Book Reviews and Recommendations
Baksheesh
& Brahman: Asian Journals -- India
By Joseph Campbell. Ed. Robin and
Stephen Larsen and Antony Van Couvering
Sake & Satori: Asian Journals -- Japan
By Joseph Campbell. Ed. David Kudler
Reviewed by Dennis Patrick Slattery
Journaling
is a different kind of writing because it skips consciously between the
whom of the writer and the what of the subject matter. Having read some
750 pages of Joseph Campbell's reflections on a myriad of Asian countries
through which he traveled for one year, beginning in September, 1954, I
have a much deeper appreciation for the man and the power of myths that
guided him to become a comparative mythologist. This identity, by which
the world now knows him, surfaced and solidified during this year of travel.
In this review I can only hope to touch on Campbell the man, the traveler,
the pilgrim who was seeking something of his own life's work when he departed
New York at the age of 50 to explore the worlds of India, Japan and several
countries in between.
What emerges is a character of
keen wit in the face of adversity, a ferocious lover of his wife, Jean,
a writer who delights in details, lists, comparing this to that, a passionate
defender of the United States and the West despite its shortcomings, great
compassion in the face of poverty, a night lifer who enjoys the clubs and
the social engagements with others, a solitary who loved to walk alone
among the streets of Benares or Calcutta or and stare the heavy poverty
in the face, a lover of every country's rituals, dances, temples, museums,
landscapes and who was always comparing, seeing correspondences and differences
between world religions, social and economic structures, the disparities
between poverty and plushness. But most of all, these pages bear witness
to Joseph Campbell the writer and thinker. He is truly one on whom nothing
was lost.
His humor while in India would surface
when, in a hotel, he sees there is no water but what is present in a bucket
on the floor. He laughs at what he calls "conspicuous plumbing." He sees,
compassionately, a woman naked on the sidewalk, begging: "In India it's
either too little or too much." He observes the contradictions in this
country and records his frustration with them. For example, he loves the
Indian monuments of the classical period and laments that the roads that
lead to them are practically impassable.
We also learn of his deep love for
the scholar and mythologist Heinrich Zimmer, who mentored Campbell; through
Zimmer and this year abroad Campbell discovers the parameters of his lifeís
work. Trained in school in medieval literature, Campbell begins to feel
into his new role as a mythologist while in Bombay, even though Hero
With a Thousand Faces had already been published. He called his new
work The Basic Mythologies of Mankind, wherein he vows to himself
to "review the history of the symbolisms of the past from the standpoint
of the living realizations through which they were brought into being."
Influenced heavily by Zimmer, Freud and Jung, Campbell discovers in his
six months in India that he must "find a point of view of my own with respect
to the relationship of my India studies to the whole field of my science."
One sees emerging a profound interior journeying into the place, which
would yield for Campbell the content and direction of world mythology studies
that engaged him until his death in 1987.
Leaving India for Japan offered Campbell
great relief from the poverty and what he called the Baksheesh Complex
in India: "something for nothing." He also hated and fought against the
anti-American sentiment of the upper class of India in spite of the foreign
aid the country received. He left India with a bitter taste that gradually
sweetened the longer he was in Japan and India took shape in his memory.
In Japan he lived the good life: floor shows, geisha rituals, steam baths,
body pampering. He wanted to drink the country in with all of its luxuries
and its extreme cleanliness, efficiency and openness. Here he studies Japanese
faithfully every morning and enrolls in a daily class. We see his discipline
and his disappointment at Americans and members of other countries who
do not take the time to learn the culture into which they are purportedly
entering. Here in Japan, he moves deeper into his study of world religions
and sees the pitfalls when a system of beliefs literalize their symbols
and metaphors so that they lose their mythic energy.
A passionate photographer, Campbell
loved attending any and all ceremonies in India and Japan and photographing
them. His journals are packed with these photos. He was no less passionate
about fine dining and patronized the most exclusive restaurants with people
he met. But he became bored quickly if the conversation did not move to
entertaining ideas or observations that would stimulate the imagination.
