It has been really difficult to get into any sort of “groove” regarding reading or writing. Lucid moments have been few and far between. I feel a weird sort of tension, for no apparent reason. In the past, I would have tried to write my way through it. Maybe I should try it again.
I’ve been reading my mentor Michael Kleine’s book, Searching for Latini. Michael was the chair of my Master’s thesis committee, and a big influence. But it’s strange to read a work of “confessional” scholarship after being steeped in a more hardcore theoretical atmosphere. It isn’t that Michael is less rigorous, it’s just that the form of his writing matches the desired result—a shared reflection, rather than groundbreaking new data/theory—making it hard for me to follow. It’s more aligned with creative nonfiction than academic writing.
I haven’t read that much creative writing in the last while, and I think that might be part of my problem with “brain freeze.” I’ve got to get unfroze, because I have a paper to prepare for C&W 2007 regarding Benjamin’s Arcades and blogging, and that should be (if it’s going to be a good paper anyway) more on the creative/reflective side as well.
One of the interesting things in the introduction of Michael’s book is the reflection on the importance of the twin concepts of exile and pilgrimage. Though he doesn’t explicitly speak of the contrary motives of being compelled to travel away from a place and being compelled to travel towards it, this seems to be a root difference between the medieval consciousness and the modern one. Travel, in the modern world at least, is rarely connected with either concept except metaphorically. The wanderer in Benjamin’s arcades can be thought of as exile or pilgrim, but this seems to be counterproductive and deceptive. But it’s certainly attractive as a metaphor—because of Benjamin’s own exile, and the fervor attached to his compulsive wanderings. But compulsive wanderings do not constitute a pilgrimage—that is the root of the creative deception. Holy places are not constituted by capital, at least in my understanding of the core terms. The concepts of pilgrimage and exile do not seem to be fraternal twins in the modern world; they are disjoint.
Michael addresses this issue somewhat, by invoking his genealogical descent from Patricia Mullins, one of the original American Pilgrims:
Although I would most certainly figure as The Pilgrim in my own rendering of my journey, would a relatively secular and non-allegorical search count as a true pilgrimage? And if I were not, in fact, exiled, but instead engaged in a search for an exiled rhetorician and teacher, could I trope myself as a pilgrim? But a sense of my identity as a Mullins kept nudging at me, urging me to see my search for Latini as one that had more significance than a tourist’s trip. (7-8)
For the purpose of his book, Michael must push the issue of his authenticity as a “pilgrim/exile” aside. But the question sticks with me. Why is the notion of “tourism” such a step down? Gregory Clark’s Rhetorical Landscapes doesn’t accept the second-class status of travel’s relationship to identity. My thinking here fractures. Benjamin’s travels were predominantly local, through closely conjoined countries and scenes; the expanse and diversity of the United States, its scale, lends itself to grandiose thinking regarding pilgrimages. But the concept of exile is roundly rejected. Americans forced to leave New Orleans sternly rebuffed the media’s usage of “refugee” (which by definition, was a true depiction of the events—people forced to flee are refugees), because of its implications of exile and otherness within a country where they maintained citizenship. Thus, there is a complex of opinions. Physical pilgrimage (secular or not) is sanctioned; physical exile is not. However, virtual (or metaphorical) pilgrimage and exile remain safe topics.
Ultimately though, it seems important that a tourist always returns home. The disposition of a pilgrim or refugee is uncertain. And contra John Wayne, not everyone qualifies as a pilgrim.
