And new philosophy cast all in doubt,
The element of fire is quite put out;
The sun is lost, and th’earth, and no man’s wit
Can well direct him where to look for it
—from “An Anatomy of the World” by John Donne (1517-1631)
New York Times journalist David Brooks has often meditated on our country’s moral purpose, usually without mentioning the tendency of Republican legislation to favor the rich and whack the poor. But it’s a fine subject, good for all of us to think about around Thanksgiving, in between listening to Oprah and Dr. Phil.
Brooks’ major point is that poetry, philosophy and religion no longer persuade or affect large numbers of people. Polls show that Christianity is losing ground to non-believers. The number seven has always been significant in Christianity (7 deadly sins, 7 parables, 7th day, 7-wick’d candelabra), and the Pew Research Center claims that in the last seven years Christianity has significantly declined: the “nones” — the religiously unaffiliated — have risen to become a “major force” in our society. They had a significant, though losing, role in our presidential election, lining up against the churchgoing Tea Party members guided by Senator Ted Cruz, a Southern Baptist. (Cruz’s father leads a church in Dallas, directing a multi-country religious enterprise called the “Purifying Fire Ministries.” Chubby Americans like the sound of it: burn that weight off.)
But these older organizational “truths” are having trouble standing up to the test of time, and as communication becomes progressively faster and wider — books, radio, television, internet — we’ve entered a time when Donne’s “all” really is cast in doubt. Christmas is a-coming, but “holy day” has become “holiday,” and seems to begin in October; bells began to jingle before the election. The very phrase “Merry Christmas” has become political, fighting off the more generic “Happy Holidays” like Moses wrestling Santa Claus.
Poets like Donne have seen this coming for a long time. The “new philosophy” has always been with us, but until recently the doubters were in a minority. This is because our imperfect population has expanded slowly, but is picking up speed and imperfections like compound interest. When one’s immersed in imperfections, they’re hard to see: that’s the air we breathe. Of course the world is flat: just look around. Of course global warming’s a hoax: look at that snow coming down! Of course men should lead our families and governments: they’re bigger and stronger! But, as our just-appointed Nobel Laureate in Literature has sung, “The times they are a-changin’.”
Bob Dylan’s appointment is another sign in this whirling firmament: even our idea of what makes writing “literature” is changing. When I heard the news, I wasn’t exactly upset (I’m a patriotic American, after all), but I did think, “Huh?” If I had been forced to nominate someone in the singing poetry category, I’d have gone for Canada’s Leonard Cohen, as the more surprising and mysterious writer (now, alas, ineligible, having died on November 7th). But I’m an octogenarian, and literature to me means books; and poetry means words, standing proudly naked on a page.
Still, the more I scratched my head, the more uncertain I became. Were the songs in Shakespeare’s plays not literature? “‘Tu-whit, tu-who’: a merry note/While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.” How about Robert Burns and other lyrical poets: Should auld acquaintance be forgot? I remembered that in the ‘60s and ‘70s, no writer was more influential on my students than Dylan (I’m afraid I sometimes chided them for that, to no avail). And like everyone else, I loved his songs.
I finally decided that poetry is alive, and live things grow and throw out branches. The tree of poetry is tall and has many limbs, high and low. And that harmonica player sure spotted climate change early on. Welcome to Literature, Bob Dylan!
Come gather ‘round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You’ll be drenched to the bone
For the times they are a’changin’
—lyrics from “The Times They Are A-Changin’,” by Bob Dylan (1964)
This article appears in Nov 24 – Dec 1, 2016.