"Stevie" (1978) - a movie about Stevie Smith

If you have an Amazon Prime subscription, and live in the UK; there are a few days left in which to watch the 1978 movie Stevie - a biography of the writer Stevie Smith; which I have found nigh impossible to get-hold-of otherwise (at an acceptable price). 

Stevie originated as a stage play; and the movie sticks pretty closely to this format - mostly taking place in one room; and mostly consisting of Stevie herself, talking to camera or else to the elderly aunt with whom she lived. Nothing much "happens": this is - necessarily - a talking movie. 

The acting of Glenda Jackson as Stevie, and Mona Washbourne as her "Lion Aunt" is absolutely first class. I have never before seen this kind of deeply loving family relationship portrayed so convincingly, affectionately, humorously, and in such detail! 

And Glenda Jackson's central performance is just superb - so engaging, so varied and consistently interesting with extremes of light and shade, and yet so well-integrated. My only criticism is that - like nearly-all actors - she sometimes doesn't speak the poems as poetry - indeed, they are sometimes spoken so prosaically as to be miss-able. 

But the main thing I took away from the movie was the emotional power with which it focused on "life" - Stevie Smith's unique, witty, bleak, and incisive insights into life... 

And death - which was her great recurrent subject. 

Stevie Smith was very odd, very eccentric, almost fey; inwardly a woman of unstable extremes. 

Superficially she strikes as very old-fashioned and traditional, one who lived a routine, hardly varying, apparently mundane middle class existence. 

And yet, in truth, she was a modern woman - albeit part-time; fundamentally an existentialist - decades before that became a fashionable pose.

Modern, but much more honest and explicit than most moderns. 

By her ultimately anti-religious, anti-spiritual (therefore modern) assumptions; Stevie had - like nearly-all modern people - painted herself into a corner of despair, from which her honesty could perceive no genuine possibility of escape. 

But rather than trying to deny or distract-herself from this terrible vision of life and of death - she confronted it head-on, again and again....

She tormented herself with death, almost; perhaps to test her own strength, or to challenge others with this "reality". Perhaps in hope of finding a flaw in her reasoning, or of being convincingly contradicted.  

Well... This is how the movie encapsulates Stevie, and does so very movingly, in a dramatically satisfying way. Thus, it has her firmly rejecting "the Christian religion" for its covert "cruelty" behind a mask of sweetness. 

The main cruelty being to pretend to offer the delusory hope of Heaven.

Stevie Smith certainly wrote this, at one point, and doubtless felt it on that day and others; and surely believed it at those times and points. 

Also, because she experienced living as hard ("tiring") she sometimes looked-forward to death; perhaps as a long and restful sleep - but other times death was seen as an utter annihilation that apparently rendered life insignificant. 

Yet it is easy to detect, behind the fact of her writing so much and so harshly on the subject, that Stevie Smith was not sure that she was correct in her rejection of all hope after death. 

This comes-out in that extreme inconsistency which is so characteristic, especially in the stream of consciousness of her longer poems and prose. 

Contradictions of opinions, variable moods, extremes of generosity and selfishness, compassion and spitefulness. A good deal of sharp statement - then self-subversion. 

This was her nature. 

Stevie Smith was almost a household name in England from the 1960s and into the 80s, on BBC Radio frequently (when that commanded audiences of many millions) and even on TV; quite widely enjoyed and recognized as strange but significant. 

However, I think her name and reputation are fading into obscurity and neglect. The fact of her being of an earlier generation, as well as her one-off oddness, is unappealing to the current generation. With SS; the average contemporary reader will not find ideological and emotional confirmation of current prejudices and obsessions - which is what so many seem to want from their reading! 

With Stevie Smith, either the reader allows himself to be drawn into her world view, to see things (for a while) in her way - or else you will not find her interesting or enjoyable. 

Which is a great pity! Because there are never many real poets, even fewer women poets, and even fewer poets whose quality is spontaneously unique - absolutely one-off. 

If you value and want what Stevie Smith gave us, then there is nowhere else you can get it; because there was nobody else who did it.   

 And never shall be. 

Hell - Where did it come from, where did it go?

I was reading a biography of Stevie Smith by Frances Spalding, and a chapter concerning her relationship to Christianity - by which was largely meant the Church of England. 

At one point it quoted a passage to the effect that the one thing SS found most repellent was the idea of Hell. In particular, to summarize, Stevie rejected:

Hell regarded as a place of eternal torment, to which people were sent by default, on the basis of divine judgment. 

