Key-y-y! Key-y-y! Kiskadee: September 2014

(Cox, J. - Published in Guyana Art’s Journal, 2009)

INTRODUCTION

Edgar Mittelholzer is commonly remembered for the trail blazing publication and success of A Morning at the Office in 1950 which, as noted by contemporaries such as A J Seymour, generated an interest in the Anglo-Caribbean region and paved the way to success for other aspiring Caribbean novelists. He is admired for his great struggle and determination to become a writer: notably having 15 novels rejected before the publication of Corentyne Thunder (1941) and for his single-minded diligence which resulted in the production of over 20 published novels, one travel journal and an autobiography. He has furthermore been recognised by Gilkes for being the first to examine the role of heredity in the Caribbean ‘crisis of identity’[i]. Despite these achievements, Mittelholzer’s life and literature, has failed to attract the attention it arguably deserves. His affinity to all things German and in particular his attachment to classical music from the German Romantic era, represent key areas of research which require further attention. Several critics have referred to his use of Leitmotiv in his two novels Latticed Echoes and Thunder Returning as an example of Mittelholzer’s tendency to experiment with different genres but no one has as yet attempted to establish if or how music plays a role in any of his other novels. Gaps in research have also led to the false premise that his:

“…morbid preoccupation with sexuality, death, and suicide, gave his work a predominantly sensational appeal that tended to obscure its more serious or topical elements”[ii].

On the contrary, Mittelholzer’s extraordinary skill as a novelist will remain unappreciated unless we accept that sex, death and suicide are key themes and attempt to objectively explore why, within the context of his upbringing in British Guiana (present-day Guyana), these themes came to dominate his work.

Mittelholzer, as an author, importantly attempts to engage in extra-textual dialogue with his readers, and makes significant use of intertextual references as a means of doing so. It is by paying attention to these signposts that we, as critics, are able to glean a better understanding of what Mittelholzer aimed to achieve. Following is an example of his intertexual technique which also happens to be of particular relevance to this article. In Corentyne Thunder, the narrator invites the reader, via a character called Dr Roy, to refer to Olaf Stapledon’s Last and First Men (1930) and in particular to a section entitled Cosmology because it: “reads like a piece of music, the movement of a Brahms sonata” ^[iii] and describes the universe; “as a symphony now in progress”^[iv]. Once we recognise the importance of ‘music-literature’ to Mittelholzer, it also becomes evident that Corentyne Thunder is an attempt on Mittelholzer’s part to articulate through fiction, an idea that is expressed in the penultimate sentence of Stapledon’s book:

“Man himself, at the very least, is music a brave theme that makes music also of its vast accompaniment, its matrix and storms and stars.”^[v]

This musical philosophy is nowhere better articulated than in his novel The Life and Death of Sylvia (hence forth referred to as Sylvia[vi]). The ultimate objective of this article will thus be to highlight some of the musical techniques which Mittelholzer employs; to discuss what role these musical devices play, and to examine how they can enrich the reader’s experience of the novel. However, in view of the novel’s complexity, the discussion on music will necessarily be divided into two sections: the first, dealing with the overall structure (or skeleton) of the novel and the second, dealing with its musical contents (or body). In view of the dearth of research carried out on the life of Mittelholzer, and in order to facilitate an understanding of his work, it will be necessary to provide key biographical details regarding his ancestry and musical heritage. Following this will be an essential, but unavoidably general summation about (German) Romanticism as an intellectual phenomenon and innovative musical practice.

BIOGRAPHICAL BACKGROUND

German Ancestry

Mittelholzer was born on 16^th December 1909 to light-skinned Negrophobe parents of Swiss-German, French, English and African ancestry in the small town of New Amsterdam. According to his autobiography, A Swarthy Boy, as the eldest of four children, he “was the Dark One at whom [his father] was always barking or frowning”[vii]. His mother meanwhile, as though to emphasise his European ancestry, let his ‘soft’ hair grow as long as a girls. Mittelholzer’s saving grace was, according to his father, his German blood: “Just one drop in your veins, and it makes you different from everyone else. German blood!”[viii] His father, William Austin was quick to enthusiastically repeat, to his children, the discussions he had about Bismarck and Germany with his pure German ‘friend’, Mr Von Ravensburg. Mittelholzer’s similarly Teutonic Aunt Louise was responsible for his early education at the ‘Geneva Academy’ which she ran from her ‘Rosendale’ home. It was in her home that Mittelholzer found a copy of his grandfather’s German grammar book and proceeded to teach himself German. Though without doubt being a product of Guyana, his affinity with German culture, arguably exposed him to philosophical ideas which most of his middle class counterparts would not have researched or embraced with such avidity. Within this context it is important to recognise that whilst Guyana was a multi-racial society Germans were few and far between. He must have felt at times as though he was walking a racial tight-rope: though he belonged to an old coloured middle class family, he was simultaneously too dark to be loved by his father and within the context of the 1^st world war, too obviously German to avoid being teased for being a ‘Hun’.

Musical Background

Music (both popular and classical) played a central role in his family life. Louise Mittelholzer played the mandolin and like her brother, Albert, the violin. Her ‘Rosendale’ home, recognised as the hub of arts in New Amsterdam, was used not just as a venue for the Geneva Academy but also as a space in which she could teach the piano, hold cultural evenings and stage ‘serious’ concerts. Back in Coburg Street, Mittelholzer was encouraged to play the piano by his maternal Aunt Bertha, and as a teenager, was taken by his mother to numerous Town Hall concerts where jazz songs were played. In being situated directly opposite the Central Police Station, Mittelholzer’s life was regulated by the daily sounds of the Reveille and the Last Post as well as by the military band music that the police regularly played. However, it was his Aunt Anna, an active member of the Berbice Musical Society, who “made [Mittelholzer] aware of the beauty in music”[ix]. She would play excerpts from operas and operetta; pieces from Beethoven, Chopin and Schubert whilst explaining the character or meaning of each piece to him. Anna also notably played the piano accompaniment for silent films at the local cinemas that Mittelholzer and his sister were allowed to attend. Without access to a public library or children’s books before the age of 11, it was the silent film serials and Buffalo Bill stories which first inspired Mittelholzer to start creating stories. Importantly it was the music and the way that it added meaning to the action taking place on the screen, which captured Mittelholzer’s imagination. One other defining moment for Mittelholzer, which can’t go without mention, was his introduction in the 1930s to Wagner.

