Be perspicuous [sic]

Speranza

In “Faulkner’s father, etc.” (elsewhere), L. J. Helm quotes from a review in the NYROB by T. Powers of A. Bleaksten’s “William Faulkner: A Life Through Novels”. 

Bleaksten, while aiming at the novels as per the subtitle to his essay, is reviewed in connection with a _short story_ by Faulkner.

As Geary would say:

“That’s a bit like getting a comment on the South American rhea when you bought a volume on the African ostrich!” (J).

Powers point is a general one, though:

“Faulkner’s family held no great place in Oxford. A feckless farmer in Faulkner's short story ‘Two Soldiers’ is described as always behind; ‘he can’t get no further behind,’ a son remarks.”

Perhaps he was a rear admiral at heart!

Powers goes on:

“Faulkner's father was like that. He failed in business repeatedly and was fired from his last job as comptroller at the University of Mississippi when he refused to contribute to the local politicos. Faulkner's grandfather had been a bigger man locally but was disgraced at the end of his life after he ran off with some Oxford town funds and ‘a beautiful octoroon.’ The pride of the family was Faulkner's great-grandfather, who had fought in the Civil War, built a railroad, and was shot dead in the streets of Oxford by a former partner. Just as remarkable was the great-grandfather’s huge popular success with a Civil War novel called “The White Rose of Memphis,” which prompt[s] Faulkner at nine to say, ‘I want to be a writer like my great-grand-daddy.’”

Helm compares the scenario to Heidegger:

“Some here may recall considering the possibility that Heidegger may have developed an extremely difficult style in hopes that his Nazi overseers would not discover his true beliefs -- whatever they were.”

When it comes to Faulkneriana, Helm notes:

“Something similar may have influenced Faulkner's style.” And goes on to quote from Powers:

"Few Americans ever tackle Faulkner […] But there is a *logic* [emphasis Speranza’s] to Faulkner’s dependence on difficulty […]. In some of the novels, and especially in “Absalom, Absalom!,” the difficulty ensure[s] that Faulkner's neighbor[u]rs [anti-Websterian spelling ‘correction,’ Speranza’s] would not *know* [asterisks Speranza’s] what he was talking about lest they burn his barn […].”

Of course it reminds me, if not of the South American rhea, of Grice!

The Grice papers (now at Berkeley) contain a manuscript where he coined ‘implicature’ (pre-dating the 1967 William James lectures) and where he talks of a ‘desideratum’ of ‘clarity’ (I suppose he is reacting to Lewis’s claim, “Clarity is not enough: essays against linguistic philosophy.”)

When Grice gets the Harvard invitation he is rather ‘echoing’ and playing on Kant, so he finds that Kant’s FOUR categories can become Grice’s four ‘conversational categories’:

quantitas

qualitas

relatio, and

modus.

The ‘modus’ one is the one that has Faulknerian undertones. Grice formulates it as pertaining to a maxim,

“Be perspicuous [sic]”

There is a sub-maxim here, “Avoid obscurity of expression.”

Grice goes on to illustrate this with some poem by William Blake, which MOST Englishmen DO tackle! (Grice’s chosen phrase is Blake’s “love that never told can be.” Does Blake merely mean “love that can never be told,” or, “love that, if told, would cease to exist.”?(Grice is using ‘being’ alla Heidegger, since Helm quotes him!)).

But there are MANY problems here! (Fascinating ones).

Helm’s interest is the more specific political ambiguity or obscurity in “Absalom, Absalom!”.

Who would LOVE to ‘tackle’ that? Grice would possibly say: Let graduate [some of them are American, you know!] students tackle things – and Americans, however few, just _enjoy_ the thing!

Or do we have to restrict to Faulkner’s neighbours, as Powers suggest?

The problems are many (“and varied,” as Geary would add):

Is Faulkner being _intentionally_ obscure?

Would he rely on the assumption that his neighbour would possibly NOT care to tackle ‘Absalom, Absalom!’ anyway?

By the time Grice is delivering the William James lectures he has a whole taxonomy and vocabulary to tackle (er…) these problems.

A ‘maxim’ can be violated, but it can be ‘flouted.’

To flout a maxim is like violating it, only that the utterer [Faulkner, not Blake, in this case] expects his addressee [or his ‘neighbour’] will ‘tackle’ the ‘violation,’ and get some implicature as a reward! (“Or punishment”!)

Blake may be, for example, implicating that Auden is right in considering the seriousness of ‘the truth about love.’

When it comes to burning barns, granted, I suppose Grice may need to add the disimplicature, to boot!