I am currently on my third readthrough of The Book Thief. The first time I read it, over two years ago, a friend in Laos lent me her copy. I gulped down its 500-odd pages during a two-day cruise on the Mekong river, glad for the security of sunglasses when I reached the final chapters. It's rare for me to re-read any book I find so devastating, but
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I really like Todorov's distinction of evil's opposite not being "good", but rather "caring". He quotes others who are, like me, suspicious of "good". Here's a Soviet Jewish author who spent some 20 yrs in the gulags, Vasily Grossman, from his novel, Life and Fate. (Do you know him?): "Men have always sought to act in the name of the good, [Grossman] explains, but every religion and philosophical doctrine, each race and each class, has defined the good in its own way. The more narrowly the term is defined, the more necessary it becomes to try to impose that definition everywhere. As a result, 'the very concept of good became a scourge, a greater evil than evil itself....' Fortunately, says Grossman, aside from good and evil, there exists 'everyday human kindness. The kindness of an old woman carrying a piece of bread to a prisoner, the kindness of a soldier allowing a wounded enemy to drink from his water-flask.... It is the kindness of one individual toward another, kindness without ideology, without thought or speeches or justifications, a kindness that does not ask that its beneficiary deserve it. This kindness is 'what is most truly human in a human being,' and it will endure as long as the human race exists.'"
Here Todorov & Grossman come up with a most interesting thought, one I'm still living with to test what, I feel within, is its truth: "But [kindness] must never be made a rallying cry: 'Kindness is powerful only while it is powerless. If Man tries to give it power, it dims, fades away, loses itself, vanishes."
This brings to mind one of my favorite quotes from Richard McKeon: "There is a sense in which truth, while one, has no single expression, and a sense in which truth, while universal, can be rendered false and dangerous by the uses to which it is put."
Todorov talks about the need not only for moral statements, but much more for moral actions. And the focus of acting morally is different, even assymetrical between one's self and another:
Moralism consists of practicing justice without virtue, of simply invoking moral principles without feeling that they apply to oneself, of presuming one's own goodness simply on the basis of having declared adherence to principles of good.... Kant expresses this assymetry when, in referring to those human ends that are also duties as 'one's own perfection and our neighbor's happiness', he reminds us that we cannot reverse these terms: there is nothing moral in seeking either my own happiness or my neighbor's perfection; in fact, the latter is exactly what is meant by 'moralism.'"
Guess I have to go to a third posting. *sigh*
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In reviewing this phenomenon -- that of caring within the camp, Todorov noted, "The giver of care... is also a beneficiary. Apart from any future reward, that person profits simply from the accomplishment of the act. The testimony is unanimous on this point. 'Probably this is the best way to retain one's humanity in the camps,' Ratushinskaya remarks, 'is to care more about another's pain than about your own. We were not seeking to perform heroric acts; if anything, these were acts of self-preservation."
On an infinitely lesser scale, I regularly get comments on how good I am caring for Jane. The implication is a kind of nobility on my part, and this always feels very off-target, even wrong. I swear, I'm getting back so much from this and from Jane. Nobility drains me -- this I know. There's a balance here, not just a service to Jane but a service to me. Nor does this feel like a duty or like a self-protection against trauma -- I know what those feel like, too. Todorov has it right: "The giver of care is also a beneficiary." I like how he phrases it when he calls this, "the ineradicable human feeling of caring".
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I'm glad I got you interested in The Book Thief - I look forward to hearing what you think of it.
Moralism consists of practicing justice without virtue, of simply invoking moral principles without feeling that they apply to oneself, of presuming one's own goodness simply on the basis of having declared adherence to principles of good....
You know, this is probably the second-biggest issue that turned me away from Christianity as a teenager. (The first being that I didn't believe in God... but anyway.) Replace "good" with "God" in that sentence, and you have the creepy morality of my fellow youth-group goers back in those days. I remember having a conversation with a close friend about some sin - stealing, or lying or similar - and he said that he'd never do it because it was against the Bible. If that's the first reason you can think of... Well, even at 16 I could see there was something wrong with that. But of course, moralism as described here doesn't have to be Bible-driven - "good" becomes a religion in itself - a tool used by every side to justify its own extremism.
On an infinitely lesser scale, I regularly get comments on how good I am caring for Jane. The implication is a kind of nobility on my part, and this always feels very off-target, even wrong. I swear, I'm getting back so much from this and from Jane.
Isn't that what love is? When caring for someone isn't a chore or a duty, but something which helps and nurtures the caregiver as much as the receiver (sometimes, perhaps, even more.)
Thank you for giving me something to think about. :) Keep an eye on this LJ - I wrote quite a lot of notes when I travelled through Germany and Poland, which will make it into later posts. For now though, I'm only up to my shenanigans in Scotland - less serious, but a lot of fun.
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I agree, but I want to note what my agreement means about "love". That I have romantic love for Jane is certainly at the heart of my care and what I receive. There is, however, a sense of what the Greeks call philios (sp?), a love based on friendship. As Todorov notes, this is different from the love of all people, Schiller's poem set by Beethoven, Alle menschen werden brueder, i.e., "all mankind are brothers (sic)" (und schwester, sisters). There is, in philios, an individual-to-individual which is vital, not merely recognizing a common humanity, but an individual preciousness, "this person" as opposed to "this person as an exemplar of humankind".
Hmmmm...... I guess, at first thought, the love that most qualifies, here, is perhaps a combination of these two -- to lose either is to lose the potential depth & gift of loving-caring. Again, at least that's my first thought.
I'll try to keep up with your postings. Things have slowed some, so this may be possible. But it's also possible that things could heat up -- with Jane, with our grandkids, with work, with teaching & writing.
And it is truly good to hear from you. I'm glad that my long-windedness doesn't diminsih, for you the joy.
With love & respect,
avus
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