On Love and knowledge (and the politics of the Novel)

In his forty-third year William Stoner learned what others, much younger, had learned before him: that the person one loves at first is not the person one loves at last, and that love is not an end but a process through which one person attempts to know another.― John Edward Williams, Stoner

Stoner, a book first published in 1965, sold 183,000 copies in translation in the Netherlands in 2013.* The book paints a pleasantly heroic (in the manner of Hutcheson) portrait of a quiet life dedicated to a single vocation (teaching undergrads) steeped in nostalgia for a simpler age. Unlike many campus novels, satire is not the dominant theme. William Stoner lacks what the Ancients would have called "spirit" (the most violent and, perhaps, best scene in the novel is a comprehensive exam); he is unable to fight for anything or anybody he holds dear or battle the inevitable changes he deplores. It is no surprise that sensitive, spirit-less readers today are so fond of this elegantly drawn portrait (ignoring the omniscient narrator's hostility toward the protagonist's love-deprived wife and her family).  One may well read the novel's unmistakable anti-war ethos as suggesting that inward dignified withdrawal is sufficient in order to avoid contamination.**   

In the passage above, the omniscient narrator moves from the individual at a given time (Stoner, 43 years) to the universal ("love is"). The narrator offers two claims that one can learn:

1. The person one loves at first is not the person one loves at last,
2. That love is not an end but a process through which one person attempts to know another

The narrator does not explain the conditions of such learning. But it is clear that Stoner's book-knowledge has, despite his love "of literature, of language, of the mystery of mind and heart showing themselves in the minite" not prepared him for the practical experience of the sexual affair with his student--rather, it seems that his book-knowledge has delayed the acquisition of knowledge of the nature of love. (Incidentally, Stoner is not portrayed as a predator; rather, he is blind to his own feelings (and the color of her eyes), and his fierce student initiates the affair with a "shut up and come over here.") Here I focus on the second insight.

After a half century, the word 'process' has been contaminated by consultancy-speak; so much so that one would immediately recognize an author's satirical intent if she put the words 'love' and 'process' in a single sentence. But the narrator's main idea can be captured by the idea that through experience, Stoner learns that love is not an end, but a development that leads to attempted knowledge of other. Surprisingly enough, then, 'love' is not treated as an individual passion (such as 'lust'), but rather as an extended, significant state of affairs. Given that Stoner has trapped himself in an unhappy marriage without the possibility of divorce, the affair takes on heightened significance. As Adam Smith remarks in his lectures on Jurisprudence,

The passion itself is as I said of nature rather ludicrous; the frequency and easieness of divorce made the gratification of it of no great moment: it could be to day, it might <be> to morrow, and if not this year it might <be> the next; and one might find another object as agreable as the former. The choice of the person was of no very great importance, as the union might be dissolved at any time. This was the case both amongst the Greeks and Romans. But | when marriage became indissoluble the matter was greatly altered. The choice of the object of this passion, which is commonly the forerunner of marriage, became a matter of the greatest importance.— The union was perpetuall and consequently the choice of the person was a matter which would have a great influence on the future happiness of the parties. From that time therefore we find that love makes the subject of all our tragedies and romances, a species of epic poems till this time. It was before considered as altogether triviall and no subject for such works.— The importance being changed, so also the figure it makes in the poeticall performance. It is become from a contemptible a respectable passion as it leads to a union of such great importance, and accordingly makes the subject of all our publick entertainments, plays, operas, etc.--Adam Smith, 1763.

John Williams wrote on the eve of the sexual revolution and the relaxation of marriage laws. He belongs to the last generation of American novelist-anatomists, who wrote under the conditions described by Smith. So, perhaps, another reason for the novel's success is that it speaks knowingly  about things we think we already know today, but may (if Smith is right about the significance of social institutions) be in a bad position to know about.

The narrator does not say if love is also conducive toward knowing another. In fact, through the affair with Katherine, Stoner primarily learns to understand and accept his own nature better. This leads me to rewite 2 as follows:

• 2a: That love is not an end but a process through which one person attempts to know another and unintentionally learns more about oneself as reflected in the insights and actions of the other.

A character's road to self-knowledge is characteristic of the classical novel, as taught by high school literature teachers everywhere.*** (In the novel the new age is represented by an enthusiastic and charming student, Walker.) You can buy essays online about this. (Williams taught creative writing.) The austere prose of Stoner approaches, thus, the very archetype of the taught, classical novel, which must focus on love, and, if Smith is right, whose age ought to be past. But given the felt need for inward withdrawal among the many that recoil from even modest reform, it may be too early to write a requiem to the classical novel.

 

*It was the third-best-selling-book in 2013. 

** Unless one reads the narration as offering a subtle indictment of Stoner; there are hints of this, but this is not the place to explore these.

***So, on the Smithian analysis, the age of the classical novel ends with the alteration of the laws and norms governing marriage. In Elizabeth Costello, Coetzee re-opens the nature of love for self-domesticated animals (recall).

Comments

[Mauricio Suárez]

This is a lovely post and in response I can only say: i) it really made me want to read the book, and ii) most of what most philosophers spend most of their time thinking about strikes me as infinitely less important than either 1), 2) or 2a) - except to the extent that we succeed in turning our relationship to philosophy into just this kind of transformative love affair. (Some of us try hard, and fail most of the time).

[Eric Schliesser]

Thank you for your kind comments!