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A literary personage is neither the psychological outcome of an eery aery fluke, which may be termed “fiction”, nor bread swelled by merely leavening dough with the sour sweat of our foreshadowing brows, which can be named “mimesis”. Writers of the world, we’ve a bunch of easy techniques to hoist plausible personages. In my sight, for instance, Roland Barthes’ Mythologies has been a top-notch well of aesthetic wisdom. Furthermore, it contains, in a buttonholing way, some well wrought literary tricks.

I’ve been weening the time-honored distinction between ancient and modern art. Time, I guess, isn’t a keen concept to split art. I’m going to talk a bit about this. Will we be “modern brethren” within ten thousand years? This discussion could endlessly be enlarged. I would like to hie the piebald literary connoisseurs to regard the microscope, or rather the microscopical worldview, which was well imprinted on the curious minds of the Greek pointy-heads (the phrase “οφθαλμος σου απλους” in Matthew 6: 22, and the word “καρδια” in Matthew 6: 21, evoke microscopical images) and on the minds of a Leibniz, of a Newton, as the hallmark of the said artsy rivers.

If metaphysics is the morningtide of art, and if the whilom is arrayed by the minion ideas of soul (“Seele”), world (“Welt”) and God (“Gott”), and if these flapping cloddish concepts are the tokens of the three main cravings of the human mind, videlicet, the setting of strong adjectives, the hoisting of stout hypotheses, and the blurbing of cosmogonies and apocalypses, then artists are those who can depict objects by means of an original garb, arrange them in an unmovable manner, and homogenizing them without lacking of accurateness. An artist is, ere all, one indued with the wit to beget a new sleight, to contrive hallowed dispositions, and to harmonize sundry objects within a tale.

This piebald comparative inquiry is the kernel of two experiences with two wenches. As I was gallivanting across a rut of kennels of a street of New York, I saw a hairlanked black woman, and I wooed her by using my most poetical and knightly resources and polite letters. Amid that hectic cityscape she accepted my words, which at that moment were only an echo of a line of a poem written by Lord Byron: “She walks in beauty, like the night” (1). She smiled, and we are good records of love now. I did the same thing in Mexico with another coloured lass. Decorum does not permit me to describe her barbarian reaction.

I pretend to teach how I perused public opinion and caused social conflicts when I was a political propagandist. I will not do this anymore. I am repented. Our mind displays three fundamental operations, which could be called, for the sake of simplicity, “unions”, “separations” and “comparisons”. These mental movements carry two paradigms, namely: monism and atomism.

Technique is the main concern of an artistic writer, and subject-matter is the general anguish of a propagandistic writer, says G. Orwell^[1] (1). Art is possible in quiet moral ages, he says. Propaganda, therefore, is the fruit of unquiet moral ages, in which the “whole scheme of values is constantly menaced”. Such constant moral fear transforms the literary criticism, which is “judicious, scrupulous, fair-minded”, into something impossible. Objectivity, that is, “intellectual detachment”, is the origin of the universal masterpiece. Is the Defoe's Robinson Crusoe a technical and objective book or is it mere English propaganda? Four thesis extracted from our propagandistic experience will test the famous book of Defoe.

^[1] See The Frontiers of Art and Propaganda, published in the Listener, April 30, 1941. I offer Spanish translation in Don Palafox: donpalafox.blogspot.com/2018/12/fronteras-del-arte-y-la-propaganda.html

The Encyclopaedia Britannica poorly affirms that Melville's Moby Dick (1) admits “numerous, if not seemingly infinite, readings” (2), and that the keys to understand it are the biblical verses and names. This suggestion is based in the old hermeneutics, whose three mainstays are: “mystice”, “allegorice”, “symbolice”.

La escritora sudafricana Nadine Gordimer, Premio Nobel de Literatura en 1991, falleció ayer, 13 de julio, en su residencia de Johannesburgo a los 90 años de edad, según ha informado este lunes la emisora 'South African Radio'.

If the King Philip II used the expression “that lady” to name Ana de Mendoza, the Princess of Eboli, in a derogatory and revengeful way, Kate O’Brien gave it a different meaning as the title of her seventh novel, published in 1947.

Ten years have elapsed since I resolved to plunge into my memory the ensuing noserag-like fourteen sonnets written by Garcilaso de la Vega (1503, Toledo, Spain; 1536, Nice, France), with which one can palliate the snotgreen begotten by the wrack-monger blind Hap, by stubbornness, by the bedeviled industrial Romanticism swilled in Germany and France, by the stilted deaf Providence philosophised by Christianity, and by the uncouth ever-seething heathenism concocted by the warp of our wits. Such are the main themes of his poetry, by the way.

Amidst a rainy night I was reperusing some Encyclopedia Britannica’s articles, and since by hook or by crook, as the folkloric phrase runs, I always meet German mythologies and Greek stanzas of yore, I found a text written by Kathleen Kuiper (1) versed in the symbol styled “Rumpelstiltskin”, whose gast spends the tides of its life in the drudging work of turning straw into gold. I thought, then, our mind is like an alchemist who by the hair unites extremes without grokking how or why those brinks could be together.

The ensuing anthropological depictions of moral corruption, I hope, will be useful for those propagandists who are working on behalf of justice. This brief text is the result of my observations in the spheres of politics and my multifarious readings. Our mind, when we suffer an accident here, a misfortune there, a disgrace today, and the bitter fruits of our improvident facts dropping like a rain of pain upon us, tends to frame a metaphysical scene in which tragedy is the main protagonist. Tragedy is a system too, which sometimes presents a light in order to alleviate the painful life of humanity. This light is called, in accordance with the analyses of Machiavelli, “occasione” (1).

Henry Louis Mencken was a penetrating writer, who represented the crux of the journalism of America. Then, a philosophical analysis of his work will be useful to understand that journalism. To do this, I have perused A Gang of Pecksniffs^[1], which is a compendium of texts engaged against the hypocrisy of mediocre newspapermen. Our point d’appui could be this simple Kantian sentence: we can not know things in an objective manner. Our necessary representations a priori, like geometry and arithmetic, give a form and an order to the various data coming from the exterior world.

^[1] Mencken, Henry Louis, A Gang of Pecksniffs. New Rochelle, New York: Arlington House-Publishers, 1955.

The philosophy of Immanuel Kant is useful to knit literary readings. With some Kantian principles and without ancient erudition we have attained hermeneutic conclusions on Homer, conclusions which coincide with the Homeric opinions of masters like Matthew Arnold and Alexander Pope. Homer says (The Iliad, book three, translated by George Chapman):

The “logical thinker”, as Borges affirms (1), can find “patterns” in poetic metaphors. I will try to indicate some logical patterns in eight books.

Jorge Luis Borges asseverates in scarce, arid lines, that F. S. Fitzgerald, whose vital mission was “to be brave”, represents, more than other authors of the American Jazz Age, the World War I´s post-days^[1]. The Great Gatsby^[2], ergo, is a historic document. H. L. Mencken declares that the Gatsby´s plot is just a “glorified anecdote” developed in “bawdy house parties”, in colorful fallacies that are inhabited by “marionettes”. Such an anecdote is valuable, he affirms, due to “the charm and beauty of the writing”, due to the sentences, which “roll along smoothly, sparklingly, variously”^[3]. We will test these three adjectives.

Rosa Montolío nos habla en esta entrevista de su último poemario, "Las pieles y su instinto" (Lastura, 2018), candidato a los Premios de la Crítica Valenciana en estos momentos y también de su pasión por la escritura y por el resto de las artes y su compromiso social con ella misma y con la sociedad en la que vive.