MITTELHOLZER & GERMAN ROMANTICISM

German Romanticism: The Artist

As an intellectual and aesthetic phenomenon, Romanticism and more especially German Romanticism, dominated Western cultural thought from as early as the last decade of the 18^th century through to the early 20^th century and was – as the biographical section has revealed – the musical culture that Mittelholzer inherited from his family. As a maligned, sensitive, broody, highly individualistic struggling artist, with a deep love of the Guyanese landscape, an interest in the occult, ghosts, fantasy as well as the arts – Mittelholzer shared many of the characteristics of a German Romantic. He presumably found solace in the Romantic notion of the often-misunderstood artist: one, who for the benefit of humanity bravely explores literally and figuratively, unknown landscapes from the physical beauties of nature, the dark world of the psyche, to the mysteries of the universe. Mittelholzer’s belief in the teachings of Yogi Ramacharaka[x] would also have attracted him to the Romantic notion of all individuals being connected - one to the other - by a divine spark that runs through us all and which links us more broadly to a “Larger Truth”: a Truth that can be glimpsed through the synaesthetic fusion of music, art and nature. Whilst Mittelholzer didn’t share a Romanticist interest in developing an aggressive nationalist spirit[xi]: he believed that German nationalism had already caused the world a great deal of suffering; it should be noted that Sylvia is remarkably rich in local colour (e.g., the vivid description of events at Mrs Gournal’s wake); grass-roots nationalism (as exemplified in the anti-British political ambitions of the communist, Jack Sampson); and folklore (e.g., relating to Obeah, the ‘Sick-Mamma’, Burroo Tiger and Jumbie Men).

German Romanticism: The Music

Mittelholzer, as a highly experimental novelist, was impressed by the major musical innovations that developed during the Romantic Era. It is worth outlining (albeit briefly) some of the key innovations of the following composers: Beethoven, Schubert and Wagner, particularly since they are among the composers mentioned in Sylvia. Beethoven’s 3^rd, 5^th, 6^th and 9^th symphonies were variously groundbreaking, whether in terms of performance time (which was significantly increased), the number of movements (traditionally four), complexity of orchestration, the range and density of sound, the music’s expressiveness and “colossal ideas”, as well as the introduction of human voices. Whilst music from the Classical era communicated abstract ideas and was non-representational, Romantic music expressed deep human emotions and was often structured programmatically around external ideas (from literature, art, poetry, etc) that told a story.

Lieder (i.e., songs for a solo voice accompanied by piano), were similarly transformed during the Romantic period. Schubert created a highly expressive form by allowing the poem, folk song or piece of literature to direct the course of the music[xii]. The piano became an integral part of the song, creating the atmosphere and mirroring the “inner drama and feelings of the character.”[xiii] Brought up in a theatrical family Wagner was the first to unite opera (not well established in Germany at the time) with drama. In attaching easily recognisable musical themes or Leitmotifs to various elements (characters, situations, objects) in the drama, Wagner was able to fully integrate the two separate art forms and in so doing produced what he referred to as a Gestamkunstwerk i.e., a synthesis of myth (or folklore), performing art, literature and the visual arts. One need only refer to novels like Corentyne Thunder, The Life and Death of Sylvia, My Bones and My Flute, Latticed Echoes and Thunder Returning, to realise that Mittelholzer was drawn to the linked Romantic concepts of synaethesia (the fusion of music, art and nature) and Gestamkunstwerk. Significantly, most of these musical concepts can be found in the novel, Sylvia.

MUSIC-LITERATURE: THE STRUCTURE (German Romantic)

Basic Structure

Sylvia can as Birbalsingh[xiv] has stated be read as a psychological thriller. It can also be classified as novel belonging to the tradition of the tragic mulatto, as Hernandez-Ramdwar[xv] has argued, or more straightforwardly viewed, as Gilkes[xvi] has suggested, as an indictment of Georgetown society. It could even also be termed a bildungsroman with a twist, since the story represents all the traditional elements with the exception that Sylvia never abandons her values in favour of assimilating into Georgetown society. These assessments are valid but incomplete since Sylvia should not be read simply as a piece of literature. The first point to note is that Mittelholzer structures Sylvia along the lines of a musical composition. Assuming that a contents page had been provided at the front of the book, it would in effect mirror the format of a concert programme, listing in order of sequence, the compositions that were to be performed: ‘Overture with Loud Trumpets’, ‘Programme-Symphony’, ‘Finale with Cymbals and Low Drum’. As with most overtures (the piece that is sometimes played before the curtain rises), Mittelholzer’s is intended to act as an introduction to a much larger thematically-related composition. The ‘symphony’, with its five parts (or movements) almost certainly alludes to the radicalism of Beethoven and in turn Mittelholzer for having integrated ‘music’ on a grand scale (as will become apparent) into the structure and content of Sylvia. Given the length restrictions on this article, it would be impossible to make comment on the numerous elements of the novels which mirror the structure of a symphony. That being the case, the structural analysis that proceeds will be restricted to an overview of the first part/movement of Mittelholzer’s ‘symphony’. This will be followed by a discussion about the ‘Sex/Sea Leitmotif’ and its thematic purpose; Death and Sex as metaphoric two-tone melody; the narrator’s philosophy of death and its relationship to themes which recur in German Romantic music.

