Subject
Creation & Reality
From
Date
Body
Stumbling across a copy of New Scientist, 26 February 2000, in my chaotic
library, I came across some remarks which I think may have a bearing on present
discussions.
The article in question is entitled What is Reality? Exposing the random
forces of creation.
Quotes:
Space and the material world could be created out of nothing but noise.
Most of the everyday truths of physical reality, like most mathematical
truths, have no explanation.
Space and time and all the objects around us are no more than the froth on a
deep sea of randomness.
And so on.
This may already have been mentioned in connection with the earlier Godel,
Escher, Bach thread.
Press on, nonetheless. The closer it holds the mirror up to Nature, the
greater the literary art (Shakespeare, VN, Frost), and all art of any kind. If a
mirror is held up to chaos, it creates a pattern, which pleases the mind of
mankind. Nevertheless, this pattern is illusory. There is no pattern, and the
real reality is inexplicable. Which is why I suggested earlier that
explanations of PF along lines of logic are doomed.
The allusions, puzzles, riddles, in PF are manifestations of creativity. The
most interesting thing about great literature is not what does it mean, but
how is it achieved? Why does it fascinate? Why does it confer immortality?
Limited immortality, of course, since, as Shakespeare said, even Time, that
takes survey of all the world/Must have a stop.
The physicists cited in the article are Cahill and Klinger, of Flinders
University, Adelaide.
I'm now having a horrible feeling that this has already all been covered in
earlier discussion. Do I repeat myself? Very well, then I repeat myself. What
I tell you three times is true.
And, as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.
Shakespeare was quite obviously thinking about Zembla, Shade, and Kinbote,
the immigrant poet who wanted to express himself in poetry, in his adopted
language, but had to admit, finally, that he couldn't do it; and desperately
hoped that Shade would become his medium.
In his TLS piece last year, Abraham Socher remarked that, in tandem with
Frost, in 1945: Nabokov read his recently composed "An Evening of Russian
Poetry," which is about the virtual impossibility of writing poetry in English as a
Russian exile.
I can't quite agree with Socher, here:
_http://www.libraries.psu.edu/nabokov/socher.htm_ (http://www.libraries.psu.edu/nabokov/socher.htm) that VN's poem
is, quote, a dazzling success. Just, like, my opinion, man. In the end,
however, everything, even e=mc squared, is only a matter of opinion, and some
future insight by some unborn genius, will produce an advance. If this is not
already so.
Meanwhile, I suggest, thanks to Matthew Roth's stunning revelations, VN had
discovered Edsel Ford. Here are some of Edsel's publications, in
chronological order:
The Stallion's Nest, Ford, Edsel 1952
The Stallion's Gate, Ford, Edsel 1952
The Manchild from Sunday Creek, Edsel Ford 1956
A Thicket of Sky. Ford, Edsel. 1961
Love is in the House, Ford, Edsel. 1965
Looking for Shiloh, Ford, Edsel 1968
Raspberries Run Deep. Ford, Edsel. 1975 Posthumous, I guess.
VN could clearly have read any of the first four before composing PF.
I can't help smiling at these titles; but I do agree that Edsel's "Whatever
Voice" (still undated?) is somewhat inspired, in fact rather excellent, and
that it has direct bearing on PF.
CHW
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library, I came across some remarks which I think may have a bearing on present
discussions.
The article in question is entitled What is Reality? Exposing the random
forces of creation.
Quotes:
Space and the material world could be created out of nothing but noise.
Most of the everyday truths of physical reality, like most mathematical
truths, have no explanation.
Space and time and all the objects around us are no more than the froth on a
deep sea of randomness.
And so on.
This may already have been mentioned in connection with the earlier Godel,
Escher, Bach thread.
Press on, nonetheless. The closer it holds the mirror up to Nature, the
greater the literary art (Shakespeare, VN, Frost), and all art of any kind. If a
mirror is held up to chaos, it creates a pattern, which pleases the mind of
mankind. Nevertheless, this pattern is illusory. There is no pattern, and the
real reality is inexplicable. Which is why I suggested earlier that
explanations of PF along lines of logic are doomed.
The allusions, puzzles, riddles, in PF are manifestations of creativity. The
most interesting thing about great literature is not what does it mean, but
how is it achieved? Why does it fascinate? Why does it confer immortality?
Limited immortality, of course, since, as Shakespeare said, even Time, that
takes survey of all the world/Must have a stop.
The physicists cited in the article are Cahill and Klinger, of Flinders
University, Adelaide.
I'm now having a horrible feeling that this has already all been covered in
earlier discussion. Do I repeat myself? Very well, then I repeat myself. What
I tell you three times is true.
And, as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.
Shakespeare was quite obviously thinking about Zembla, Shade, and Kinbote,
the immigrant poet who wanted to express himself in poetry, in his adopted
language, but had to admit, finally, that he couldn't do it; and desperately
hoped that Shade would become his medium.
In his TLS piece last year, Abraham Socher remarked that, in tandem with
Frost, in 1945: Nabokov read his recently composed "An Evening of Russian
Poetry," which is about the virtual impossibility of writing poetry in English as a
Russian exile.
I can't quite agree with Socher, here:
_http://www.libraries.psu.edu/nabokov/socher.htm_ (http://www.libraries.psu.edu/nabokov/socher.htm) that VN's poem
is, quote, a dazzling success. Just, like, my opinion, man. In the end,
however, everything, even e=mc squared, is only a matter of opinion, and some
future insight by some unborn genius, will produce an advance. If this is not
already so.
Meanwhile, I suggest, thanks to Matthew Roth's stunning revelations, VN had
discovered Edsel Ford. Here are some of Edsel's publications, in
chronological order:
The Stallion's Nest, Ford, Edsel 1952
The Stallion's Gate, Ford, Edsel 1952
The Manchild from Sunday Creek, Edsel Ford 1956
A Thicket of Sky. Ford, Edsel. 1961
Love is in the House, Ford, Edsel. 1965
Looking for Shiloh, Ford, Edsel 1968
Raspberries Run Deep. Ford, Edsel. 1975 Posthumous, I guess.
VN could clearly have read any of the first four before composing PF.
I can't help smiling at these titles; but I do agree that Edsel's "Whatever
Voice" (still undated?) is somewhat inspired, in fact rather excellent, and
that it has direct bearing on PF.
CHW
Search the archive: http://listserv.ucsb.edu/archives/nabokv-l.html
Contact the Editors: mailto:nabokv-l@utk.edu,nabokv-l@holycross.edu
Visit Zembla: http://www.libraries.psu.edu/nabokov/zembla.htm
View Nabokv-L policies: http://web.utk.edu/~sblackwe/EDNote.htm