Biography Presents Compelling Portrait of Life, Times, and Mind of Jean-Paul Sartre (part 1 of 2)7/11/2017 The rich flow of historical details, intellectual insights, and political dynamics that make up the powerful pages of Annie Cohen-Solal’s “Sartre: A Life” are both is primary assets and, for some, its principle liabilities. In the afterword to the Sartre Centennial 1905-2005 edition of the book, the authors lets us in on her adopted goals and methodology: “I adopted from the beginning, a different perspective, that of interactionist micro-sociology, which tries to understand society from the subjective side of its actors, proposing to trace the process of intellectual creation and cultural production through an articulation of the individual with the intellectual milieu. Above all, I sought to shed light on the conditions of possibility of a subversive discourse which inversed power relationships by bringing historical and sociological interpretations together… Within this framework, I decided on the following methodological principles: I would adopt a triple approach—phenomenological, generative, and holistic…” (Cohen-Solal, p. 531) It is a brilliant strategy superbly executed. The outstanding aspect of it for this reader was the propositions to “trace the process of intellectual creation and cultural production through an articulation of the individual with the intellectual milieu.” And: on the dynamics of possibility pertaining to a sociologically- and historically-informed subversive discourse. That Solal-Cohen was only 32 when she dared tackle the job of writing a biography on Sartre and stuck with it through the completion of some 524 pages half a decade later was worthy of a literary prize in itself. Her chosen framework, however, generates some of the same intimidating challenges as certain of Sartre’s tomes themselves––say, for example, his Critique of Dialectical Reason, or the nuclear astonishment known as The Family Idiot: Gustave Flaubert, which enraptured his soul throughout his later years. Just as the intellectually-uninitiated––as well as many who have crossed said threshold––are bound to find themselves confused and frustrated attempting to hold on to the thread of Sartre’s reasoning and non-reasoning, so are they likely to experience the same clinging to the hem of Cohen-Solal’s virtuosity as she constructs, deconstructs, analyzes, reconstructs, labels, and defines the mass of public and private components that comprised her subject’s phenomenal life. None of that should discourage readers from enjoying the mind-stimulating ride. Just as the intellectually-uninitiated––as well as many who have crossed said threshold––are bound to find themselves confused and frustrated attempting to hold on to the thread of Sartre’s reasoning and non-reasoning, so are they likely to experience the same clinging to the hem of Cohen-Solal’s virtuosity as she constructs, deconstructs, analyzes, reconstructs, labels, and defines the mass of public and private components that comprised her subject’s phenomenal life. None of that should discourage readers from enjoying the mind-stimulating ride. The Litterateur Par ExcellenceWhat makes this book so mesmerizingly extraordinary is the succession of dual portraits of Sartre as a flawed and at times wounded soul in contrast to him as the emerging-and-then-dominant French intellectual of his time. He was the litterateur par excellence who could simultaneously advance is working theses in multiple formats: as journalism, plays, lectures, philosophy, novels, and movie scripts. Yet he was also the doting son who saw to his mother’s well-being, as well as, the pied-piper mentor to aspiring writers, hopeful actresses, and political activists who would follow in his footsteps. In addition–– whereas he may have been properly lauded as a prominent member of the French resistance and unexpected author of Being and Nothingness, he was also an unlikely kind of Casanova and a borderline drug addict. Capable of deep loyalty to either an individual (as he was for a time to fellow Nobel Laureate Albert Camus) or a cause (per the Cuban Revolution) he could quickly and brutally eject them from his public and private embrace. In short, his was a unique personality unleashed during one of the most volatile periods of modern history and how the prolific author interacted with it on multiple levels is fascinating almost beyond belief. Were it not for Cohen-Solal’s insistence on balancing the great man’s achievements with his human shortcomings one would be tempted to say he was nearly larger-than-life. NEXT: For the concluding part 2 Please Click Here Author-ArtistAberjhani is an American poet, historian, essayist, editor, journalist, social critic, and cautious artist. His many honors include the Choice Academic Title of the Year Award, the Notable Book of the Year Award, Outstanding Journalist Award, and Poet of the Year Award. He is currently completing final edits on a work of creative nonfiction about the cultural arts, race relations, immigration, and human trafficking in his hometown of Savannah, Georgia (USA).