First Movement: The Sonata

Mittelholzer’s first movement is structured along the lines of a sonata, in keeping with the traditional format of a symphony. This for the sake of analysis can be broken down into sections (i.e., exposition, development, recapitulation and optional coda) that are intended to perform various functions in the musical argument. In Section 1.1, which represents the exposition, three key events take place: Charlotte’s Godmother, Mrs Gournal, talks to her about Grantley Russell’s extra-marital indiscretions; Mrs Gournal dies from jaundice, and Sylvia’s brother, David, is born. The two themes (death and sex) which were central to the overture are thus reintroduced and set the tone of the novel. This section, bearing David’s birth in mind, is also intended to introduce a sub-theme on the cycle of life.

In the ‘development’ section of a sonata the harmonic possibilities of the exposition are explored, elaborated and contrasted. Sections 1.2 through to 1.5 signify this developmental phase of the musical argument. Represented are the moments in life when problems are positively or negatively resolved as well as occasions when the unexpected happens. Section 1.2 for example opens with Charlotte’s violent treatment of Sylvia and ends with her being persuaded to treat her kindly. Section 1.3, in contract, opens with Naomi tearfully telling Charlotte she doesn’t love Bertie Dowden and ends unhappily with her marriage to him. In Section 1.4 another example of negative resolution is offered when Sylvia discovers her request for a birthday party has been rejected. The unexpected moments in life are presented in Section 1.5 when Sylvia receives a surprise present; gets taken on a trip to the Botanical Garden, and invited to a picnic on the East Coast. The various emotions created by these events are effectively extended metaphors for the consonance and dissonance that is found in music.

Sections 1.6 to 1.8 represent the recapitulation component of the sonata; it offers a completion of the ‘musical’ argument and issues (or keys) that remain to be raised (or sounded), are brought to the surface. There is also, in keeping with the recapitulation format, a return to the death theme. The sex theme is reintroduced in Section 1.6, this time seemingly louder and more insistent, with Teresa’s contraction of syphilis, Grantley’s chat to Sylvia about sex, Grantley’s growing promiscuity and in the cadence: “Two people, a man and a lady, on their way to Dixie. For a little sex.”[xvii] Sections 1.7 and 1.8 importantly prepare the ground for two events take place later on in the novel: firstly, Grantley alludes to Mr Knight’s habit of fleecing widows, whilst secondly Sylvia becomes aware of her father’s reputation as a “bloody rake”. The death theme re-emerges with the respective death of Bertie Dowden (by suicide) and the prophetic death, in Sylvia’s dream, of her father. The final sentence of Section 1.8 appropriately picks up on the purpose of the recapitulation section by stating (in reference to a popular Jazz song): “The wireless was playing The music goes round . . .”

Section 1.9 acts as the sonata’s coda or in other words a conclusion beyond the final cadence played out in Section 1.8. During a visit to New Amsterdam, Sylvia comes across three photographs in the pocket of her father’s suit: all are of women; one of whom is naked. The shock of this discovery - a growing awareness of her own sexuality and Oedipal feelings for her father - concludes with Sylvia crying herself to sleep. This coda along with all the concluding sections of each movement is in effect, final comment on a painful and significant stage of Sylvia’s sexual development. In the final section of Part 2 Sylvia, distressed about the recent news of her father’s death, is then shocked to find her best friend’s partner in bed with another woman. Part 3 ends similarly when her brother, for whom she has developed incestuous feelings, reveals his imminent plans to travel overseas. Though inured to the adversities of life, Sylvia expresses dismay when in Part 4 she hears that her boyfriend, Benson has secured passage on a Canadian cargo ship. At the end of Part 5, her attempts to make love to Benson are fruitless, apparently because he can’t face sex before marriage. These codas ultimately feed into the novels, ‘Finale with Cymbals and Low Drum’, which offers resolution to her life’s struggles in the form of death.

Death & Sex: Two-Tone Melody

Sylvia’s death is significantly only one of many. Aside from her father’s murder, several other characters die from developing jaundice, tuberculosis, typhoid, pneumonia, from having a stroke, drowning and in the case of Bertie Dowden, committing suicide. By virtue of being the opening word of the overture and the closing theme of the finale, ‘death’ represents the tonic (or major) key of the composition and acts, whilst threading its way melodically through the novel in its various forms, as a constant reminder of the fate that awaits us all. From the interlinked musical perspective, death (the major key/subject) and sex (the secondary key/subject) function as a two-tone melody, both of which vie for attention – and at this level – represent the universal issue of conflict and the Darwinian notion of ‘survival of the fittest’ as articulated by the narrator:

“The weaker inevitably get crushed; the strong survive. Darwin and Nietzsche knew a few sound truths. They may not be palatable, they may not conform with Christian teaching, but the truth is the truth”.[xviii]

Towards the end of Sylvia, Mittelholzer uses this concept of a two-tone melody to connote (by reducing the intervals between these separate themes and by slowing down the musical pace through the economical use of language) a sense of pathos and of life slipping away:

“Dup, dup, dup! She knocked thrice. Solemnly. That was how a knell should sound. The dull thud of a hammer on a coffin lid. And I’m tired. Tired after a long walk from Brickdam. After a long journey from babyhood. Twenty-one panting years. I have a right to knock slowly. Deliberately. Virgin Sylvia. Dup, dup, dup!”[xix]

He also notably takes this an opportunity to question Classical representations of death; preferring the unthreatening low pitch sound of “Dup, dup, dup” to the high pitched “ONE – clang! And two – clang! The world whirling – clang!” that Sylvia hears. [xx] As though to win the musical argument, the ominous sound of death changes as Sylvia accepts her fate; she hears the sound of a kiskadee and smiles, until at last everything is “Profoundly quiet”.

