No More Gurus
Most ideas can usually be summed up in a single phrase. It’s not so different from mathematics. One either writes E=MC² or enters into pages of minute explanation; similarly with any other topic, one can be succinct or drone on for hours.
Over the years I’ve heard a few one-line movie reviews which are fine summaries. One was of Alfred Hitchcock’s Frenzy: “I’d say it’s a great film, but I don’t know if I liked the way Hitchcock is telling me to fuck myself.” Another was of the Coen’s No Country for Old Men, which inspired the comment, “You haven’t got a chance when you’re up against a metaphor.”
In the music world the same applies. Anton Bruckner, the great Austrian composer, known for writing lengthy “spiritual” symphonies, has inspired many pithy comments, particularly from conductors. One said, “Bruckner was the victim of Divine inspiration” and another, “His music has some thrilling moments and tedious half-hours.”
Writers take the laurels for the most cutting judgments. My favorite is Gertrude Stein, who had a particular gift for microscopic and razor-like analysis. Her comment on Ezra Pound: “A village explainer. Excellent if you were a village, but if you were not, not." Anyone familiar with Pound’s didactic propensities and who is at the same time capable of overlooking the hype associated with Pound’s enshrined name, knows exactly what Stein meant. He was a pretentious bore. Why do people fall for Pound? Not that I was immune. I recall reading, as a teenager, his Guide to Kulchur addressed “those young men” seeking to improve themselves and deepen their cultural knowledge. It’s the book in which he criticizes Baudelaire’s choice of Edgar Allan Poe as a source of inspiration in favor of following the refinements of Classical Chinese Civilization. To support his argument, he gives the example of the Ancient Chinese Art of “reading the incense” revealing how refined they were, no pastime for dolts. It’s enough to shut anybody up until you learn that Pound had read the ideograms incorrectly and his entire point was based on a mistranslation. Pound was a Midwestern hick with delusions of grandeur, a village explainer as Stein so aptly noted.
Many younger people find some mixture of a Teacher, Sage and Infallible Guru to serve as an example for their lives. In addition to a natural desire to learn, perhaps their parents didn’t fill that space, and as they’ve been talked out of religious belief, they go afield looking for guidance. And, not unlike the mysterious market forces which guide capitalistic economies, this niche is never long vacant. The people who fill it are those who seem comfortable in standing squarely on their two feet and making unequivocal pronouncements.
These types are born, not made. I knew a guy who, when discussing anything, somehow turned each of his phrases into a statement of his capacity to unquestionably occupy his personal space. The idea was that he existed beyond the doubts common to the normal herd. Out of nowhere he’d look you in the eyes and exclaim something like, “I like pickles. Do you like pickles?” It was like a metaphysical challenge. One could only respond: “Of course I like pickles if you put it that way, for not to like them would be to admit of gross personal inadequacy.” In face of such proclamations, one isn’t allowed to stand opinionless, and must rise to the occasion and play by the established rules.
I don’t trust this trait. It’s rampant among 20th-century American writers. In addition to Pound, we find Hemingway, Henry Miller, Bukowski, and many others; in their writing each claims the capacity to live their lives free of internal questions, doubts, to face life undaunted. It’s a one-sided version of life which is suspiciously incomplete.
It's interesting to compare these people to real seekers of truth, say Socrates, whose life was spent in asking questions. Worldly renown held no interest, his goal was to define virtue, and to determine whether it could be taught. He emphasized questions, not answers. He was a champion of the succinct phrase, summing it up with, “The unexamined life is not worth living.”