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Doctor Faustus
It's finally come to this... I'm blogging about my blog about Thomas Mann's Doctor Faustus. I'm rereading the post about Chapter XXX -- one of the most important chapters of the book -- covering the start of the Great War and Mann's fictionalized reaction to that event, but also On the Marionette Theater by Heinrich von Kleist. Having now read The Brothers K, I see the influence of Kleist's ideas about the "grace" of marionettes on Ivan Karamazov's "Grand Inquisitor" story. A marionette's grace comes from a lack of freedom. The very freedom the Grand Inquisitor wants to save the faithful from. Or you could call it a freedom from freedom. The same freedom the National Socialists would offer the German people. From this context it's easier to understand how the Germans in general, but even the devoted Nazis, did not feel guilt or responsibility for the Holocaust and the war in general, because they had surrendered their freedom and responsibility at the very beginning. That was what Hitler -- like the Grand Inquisitor -- offered them. That was the irresistible appeal. Which, when you think about it, isn't really that different from the appeal of Christian cults that focus on the ability of the Jesus to Save you from all your sins. Total faith in Jesus or Hitler absolves all your sins and responsibilities. Hallelujah!And then there's death, or in German, tod. Thinking about "all this" (which includes all my blogging to date), I was struck by the role death plays in "all this." In the beginning there is the Romantic idea of death in Goethe's The Sorrows of Young Werther -- something I still have yet to read -- which is picked up in The Magic Mountain through Schubert's Die Winterreise. Faust begins with the protagonist on the verge of suicide due to existential angst. The Birth of Tragedy is largely about how both the Olympian gods and Attic tragedy were intended to save man from the belief that a quick death was the best outcome to be wished for.
I don't have a handy source to point to on the Japanese side (I'm thinking about WW2 now) -- there are lots of them, I just don't have them at my fingertips -- but the Imperial Death Cult was in many ways the most explicit in its desire for death. An "honorable" death, but still death. The Kamikaze fliers who didn't even seek out enemy ships but just crashed into the sea would be the most spectacular example here.
And I wasn't forgetting Michel Foucault when I said the Japanese were the most explicit seekers after death. One troubled philosopher isn't nearly as impressive as an entire modern society.
Even the Nazi true believers, as much as they may have sought annihilation, in most cases seemed to feel they had more important work to do first -- like Goethe's Faust, when you think about it. The Nazi dilemma was always the tension between Death and The Work. (Which, as I've pointed out before, is why the camps were compromised both in terms of providing slave labor and in eliminating what they viewed as sub-humans. In attempting to do two jobs at once, they failed at both.) And since this division of purpose -- or procrastination -- of necessity came from the top, what does that say about the people who took over the marionette strings of the German people? Is this a particularly bizarre and twisted example of absolute power corrupting absolutely? A society built on death but wanting just a little more life?
I should probably place an image of puppies here.
Getting close now
We are really at the fun part of the construction project now, things are racing to a conclusion. While I was at the gym the low area of the floor was built up with a fresh layer of cement. Almost all the trim is up in the unit, along with the heater and even the recessed lights -- I guess I'll never know how they did that. The hardware to repair the back door is sitting in the hallway waiting to be installed.I'm torn between wanting to keep an eye on everything and not wanting to get in their way, so I'm back at the Bank Cafe. I think I may have gotten over charged for my iced tea.
...An hour or so later
Arrived home to find them measuring the rear door to replace the whole thing because the outside bottom is a little rotten -- thanks to exposure after being crudely sawed off. Sent some rushed email and text messages to get the boss to re-think this.
While getting a new door sounds like a great idea, this is not an easy door to rehang. There are at least three hinges, a door closer, and the alarm -- plus all the signs. And it would all need to be painted. The inside is going to be painted in any case, but the outside is still in good shape. I think I've saved it. We'll see in the morning. Otherwise everything looks good. The only bad news is that the electrician isn't coming back to hook everything up until next week. I really was hoping the laundry would be back in service tomorrow. I have a load of clothes to wash.
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