Philosophy of Death

Since most of the characters that die only serve minor roles, their deaths don’t evoke a deep or meaningful response from the reader. This is very deliberate. Consider the narrator’s comments, following the death of Mr Gournal:

“It made no difference to the traffic or the muted voices. The silence in this room did not respond to the fact that another human had ceased to breathe […]. Somehow, felt it should have. Wasn’t death a big thing? A terrible thing?”[xxi]

This rhetorical observation is in keeping with the Romantic tradition, since it is an example of the author seeking and finding a ‘Larger Truth’ in nature. In other words if nature responded dispassionately to death, then death clearly wasn’t something to be mourned: even if, as humans, death caused unbearable emotional pain. Elements of this Romantic ‘weltanschauung’ or worldview are expressed in Bertie Dowden’s drunken spiel:

“When I ponder on [the thousands of downcast people] I wish I could speak to them – every one of them. [...] I’d say to them: ‘Why are you unhappy? [...] Don’t you know of the cool blue night waiting at the end of your travail?’ Hip!”[xxii]

From a twenty-first century standpoint Mittelholzer’s preoccupation with death may seem uncomfortably morbid and macabre. However it is worth noting that as far as nineteenth century Romantics were concerned, death was to be embraced and viewed as a peaceful, transcendent ending to physical pain or mental suffering. For examples of the recurring romantic theme of death we need only turn to Schubert’s Der Tod und das Mädchen (Death and the Maiden).

Death as something to look forward to (after a full and successful life) was also ideologically in keeping with Mittelholzer’s belief in ‘oriental occultism’ and not surprising in view of the bouts of melancholia that afflicted him. It should be noted, however, that he didn’t feel able to give full expression to these views[xxiii] and therefore tended to employ more mainstreams sources in support of his thesis: e.g., “Oh, Death, where is thy sting?”[xxiv] Death importantly works on a secondary level when analysed in conjunction to sex as Libido (aka Freud) and will be addressed as necessary later on in the paper.

The Sex-Sea Leitmotif

Mittelholzer adopts Wagner’s leitmotif technique to reinforce the idea of music being inextricably linked to life. In scenes where sexual activity is taking place, reference is nearly always made to the sea (or words associated with the sea). The Sex-Sea link was presumably made because couples in Georgetown often drove to the Sea Wall for “a little bit of sex”. In terms of its visual connotation (waves), it rhythmically simulates the sexual act whilst playing on the auditory senses (i.e., the crashing waves), and importantly fulfils the musical element of a leitmotif. Benson’s sexual inexperience is thus reinforced when he asks Sylvia to join him at the canal in Plantation Ruimveldt instead of spending time by the sea. Her quick exit from the canal – she is timid swimmer – is similarly symbolic of her inability to seduce Benson. The sexual tension that rises in Sylvia is, conversely, equated to the sea. We realise, in view of the sea’s vastness and proximity how powerful her sexual urge is, despite her decision to suppress it:

“...she trembled in her frustration.

She listened to the roar of the waves, and tried to let the sound – it had a dramatic grandeur – distract her senses from the physical.”[xxv]

Sylvia remains a virgin until death and it is no coincidence that her final attempt at sexual union with Benson takes place at, the symbolically pertinent, Brickdam. Interestingly when reference is made to the ‘nigger-yard’ where none of the residents suffer from the sexual inhibitions generally attributed to the coloured middle class, the sex leitmotif is often present but hidden, as it were, in jazz songs. Jazz songs such as Red Sails in the Sunset or Moon over Miami, which are being played over the wireless, provide background music as an accompaniment to the unfolding drama, in much the same way as a film’s soundtrack. The lyrics for these jazz songs, though not recorded in the novel, intertextually highlight the link between love, sex and the sea that already exists as a wider cultural phenomenon: “Red sails in the sunset, way out on the sea / Oh, carry my loved one home safely to me” and “Moon over Miami / Shine on my love and me / So we can stroll beside the roll / Of the rolling sea”[xxvi]. In effect, and in view of their contextual relevance, the author presents, a sophisticated ‘“short-cut’ device, through which he can emphasise how normal and ever-present sex is without expressly needing to say so. Mittelholzer takes the important precaution of selecting highly popular songs from the 1930s which many of his readers would have heard.[xxvii]

Sex as Theme

It is worth taking a moment to appreciate why sex should be considered to be a central theme in Mittelholzer’s work and not a sensationalist ‘sextravaganzas’, as argued by critics like Sparer[xxviii]. In A Swarthy Boy Mittelholzer reflects on the deeply Victorian and sexually repressed character of the coloured middle classes during the early 1900s: “Sex was an unpleasant rumour that seldom, and only accidentally, penetrated into respectable drawing rooms.”[xxix] Mittelholzer clearly believed this inability to treat sex as a normal function forced some (including close members of his family) to lead sexually unfulfilled lives. Mittelholzer, as a naturist, was presumably comfortable with his body (though this doesn’t necessarily apply to his sexuality[xxx]), evidently felt the need for sex to be normalised:

“Men have taken sex, a natural function, and, by attitude of mind, converted it into something obscene. [...] It seems to me feasible that sex should by now have come to be regarded as a normal, healthy bodily function and treated as such. Instead, despite skyscrapers, television, jet-bombers and all the other indications of “advancement” and “progress”, sex is still being whispered about, is still a subject for shame. Newspapers and magazines are still forbidden to print words or pictures that are “too frank”. Sex is still a subject for “off-colour” stories. The authorities lay down set rules – in the name of “public morals” – as to what can and cannot be exhibited or spoken on radio, television, stage and screen!” [xxxi]

He presumably hoped, through his writing, to transform sex into an everyday topic so that it would be considered a normal, unremarkable function of life.

Sylvia is thus – on one level – used as a forum through which he can raise or comment on a broad spectrum of sexual issues: perversions such as the Oedipus complex, incest, sado-masochism; negative sexual practices such as prostitution (Teresa notably contracts syphilis), adultery (Grantley Russell is subsequently murdered) and sexual harassment; as well as repressive moralistic attitudes which forbid sex before marriage. It is contextually significant that Sylvia is never able to confide in anyone about the sexual harassment she is subjected (i.e., by Mr Dikran and Mr Knight). The ultimate irony is that Sylvia could easily have ended up as a mistress or a prostitute, yet when the opportunity for her to engage in healthy sex arises (i.e, between her and Benson) it is scuppered by Benson’s repressive sexual mores, and leads in effect to her death. Within this context, it is important to recognise that a more significant secondary level message is conveyed when the sex theme is read as a Freudian metaphor for the libido (i.e., creative essence). This aspect of the sex theme will be addressed in more detail in the following section of the article.

