[Jean-François Dunant - "L'Imploration nocturne à la Vierge du reposoir" via Art Inconnu]
From Milan Kundera – “The Art of the Novel”:
“In 1935, three years before his death, Edmund Husserl gave his celebrated lectures in Vienna and Prague on the crisis of European humanity. For Husserl, the adjective “European” meant the spiritual identity that extends beyond geographical Europe (to America, for instance) and that was born with ancient Greek philosophy. In his view, this philosophy, for the first time in History, apprehended the world (the world as a whole) as a question to be answered. It interrogated the world not in order to satisfy this or that practical need but because “the passion to know had seized mankind.”
The crisis Husserl spoke of seemed to him so profound that he wondered whether Europe was still able to survive it. The roots of the crisis lay for him at the beginning of the Modern Era, in Galileo and Descartes, in the one-sided nature of the European sciences, which reduced the world to a mere object of technical and mathematical investigation and put the concrete world of life, die Lebenswelt as he called it, beyond their horizon.
The rise of the sciences propelled man into the tunnels of the specialized disciplines. The more he advanced in knowledge, the less clearly could he see either the world as a whole or his own self, and he plunged further into what Husserl’s pupil Heidegger called, in a beautiful and almost magical phrase, “the forgetting of being.”
Once elevated by Descartes to “master and proprietor of nature,” man has now become a mere thing to the forces (of technology, of politics, of history) that bypass him, surpass him, possess him. To those forces, man’s concrete being, his “world of life” (die Lebenswelt), has neither value nor interest: it is eclipsed, forgotten from the start.”
This is the very beginning of Kundera’s book (or, more correctly, essay collection), the, I would call it, prologue of “part one” – “The Depreciated Legacy of Cervantes”. I warmly recommend this essay to everyone who’s not afraid of having liteary despair thrown in their faces – though that might not be quite the right way to put it. It’s just… simply what the (European) novel means, and whether it has any means of surviving. Plus confronting the “modern” hypocrisy of media and avant-garde. Lovely man, Milan Kundera.
And a bit of library copy fun for you guys:
