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| Hearsay: |
An interesting piece riffing on George Steiner’s thoughts about envy. In the literary world we see this affliction in every nook and cranny of existence. In some ways, the whole system is based on jealousy. It’s surprising, in fact, that more people aren’t killed on a yearly basis.
The most fascinating chapter is entitled Invidia, or Envy, and envy is a perennially fascinating topic for writers, and indeed for anyone who has put their careers at or near the centre of their lives. Steiner writes that he once wanted to write a book about the obscure 14th-century Italian poet, Francesco Stabili. The project would have been fascinating but Steiner had to avoid it because it would have meant analysing the poet’s legendary envy of his contemporary Dante; Stabili was reputed to have been as madly, insanely, self-loathingly jealous of Dante as Salieri is now thought to have been of Mozart.
This struck too near the bone for Steiner who confesses – in the most grippingly personal way – that he is often crucified by envy. A critic and scholar of his exalted position is often on very close terms with the greatest thinkers and authors. Agonisingly, he is almost, almost in their league. But not quite.
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January 31st, 2008 at 6:03 pm
Ah, the same old story. I remember reading in Virginia Woolf’s To The Lighthouse, her liken the intellect to the alphabet. The philosopher in that text had, by his own reckoning, achieved Q or R (I may be off here; it’s been a while since I last read the book, so be kind). Of course this was a tremendous achievement, something worth the recognition he’d earned; but his intellectual prowess brought the achievements of those few who had gone further, reached x or y or even z, into plain view. How many of us, after years of work and loss, upon the self-realization of our own artistic mastery could help but be jealous of someone who, it would seem, so effortlessly eclipsed our own glory? We aren’t privy to all of the pains they’ve encountered on their rise. All we are aware of is our own sacrifice and worth. A humbling knowledge of our own limits and shortcomings can only be hidden as long as we remain confident that the world is not aware of them.
February 1st, 2008 at 7:56 am
It’s the same in every field. The Mozart syndrome.