MUSIC-LITERATURE: THE BODY (Guyanese)

This section of the article will focus on the way Mittelholzer successfully engages with (and reconstructs) Stapledon’s musical philosophy through symbolic instrumentation. Representations of musical dissonance, and their symbolic function, will additionally be explored, followed by an examination of how Mittelholzer’s use (or indeed deliberate absence) of ‘music’, intertextual or otherwise, adds depth to the characterisation of three particular protagonists: Grantley Russell, Sylvia Russell and Charlotte Timmers; whilst presenting (on another level) messages which serve a universal purpose. Before doing it should be highlighted that whilst the novel’s structure is heavily influenced by classical music from the German Romantic Era, its overall tone is irrepressibly Guyanese and that the music we predominantly ‘hear’ are popular tunes from the 1930s. Jazz pieces like: Lullaby of the Leaves, Stormy Weather, Red Sails in the Sunset, Moon over Miami, The Music goes Round and Round, Love is the Sweetest Thing, Thanks a Million, A Pretty Girl is like a Melody, Thanks for the Memories, Oh Daddy, When I Grow too Old to Dream as well as songs and hymns, respectively like: “Daisy! Daisy! Give me your answer true!” and “Oh Happy Band of Pilgrims” are, for example, regularly played on the gramophones or wirelesses of local residents. The soundtracks, with their generally upbeat tempos, tend to divert our attention from the ‘death theme’ and add to already vivid sights, sounds, and smells of the general milieu.

Music as Philosophy

‘Music’ is woven into the fabric of the novel in several ways. One quickly realises that virtually every object that appears in the narrative is viewed symbolically as an acoustic instrument with its own unique tone, and that the author is careful to record sound-details that might in more traditional literature go unmentioned. For instance:

“The tin sauce-pan went clink-clink as Janie lifted the lid to see how the rice was getting on.”^[xxxii]

Apart from stimulating auditory imagery in the readers mind the ‘instruments’ when brought together, symbolically represent an orchestra, whilst the sounds they simultaneously make, are akin to musical chords and act as an accompaniment to the drama that is unfolding:

“Poultry sounds came up from the back-yard. Duck-quacking and the squawk of a hen, the throaty gurgle of a rooster. Far off a dog was barking, the jerky gruffness of the sound blending with the low rumble of symphonic music being played next door on the Hammonds’ gramophone.”^[xxxiii]

These musical chords are notably, repeated in variations and at large enough intervals to prevent the reader from consciously registering similarities in text (this would presumably have the effect of tiring the reader), whilst simultaneously becoming aware of the inherent musicality of Georgetown:

“She heard dogs barking, pigeons moaning, roosters sending yearning coils of sound through the half-gloom of a back-yard. From a large white house came piano music. Frail and tinselly Chopin.”^[xxxiv]

Mittelholzer importantly presents three distinct types of instrument: those with a ‘voice’ (the people and animals); those which only make sounds when other forces come into play (e.g., the rustling of leaves brought on by wind); and those like solitary (metaphorically meditative) stars which, in maintaining their distance, are forever silent.

These silent musical ‘instruments’ are as important to the narrative as the acoustic ‘instruments’. In the example that follows, ‘silence’, brings section 8 of the 5th movement to a lingering end by way of word repetition.

“She watched the stars again. They looked so passive. Cool-blue and aloof. Like the earth and its waterish smells, and the leaves unmoving in the night. Like cabbage palms and breadfruit trees, the star-apple trees. Like long purple clouds at sunset. Silently intelligent. Always silently.”[xxxv]

The reader’s thoughts are left hanging on the final notes: “Silently intelligent. Always silently” and just like Sylvia, we are left pondering in awe of the mysteries of the universe. This passage appropriately contains the requisite ingredients for the synaesthetic perception of ‘Larger Truths’. In perhaps a private note to self (i.e., the author), these passive, “cool-blue and aloof” instruments symbolically represent their disinterest in the petty concerns of mankind as well as the perfect state for a Yogi to aspire.

Music as Concept

In the attempt to create harmony and discord in the narrative Mittelholzer draws upon musical science: in basic terms, the concept that tones which share the same wavelength create harmony whilst those that don’t, as in the example below, create dissonance:

“Now it was Stormy weather. And Mrs France was playing Oh, happy band of pilgrims – and a car in High Street streaked it all out with a long blare on its horn. Two kiskadees were fighting in the star-apple tree – or it might be a little sex they were after. She heard Henry Madhoo and his friend shouting.”[xxxvi]

This passage, within the context of Grantley Russell’s concerns about the ‘Widow-Fleecer’ (Mr Knight), represents the discord that is presently in his life. Several other messages are however conveyed by the juxtaposition of the sad jazz song with a happy religious hymn and fighting birds/people (creating high pitch sounds). The most important relates once again to the synaesthetic presence of a ‘Larger Truth’; that is, whilst discord is an unpleasant aspect of the human existence, it is in keeping with the laws of nature, and absolutely vital to our creativity. Hence the reference to the fighting birds and sex (whose purpose in nature is creation).