In Kyoto he was able to solidify further in his mind, through numerous
lists and menus he created, what would eventually emerge as his magnum
opus, The Masks of God. He warned himself in his notes: "Do not
try to harmonize what the philosophers of that culture itself have not
harmonized. Stick to the historical perspective and all will emerge of
itself."
Read his journals for his insights,
his lists, his plans, his thoughts and his deep love for his wife. But
read them also for those little observations he makes that are sheer delight.
In Kyoto on a walk, Campbell hears a bird and looks up: "heard a hawk,
whose cry sounded almost like the music of a Japanese flute. Nature imitating
art?" Always observant in his journeys, Campbell's journals reveal the
complex interior terrain of a soul who helped put the study of comparative
mythology back on the world map. Let me end by praising the work of the
Joseph Campbell Foundation in Novato, California for producing such beautiful
and carefully constructed volumes of Joseph Campbell's Collected Works.
Dennis Patrick Slattery is Core
Faculty in Mythological Studies at Pacifica Graduate Institute. His most
recent work is Psychology at the Threshold, co-edited with
Lionel Corbett. He is a Mythic Journeys guest speaker.
The Runes
of Elfland
Art by Brian Froud, Text
by Ari Berk
Reviewed by John Adcox
For
centuries, the runes of ancient Europe have fascinated scholars, artists,
and mystics alike. Were they second or third century adaptations of the
Greek or Roman alphabet? Religious or magical talismans? Fortune telling
relics? Or are they keys? The secret entryways to the Perilous Realms?
Whatever secrets the runes
hold are probably lost to time. But if anyone can solve the riddle, it’s
probably an artist, a folklorist, or a poet. Between them, Brian Froud
and Ari Berk have all three bases covered. In their own ways, both men
have pondered the runes, wondering what they conceal. The Runes of Elfland
is the result, and it is a delight.
What can be said about Brian
Froud’s art that hasn’t been said a hundred times before? His work has
been the basis for films (The Dark Crystal and Labyrinth)
and books (Faeries, Good Faeries, Bad Faeries, and the whimsical
Lady
Cottington’s Pressed Fairy Book), and it has always been touched with
magic that simply must have its source in the fields beyond the fields
we know. Look at his work, and it’s hard to imagine that Froud hasn’t somehow
managed to peak into another world, and capture what he’s seen.
In The Runes of Elfland,
Froud presents a series of paintings for each rune, each revealing something
of the mystery that just may be hidden within.
Ari Berk’s text makes a perfect
counterpoint. Berk is both a folklorist (he teaches myth, folklore, and
medieval literature at Central Michigan University) and a poet, and both
voices are in fine form in The Runes of Elfland. Berk offers a poem,
a story, and a bit of speculative interpretation for every rune, each the
perfect counterpoint for Froud’s paintings.
The
Runes of Elfland isn’t quite folklore and it’s not quite
fantasy. It’s mythopoeia -- myth making. And it’s one of
the few art books that's as much a pleasure to read as it
is to behold. Don’t miss it.
Ari Berk And Brian Froud
are both Mythic Journeys guest speakers, as is Charles de Lint, reviewed
below.
Spirits
in the Wires
By Charles de Lint
Reviewed by John Adcox
Like
Isabell Allende, Jonathan Carroll, and Alice Hoffman, Charles de Lint brings
myth and magic out of faraway Middle-earth or fairyland and makes it live
and breathe in the modern world. The result is no less wonderful, but somehow
even more immediate and relevant.
In his new novel, Spirits
in the Wires,Charles de Lint once again returns to Newford, the fictional
North America city that has been the setting for his recent novels and
stories. Newford is more than a city; like the forest in fairy tales, it
is a place where magic waits, hidden and subtle, just around the next corner,
or one step sideways.
Spirits in the Wires
gives surprising and fascinating life to the emerging new mythologies of
the modern world, the spirits of the Internet, the World Wide Web, and
even computer viruses. This isn't really a new idea; Neil Gainman addressed
similar ideas in his American Gods.
