Literature and Theology
Lane Core, Jr., has made some interesting e-mail comments about Chesterton's "The Convert," and has given me permission to post them.
First, though, let me ask you this: When you read a poem or a story, do you need to know anything about the author?
One school of literary thought (called Formalism or New Criticism) says only the text matters, and that the author's beliefs, intentions, and historical context don't--that the reader should just look at what the text itself says. To a certain degree I see their point, because an author might utterly fail to convey what he intended to convey; and after all, if "genius knows not what it does," we'd expect great texts to do more than their authors intended or realized.
On the other hand, books and poems don't spring fully formed out of the void; each one grows out of a particular person's heart and mind. So, knowing something about the author can give us a deeper appreciation for a work, and a fuller understanding of it.
Plus it's just plain interesting to know if a poem has a special place in the author's life. And that, Lane tells me, apparently was the case with "The Convert":
But why (I asked Lane, a good Catholic) does he consider Chesterton's baptism unfortunate?
I'll post his answer tomorrow.
First, though, let me ask you this: When you read a poem or a story, do you need to know anything about the author?
One school of literary thought (called Formalism or New Criticism) says only the text matters, and that the author's beliefs, intentions, and historical context don't--that the reader should just look at what the text itself says. To a certain degree I see their point, because an author might utterly fail to convey what he intended to convey; and after all, if "genius knows not what it does," we'd expect great texts to do more than their authors intended or realized.
On the other hand, books and poems don't spring fully formed out of the void; each one grows out of a particular person's heart and mind. So, knowing something about the author can give us a deeper appreciation for a work, and a fuller understanding of it.
Plus it's just plain interesting to know if a poem has a special place in the author's life. And that, Lane tells me, apparently was the case with "The Convert":
In a book entitled Around the Year with C. S. Lewis & His Friends (1986), Kathryn Lindskoog quotes from the poem on the page for July 30 and notes it had been "written in the afternoon of this day in 1922". Chesterton was received into the Catholic Church, July 30, 1922, at Beaconsfield in a room in the railway station where the local Catholic congregation worshipped for lack of a church building at the time.Interesting, isn't it? The historical context adds another layer of meaning to the poem.
In a more authoritative source, the authorized biography Gilbert Keith Chesterton (1943), Maisie Ward quotes some notes that her husband (F. J. Sheed) had made of a conversation he had had with Dom Ignatius Rice, O.S.B., about the monk's recollections of the occasion: "He [GKC] wrote the sonnet on his conversion that day" (p. 465). My knowledge of Chesterton's poetry is hardly exhaustive; but I do have some familiarity with his poems, and I am unaware of any other that would fit the bill than "The Convert".
As was the custom (unfortunate, I think) at the time, Chesterton was baptized that day. (Conditionally, perhaps; I don't really know.) The baptism would have been by infusion; that is, by pouring water over the head. So, in the first line, his "I bowed my head" would, I think, refer to having bowed over the baptismal font so water could be poured over his head by the priest.
But why (I asked Lane, a good Catholic) does he consider Chesterton's baptism unfortunate?
I'll post his answer tomorrow.
Labels: Poetry
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