(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 16th 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
1st 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 18th century through to the early 20th
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 3rd, 5th,
6th and 9th 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]
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
[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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