But where Gaiman relies primarily
on cleverness, de Lint draws on heart, insight, and characters that we
can help caring about. And that is what makes de Lint's book succeed. He
shows us exactly how myth surrounds us, even in a wired world of instant
messages, PDAs, and computer viruses, and how it continues to touch and
change us. It's also a lovely reminder of how we all live stories, and
our stories touch others in such wonderful and unexpected ways.
Spirits in the Wires
is fun and entertaining. As a thriller, it's a page-turner. But the myth
and the poetry of the writing make it lovely, and the characters make it
come alive. Our compassion for de Lint's beautifully-drawn characters moves
us, and makes the novel linger long after the last page is turned.
Speaking of the characters,
some of them, especially the folklorist/author Christy Riddell, are familiar
to those who have read de Lint's earlier Newford novels and stories. It's
not necessary to read the previous works to enjoy Spirits in the Wires.
However,
it's a much richer experience if you have. The four Newford story collections
make a great place to start -- epecially the stories Saskia, The Fields
Beyond the Fields, and Pixel Pixies. |
|
The Genealogy of
Greek Myth: An Illustrated Family Tree of
Greek Myth from the God to the Founders of
Rome
By Vanessa James
Reviewed by John Adcox
The
Genealogy of Greek Myth is a handy resource. Packed with well-researched
information, this book provides "at a glance" charts and surprisingly detailed
information about the complex and often confusing relationships of the
immortal Olympians and the mortal heroes they interact with.
The author, Vanessa James,
spent eighteen years putting he Genealogy of Greek Myth together,
and it shows. The data is more than complete, it is exhaustive. More, it
provides a truly elegant and genuinely useful way to trace the dynasties
and major events of Greek and Roman myth.
The information, which includes
more than 3,000 entries for gods, goddess, heroes, monsters, and mortals
and 125 biographies of key characters, is nicely indexed, complete, and
easy to access and grasp quickly. The family-tree style arrangement makes
it intuitive to explore. It's also fun to read.
Nonetheless, what really
sets this book apart is the fact that it is just plain beautiful. It is
lavishly illustrated with photographs, a mythological star chart, classical
art (reproductions of paintings, sculptures, mosaics, pottery, etc.), maps,
and the previouslty mentioned charts, all in lush and vibrant color.
The uniquely designed book
slides out of a slip case and unfolds to become a 17-foot long poster,
making the information accessible literally at a glance. The result is
an excellent reference that's also a treasure to own.
The Mythological
Unconscious
By Michael Vannoy Adams
Reviewed by Dennis Patrick Slattery
I
like critical and theoretical works that find themselves at home walking
along the margins of disciplines or fields of inquiry. As part of a faculty
teaching mythological studies, I felt my own hermeneutic interests heat
up over what the title of Adams' new book promised: a venture along the
cusp of dream interpretation, mythology, poetry, the unconscious and depth
psychology. Although I was disappointed in some places on the journey,
I was not discouraged enough to be forced off the path before I reached
the end of this lengthy and involved exploration (488 pp.). More of that
later.
Adams builds convincingly from his
earlier study, The Mutlicultural Imagination: "Race," Color and the
Unconscious. (London: Routledge, 1996) In this new work, his focus
is different but not unrelated. He takes as his point of departure Jung's
own observation that "the whole of mythology could be taken as a sort of
projection of the collective unconscious." (p.12) From that observation,
almost a catalyst to the study, Adams develops a sustained and often subtle
comparison and contrast of Freud's work over against Jung's in the areas
of dream interpretation, the structure and contents of the unconscious,
as well as the respective heuristics that guide each of these early pioneers
of the psyche. The author is particularly strong in outlining and illustrating
Jungís method of amplification, which is both a methodology as well
as a certain poetic disposition towards psycheís metaphorical motion.
The more interesting exploration occurs
in Adams'linking the value of comparative mythology to amplifying images
in dreams, a method which can also be appropriated nicely to the study
of literature in the form of what Julia Kristeva called "intertextuality."
In addition, something else that lends itself to classroom use is free
association with a mythic image, in order to observe what is evoked through
a recognition of analogy. However, to further and deepen such a process,
Adams calls for a stronger "archetypal literacy" (p. 41) that all analysts
ought to have a working knowledge of in their training programs. I applaud
and support his idea; such an addition would strengthen and deepen analysis
through contact with the ancient images of myth.
