Jung and the Novel - Pilgrim

I've already reviewed two novels which either feature Jung as an actual character or have underlying Jungian themes.  When I set out to write Shaman Circus, my conscious intention was not to highlight the Jungian concepts which guide my life, but my subconscious had a different idea and now looking back, I employed Jungian though a good bit.  That was probably due to the books which most inspired me to be a writer but also to change my life.  Namely The Magus by John Fowles and both Alice's Masque and The Chymical Wedding by Lindsay Clarke.  
I read The Magus while in my 20's during the late 1960's, and it was and still functions as the most powerful novel on both my writing and life.  At the time I'd never heard of Jung and didn't find him until later when I studied astrology, thanks to Jungian astrologer, Liz Greene, but now Jung is a constant companion on my inner journey and the changes I make in my outer life.  So I, must thank the novelists who have the insight to offer this ticket to those seekers, who may not choose the literal psychological path but prefer their lessons in the form of stories (as Jung, knowing his own love for stories, approves).
 I've already reviewed Powder Dreams (2011) by David Nanney and The Water Theatre, (2010) by Lindsay Clarke and plan to review the following books over the course of the next few months.  Luckily for me in my voracious appetite for Jungian styled novels, the list keeps growing. The books I plan to review (at this moment, I'll add more as I find them, range in settings all over the world and in time periods which go back centuries (as in Pilgrim), through the the era of the post-modern novel and psychological literature up until the current day.
Here they are but not in the order with which I'll review them: The Magus, (1965) Alice's Masque,(1994)  The Chymical Wedding,(1989) Lemprierre's Dictionary (1992) by Lawrence Norfolk, Pilgrim (2001) by Timothy Findley  The World is Made of Glass, (1987) by  Morris West, The Game (1992) by A.S. Byatt, The Interpretation of a Murder 2007 (by Jed Rubenfeld.  

And now onto Pilgrim by Timothy Findley published in 2010. What a beguiling tale and Findley has a lot more confidence than I suspect I'll ever have in that he actually features Jung as one of the main characters and what fun it is, even as it's a lesson in personal hopes, failures, regressions, and ultimate growth.  I would love to be in therapy with y Jung even more now, as Findley presents the young psychiatrist as a complex character, at times earthy and peasant like, at others full of compassion and then also as the abstract mystical thinker combined with the sleuth of the mind that we've come to expect from Jung's own biography, Memories, Dreams and Reflections.  
And an even more of an uncanny gift in Pilgrim, is the main character, a mute giant, an elegant man both brilliant and refined, who is admitted to the Burghölzli Psychiatric Clinic in Zurich where Jung is just starting out on his career.  A mysterious woman, one of the two white ghosts, as Pilgrim's nurses aid in the hospital will describe them, descends upon the Clinic like the wrath and pleading of angels indeed, hauling her ailing friend, a tall man with wings, into the clinic begging for an audience with Jung and pleading with him to heal her friend.
Findley is one of the most elegant authors I've ever read and is the foremost author in Canada.  His prose, pebbled with insights, cultural, historical, and art references, augmented by brilliant metaphor and descriptions is so splendidly balanced with action, that the reader is mesmerized. The characters are so finely and intricately developed that one is held in a state of awe as each chapter unfolds, and their dialogue which can run the gamut form poignant to sarcastic all on the same page allows the reader to participate as if they are present, but overwhelmed by all they experience can't yet speak until after a period of debriefing the myriad webs and knots and tangles.  Part literary tour de force, part mystery, we are captivated and stumped by this Pilgrim, who must be immortal to have experienced such diverse lives and explains them not in conversation, but in a diary his friend, Sybil Quartermain shares and which Jung passes on to his wife Emma to read and interpret and Jung tries, often unsuccessfully, to deal with his patient, and other patients suffering from dementia praecox, as schizophrenia was called at the time, while at the same time encountering his own inner demons.
 There are many beautiful metaphors in Pilgrim, but one, threaded throughout the entire book, illuminates the paradox of a delicate but dangerous bittersweet hope, that of the butterfly, the symbol for the goddess Psyche. For me, in Pilgrim, never has the human psyche been more fully portrayed, explaining the various stages of human spiritual growth and transformation, which Jung knew so well having experienced it in his descent to the subconscious in the days of The Red Book. Especially poignant is the connection the pupa stage, where the caterpillar, while it must discover its true nature in its secret hideout, must helplessly remain without any defense against the cruelty of  the predators and even the nature of the  world, in order to grow into the being it was meant to be all along.  And the next stage, emergence, when the pupa disintegrates all around the new creature, leaving it highly exposed and uncertain, still wet, feeling naked and alone with its hard to understand new skin, if lucky may live long enough to unfurl its wings and become authentic, a stunning aerial creature of much muchness, the closest we can be to angels on earth, and what we were ultimately meant to be, if only we dare. 