The prolonged absence of dissonance and struggle is creative stagnation and represents one of the fears Mittelholzer had about the state of middle-class society in Guyana. It is the working-class – who through portrayals of the ‘nigger-yard’ and Jack Sampson – are shown to be virile fighters. Jack makes a meteoric rise in society; emerging from the nigger-yard to become a Town Councillor with his own boat building business and paid up cottage. It is ironically Jack, the so-called lower-class member of Georgetown society who berates the middle-class for their complacency and lack of political consciousness. When Sylvia shrugs off his advice that she should join the Clerk’s Union, he remarks:

“You see dat! Same old story! Passivity! Indifference! Look, Sylvie, you know why we in dis colony can’t develop all de jungle-country we got?”[xxxvii]

Whilst the middle-class protagonist Sylvia rightly attempts to live by her own principles, she is unable to reach her full potential because she responds passively to the status quo instead of fighting back. Her failure to reach full potential is represented through her sexual ‘dysfunctionality’ (i.e., Oedipal complex and incest) and inability to consummate a healthy sexual relationship with Benson. Mittelholzer is making the Freudian case[xxxviii] – through the use once again of extended metaphor – that when a society’s full libido, (i.e., the creative essence of being) becomes stifled, the death-wish instinct is activated and given the opportunity to rise up. If allowed to take over, it culminates in the annihilation of the individual/society. This battle between the libido and the death-wish, of course, brings us back full circle to Mittelholzer’s symphony and the concept that music is in everything.

Whilst periods of dissonance, are viewed by Mittelholzer, as a vital aspect of human existence and more broadly speaking a universal law of both nature and music – he is also aware that prolonged and/or extreme periods of discord are not only distressing for the individual/group/society but also highly destructive. This is powerfully communicated in the following passage:

“A crisis was coming. […] She could hear it in the long showers that dribbled monotonously on the roof hour after hour, sometimes for a whole day and night without break. It was in the uneven swish and jolt of the tyres of cars in the mud and rocks of Fort Street. Something in the very timbre of the B.B.C announcer’s voice seemed to foretell it amid the trail of depressing news. . . . The Nazis in Yugo-Slavia. In Greece, In Crete. . . . Hitler had invaded Russia. . . . The very birds chirruped a warning: the thrush that in the early morning sang of rain to come – rain that always came – the twitter and cheep of blue sackies, the shrill, questioning cry of kiskadees^[xxxix].” [xl]

The atmosphere of impending doom is reinforced by the references to World War II: in terms of the auditory connotations we can hear the bombs exploding and share in the sense of physical conflict, whilst the kiskadee appears to be screaming ‘why?!’. This scene, presented as a tragic, almost cinematic audio-visual experience, is replete with pathos and is arguably attempting to evoke a physiological response in the reader:

“Pathos is the appeal most likely to get the audience to actually do something. Logos may convince them of an idea's usefulness or truthfulness, and ethos may convince them that the idea is being presented for their own good, but it is pathos that activates the urge to respond.”[xli]

Operating on several levels, it mostly importantly highlights that the middle-classes, as represented by Sylvia, are on the road to self-destruction because of their complacency, and need to take note of this warning. Thus, in keeping with the traditional characteristics of a Romantic figure, Mittelholzer assumes the role of prophet as well as leader.

Music as Characterisation

Mittelholzer’s intertextual references to music often act as a form of ‘shorthand’; cutting down on the need for extensive textual explanations or descriptions, whilst enabling readers to connect with the emotions of characters, whose inner thoughts, aren’t available to us. Grantley Russell, who is primarily used as the author’s spokesperson, provides exemplification of this. Despite being a highly importantly figure in the key protagonist’s life, we like his child Sylvia, know little about the ‘emotional’ world he lives in. Thus when Grantley Russell whistles Stormy Weather[xlii], a sad, brooding song, we for the first time see beyond his outside persona and become conscious of an unexplained but evidently deep sadness. An excerpt of the lyrics, for those unfamiliar, with Stormy Weather is quoted below:

Life is bare, gloom and misery everywhere
Stormy Weather
Just can’t get my poor old self together,
I’m weary all the time,
Every time, so weary all of the time.[xliii]

It is important to recognise that popular music is also symbolic, in Sylvia, of complacency. The narrative designation of this song to Grantley Russell is timely and corresponds with a stage in the novel when he is thoughtlessly overindulging in destructive sexual impulses. As a sexual predator he is effectively destroying the sexual relationships of local people. As a British expatriate, brought in to take over jobs which local Guyanese can do, he is (aka Freud) effectively stifling local creativity and must be literally killed off and left to repent at leisure in the Le Repentir cemetery.

One aspect of the novel which is particularly successful is Mittelholzer’s use of music to enhance our understanding of Sylvia’s inner thoughts and actions. In the scene for example where Benson and Sylvia (now both teenagers) go swimming near Ruimveldt, she decides to seduce him. The trees make “soft creaking noises” and as two branches strain against each, the reader anticipates the direction of Sylvia’s flirtations. However, instead of exuding confidence Sylvia responds with a croak to Benson’s questions. She attempts to curtail her self-conscious laughter, stretches out her arms (in the pretence of doing warming up exercises) and awkwardly drops them by her side so as to draw attention to her trembling breasts. She whistles the tune Stormy Weather – attempting to create an air of maturity and ultra-sophistication – but because of the memories the song evokes about her belated father, her mood darkens and the moment of sexual tension destroyed. This scene is intended as a reminder that Sylvia’s Oedipal love of her father is unhealthy and is obviously by extension, a reference to the coloured middle-classes’ attachment to Britain. The author’s message is that if Guyana is to begin creating a viral society and move towards economic/political independence, it must overcome its Oedipal complex.

