In an introduction to a collection of writings by James Joyce on Henrik Ibsen, Dennis Phillips observes that "at the beginning and end of his career [Joyce] faced dismissal, disapproval, scorn, even ridicule. He must have taken a lesson and some comfort from Ibsen's having previously overcome similar difficulties while continuing to produce work which Joyce held in the highest regard." We live in an age when—as in any other—people assume that what is happening now has not happened before. Unique, unprecedented times for unique, unprecedented people. This assumption absolves us of the responsibility to engage in the arduous task of studying history. Everything is new and we are all fledglings; my opinion is as good as yours. Mine might even be better: I am offering it with greater ardor, I am declaring it more aggressively. Tell me that an opinion yelled down the hallway of a crowded building is not worthier of a response than one quietly uttered on a park bench to the bathing ducks creating ripples in a pond.
Jun 12, 2022·edited Jun 12, 2022Liked by Steven R. Kraaijeveld
Thanks for this excellent piece. I've not yet read "Enemy" but I just finished a volume of Ibsen, the last play in which was the (semi-autobiographical?) Master-Builder. It, too, is about standing alone--remaining loyal to the truth of one's vocation, one's vision, if not to ultimate Truth. I find the Builder, Solness, to be an even more morally problematical figure than the doctor in "Enemy" (as you describe him). He's full of misgiving and guilt about his unswerving dedication, his defiance of all opposition (which he persists in notwithstanding). There is awareness of the costs to others that one's choices incur. Standing alone doesn't happen in a vacuum. Solness' family and colleagues are directly affected. There is also a sense of the murkiness of personal motivations--strange ambiguous inner influences, called helpers, good devils, bad devils, trolls, are at play in him, and sometimes accidents or coincidences in the outer world seem to conspire fatefully with his own tendencies and impulses. I found it a play of rather eerie, brooding ambivalence about what really "walks in us" (to quote your closing quote) and makes us do what we do and want what we want. There's an almost religious or occult (or maybe only Schopenhauerian) emphasis on the power of the will, or of the wills of certain exceptional human beings anyway. But now your review will send me to "Enemy" to see if any such strangeness appears in the earlier play, or if it was an insight/impression of his later years. (I used to follow you on Instagram--I was martinomediocampo--but I've left that app. If I ever go back, it will be because of Bookstagrammers like you.)
Thanks for this excellent piece. I've not yet read "Enemy" but I just finished a volume of Ibsen, the last play in which was the (semi-autobiographical?) Master-Builder. It, too, is about standing alone--remaining loyal to the truth of one's vocation, one's vision, if not to ultimate Truth. I find the Builder, Solness, to be an even more morally problematical figure than the doctor in "Enemy" (as you describe him). He's full of misgiving and guilt about his unswerving dedication, his defiance of all opposition (which he persists in notwithstanding). There is awareness of the costs to others that one's choices incur. Standing alone doesn't happen in a vacuum. Solness' family and colleagues are directly affected. There is also a sense of the murkiness of personal motivations--strange ambiguous inner influences, called helpers, good devils, bad devils, trolls, are at play in him, and sometimes accidents or coincidences in the outer world seem to conspire fatefully with his own tendencies and impulses. I found it a play of rather eerie, brooding ambivalence about what really "walks in us" (to quote your closing quote) and makes us do what we do and want what we want. There's an almost religious or occult (or maybe only Schopenhauerian) emphasis on the power of the will, or of the wills of certain exceptional human beings anyway. But now your review will send me to "Enemy" to see if any such strangeness appears in the earlier play, or if it was an insight/impression of his later years. (I used to follow you on Instagram--I was martinomediocampo--but I've left that app. If I ever go back, it will be because of Bookstagrammers like you.)