What a work of art this novel is. 

Jung and the novel - The Water Theatre

As I shuffle the books I've read which have underlying Jungian themes or Carl Jung as an actual character, I have to wonder where to start.  Because or despite the fact that many of Jung's concepts and techniques are now a cohesive structured method for psychotherapy, they are also as highly diverse as he was, during the stages of his life both on an outward and inward scale.  
A number of the novels which feature Jung in the character line-up feature him at the pivotal stage when he'd broken or was to break his association/apprenticeship with Freud and delve into the subconscious, which led him to discover first hand so much about how the psyche works.
I've decided  to take the angle of the Mystical Tour, because this is the way I encountered Jung's techniques and my own subconscious.  I'm not going to start with the pivotal book which changed my life and opened my eyes, The Magus, by John Fowles,because, I must admit, I'm not ready to write a review which could do justice to The Magus. , however I will start with a somewhat similar book although it takes place later in the time frame than The Magus.  While Clarke's Alice's Masque addresses similar themes, I believe The Water Theatre may be more accessible to younger thinkers and readers.
The Water Theatre by Lindsey Clarke, and published in 2010 is a long awaited book and another which offers Jungian concepts.  Clarke came to some of these  themes to due to his own explorations of myth as well as his interest in Jung (as mentioned in this interview on his publisher, Alma Publishing Company's web page).
In all three books, which also include, Alice's Masque and The Chymical Wedding, we find the same subtle dangers taking place in both known landscapes, Yorkshire and foreign landscapes, Africa and Umbria when dealing with the psyche and the journey it must undertake to become whole. 
The Water Theatre is the first in the series but I want to offer it first since it's the most chilling and the most transformative.  
Three English characters in a town in Yorkshire: Martin, a young man who has grown up in a cellar apartment with working class parents, becomes the unlikely friends of  Marina and Adam Brighshaw, whose father is a wealthy diplomat and political author. Martin finds himself trapped at their home during a snowstorm and witnesses not only their privileged lifestyle at High Sugden Grange, but is also exposed to the outside world by another guest, a man from Africa who is attempting to save his country form political cruelty and domination. Martin and Adam met as adolescents, when these adult influences intrude for the good and the bad and direct each of them away from their true inner selves,  into developing personas later in life to accommodate other people's and society's expectations. While this is an attempt to undo the harm they encountered growing up, they later realize how heavy the cost. They each choose ways to rebel or be accepted in an unconscious way. They struggle to find love and someone else "knowing" their true selves, despite glaring flaws and mistakes, needing approval and understanding of their life choices. However this is not forthcoming and as they blunder on, hurting others as they try to hold fast to these impossible burdensome shells, they're drawn to each other, somewhere deep inside, knowing that within this triangle, healing can occur, once they have the courage to undertake the psychological process of accepting paradox in both the polar level but also in the alchemical union of lunar and solar, "the midnight sun."  
As they grow and engage in the adult world, now set up against a backdrop of both England and Africa at the time of rebellions, coups, cruel wars in Equatoria and attempts to rebuild, as well as the rest of the world during the wars in  Viet Nam, the three characters, now a poet, an artist and a war journalist, - still connected, yet torn apart- by love, yet fraught with mistakes, misunderstandings, betrayals, and loss. They all fall to pieces in different ways: break downs or rebellions, dangerous and risky behaviors and self defeating withdrawal. Eventually they feel summoned to The Water Theatre, in an ancient small  village Fontanalba in Umbria, Italy, a place riddled with myth, folk lore and mystery, populated by mystical priests, musicians, artists, elders; Sybils and sarcastic actors, but ultimately The Dream Theatre serves as a divine alembic where each may thrash out their mistakes, in the alchemical stages of transformation and individuation as they offer their confessions, relieve their guilt, undergo experiences of atonement and absolution and come to comprehend the nature of  forgiveness and understanding and finally come to acknowledge each true angle of their shattered psyches.
The Water Theatre, lush and eloquent in its prose, is also a taut and emotionally fragile story - as are the lives of its characters, the scenes can range from eerily beautiful - an enigmatic web of secrets, brutal and unforgiving, at times in landscapes where violence and brutality are the norm. Each character is broken, and through their suffering we are forced to see how deeply and tragically society is broken.  But over a forty year span, we also see how the life force will struggle, despite it's periods of despair and depression, despite one tragic enlightenment after another - we learn that those who will, can prevail and find a way to their true selves, stumbling onto the numinous as they wander, fall, and finally, find the courage to stand back up fully comfortable in their own paradoxical natures.