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In the debate over the potential repeal of the American Care Act, popularly known as Obamacare, mainstream media commentators commonly refer to the law as President Barack Obama’s “signature achievement.” Whether you describe that tendency as guerrilla decontextualization or simple disrespect, it mostly adds up to a miscalculation of the assessment of President Obama’s impact on American and world history. Said assessment is one which historians will be determining for decades, but for now, by way of introducing the 3 poems that will soon follow, it is enough to note that the American Care Act is only one of many key achievements spearheaded by Mr. Obama on behalf of his American constituents and his fellow leaders in the global community. How is it commentators so easily overlook the fact that under his leadership a downward spiraling recession which nearly brought the country to its red, white and blue knees was effectively strategically reversed, dropping unemployment figures from double digits to when he took office to the current figure below 5 percent? How can they so casually forget that his accomplishments earned him the Nobel Prize for Peace? ![]() That he became the United States’ first African-American president at the age of 47 is possibly less remarkable than the full two terms during which one generation was born, and another grew into maturity living without the assumption that a black American president––this one accompanied by First Lady Michelle Obama and their two daughters–– was by default an anomaly. The observation is more than just the most commanding fact to cite for Black History Month every year from this point onward. It is one of the most compelling arguments for ramping up improved lessons worldwide in diversity, cultural literacy, and peaceful coexistence. Add to the above the skillful application of leadership principles employed by Mr. Obama to repair diplomatic abroad and whether storms of race-fueled violence at home. Look closely at the risks he took in effort to achieve a diverse workforce with appointments of women, gays, Latinos, Asians, and African Americans to influential offices. And although he obviously boasted a bit when it came to his role as Commander-in-Chief, he was amazingly effective in his position as Chief Comforter following some of the most horrendous natural and man-inflicted disasters in history. Of the poems below, the first was written to commemorate Barack Obama’s historic 2008 election to the presidency. The second and third were written as it became apparent that his presidency was going to meet with serious oppositions of every kind: political, racial, personal, military, betrays, and more. Each of the poems are available in the pages of The River of Winged Dreams. Hope and Audacity Revisited The poem titled “There Upon a Bough of Hope and Audacity” was first published in The Savannah Herald after Barack Obama’s first election to the U.S. presidency. Ironically enough, the poem proposed that Mr. Obama was not to be compared to the great Abraham Lincoln, and yet one of the more noted responses to his re-election in 2012 was a challenge much like one Mr. Lincoln faced a century and a half ago. It was the challenge, whether symbolic or literal, of a growing call for different states to secede from the U.S. President Obama’s re-election was by no means a given. The battle to win was as epic a political struggle as America has ever seen, but U.S. citizens in the end made their choice clear:
Angel of Hope’s Persistent Flight “To continue one’s journey in the darkness with one’s footsteps guided by the illumination of remembered radiance is to know courage of a peculiar kind––the courage to demand that light continue to be light even in the surrounding darkness.” --Howard Thurman I. Wreaths of nuclear ash decorate civilian hearts with unresolved blood. Greed, crowned emperor, rules the earth with cold disdain for harmony’s path. War poisons the land like diseased minds downloaded into bowls of tears. Chaos, loving none so much as itself, slurps and spits dead souls like bones. What is belief now? What is faith that will not die? What news from heaven? II. In midnight’s orchard rose’s blossom the secrets that heal daylight’s wounds. Beats of broken hearts flow waves of revelation–– open gates to strength. Cradled in scorched arms, a soldier’s moon keeps its vows–– shines persistent hope. This love that God is curves in figure eights greater than both time and space. Death wins nothing here, gnawing wings that amputate–– then spread, lift up, fly. (from The River of Winged Dreams) “It was a savage scene, and we stayed there for a long time, watching life feed on itself, the silence interrupted only by the crack of bone or the rush of wind, or the hard thump of a vulture’s wings as it strained to lift itself into the current, until it finally found the higher air and those long and graceful wings became motionless and still like the rest.” ––Barack Obama, Dreams from My Father What once was blood streaks your face with indigo tears and lush midnight tunes. Holding silver hands, you compose a Tao of art that heals broken wings. Lips glow violet, open to reveal tongues bright with pearl metaphors. A speckled halo handcuffs the world’s best liars to soft dark passions. Music’s sweet labors give birth to a springtime rush of sighs rippling dreams. Out of your mouth rhymes blossom like warm paradigms already in flight. Golden, your songs, and noble; spinning stars on their axis of love. On faith’s battered back calm eyes etch prayers that cool a nation’s hot rage. Inside these scarred hearts genius flows incandescent waves of truth made real. Hope drowned in shadows emerges fiercely splendid–– boldly angelic. (The River of Winged Dreams) From the History Channel: “The 44th President: In His Own Words” Author-Poet Aberjhani is currently completing a collection of nonfiction narratives on the cultural arts, history, race relations, literature, and social and political conditions in Savannah, Georgia (USA).
Bright Skylark Literary Productions © 9 January, 2017 It took a while for me to think about writing anything in reference to the death of my friend Luther E. Vann last month because when it occurred I was already working on a different kind of essay about his life and art. Slamming the breaks on that project, going into a tailspin of grief, and then finally regaining focus took some work. These days a lot of people––maybe too many people––know that feeling of sanity-shattering loss. Surely, even as I type these words, the tens of thousands fleeing the inferno in Fort McMurray in Alberta, Canada, can feel the pain of it. So can others around the globe who find their attention directed toward the news of a toddler killed while fleeing a war zone with siblings not yet in their teens, a mother or father lost to yet another mass shooting, or a pestilential outbreak that suddenly changed with no warning whatsoever the spiraling course of human history. Psychic Interiors, Cityscapes, and MultiversesIt is because of examples parallel to the ones just given that I could not write a simple mournful remembrance of Luther. Like the psychic interiors, cityscapes, and multiverses painted in his work, he would have preferred words that reached beyond sorrow centered on him to communicate something beneficial to others. Consequently, I had to wait. But soon enough it became apparent that, more than anything else, he would have wanted an article (or two or three or more) that extended our conversations on the pitfalls and triumphs of living lives immersed in pursuits of inspired creative visions. Chronicling Legacies of Black Artists in Savannah-Georgia |
AberjhaniContemporary award-winning author of classically-styled works in history, poetry, creative nonfiction, speculative fiction, and journalism. Archives
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