Hmm my other post disappeared for some reason.
Kalbear, on 14 April 2012 - 10:04 PM, said:
Seriously - this is a guy who decided that he'd win an argument with his wife by writing a book about the argument to prove to her that he was right. (that would be Neuropath, and The Argument). It's not that surprising. Just sad.
Hahah oh Kalbear you're so disillusioned with Bakker. Are you really going to be able to hold off when the Unholy Consult comes out?
I find Bakker's online antics to be mostly hilarious and endearing. Although they've been pretty depressing these past few months. Seriously though as clumsy as it seems, there's so a lot good stuff to be found. Even his Pierce Inverarirty sockpuppet gave some revealing and interesting stuff on his series. Just gotta separate the wheat from the chaff.
I guess because I've actually met Bakker and his wife at a reading some time ago, nothing he's really done has diminished my good feeling towards him. He's actually a really nice guy in person.
But Bakker has definitely convinced me that writing fiction, the act of artistic creation is profoundly irrational. I firmly believe art cannot be contained within psychology or sociology, neuroscience or anything. Ironic of course given his interests in neurosci.
How he can go from writing unintentionally hilarious tone deaf arguments online to this amazes me:
You drink of the River and it is clear. You drink of the River and it is foul. You breath of the Sky and it never empties. You weep, and the Sea stings your lips. Rejoice, and mourn, for you belong to this World.
Heaven does not know you –Nin’hilarjal, Psalms to Oblivion
The above is just so lovely. In just a few short sentences he almost fully captures the essence of the nonmen. Their materialist ethos. Their alienation from god. How they are firmly, firmly grounded in the world with its fragile joys and much much stronger cruelties.
And he's got a precious few blog posts where he isn't arguing with anyone and just fucking around and it's great
I believe fully in what Plato and Shelley have to say about art more than any materialist or scientific explanation.
The third kind is the madness of those who are possessed by the Muses; which taking hold of a delicate and virgin soul, and there inspiring frenzy, awakens lyrical and all other numbers; with these adorning the myriad actions of ancient heroes for the instruction of posterity. But he who, having no touch of the Muses’ madness in his soul, comes to the door and thinks that he will get into the temple by the help of art-he, I say, and his poetry are not admitted; the sane man disappears and is nowhere when he enters into rivalry with the madman.
Poetry is not like reasoning, a power to be exerted according to the determination of the will. A man cannot say, “I will compose poetry.” The greatest poet even cannot say it; for the mind in creation is as a fading coal, which some invisible influence, like an inconstant wind, awakens to transitory brightness; this power arises from within, like the color of a flower which fades and changes as it is developed, and the conscious portions of our natures are unprophetic either of its approach or its departure. Could this influence be durable in its original purity and force, it is impossible to predict the greatness of the results; but when composition begins, inspiration is already on the decline, and the most glorious poetry that has ever been communicated to the world is probably a feeble shadow of the original conceptions of the poet.
Edited by TheValyrianDragonlord, 14 April 2012 - 10:59 PM.