The Water Theatre, like Alice's Masque to me is one third of the triumvirate of novels which best explain the process to individuation which dates back to ancient cultures like the Egyptian, Native American Indians and the shamanistic rites of  initiation in every culture. Like Fowles, struggles with the concept of the, mystical mind, the introvert, as Jung described who must search inward as opposed to living outward in society.  And The Water Theatre embraces various mythological experiences: the Orpheus journey, the meetings with daughter, mother and crone.
While research Lindsay Clarke's Lindsey Clarke, I found Jim Murdoch's insightful and thorough blog, The Truth About Lies, where he writes a long review of The Water Theatre ( don't read too far until after you've read The Water Theatre though due to spoilers in my opinion).
At  www.theinterviewonline.co.uk ,  Clarke explains that like his other novels, The Water Theatre started with a dream, and he believes the novel is a primary method to explain the journey of  the mystical mind. 
"I think there's generally a misunderstanding about what mysticism is about in our culture. ... They think of mysticism as something rather strange and spooky and eerie in a way. In fact the origin of the word means healing; they’re rites that heal wounds in people, deep wounds to the soul, spiritual wounds. And that's what I'm interested in doing now is writing the kind of novel which by unfolding its narrative in a hopefully entertaining way will take the central character on a journey by which the ego-based life which he's been living gets called profoundly into question."

While Clarke's language is sensory and poetic, and the theme transformational, Clarke doesn't shy away from the modern day political arena of the 1990's, indicating that the transformation of each individual, ultimately has an impact on the transformation of societies. Due to so many compelling insights on human nature, The Water Theatre is one of those rare novels capable of guiding the reader on their own transformational journey. For even more insight into the development of The Water Theatre, check out this essay written by Clarke on the writing and background of this deeply disturbing and enlightening novel.

Jung's influence on the Novel - a plan

I've devised a new plan of study which I think will be highly entertaining and enlightening for me as a novelist (attempting to finish two novels and edit another.)
 I can't believe I've never though of it before. But it will be a study of novels influenced by Jung o the type of thought Jung taught. The idea came to me thanks to an amazing confluence of events, books, music influences brings the spiral around to one of those pivotal transitory times.  In the past few weeks, I've attended the Jung webinar on the film, A Dangerous Method, read a ton of books on Jung and by Jung, taken my granddaughter to art shows, cello concerts and have just had fun playing with her and her Monster High collection - all circling around, as Jung liked to do in his writings to view a concept from every possible angle.  Of course, with me the astrological and alchemical aspects are always flitting through my mind as I dive in and then attempt to stand back and observe. Books are once again fining their way to me after being referenced in some other, sometimes obscure volume and some quite by accident. New authors and old friends.  So now I also have a cache of Jungian style novels waiting for me even as I attempt to catalog and perhaps review the many in the past I've enjoyed and the particular stand outs (most notably, The Magus by John Fowles (unrevised edition - by far what I consider the best novel using Jungian approaches ever written - the novel which changed my life and which I read every year), Cymical Wedding and Alice's Masque by Lindsey Clarke in addition to The Virgin in the Garden and a number of other books by A.S. Byatt, not to mention books by Iris Murdoch and Doris Lessing. These all led, or sometimes even shoved, me onto my own particular journey into Jungian though and my own subconscious.  It helps that my dreams are cooperating as well, and I've once again started a dream journal, which I'd out away for a number of years.
The books I have waiting for me at the moment are Lindsay Clarke's, The Water Theatre, Timothy Findley's,  Pilgrim (where Jung is an actual character in the book) and Powder Dreams by David Ward-Nanney, where one the characters enters analysis, a topic which often defies description).   
Reviews and perhaps comparisons to come.

