infectious appreciation of a remarkable group of poets, this book conveys the passion, delight, curiosity, and insight that underlie the art and craft of poetry for writer and reader alike. Even as it invites us to discover the work of poets in Ashbery's other tradition, it reminds us of Ashbery's essential place in our own.

Through a twist of fate that the author of Labyrinths himself would have relished, these lost lectures given in English at Harvard in 1967–1968 by Jorge Luis Borges return to us now, a recovered tale of a life-long love affair with literature and the English language. Transcribed from tapes only recently discovered, This Craft of Verse captures the cadences, candor, wit, and remarkable erudition of one of the most extraordinary and enduring literary voices of the twentieth century. In its wide-ranging commentary and exquisite insights, the book stands as a deeply personal yet far-reaching introduction to the pleasures of the word, and as a first-hand testimony to the life of literature.Though his avowed topic is poetry, Borges explores subjects ranging from prose forms (especially the novel), literary history, and translation theory to philosophical aspects of literature in particular and communication in general. Probably the best-read citizen of the globe in his day, he draws on a wealth of examples from literature in modern and medieval English, Spanish, French, Italian, German, Greek, Latin, Arabic, Hebrew, and Chinese, speaking with characteristic eloquence on Plato, the Norse kenningar, Byron, Poe, Chesterton, Joyce, and Frost, as well as on translations of Homer, the Bible, and the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám.Whether discussing metaphor, epic poetry, the origins of verse, poetic meaning, or his own “poetic creed,” Borges gives a performance as entertaining as it is intellectually engaging. A lesson in the love of literature and in the making of a unique literary sensibility, this is a sustained encounter with one of the writers by whom the twentieth century will be long remembered.