In the same spirit of expanding the
method and content of apprehending both myth and dream, Adams cites Joseph
L. Henderson, who introduced the term "cultural unconscious" into Jungian
analysis. Adams concurs with Henderson's observation that "what Jung called
collective was also culturally conditioned." (p.106) This second order
of unconscious material appears as a subset, so to speak, of the collective
unconscious and develops through "cultural ingraining." (p.107) Thus, a
chapter entitled "African-American Dreaming and The Lion in the Path: Racism
and the Cultural Unconscious" both resonates a major concern of his earlier
work and points to the value of knowing a host of mythic narratives globally
and locally.
For students of mythology, especially,
but not exclusively, chapters on the Centaur, Pegasus, the Bull, the Minotaur,
the Unicorn and the Griffin envisioned in myth, literature and dream provide
some provocative bridges between the poetic, mythic and personal imaginations.
These figures, often given their own chapter, constitute the bulk of the
book's content. Without stating it directly, Adams' study is concerned
with the richness of the imaginationís ability and propensity to
engage in what Aristotle called a mimetic action. Mimesis was understood
as a making, a forming and shaping into a coherent form some construction
or image, from what had been suggested or confronted in daily life, or
had been imagined out of whole cloth by one's individual imagination. Part
of the suggestion here is that the unconscious may not only be mythological
but poetic at ground level.
By keeping the reader closely involved
with these mythic images, Adams describes how the psyche seeks a confluence
of experiences that graze around a central image to make sense of experience,
be its source imbedded in dream, literature, mythology or waking life.
He quotes Jung half way through his discussion: "symbols function to transform
libido, or psychic energy." (This is what he means by "symbols of transformation.")
(p.236) Given the metamorphic nature of symbols, their strength seems to
rest in their power, Jung continues, "to act as transformers, their function
being to convert libido from a lower to a higheríform." (p.236)
Such a transformation suggests that the energy of libido can be raised
to a mythic or symbolic level. Jung's interest in the transformative nature
of symbols suggests that energy from libido is altered, refined, shaped
into a higher form of consciousness, which may be termed symbolic.
In fact, the symbolic nature of the
psyche reaches into the heart of Adams' explorations, which use individual
dreams, including his own, as major texts throughout the study. Here he
is careful to make some clear distinctions between mythological and archetypal
dreams. His idea is that all mythic dreams are archetypal, but not all
archetypal dreams are mythological. (p.245) He takes this opportunity to
point out a common error regarding archetypes, an error worth noting. Again,
and this is one of the strongest qualities of his study, he returns to
Jung's own words for us to contemplate: "It is necessary to point out once
more that archetypes are not determined as regards their content, but only
as regards their form, and then only to a very limited degree." (p.246)
Adams underscores Jung's insistent distinction: archetypes are not images.
An image becomes archetypal only when it functions as the specific
content of an archetype, but the image that serves this purpose only occasionally
is not the archetype. While the archetypes are more akin to "constant forms,"
the archetypal image is are "particular contents of these forms." This
difference is well-known to Jungians, but for many entering the deep waters
of Jung's Collected Works, it is a difference worth repeating.
This important distinction Adams leverages
into the foreground of his study and keeps it there. The distinction offers
rich possibilities for investigating the nature of poetic form in poetry,
mimesis as the heart of poetic action, and the nature of poetic coherence
in a narrative. It also allows one to muse that perhaps poetry, as much
if not more than dreams and mythic images by themselves, takes up the material
world in language in such a way that it leads psyche back to these primordial
forms. Such may be poetryís archetypal fundament and its most intimate
association with the paradoxical world of mythology.