In rejecting this idea of Hell, as well in her response to this rejection - i.e. ceasing to be what she regarded as a Christian - I suppose Stevie Smith was representative of her era.

Certainly I have often seen or heard the same kind of thing said by others. 

It seems that (in some broad sense) Hell came-in with "Christianity" around or after the time of Jesus - and disappeared with Christianity through the 19th and 20th centuries. 

And, at about the same time as Hell was disappearing - people began finding the idea repellent; because those who rejected Hell also assumed that Hell was not true: assumed that the Hell concept is ,and always had been, false. 

And therefore the Hell-rejecters infer that the primary nature of the Hell concept was as a psychological manipulation used to terrorize people into joining and obeying the Christian church. 

In other words, the Stevie-Smith-esque moral critique of Hell, already rejects the reality of Hell: it already assumed that Hell is not and never was real. 

The question I address about Hell is: Where did it come from, where did it go*? 

What has apparently happened; is that the modern human mind has become unreceptive to the reality of Hell. What once seemed real, possible, almost inevitable - has come to seem an obvious deception. A cruel, because manufactured, mass manipulation. 

To summarize: Hell used-to "work" very effectively as a mechanism of population control; but it does not work anymore. 

This historical change towards Hell-incredulity is usually interpreted sociologically; meaning in essence that the change in Men's minds was caused by changes in society. 

If the sociological explanation is true this would imply that if modern society was changed then Hell could again become an effective motivator; and this change would happen whether Hell is regarded as a reality that is now being denied, or if Hell is regarded as a not-real tool of social control.  

But I believe that sociological change to restore Hell could not and therefore would not happen. 

I suggest instead that Hell first came, and then went, because of changes in human consciousness. 

In other words; I am saying that Hell arose because Men's minds became receptive to the idea; and this change led to sociological change; and then Hell dwindled because Men's minds changed further - and then society changed to reflect this. 

The idea is that Hell is a product of a particular phase of Mankind's consciousness - and that phase has now passed. 

On this view; because Hell is primarily a product of Man's consciousness; then it would not be possible to restore the ancient idea of Hell. 

And if Hell is a product of consciousness at a particular phase of development; then a modern-day religious society could not motivate people with such an idea of Hell, even if it is true; and for the same reason; a tyranny could no longer effectively control society with the false-but-believed threat of Hell. 

What was this phase of consciousness that was so receptive to Hell? I would term it a semi-alienated state of partial group-mind. 

My idea is that in ancient (pre-Christian) times; Men were not alienated but were (mostly) immersed in their society, and actually lived as a part of the group-mind. The after-death experience was then regarded in a groupish way - whatever happened beyond death, happened to the members of the group. 

Men were not then afraid of becoming an "existential outcast" in the manner of Hell. 

Hell emerged when Men each began to separate their personal consciousness from the group-mind; and Hell was (I suggest) a consequence of this state of being semi-alienated. 

Man's hope was to retain the state of being in this group-mind after death; but Hell came from the terror that - after death - the group may choose to cast-out the individual because of that individual's transgression of the group-norms, and consign him to the eternal torment of being existentially-alone. 

The sociological phenomenon of Hell was therefore a consequence of Men's innate angst concerning emergent alienation from the group mind; which is why Men became receptive to the idea of Hell. 

But in the development of human consciousness, Men continued to detach from the group-mind; until for recent generations Men have ceased to experience the primacy of the group-mind - to the point of being unaware of it, and even denying its reality. 

Modern Men regard themselves as almost-wholly alienated; and therefore tend spontaneously to regard death as an inevitable and universal annihilation. 

In the officially (and inwardly-perceived) modern secular-mainstream understanding of each Man dwelling in a purposeless and meaningless universe - there can be no divine judgment. 

And the idea that mortal life death might lead to a default-inevitable state of being tormented cannot for a modern Man) be true - because for modern Men, after death there is nothing.    

For modern Christians (with the alienated consciousness we share with other modern Men); Salvation and Hell are alike consequences of personal choice in relation to the divine; not a judgment. 

And as this alienated consciousness continues to develop; these personal choices of post-mortal situation become more individual, bespoke, unique - and reciprocally less and less group-defined, less and less categorical in nature. 

Modern Christians now understand Hell (insofar as they have thought about it seriously) more as a positive choice - Hell is a choice made by those who have decisively-rejected (for whatever reason) the desirability and chance of resurrected eternal life in Heaven. 

