Academic Year
2013-14:
Post 4: Meaning
of Literature to Meaninglessness in Literature
During last two weeks (29 July to 10 August 2013), I passed through a Tiresian sort of experience - 'throbbing between two lives' - from
Aristotle's concept of literature, his 'canonization' of literature, his giving
meaning to literature, his optimism in deathly tales of tragedies, his Oedipus-
the defiant against the Destiny; to Samuel Beckett's 'Nothing to be done', his
meaninglessness in literature, his pessimism in nothingness of human condition,
his Sisyphean happiness in human predicament of life where - "They give birth astride the grave, the light
gleams an instant, then it's night once more".
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| Samuel Beckett |
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| Aristotle |
In Semester 3, we are
still debating meanings in meaninglessness. Yes, it is, indeed, a difficult
task to switch over from Aristotle to Samuel Beckett. They both stand wide
apart in the basic concept of literature. Aristotle attempts, and quite
successfully, to defend and define first ever definition of Tragedy in
particular, and literature in general. Beckett’s plays presented life as
meaningless, and one that could simply end in casual slaughter[1].
Nevertheless, their difference
and polarization of ideas seems to be locking horns at each other. But in fact,
they deal with one and the same thing. Aristotle heavily relied on Sophocles’s ‘Oedipus
the Rex’ to bring home his arguments. And William Hutchings helps to connect
the dots. Let me quote at length from his book ‘Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for
Godot: A Reference Guide’ (Greenwood Publishing Group, 2005): “Since the
beginning of Western drama in ancient Greece in the 5th century B.C.,
three plays have generated, captivated more diverse interpretations, raised
more profound questions, captivated more audiences’ imaginations, and provoked
more arguments than any others – or even, quite possibly, more than all others
combined.” (I like the ‘shape of this sentence’. I borrow this from what Samuel
Beckett once wrote: “I am interested in the shape of ideas even if I do not
believe in them. There is a wonderful sentence in Augustine. . . “Do not
despair; one of the thieves was saved. Do not presume; one of the thieves was
damned.” That sentence has a wonderful shape. It is the shape that matters.”). Let us continue with Hitchings: “The fist,
Sophocles’s ‘Oedipus Rex’ (also known as ‘Oedipus Tyrannus’ or ‘Oedipus the
King’, was written in the fifth century B.C. in ancient Athens; the second, William
Shakespeare’s ‘Hamlet’, was first performed in London circa 1602; the third is
Samuel Beckett’s ‘Waiting for Godot’, which had its premiere in a very small
theatre in Paris in 1953. Each of these plays has a seemingly endless ability
to fascinate – and to perplex – its audiences, in part because its plot raises
questions for which there can be no easy answers or final resolutions: Did
Oedipus have free will in taking the actions that he did, even when he unknowingly
killed his father? Or was his fate entirely determined or predestined by the
Gods? Is Prince Hamlet mad, or is he not? Is the Ghost that he sees real, or is
it NOT? If real, is it telling the truth, or is it not? And, most strangely of
all, why are these two trams on this desolate landscape waiting beside a tree
for Mr. Godot whom they might not recognize and who does not – and may not – arrive?
Why isn’t much ‘happening’ here? What’s it meant to mean?”.
He further writes: “One
reason for the three plays’ continuing appeal is that each challenges its
audiences and its readers to think about profound questions about the naute of
the world in which we live; about the meaning of life itself; and , especially,
aobut how we know what we think we know about the universe, about other people,
and even about ourselves. Each in its own way embodies issues that have vexed
philosophers and theologians for years. ‘Oedipus Rex’ asks us to consider
whether gods or humans are fundamentally in control of the world; whether we
all have destinies that are inexorable, unavoidable, and preordained; and
whether there are circumstances in which we can – or even should – try to defy
the will of the gods and the edicts that they issue. ‘Hamlet’, similarly,
questions the ‘kind’ of universe we live in – whether justice can be found in
this world or the next (if at all), and whether we can ever know with certainty
the truth of our situations and then act with moral responsibility when and if
we think we do. ‘Waiting for Godot’, in many ways, simply extends those
uncertainties: why are we here? Are we alone in an uncaring universe, or not?
What are we to do while we are here? How can we know? And, ultimately, what
does it matter?
However profound the
questions that they raise and however disturbing the answers that they provoke,
these plays are fundamentally ‘not’ philosophical treatises or sermons. The
source of their perennial popular appeal lies, emphatically, elsewhere: despite
quite dissimilar styles, they share uniquely theatrical eloquences, a poetry
that is embodied in performance, conveyed not only through language but through
the predicament which Oedipus, Hamlet and two Tramps suffers”.(Italic words
are mine.)
(More to follow . . .)
Questions from students:
However, there were many questions raised and settled in the class, some dusted off, the two with which I came home are:
1) If patriarchy 'conditions' languages, why is it called ‘mother language’ and
2) If ‘Waiting for Godot’ deals with meaninglessness, why do we say that the meaning of the play in meaninglessness and nothingness and . . so and so on?
However, there were many questions raised and settled in the class, some dusted off, the two with which I came home are:
1) If patriarchy 'conditions' languages, why is it called ‘mother language’ and
2) If ‘Waiting for Godot’ deals with meaninglessness, why do we say that the meaning of the play in meaninglessness and nothingness and . . so and so on?
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