People who control information wield a great deal of power, whether to manage the historical "truth," legal rights, or literary legacies—as Elif Batuman’s piece in the Sunday Magazine of the New York Times on Franz Kafka’s papers and the international disputes over who owns them attests.Batuman, a Russian literary and language scholar (as well as a damn good writer), points out that those in possession of the Kafka papers are “doorkeepers” who provide (or chose not to provide) access to Kafka—whose story isn’t “owned” by any one person, but owned collectively (well, maybe). In this case, two elderly sisters inherited the papers from their mother, who in turn had inherited them from Kafka's friend and sometimes editor, Max Brod. They have the papers, and the sisters have over the years allowed a very few scholars and institutions glimpses of these very sought-after documents.
Her piece is like a modern day Bohemian/Czech/Israeli/German remake of Henry James’s short story "The Aspern Papers." Here an unscrupulous literary biographer gains access to the household where the last manuscript papers of “the poet” reside.* (It's a convoluted story--like any Henry James story, and it's complicated to briefly summarize--so bear with me, or read the "cliff notes" version on wikipedia). The ruthless biographer lies his way into the confidence of an old woman and her ward and then rifles through her ancient love letters in the night to gain access to the last biographical papers that he hasn't readabout the “the poet.”
The biographer might have justified his actions in the same way the National Library of Israel claims Kafka’s papers: the papers didn’t really belong to the woman (who, like the elderly women in possession of Kafka’s papers, lives in squalor), they belong to the world. The fact that these women (fictional and real) couldn’t care "properly" for these valuable literary documents—in houses full of cats or moldy Venice apartments, or whatever kind of domestic disarray is necessary to justify archival intervention—is only part of the story of how literary legacies are shaped by individuals and collecting institutions.
3 comments:
Hello Hilary!
What a wonderful blog you have. So nice to see this as the last contact information I had for you was in Kansas. I think about you often (and Arlo as well) as it was you who encouraged me to give Virginia Woolf another shot after I was so vocal about my distate for To the Lighthouse. I read Mrs. Dalloway every summer now and have made a few pilgrimages to Bloomsbury even! All thanks to you. If you're ever in NYC, drop me a line. It would be lovely to see you.
Cheers,
Elora Duffer
klionyc@aol.com
(I still miss the Lovelight)
In 1995, I read some Ann Rice on Elora's recommendation which I enjoyed. This old comment of hers gives me an opportunity for a personal memorial to her memory: to read a book which she so loved.
I was a co-worker of hers from 1991 to April 1995 and only learned of her passing ten days ago over a month after the fact. I haven't spoken to her since 1997 and yet I cried over learning of her death. This world would be so much better if there were more people of her kindness, charm, wit, and extraordinary intelligence. She was so nice to me -- far more than I deserved. Once when I was in the Lovelight, she told a co-worker of hers that she and I were "long-time friends." That someone like her would say something like that to someone like myself was and is a privilege.
I will have to decide whether to read Mrs. Dalloway as a print book or whether to go with the audiobook option. In print, I am currently reading Jared Diamond’s Collapse for myself and Michael Pollan's The Omnivore's Dilemma for a reading group. (I suspect that Elora would have liked Pollan. Maybe she did, I don't know. I recall her copying recipes from the magazines on the checkstands when she was not reading Hebrew or making her fellow employees' days brighter between customers.)
On audiobooks I'm on the fourth book of "A Song of Ice and Fire" by George R. R. Martin. My favorite novel is Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke which I read both in print and listened to on audio. In nonfiction, I like books on evolutionary biology, astronomy, history of science, and history among other things.
I am leaning on doing Mrs. Dalloway as an audiobook after I finish ASoIaF. If I started now, I probably start getting emotional again. I would rather do it when I can do so in a happier mood. I sure hope I like this book that Elora liked. But then again, I won't pretend a tenth as bright or a hundredth the person that she was. Learning of her death is another reminder that life is unfair, Elora deserved far more than 41 years.
(Dr. Lowe, if you think this is too long or too off topic I won't be offended if you trim all or some of this. I do like talking about books and writing down something about Elora helps. I have exchanged messages with another person who worked at the same store with Elora and myself--mostly private memories. I am not the only one in Norman who has not seen her since the 1990s who has teared up.)
Best wishes.
Hi Mike,
Not a problem to post your comment here. Elora re-found me through this post. After our time working together at the Lovelight, we had lost touch. So I was so happy when she posted here. She didn't leave much of an electronic footprint--but she certainly left us all with a lot of reading, and kindness.
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