Hence, for the consciousness of modern Christians; "Hell" is real but differently-understood than 1-2000 years ago. 

The modern concept of Hell is nowadays negatively-defined as "everything but" Heaven. 

For modern consciousness; Hell is therefore an open-ended variety of possibilities - and insofar as Hell is for some individuals experienced as a situation of eternal torment - then this is what has been asked-for, and from-which they do not repent.  

*NOTE: The title of this post references an amusing and enjoyable novelty song that my kids used to dance-to; mainly from a Wii Just Dance compilation. 

The poet Stevie Smith

Stevie Smith (1902-1971) was one of the last of the real English poets. Indeed, one of a relatively small number or women who were (by my criteria) genuine lyric poets (Emily Dickinson is another). 

I have been re-reading the 1988 biography by Frances Spalding, which is good on information - although I found its literary criticism to be rather uninspired. 

Stevie was a superb performer of her own work; with a peculiar upper class, sing-song way of speaking; and in the nineteen-sixties she was to be found performing alongside trendy pop poets forty years her junior, in major venues. 

She was also fairly typical of women geniuses in being semi-insane in real life, and much in need of looking-after - which was mostly accomplished by her beloved aunt in the suburb Palmers Green where she lived her entire life from age three.   

She was unmarried and mostly, perhaps entirely, celibate; although she knew almost everyone in the literary scene, and went to all the parties. At one point had some kind of relationship with "George Orwell" who features, as two characters, in her last novel The Holiday. 

Steve Smith's great appeal, apart from her poetic gift (here is a selection and some more here), is her unique and uncompromising perspective on life and (especially) death; which was unlike anyone else's, and derived from her absolutely centred-on-self nature, and her unflagging desire to give this expression in all its minutiae and contradictions. She often included peculiar, apparently naive, illustrations; which sometime add considerably to the poems.

The theme and tones veer between extremes; encompassing (or rather hinting at) flippancy, despair, bitterness, joy. Some are very harsh and shocking, like The Face:

There is a face I know too well,
A face I dread to see,
So vain it is, so eloquent
Of all futility.

It is a human face that hides
A monkey soul within,
That bangs about, that beats a gong,
That makes a horrid din.

Sometimes the monkey soul will sprawl
Athwart the human eyes,
And peering forth, will flesh its pads,
And utter social lies.

So wretched is this face, so vain,
So empty and forlorn,
You well may say that better far
This face had not been born.

This blog is nat dood - only resting (while I write the PC book/let)

*

Our Bog is Dood

Our Bog is dood, our Bog is dood,
They lisped in accents mild,
But when I asked them to explain
They grew a little wild.
How do you know your Bog is dood
My darling little child?

We know because we wish it so
That is enough, they cried,
And straight within each infant eye
Stood up the flame of pride,
And if you do not think it so
You shall be crucified.

Then tell me, darling little ones,
What's dood, suppose Bog is?
Just what we think, the answer came,
Just what we think it is.
They bowed their heads. Our Bog is ours
And we are wholly his.

But when they raised them up again
They had forgotten me
Each one upon each other glared
In pride and misery
For what was dood, and what their Bog
They never could agree.

Oh sweet it was to leave them then,
And sweeter not to see,
And sweetest of all to walk alone
Beside the encroaching sea,
The sea that soon should drown them all,
That never yet drowned me.

Stevie Smith (1902-1971)

*

Untranslated-foreign is a defect

I have just finished reading Stevie Smith's "The Novel on Yellow Paper" - which ended badly in a narrative sense - but also because she kept inserting chunks of untranslated German. 

A couple of weeks ago I was reading Owen Barfield's "Saving the Appearances" and he peppered the text with bits of untranslated Latin, and even several passages in Classical Greek (with the Greek letters, and all).

Both books were mid-20th Century, by authors born around 1900; and both authors will have known perfectly well that very few (and a tiny percentage) of their readers will have been able to understand these foreign bits - so what good reason could they have for including them?  

The answer is (to quote Nigel Tufnel in Spinal Tap) none good reason. 

There are plenty of bad reasons for deliberately using language that you know most other people will-not and (esp. before Google translate) can-not understand, but none are good. 

Back in the day when I wrote in the mass media for a general audience, I knew better than to include sheets of technical language from psychiatry, biochemistry, or statistics - even if incomprehensible jargon might impress some people. 

