Pygmalion and Galatea by Falconet (1763), photo by Alex Bakharev |
In
“The Secret Auden,” (The New York Review of Books, 3/20/140 Ed Mendelson quotes the following passage from a lecture
Auden gave on Shakespeare’s sonnets, “Art may spill over from creating a world
of language into the dangerous and forbidden task of trying to create a human
being.” The essay is a brilliant meditation of Auden’s character in which
seemingly erratic and selfishly indulgent behavior belied a deeper generosity.
But the subject here is love which as we know doesn’t abide the reality principle,
depending as it does on idealization. How else can instinct navigate the shoals
of consciousness? Mendelson writes about Auden and his lover Chester Kallman,
“He had begun to sense that he had caused the break between them by trying to
reshape Kallman into an ideal figure, an imaginary lover who he valued more
than the real one. What Auden had thought of as love for the younger man had
been infected by libido domanandi, a
lust for the power to transform him into someone else.” Personality is a subject
that can drown the words of a brilliant poet in jargonese. But Eliot’s famous
remarks about the impesonaity of the artist in "Tradition and the Individual Talent” not withstanding Mendelson’s quirky view of Auden turns out to
be an exception in the often turgid world of literary biography. It’s a form of
poetry in and of itself. And his
observation about Auden’s relationship with Kallman makes one think in general about the nature of love. Eliza Doolittle
finally rejects Henry Higgins in Pygmalion.
All his work has gone for nought, but in actuality doesn't this transformative process goes on in most relationships in which the self
is often shaped by its interaction with either the expressed or subliminal wishes of others?
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