The use of ‘music’ or lack of it, as a way of characterising Sylvia’s mother, Charlotte, is interesting. The first notable point is that her destiny mirrors the ‘life cycle’ theme that was presented in Mittelholzer’s first movement. Charlotte begins life in Fort(ress) Street, which because of its link to the sex-sea leitmotif, symbolises the absence of sex and therefore all creativity. The opportunity to develop creatively increases when, after falling pregnant, she moves to Broad Street and then finally Kingston Street, following her marriage to Grantley Russell. Grantley Russell, as an extended metaphor for Europe has, despite all his faults, much to offer at Libidinal/creative level. Since Charlotte doesn’t take advantage of the opportunities presented by their relationship, she is destined to return back to Fort Street after his death. The second recognisable point is that she is never associated with pleasant music: jazz, Romantic-classic or otherwise. When she isn’t dramatically shrieking as exemplified below, she is generally presented as languishing at home, gossiping with friends, moaning about the ingratitude of others and feeling sorry for herself:

“It made her shriek more often and louder. As soon as Uncle had announced the death Charlotte had exclaimed as though not even aware that God-mother had been ill. Then she had shrieked. Clapped her hands together. Tore at her hair. Collapsed on the floor with a whimper that, without warning, rose to another penetrating shriek.” [xliv]

When she does finally break into song (during a bout of malaria), the narrator takes this opportunity, in a derogatory tone, to reinforce just how creatively dead she is:

“Oh, madam, I hear that cocks do crow-w-w-w! Do crow-w-w-w!

“Oh, madam, I hear that cocks do crow-w-w-w!

“Around your cunt . . . ree-ee-ee garden!”[xlv]

If we apply a Freudian interpretation, we soon realise that the crude elementary song is expressing surprise at the notion that sex (ergo creativity) is an activity that actually goes on. Charlotte thus becomes, at a deeper level, a symbol of the type of person Mittelholzer deplores and who, perhaps like his mother and New Amsterdam counterparts, attempted to squash his ambition to be a writer. We can extrapolate from the words of Milton that Sylvia offered Mittelholzer the perfect forum within which to seek retribution:

“The bourgeoisie are close on my heels…/ They’d like to see me rolling defeated in the dust. But they’ll never get me. […] I’ll lick ‘em yet!”[xlvi]

Mittelholzer also appears, however, to be expressing the objectionable view (although not untypical of his times or class background) that people of Charlotte’s ethnic background, Black and Amerindian, have little creative ability when compared to the West.

One final comment should be made regarding the deeper messages that are communicated by the interplay of the characters: Charlotte, Sylvia and Grantley, as regards representations of Georgetown’s race, colour and class divide. Charlotte, for instance, sneers at Sylvia for mixing with “high colour” people whilst her friends, Sarah and Janie, warn Sylvia not to socialise with the lower-class. Grantley Russell is conversely indifferent to Sylvia’s fate: advising her that she can marry or mix with whomever she likes, so long as she understands the societal consequences. These pernicious ethnic/colour/class divides are important with respect to Sylvia’s conclusion. As Sylvia lies dying she tells Naomi:

“I never loved him.” / “Who?” / “Benny. […] I’m not even capable of loving.”[xlvii]

We can extrapolate that a comment is being made on Sylvia’s inability (as a representative of the coloured middle-class) to love across the socially-constructed divides since Benson is Portuguese and still associated with pawn shops, poverty and indentureship. Sylvia meanwhile appears to have pursued her relationship with him primarily because she was in dire straits, and whilst Benson’s emotions may have been genuine, he notably had serious reservations about introducing her to his family. Their creative union, symbol of the ‘Libido’ of Guyana is, because they have not learnt to genuinely love each other, destined to fail. At an aesthetic level echoes of Wagner’s The Ring Cycle – in which the loveless, power wrangling world of the gods, Valkyries, Wälsungs, Giants, Nibelungs and mortals was predestined to end – are readily discernible. When we furthermore appreciate that Sylvia’s name[xlviii], etymologically speaking means ‘wood’, as does ‘Holzer’ (ref: Mittelholzer) and thus represents Germany while Benson (or son of Benjamin) represents the Jews, we become aware of the more universal message that unless we can learn to love ourselves and one another, a Holocaust will be our collective futures.

CONCLUSION

The Life and Death of Sylvia is evidently much more than mere psychological thriller, indictment of Georgetown society, bildungsroman or novel about ‘the tragic mulatto’. In drawing upon the intellectual and aesthetic ideals of the German Romantic era: the Gestamkunstwert, ‘programme’ symphony, leitmotif and concepts of synaesthesia; as well as the musical philosophy of Olaf Stapledon, Mittelholzer has successfully created a new genre of ‘music-literature’. The analysis of the sonata (i.e., in Part 1 of the novel) displays his extraordinary ability to visualise ways of organising his material into a non-literary form (i.e., exposition, development, recapitulation and coda), without interrupting the flow or progression of the novel. The effect of contrasting and paralleling situations; of subtly repeating codas and themes with variation and difference in modulation, conversely conveys a dual sense of progression as well as the cyclical natural of life. Whilst Mittelholzer’s unique genre is heavily influenced by the Romantic tradition, it conversely conveys a distinctly Guyanese tone, through the skilful use of the local ‘instrumentation construct’ and the overt references to popular music throughout the novel.

Evidently highly skilled and imaginative, Mittelholzer use of sub-textual, extra-textual and intertextual narratives, add greatly to the depth and texture of the novel. His presentation of ‘short-cut’ devices, such as the use of Jazz songs, as a love-sex-sea motif is particularly effective. A close analysis of Sylvia reveals that the sex and death theme operates via extended metaphor, on several levels, and should not therefore be viewed as sensationalist, insignificant preoccupations of the author. These multiple layered messages speak of individual, social, local, national, international and universal concerns as well as ‘Larger Truths’. His overall message that we must not allow difference to divide us or treat life with undue complacently remains relevant and of universal importance. Though aspects of Mittelholzer’s work reveal racially ambiguous feelings, these need to be examined within the context of his times and not viewed from a present-day perspective. It should not more importantly prevent us from recognising his importance as a Caribbean pioneer and highly-talented novelist. Fresh perspectives on his life and work should take into consideration such issues as his historical context, biographical background, his use of intertextuality and most importantly not be afraid of tackling the seemingly more controversial aspects of his work. By all standards, Mittelholzer’s The Life and Death of Sylvia is an extraordinary tour de force and arguably his finest novel.