Art shorthand as character triggers

Eventful weekends are not only inspiring my writing, but helping me to get out of hermit mode. The Art Bomb, a group of art studios where some of the most innovative local artists work, once again had one of their rare shows in their renovated historic building in Greenville, SC.
 Often one or two of the pieces I see at Art Bomb shows will infiltrate my imagination and end up in in my writing. 
The pieces are owned or viewed by my characters. In Shaman Circus, two characters are artists.  Mavis, the Katrina survivor is a painter, and Lily is a painter  who also  creates 3-d sculptures in copper and pottery. 
 I thugged this concept from my favorite author, John Fowles, whose character, Nick in the The Magus, visits a house on the Greek island of Phraxos. The house's charismatic and mysterious owner, Conchis traveled the world and owns  large valuable art collection. However, among, all the paintings, Nick is drawn to the Bonnards.
When I first read The Magus, I was unschooled in art. I was young and foolish, and didn't bother to look up the artwork, but years later, after about my 5th or 6th read, knowing the painter and his subject matter (nude and semi nude women in the boudoir or bath) added layers to the scene. Fowles used the painting, instead of words to speak volumes for those who knew Bonnard's work.
Granted some of the pieces I mention are not internationally known yet, but I believe they will be or should be. my character's reactions to the art, is another way for me to do characterization, even character development. I call this technique art shorthand.
 Twice these have been pieces by Greg Flint, but the artists there always offer something which challenges my preconceptions about art and writing, which then filters into my characters mindset. For instance, a piece I own of Greg's and its message of the hero's journey is incorporated in Shaman in Exile. The piece and it's meanings are touchstones throughout the entire book, reflecting one of the main themes. The characters refer to it over and over again, and even carry symbols of it as a talisman. A second a piece I drooled over but which was eventually bought by someone else inspired parts of Fireworks, Interference Equation. 
I know a lot of you who are writers already use music to augment your atmospheres, what your characters listen to hum or play, but don't forget art.  Look at your favorite pieces and see what they tell you.  They may tell your characters something as well, who will turn around and tell your readers, thereby  making your writing richer, deeper, multi-layered.
I'm curious, who of you out there have used art in your writing....and how?


 

Magical Realism III

Magical Realism III


So my personal journey into the hypnotic world of magical realism came through the British, came when I first read W. H. Hudson’s Green Mansions. After reading the book I was enthralled with the concepts and Hudson’s audacity to allow the magical world to encroach on the real world. For years I searched for other such experiences in the literary world. I wasn’t writing much at the time, mostly a weekly column for a local town newspaper, but I was hooked and the idea of creating and populating such real places with magical aspects took hold. But, I couldn’t find many other novels like Green Mansions. So, like with much of my writing, I tried to write the experience I wanted to encounter. I was unsuccessful at the first three novel attempts.

Then I read The Magus by British author, John Fowles. A book which touched me so powerfully, I read it at least once a year, and have given more than 30 copies of the book to other writers, poets and artists in the hope it will inspire them to believe anything is possible as it inspired me. Many papers and discussions on magical realism list The Collector by Fowles as his only magical realism book. But I disagree. Fowles, himself considered The Magus his magical realism novel (as he noted in the revised edition’s intro) and I wonder if the writers who include The Collector in their magical realism lists have actually read the book. I have a feeling they’re instead citing the title from previous publications or essays. To me The Collector is far from the field of magical realism as it doesn’t contain some of the most imperative aspects of this misinterpreted literary style.

When I undertook to write Shaman Circus, it was going to be a dark fantasy novel, but as it shifted and changed, by its own direction, magical elements crept in: ritual and carnival, political uneasiness and tragedy in both the community and in many personal lives, struggles between the established civilized order and the spiritual needs of a population very different form the rest of the US, and then there’s the magic in everyday life – the means to help people cope with events too big for the mind to grasp. Small everyday ways to be able to breathe when overwhelmed. The story evolved because of what the characters could or could not do. There was too much realism for fantasy and I wanted there to be hope and healing in the face of the horrors. I didn’t follow any format for magical realism and didn’t even realize it fell in that realm until three years after I’d finished the first draft and a couple of revisions. Previously I’d written some literary pieces, but mostly dark fantasy and psychological horror. So this was a switch. Most of it must have been subconscious. I only realized it fell in that character when trying to write the synopsis to seek publication. Strange things indeed.

And things they are a-changing again…

When I started searching on Duotrope – (an online data base and submission tracker of over 2700 print and online magazines) for publications which accepted magical realism fiction a couple of years ago, very few magazines opted to publish such stories. Now each day brings new magazines venturing into this often confused and not fully understood territory and a lot more of them came onboard within the last few months.

So you do the math…