
Test Case - the Numinosity of Literary Objects
(3 Objects from 'Tender Buttons'
by Gertrude Stein)
'The objects we so indispensably
need are never themselves alone, they combine the mystery
of their reality and our fantasy.'
Robert Coles, The Spiritual Life
of Children
3 objects, numinous to varying
degrees, occur in these lines from Gertrude Stein's
'Tender Buttons'
'a lightning cooky, a single
wide open and exchanged box filled with the same little
sac that shines.'
Let's consider each in turn.
1. A lightning cooky - (73/100
Nmns)
Like the topic & vehicle of a good
metaphor, the distance between 'lightning' (associaed
with enormous velocity, wattage, brilliance, danger,
noise, supernatural portents, power of ancient gods,
etc.) & 'cooky' (diminution, innocence, childhood,
sweetness, security, etc.) accounts for the charge generated
when the 2 nouns are conjoined. If they weren't from
such dissimilar domains, trailing trains of such unlike
associations, their conjunction would produce a feebler
frisson . The frisson they produce is of surprise, 'uncanniness'
or 'strangeness.' But it's more than that - a lightning
cooky' is numinous.
Is it purely subjective, a matter of taste,
that a lightning cooky convinces as to its authentic
numinosity while another construct, let's say a 'strawberry
alarm-clock,' [1] although exactly similar in formal
terms, seems merely gratuitous, a product of random
inanition? Or are there laws to be discovered which
might account for the former having garnered an impressive
reading of 73 numens on the numinometer, while the latter
barely makes the needle twitch?
2. A single wide open and exchanged
box - (45/100 Nmns)
It's not only its contents, (see 3., below),
that account for the box's charge. It exerts considerable
fascination in & of itself. How does Stein achieve
this?
Describing it as 'single' isolates the
box, renders it unique, other. One could argue that
this uniqueness is subtly compromised by the characterisation
'exchanged,' or if the latter term is taken in the sense
of traded for something of equal value.
This hint of oxymoronic contradiction
increases the object's elusive mystique. Most readers
will probably agree, however, that the more likely meaning
of the term in this context is 'exchanged' as presents
are, i.e. the box is a gift. Few of us, even in old
age, completely outgrow susceptibility to the allure
gift boxes exert. Out of the vast inane the voice of
Julie Andrews wafts, singing 'Brown paper packages tied
up with string,' a clincher in her litany of 'Favourite
Things.'
'Wide open' endows the box with a whiff
of anthropomorphic abandon, a wilful defencelessness
or surrender, almost as if it were a female on heat,
which makes the sensitive needle dance. And its openness
has not been in vain, for it is filled with...
3. The same little sac that shines - (98/100 Nmns)
The box was 'single,' which set it apart.
By contrast, the sac which fills it is the 'same' -
but the same as what? Or, it's familiar - evoking a
bewildering sense of deja vu. It has a history in which
we are or the narrator is somehow implicit. But we can't
remember what that history was. It's 'little,' a word
that restores to us the gaze of a child. And, last but
not least, it 'shines.' This may mean merely that it's
made of some reflective or iridescent material, but,
given the general tenor of strangeness, I think it's
fair to assert that the little sac is inherently luminous.
As E. Newton Harvey, in his seminal History of Luminescence
observes, 'The appearance of light without fire or without
heat is immediately imbued with a supernatural significance.'
The little sac packs a potent wallop.
PB
Notes:
1. One
of many such band names from the 1960s. Chocolate Watchband
was another. Many examples of the construct can be found
in the lyrics of that period by Bob Dylan - e.g. rat
race choir, magazine husband, mercury mouth. His inspiration
was almost certainly the Beats who had '...a childlike
appreciation for word-yokings such as 'peanut-butter
cockroaches' and 'fried shoes.' (Try it yourself: shadow
juice... sordid egg... lethal marmalade. Kind of fun.)'
On the Road Again, Vogue, Oct. '95 Allen Ginsberg's
'hydrogen jukebox' & Gregory Corso's 'firing-squad
milk' 'owl cheese' & 'pipe butter' come to mind.
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