Also central to his study, in addition
to the images mentioned above, are the shapes or structures of the labyrinth
and the spiral, which he investigates through Freud and Jung, as well as
the thought of James Grotstein. What emerges from his discussion is a provocative
connection between, for example, the labyrinth and the interior of the
body. A strength of the study resides in the manner in which Adams will
offer several major thinkersí interpretations of the same theme;
the overall effect is a large and sustained comparative approach to psyche
and myth, all finding their common ground in the unconscious. "For Freud
(and at least some contemporary Freudians), the mythological unconscious
is ultimately an anatomical unconscious." (p.268) One can easily make some
connections between Freud and Joseph Campbell's work on mythology and the
organs of the body through what Adams evoked here in psyche's anatomical
unconscious. Campbell's fundamental belief that mythology has its genesis
"in the energies of the organs of the body in conflict with each other."
(The Power of Myth. New York: Doubleday, 1988, p. 39)
He also treats the spiral well through
both his own insights and those of Jung: "According to him[Jung] the analytic
process is not linear but circular (or cyclical), or, more accurately,
spiral, and finally centripetal." (p.279) The spiral is the sine qua non
archetypal image for psychological development. In Dante's Commedia,
for instance, this image is essential for the pilgrim's progress through
the territories of Inferno and Purgatorio, both of which consist of continuous
spiral movements as they lead to the central image of the Griffin in Paradiso.
This same spiraling assumes the form of the whirlpool generated by the
white whale in Melville's epic Moby-Dick as it pulls the Pequod
with its entire crew down into the realms of the unfathomable Pacific ocean,
leaving only Ishmael, swirling and spiraling at the margins of the whirlpool,
finally popping to the surface and rescued to tell the tale of the hunt
to us.
To speak of Dante the poet and Ishmael
the writer is to tap another image Adams values: that of the hero, often
bashed today as nothing more than egoic testosterone ebullience. Adams
confirms some of my own beliefs regarding James Hillman's harsh treatment
of the heroic when he writes that it is an image Hillman tries to slay.
Claiming that Hillman literalizes the hero, Adams rightly identifies the
fact that the heroic can appear in many guises. This important archetype
transcends Hercules as the absolute and only image of the heroic. Adams
allows us to think more freely and range more widely, for example, to include
the wide differences between, say, Achilles and Odysseus, Penelope or Portia
from Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice, or Bilbo Baggins or Harry
Potter, for that matter. The tragic, comic and epic heroes are very different
figures of psyche, existing most often in very varied landscapes, and Adams
is to be credited for insisting we make distinctions between them.
Towards the end of his study, he returns
to the different methodologies of Jung and Freud, in order to consider
the writings of Jacques Lacan, who follows in the grooves set down earlier
by Freud himself. At times jargon in the writing detracts rather than promotes
interest in the discussion. For example, one section refers to Lacanís
and Freud's methods as "derivative-reductive" and the method of Jung's
as "explicative-amplificatory." A Jungian will follow within this method
what Adams has termed in his earlier book "phenomenological essentialism,"
by which he means that the dreamer of images "sticks to them and defines
them in terms of what they essentially mean." (p.376). Perhaps simply describing
the phenomenon in a shared prose style would help the average reader grasp
the various theoretical ideas and methodologies.
These phrases should, however, not
block the perceptions and insights that offer the reader a thick and sophisticated
comparative approach to dream analysis, myth studies and image making.
I must commend the excellent bibliography that will guide the reader not
only to the citations of Freud and Jung, but also to the writing of poets
like William Blake and H.D., novelists like Herman Melville, Jorge Luis
Borges and Ursula Le Guinn, and to additional psychologists like Edward
Whitmont, Edward Edinger, Marie-Louise von Franz and Rafael Lopez-Pedraza.
Adams successfully bridges the chasm between disciplines in order to move
all of us towards a more holistic approach to working psychotherapy, teaching
literary works from a depth and archetypal perspective, and seeing with
a fuller vision the myth-making or mytho-poetic impulses of the psyche,
which is incarnated in its movement in the world, seeking to create meaning
through imagining and remembering.
I recommend his study to people interested
in mythology, poetry, literary theory, depth psychology, theology and counseling
psychology. The Mythological Unconscious is a secure and seasoned
witness to the truth that psyche moves in and finds its meaning through
images embedded in narratives. The storied or poetic psyche lives a healthy
full life within the pages of Adamsí study. |