[i] The notion of a fragmented consciousness is similar to the German concept of ‘Zwideutigkeit’ or ‘Twoness’. Since Mittelholzer was interested in the ideas of universality and of human commonality, it would have been natural for him to recognise its application within a Caribbean context.

[ii] Birbalsingh, F. “Sam Selvon and the West Indian Renaissance” in James Black’s (ed) Ariel (University of Calvary: Vol. 8 No3, July 1977) p13

[iii] Mittelholzer, E. Corentyne Thunder (Heinemann: London, 1970) pg 105

[iv] Stapledon, O. Last and First Men (Gollancz: London 1999 [1930]) Pg 288

[v] Ibid. pg 304

[vi] The Life and Death of Sylvia was also published in later editions under the shorter title of Sylvia

[vii] Mittelholzer, E. A Swarthy Boy (Putnam and Co: London, 1963) pg 28

[viii] Ibid. pg 43

[ix] Mittelholzer, E. A Swarthy Boy (Putnam and Co: London, 1963) pg 122

[x] An American Yogi who offered a broadly interpreted account of Hindu religious philosophy in such books as Advanced Course in Yogi Philosophy and Oriental Occultism.

[xi] For Mittelholzer’s views on nationalism as expressed in his second novel – see A Morning at the Office (Hogarth Press: London, [1950] 1964) pg 214

[xii] Traditionally the poem would have been set to a melody that is repeated in verses

[xiii] Swann, J. Classical Music and Romantic Music – Part One at http://trumpet.sdsu.edu/M345/Romantic_Music1.html (site visited 11/08/09)

[xiv] Birbalsingh, F. (ed.) Frontiers of Caribbean Literature in English (Macmillan Education Ltd: London, 1996)

[xv] Hernandez-Ramdwar, C. “Multiracial Identities in Trinidad and Guyana: Exaltation and Ambiguity” Latin American Issues [On-line], 13(4). Available: http://webpub.allegheny.edu/group/LAS/LatinAmIssues/Articles/LAI_vol_13_section_IV.html

[xvi] Gilkes, M. “Edgar Mittelholzer” in King, B. (ed) West Indian Literature: Second Edition (Macmillan Education Ltd: London, 1995

[xvii] Mittelholzer, E. The Life and Death of Sylvia (The John Day Company: New York, 1954) Pg 53

[xviii] Mittelholzer, E. Sylvia (Four Square Books: London, 1963 [1953]) p208

[xix] Mittelholzer, E. The Life and Death of Sylvia (The John Day Company: New York, 1954)pg 311

[xx] Ibid. pg 311

[xxi] Ibid. pg 98

[xxii] Ibid. pg 3

[xxiii] In a letter to A J Seymour (circa 1959), Mittelholzer importantly revealed: “[A Tinkling in the Twilight (1959)] is the first time that I’ve cared to bring out so clearly into the open my strong attachment to Oriental occultism and Yoga. I’ve held these beliefs since I was 19, but in my writings have never liked to reveal them because I knew perfectly well I can prove nothing I say on the basis of plain logic (and unfortunately, the Western World can only be convinced by “rational” arguments).”

[xxiv] Mittelholzer, E. The Life and Death of Sylvia (The John Day Company: New York, 1954) pg 101

[xxv] Ibid. pg 240

[xxvi] The lyrics of these popular jazz songs can be ‘Googled’ or listened to on ‘You Tube’.

[xxvii] All of the songs in Sylvia are readily accessible on the internet and worth following up.

[xxviii] Sparer, J.”Attitudes Towards ‘Race’ in Guyanese Literature” in Caribbean Studies (Institute of Caribbean Studies: University of Puerto Rico, Vol. 8 No 2 July 1968)

[xxix] Mittelholzer, E. A Swarthy Boy (Putnam: London, 1963) pg 12

[xxx] The theme of Spirit vs Flesh which Gilkes identified in his novels highlights the struggles Mittelholzer had when as a practicing Yogi he tried to practice sexual abstinence.

[xxxi] Mittelholzer, E. At Forty-Three: A Personal View of the World (Unpublished Manuscript: courtesy of Lucille Mittelholzer, 1953)

[xxxii] Ibid. pg 262

[xxxiii] Ibid. pg 40

[xxxiv] Ibid. pg 65

[xxxv] Ibid. pg 289

[xxxvi] Ibid. pg 56

[xxxvii] Ibid. pg 174

[xxxviii] Grantley Russell notably makes direct reference to Freud on pg 103 of the 1954 edition of Sylvia.

[xxxix] The Kiskadees were first named by the French based on the sound they made: Qu’est quelle dit.

[xl] Mittelholzer, E. The Life and Death of Sylvia (The John Day Company: New York, 1954) pg 261

[xli] Anon. “An Introduction to Pathos” Online (http://www.engl.niu.edu/wac/pathos.html: site visited 20 July 2009)

[xlii] See pg 56 & 80 - Mittelholzer, E. The Life and Death of Sylvia (The John Day Company: New York, 1954)

[xliii] Lyrics for Stormy Weather is available on numerous internet sites and can be googled.

[xliv] Mittelholzer, E. The Life and Death of Sylvia (The John Day Company: New York, 1954) pg 17

[xlv] Ibid. pg 180 (NB: This passages was censored by Secker and Warburg and doesn’t appear in their editions of the book.)

[xlvi] Mittelholzer, E. Sylvia (Four Square Books: London, 1963 [1953]) p221

[xlvii] Mittelholzer, E. The Life and Death of Sylvia (The John Day Company: New York, 1954) pg 316

[xlviii] Grantley Russell was originally going to name Sylvia, Cynthia Anne but because of a misunderstanding, the name stuck. This name change serves no other purpose than to alert us to it hidden meaning...i.e., Wood. Mittelholzer regularly employs names that have deeper significance to him as a writer. Mittel – in German – means ‘middle’ and Holzer – translates as ‘wood’.

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Edgar Mittelholzer’s The Life And Death Of Sylvia: Music and Symbolism

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