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Photos from Blake Butler’s Reading

Blake Butler’s There Is No Year is coming out soon from HarperPerennial. The publisher hosted an event with vol1brooklyn at Franklin Park in Brooklyn a few weeks ago, which I attended. The Harper and HTML Giant crews united and read all of Butler’s book aloud that week.

I took the following photos on the first day.

giancarlo ditrapano, of NY Tyrant.

justin taylor, whose novel The Gospel of Anarchy came out recently with good reception, and that I reviewed both here and at Full Stop.

cal morgan, publisher/editor at Harper and editor of 52 Stories.

another reader. ben greenman, i think.

another reader. not sure who it is.

blake butler. For more on the book, check out his site. i particularly like Michael Miller’s recent essay in the Observer.

A Problem: Polanyi Defeaters

Let’s say there are two ways to understand the world: materially and spiritually.

Material understanding thinks in real, practical, commoditized, gain-oriented, market-going, exchange-valued, utilitized, consequence-based, pragmatic, luxurious, wanting, surplus-seeking, growth-inducing, ambition-promoting, what-can-I-get-for-X terms. Generally, material understanding sees the world economically.

Spiritual understanding thinks in ideal, divine, ascetic, use-valued, subsistence-seeking, need-based, balanced, sustainable, transcendence-promoting, virtuous, appreciation-of-X-for-its-own-sake terms. Generally, spiritual understanding sees the world socially-religiously-aesthetically.

A Polanyi defeater poses an epistemological problem for those that think they can understand spiritual statements. Karl Polanyi argues in The Great Transformation that the market system has been embedded in our social relationships since the Industrial Revolution; literally, that our society is an economy, wherein we interact with one another economically and not socially. If this is true then it seems relevant to wonder if our language, the expression of our social relationships, has been similarly affected by the market system. I think it has.

In a market any statement is understood economically. We explain and understand what we mean when we speak in terms of gain and exchange. If we accept that the market system is embedded in our social relationships, and language is an expression thereof, then we must understand or explain every statement economically. Furthermore if language constitutes our thought in some essential way, then by extension our thought is economic in nature–founded in material gain and exchange.

This is a problem. If it’s true, then I can never truly understand or express, rationally or irrationally, any spiritual statement. For every spiritual explanation I can give of a statement I can produce a Polanyi defeater explaining it materially. Any statement about truth, beauty, friendship, love, virtue, or justice can be expressed in terms of material gain and exchange. I can try to understand a spiritual statement, but since understanding requires thought, and thought is economic, then any attempt to do so will fail. And since language is the expression of social relationships, then this holds for anyone that speaks the language I do.

Granted, language is an historical artifact. Another language may be safe from the Polanyi defeaters depending on its history. But given the extent of globalization from early colonial imperialism up through our own contemporary  neo-colonial cultural imperialism, the chances of finding or generating such a language are slim. Even if I do find such a language there’s little hope, if I translate it into mine–try to understand it in terms of my own–the possibility of spirituality disappears immediately. Materiality is built into the fundament of my thought. The structure of my consciousness is material and market-oriented. No matter what I do, so long as I’m thinking, I can’t be spiritual.

For example: “Lily is my friend because she enjoys my company.”

Whether or not this is true, I cannot know whether the statement refers to some deep, spiritual feeling of friendship that Lily has or if she’s is using me for some end. I have no way of knowing if this is the case.

“The sky is blue.”

Again, whether or not this is true, ‘sky’ and ‘blue’ are linguistic entities. It may be the case that the sky and blueness are transcendent properties of an actually existing, divinely or naturally created world. But these words are subject to the market system and may have been constructed and formed over time to get me to see the world in a particular way for some purpose.

“Philosophy seeks wisdom.”

This, for me, is incredibly problematic. I can produce a Polanyi defeater for it such that the only reason philosophy seeks wisdom is for some kind of material gain. Though Socrates died for the idea that the unexamined life isn’t worth living, it turns out that in our cultural moment–if you’re reading this and understanding it–then we have no way of understanding what he was talking about. We can only think about it in terms of commodity and gain because our thought is economic.

The same goes for this blog post. It’s doomed. Tragically. I have no way of understanding if what I’m writing refers to something in the world or, because I’m looking to gain something from what I’m describing, I’m just using this “reality” as a resource for my own material gain.

The Best Fiction I Read Last Year: On Scott McClanahan’s “Stories II”

(A Letter from the Reviewer to the Author on 12/30/2010, used with Author’s permission)

Dear Scott,

You sent me your book, Stories II, a long time ago. I found the
unopened package hidden in a haphazard pile in my room at my parent’s
house on Monday and started reading it. I just finished it. I’ve been
reading a lot of books and writing in general by living authors and
this is the best stuff I’ve read yet. I read the first four stories
not wanting to stop, realizing I’d found something I like, something
human, tangible, real, something that moves, a voice I can hear saying
things I can listen to and constructing images I can feel. It’s calm,
present, amidst. Do you read Richard Brautigan? There’s a lot of
Brautigan, it seems. I love Brautigan. The humor that cuts, the
simplicity that fogs a warm fog, the embodied heart born somehow with
eyes that’s worn on a secondhand sleeve.

I’m gushing now. Oh well. I hope you can stand some gushing.

I worried about your name throughout the stories. I wondered: are
these his memories? Is this memoir, fiction, or, instead, the greasy
line where memory and imagination churn new possibles, where the act
of writing is a laboratory. Like this one time I was driving a 15 foot
Budget rental truck out of the parking lot of my old apartment
building because I was moving apartments and I needed to drive it two
blocks down the street to my new apartment building and unload all my
stuff into yet another apartment and I looked both ways twice to make
sure no cars were coming, I’m an extremely nervous driver, so I looked
both ways a third time just to be sure and I let my foot off the brake
because I didn’t see anyone coming except I’d forgotten to look down
from the height of the truck’s cab, I’d forgotten to look right in
front of me, and there was a man, a bald man, in his thirties maybe,
walking just in front of the truck as I released the brake and if it
wasn’t for his hands shooting up to protect himself I wouldn’t have
seen him, I would have killed him, or seriously injured him, but I
slammed on the brake again, and he dove out of the way. I think we
were both too shocked to say anything. He didn’t yell. I didn’t yell.
We didn’t talk at all. We just stared at each other like two aliens
from different planets. Is your fiction like what I do sometimes
–during a dinner with friends, or in the shower, or when walking to
get soy milk from the bodega–where I imagine hitting the bald man
with the truck, seeing his face bleeding on the curb, his bent legs
beneath the truck’s engine, his scraped hands spread on the pavement,
other pedestrians screaming? Is that what these stories are? Or are
they something else? I’m interested either way. They’re the best
fictions I’ve read all year, without a doubt. Thank you for them. I’m
looking forward to reading more.

Sincerely,
David Backer