El arte de la alusión

Nada más terminar de leer The Pickwick papers –un auténtico festín que no sé cómo he tenido en espera tantos años- se me ha ocurrido que a Chesterton debía de gustarle mucho ese libro y seguramente tendría algo escrito sobre él. Más aún, me he atrevido a conjeturar que el paralelismo de Pickwick y Sam Weller con don Quijote y Sancho saldría por algún lado. Bueno, pues no pero sí. Mucho mejor: en un hiperbritánico alarde de lenguaje elíptico, GKCh siluetea la cuestión cervantina con la elegancia última de no señalar:

He had chosen (or somebody else had chosen) that corpulent old simpleton as a person peculiarly fitted to fall down trapdoors, to shoot over butter slides, to struggle with apple-pie beds, to be tipped out of carts and dipped into horse-ponds. But Dickens, and Dickens only, discovered as he went on how fitted the fat old man was to rescue ladies, to defy tyrants, to dance, to leap, to experiment with life, to be a deus ex machinâ and even a knight errant. Dickens made this discovery. Dickens went into the Pickwick Club to scoff, and Dickens remained to pray.

En efecto, Dickens comenzará el libro tomando a su héroe como objeto de burla inmisericorde, un gordo bonachón y pomposo con tendencia a pisar cagadas de perro y recibir tartazos en la cara; pero gradualmente va modificando el enfoque: el ridículo explorador se empeña en mantener la dignidad en las circunstancias más desfavorables, aplica su código de honor (que es de morals before manners) sin reparar en los costes y mantiene por encima de toda adversidad una bonhomía rayana en la santidad.

El lector, no cabe duda, puede percibir esta evolución por sí mismo, pero Dickens la dibuja a través de los ojos del criado más espabilado, independiente y feliz que ha parido la literatura universal. Sam Weller, que no pierde su desparpajo ni ante un juez con peluca, se queda en varios momentos de la novela literalmente paralizado de asombro y ternura ante la ingenuidad triunfante de su amo. Y nosotros con él.

P.S. Por el pudor que da el riesgo de estar señalando lo obvio he vuelto a buscar en google textos que contuvieran Chesterton-Pickwick-Cervantes, y me ha salido en español un concienzudo ensayo de una tal Mercé Potau. Hay que estar ciego y encantado ce conocerse como sólo un profesor de Literatura puede llegar a estarlo para escribir que Chesterton, considerado como el más fino de los críticos de Dickens, no menciona una conexión entre Don Quijote y Mr. Pickwick después de haberse leído con atención profesional estas frases del Gordo:

(..) that our sentiments about Pickwick are very different in the second part of the book from our sentiments in the first; that we find ourselves at the beginning setting out in the company of a farcical old fool, if not a farcical old humbug, and that we find ourselves at the end saying farewell to a fine old England merchant, a monument of genial sanity. (…) For the fault in "Pickwick" (if it be a fault) is a change not in the hero but in the whole atmosphere. The point is not that Pickwick turns into a different kind of man; it is that "The Pickwick Papers" turns into a different kind of book.

(…) In other words, we do not mind the hero changing in the course of a book; but we are not prepared for the author changing in the course of the book. And the author did change in the course of this book. He made, in the midst of this book, a great discovery, which was the discovery of his destiny, or, what is more important, of his duty. That discovery turned him from the author of "Sketches by Boz" to the author of "David Copperfield."

E vs W

Y un poco más adelante, siempre en el inagotable blog del inagotable Sullivan (que entre que vengo aquí a copiar sus cosas y vuelvo ha actualizado ya un par de veces), un lector le da un interesante tirón de orejas a la manía orientalista, a cuenta de mi santo patrón, además:

I'm often struck by how people find in Eastern traditions valuable insights -- which is great -- and act as though they were not available in the West -- which is a little frustrating and probably a serious indictment of modern education. The lovely quote from your reader about non-attachment in Buddhism is almost exactly like the teachings on the subject by St. Ignatius Loyola in his Spiritual Exercises.

Since Ignatius is right smack in the middle of Western culture, he is of little interest to many who have dismissed such teachings a priori in favor of non-Western sources. This is fine if they find these same valuable ideas there. But it's equally true that Ignatius has taught hundreds of thousands of people for half a millennium the value in the ability "to conquer oneself and to regulate one's life in such a way that no decision is made under the influence of any inordinate attachment." He devised (or synthesized from sources ancient, medieval, and modern) a means to a greater degree of freedom from one's own likes, dislikes, comforts, wants, needs, drives, appetites and passions, so that the soul may choose based solely on what it discerns as God's will is for it.

Me gustaría ver intercambios parecidos en blogs españoles de altísima circulación, como es el de Sullivan. Hace mucho que estoy convencido: si la cultura occidental va a perdurar, será gracias a los yanquis, esos incultos comedores de hamburguesas y adictos a las bombas de los que tanto pero tanto nos gusta reirnos.

C vs R

Una cosa que me mola de los medios norteamericanos es que siguen discutiendo de ciencia y religión como si no hubieran pasado los años. Via Andrew Sullivan doy con esta diatriba de un tal Matt Taibbi contra la diatriba de un tal Terry Eagleton glosado por un tal Stanley Fish (nótese con qué hábil modestia hago ver mi poca familiaridad antes de hoy con estos autores).

Este excelente párrafo condensa admirablemente algunas de mis propias ideas sobre el particular:

As for the actual argument, it’s the same old stuff religious apologists have been croaking out since the days of Bertrand Russell — namely that because science is inadequate to explain the mysteries of existence, faith must be necessary. Life would be meaningless without religion, therefore we must have religion.

But this sort of thinking is exactly what most agnostics find ridiculous about religion and religious people, who seem incapable of looking at the world unless it’s through the prism of some kind of belief system. They seem to think that if one doesn’t believe in God, one must believe in something else, because to live without answers would be intolerable. And maybe that’s true of the humorless Richard Dawkins, who does seem actually to have tried to turn atheism into a kind of religion unto itself. But there are plenty of other people who are simply comfortable not knowing the answers. It always seemed weird to me that this quality of not needing an explanation and just being cool with what few answers we have inspires such verbose indignation in people like Eagleton and Fish. They seem determined to prove that the quality of not believing in heaven and hell and burning bushes and saints is a rigid dogma all unto itself...