Such harmonious madness
I agree with the Romantics - it's all about stretching limitations.
Maybe that's what I find so infuriating about the "I'm uncomfortable, therefore I refuse to discuss it" thing; intellectual growth, poetic beauty, humanity - it doesn't happen within comfortable precepts.
The Romantics - Coleridge, Percy Shelley & Byron in particular - their works have tensions lying underneath. I'm thinking "Kubla Khan," I'm thinking "To a Sky-Lark."
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
It's scary and euphoric all at once; the limits of composing poetry yet but what is Romantic poetry but a microcosm? Coleridge isn't trying to merely attempting to show such-and-such lines of iambic whatever-a-meter with an A-B-A-B-etc rhyme scheme and some consonance or whatever. it's about "the images [that] rose up before him as things." Spontaneity. Something deep, meaningful, universal.
People who never leave their comfort zone do not grow. A chauvinist who never meets a woman that doesn't fit his stereotype. A liberal who only converses with other liberals. An atheist who only speaks to other atheists. A student who never submits work for peer-review. A scientist who never allows their experiment to be tested, who jealously guards their secrets, whose theories are not falsifiable y hello thar Sigmund Freud. If Gulliver had never spoken to the King of Brobdingnag.
It just all seems so narrow.
But perhaps this is remiss of me; not everyone shares this viewpoint. Of course they couldn't. It makes them uncomfortable. It's your right; it's your loss. I'll accept this because even if acheived any victory would be Pyrrhic and I do know how to pick my battles. The one thing I can't accept are the people who think certain subjects shouldn't be discussed at all.
Several people in my Brit lit class have complained that Dr. Browns' discussion of sexuality within literature is wrong. It unsettles them.
The obvious response, is, of course, this: you are an English lit major obviously suffering under the delusion that none of our beloved Dead White Guys had a cock. Either get over it, or change to something safe, like physics.
Beyond that, though, is this: you are uncomfortable with it. Fine. Keep your mouth shut. But for the rest of us who recognize this as a vital part of literature - we're allowed to talk about it if we want. "It bothers me, so I shouldn't have to hear about it at all; other people shouldn't talk about it" - like it's a right.
Guess what? It isn't your right to deny people a topic of discussion much the same way it isn't my right to say people should involve themselves of a topic of discussion. If two people willingly embark on a topic, it's their right, and your comfort or lack thereof is really of no import.
That being said, there's a difference between "discussion" and "being an asshole." Figure it out.
Forestalling any assumptions: this is an expansion of a comment I left on an LJ post and not directed at the poster.
Maybe that's what I find so infuriating about the "I'm uncomfortable, therefore I refuse to discuss it" thing; intellectual growth, poetic beauty, humanity - it doesn't happen within comfortable precepts.
The Romantics - Coleridge, Percy Shelley & Byron in particular - their works have tensions lying underneath. I'm thinking "Kubla Khan," I'm thinking "To a Sky-Lark."
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
It's scary and euphoric all at once; the limits of composing poetry yet but what is Romantic poetry but a microcosm? Coleridge isn't trying to merely attempting to show such-and-such lines of iambic whatever-a-meter with an A-B-A-B-etc rhyme scheme and some consonance or whatever. it's about "the images [that] rose up before him as things." Spontaneity. Something deep, meaningful, universal.
People who never leave their comfort zone do not grow. A chauvinist who never meets a woman that doesn't fit his stereotype. A liberal who only converses with other liberals. An atheist who only speaks to other atheists. A student who never submits work for peer-review. A scientist who never allows their experiment to be tested, who jealously guards their secrets, whose theories are not falsifiable y hello thar Sigmund Freud. If Gulliver had never spoken to the King of Brobdingnag.
It just all seems so narrow.
But perhaps this is remiss of me; not everyone shares this viewpoint. Of course they couldn't. It makes them uncomfortable. It's your right; it's your loss. I'll accept this because even if acheived any victory would be Pyrrhic and I do know how to pick my battles. The one thing I can't accept are the people who think certain subjects shouldn't be discussed at all.
Several people in my Brit lit class have complained that Dr. Browns' discussion of sexuality within literature is wrong. It unsettles them.
The obvious response, is, of course, this: you are an English lit major obviously suffering under the delusion that none of our beloved Dead White Guys had a cock. Either get over it, or change to something safe, like physics.
Beyond that, though, is this: you are uncomfortable with it. Fine. Keep your mouth shut. But for the rest of us who recognize this as a vital part of literature - we're allowed to talk about it if we want. "It bothers me, so I shouldn't have to hear about it at all; other people shouldn't talk about it" - like it's a right.
Guess what? It isn't your right to deny people a topic of discussion much the same way it isn't my right to say people should involve themselves of a topic of discussion. If two people willingly embark on a topic, it's their right, and your comfort or lack thereof is really of no import.
That being said, there's a difference between "discussion" and "being an asshole." Figure it out.
Forestalling any assumptions: this is an expansion of a comment I left on an LJ post and not directed at the poster.