Plus; it's not as if knowing one or a few foreign languages out of the thousands of them, is even intelligence correlated - there are shoals of fluent tri-lingual people (even in Britain, in this city, here and now) of significantly below-average IQ and without educational attainments. 

I'm afraid usage of untranslated-foreign is an unintentionally-revealing personality flaw; so I suppose I ought to try and be sympathetic; instead of becoming overwhelmed with irritation and hurling the book across the room.

I had a little nut tree

*

I had a little nut tree
Nothing would it bear
But a silver nutmeg
And a golden pear

The King of Spain's daughter
Came to visit me
And all for the sake
Of my little nut tree

I danced over ocean
I flew over sea
And all the birds in the air
Couldn't catch me

*

These are the words, as I recall them, of an especially evocative nursery rhyme which (for me) attains to a high level of lyric poetry - and evokes that yearning joy of Sehnsucht.

The decontextualized, uncompromising, unexplained, pared-down quality; is caused (I think) by the tendency of oral transmission and pure memory to focus on the striking imagery - and the rest gets washed away or garbled.

This is what makes the great nursery rhymes, folk songs and ballads so effective - yet the effect cannot be contrived, unless by a poet with a child's gift of directness: William Blake, Stevie Smith for instance.

I feel as if I know exactly what has happened here, and it happened to me! - it is a child's dream of pure escape from a dull, hopeless and desperate situation, into wonder, ecstatic delight and boundless optimism.

*

This version has the lovely tune I knew - with slightly different words. Ideally it should be sung by a boy's voice.

Naydler-fest

I have just finished reading (pretty much but not quite) everything written by Jeremy Naydler - a contemporary gardener philosopher whom first I encountered on a video talking about Rudolf Steiner - and whose work on Ancient Egyptian religion I started reading when investigating that subject. So, since August, I have read


Temple of the Cosmos: The Ancient Egyptian Experience of the Sacred 
Shamanic Wisdom in the Pyramid Texts: The Mystical Tradition of Ancient Egypt 

• These books are only of interest if the religion of Ancient Egypt is of interest - but Naydler really brings this to life; in the sense that it becomes possible empathically to inhabit the thought world of that religion. 

Future of the Ancient World: Essays on the History of Consciousness 

• This is the book of Naydler's that I would recommend most strongly for most people. The essays cover a range of topics on ancient and modern religion and spirituality - with a strong Steiner influence. There are many important insights and observations. Indeed, Naydler here assumes the mantle of the Owen Barfield of our age - and anyone who has been impressed by Barfield will want to engage with these ideas. 

Goethe on Science: A Selection of Goethe's Writings

• An excellent little book comprising a selection of paragraphs from Goethe with a commentary. I wish I had encountered these ideas many years ago - since it took me a couple of decades to (more or less) rediscover them for myself. 

Gardening as a Sacred Art 
Soul Gardening

• Naydler made his living as a gardener for most of his life. The first is a history of the evolving concepts of what a garden is for, with a look towards the future - fascinating. The second is a pleasing and unpretentious book of verse on themes suggested by gardening - much in the style of Stevie Smith (including naive drawings).

The Advent of the Wearable Computer
The Quest for the Pearl: Technology and the Crisis of Contemporary Culture
The Struggle for a Human Future
Technology and the soul (part one): Living in the Shadow of the Machine
Technology and the soul (part two): The Inhuman in our Midst 
Technology and nature (part one): The Unquenchable Thirst to Live in Gratitude: Digital Technology and the Afflicted Soul of the Earth
Technology and nature (part two): Synthetic Biology: The Assault on the Realm of Life

• These booklets, some of which are available as free downloads, can be found at: www.abzupress.co.uk/webcat.htm . Naydler opens-up a important and neglected subject here - the effects of digital technology, the invention (and purpose) of the computer, the development of personal mass media etc on human thinking. I would regard this as work-in-progress - because at present Naydler's analysis is stronger in its diagnosis and descriptions of the nature of the problem, than in its (rather imprecise and uncertain) suggestions for treating (and perhaps solving) the problem. 

Altogether, it has been a very cheering experience for me to discover that Naydler has been quietly working away on important topics, living in England (near Oxford).

Since the beginning of 2015 I have therefore made two significant personal discoveries of important, contemporary English people of around my own age who have been doing important work unbeknownst to me; the one other being Susanna Clarke, author of Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell.

Since I did not know them, there presumably are others I have yet to discover - which would be nice!