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Aldous Huxley's lifelong concern with the dichotomy between passion and reason finds its fullest expression both thematically and formally in his masterpiece Point Counter Point. By presenting a vision of life in which diverse aspects of experience are observed simultaneously, Huxley characterizes the symptoms of "the disease of modern man" in the manner of a composer - themes and characters are repeated, altered slightly, and played off one another in a tone that is at once critical and sympathetic. First published in 1928, Huxley's satiric view of intellectual life in the '20s is populated with characters based on such celebrities of the time as D.H. Lawrence, Katherine Mansfield, Sir Oswald Mosley, Nancy Cunard, and John Middleton Murray, as well as Huxley himself. A major work of the 20th century and a monument of literary modernism, this edition includes an introduction by acclaimed novelist Nicholas Mosley (author of Hopeful Monsters and the son of Sir Oswald Mosley). Along with Brave New World (written a few years later), Point Counter Point is Huxley's most concentrated attack on the scientific attitude and its effect on modern culture.… (more)
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I'm pretty sure I read Point Counter Point again soon after college, but at some point it disappeared from my library, and somewhere along the way every last bit of the book leaked out of my consciousness, because 25 years or so along, here I was reading the book again for the first time. Huxley uses the conversations and actions of a group of intellectuals, artists and writers, mostly, to explore passion and reason, the physical life vs. the intellectual life. Some of the characters are based on Huxley and his friends and acquaintances of the time, including D.H. Lawrence, Katherine Mansfield and John Middleton Murry. For me, the most brilliant part of the book is the opening quarter, which moves from person to person, primarily at a party, introducing the characters and themes. There is also an orchestra, playing Bach's Suite in B minor, for flute and strings.
"In the opening largo John Sebastian had, with the help of Pongileoni's snout and the air column, made a statement: There are grand things in the world, noble things; there are men born kingly; there are real conquerors, intrinsic lords of the earth. But of an earth that is, oh! complex and multitudinous, he had gone on to reflect in the fugal allegro. You seem to have found the truth; clear, definite, unmistakeable, it is announced by the violins; you have it, you triumphantly hold it. But it slips out of your grasp to present itself in a new aspect among the cellos and yet again in terms of Pongileoni's vibrating air column. The parts live their separate lives; they touch, their paths cross, they combine for a moment to create a seemingly final and perfected harmony, only to break apart again. Each is always alone and separate and individual. 'I am I,' asserts the violin; 'the world revolves round me.' 'Round me,' calls the cello. 'Round me,' the flute insists. And all are equally right and equally wrong; and none of them will listen to the others.
"In the human fugue there are eighteen hundred million parts. The resultant noise means something perhaps to the statistician, nothing to the artist. It is only by considering one or two parts at a time that the artist can understand anything. Here, for example, is one particular part; and John Sebastian puts the case. The Rondeau begins, exquisitely and simply melodious, almost a folk song. It is a young girl singing to herself of love, in solitude, tenderly mournful. A young girl singing among the hills, with the clouds drifting overhead. But solitary as one of the floating clouds, a poet had been listening to her song. The thoughts that it provoked in him are the Sarabande that follows the Rondeau. His is a slow and lovely meditation on the beauty (in spite of squalor and stupidity), the profound goodness (in spite of all the evil), the oneness (in spite of such bewildering diversity) of the world. It is a beauty, a goodness, a unity that no intellectual research can discover, that analysis dispels, but of whose reality the spirit is from time to time suddenly and overwhelmingly convinced. A girl singing to herself under the clouds suffices to create the certitude. Even a fine morning is enough. Is it illusion or the revelation of profoundest truth? Who knows?"
The structure and theme set with this passage, Huxley brings his characters forward, singly and in groups, combining and recombining to examine modern man, and the intellectual life vs. the instinctual life. The reader gets the occasional glimpse into the notebooks of Philip Quarles, an author and intellectual (whose natural tendency towards introversion was heightened by a childhood accident that lamed him), as he plans a novel constructed like a Beethoven composition: "The musicalization of fiction. Not in the symbolist way, by subordinating sense to sound. . . . But on a large scale, in the construction. Meditate on Beethoven. The changes of moods, the abrupt transitions. . . . More interesting still, the modulations, not merely from one key to another, but from mood to mood. A theme is stated, then developed, push out of shape, imperceptibly deformed, until, though still recognizably the same, it has become quite different. In sets of variations the process is carried a step further. . . . Put a novelist in the novel. He justifies aesthetic generalizations, which may be interesting--at least to me. He also justifies experiment. Specimens of his work may illustrate other possible or impossible ways of telling a story. And if you have him telling parts of the same story as you are, you can make a variation on the theme." He plans to use versions of his friends as characters. But, as he cautions, "The great defect of a novel of ideas is that it's a made-up affair. Necessarily; for people who can reel off neatly formulated notions aren't quite real; they're slightly monstrous. Living with monsters becomes rather tiresome in the long run."
While some of his characters are monstrous (particularly Maurice Spandrell, based on Baudelaire, who deliberately lives a life of debauchery and vice, and is consequently bored and unable to feel), and none are particularly likable, the book ends before they become tiresome.
Point Counter Point is absurdly intellectual - almost TOO intellectual for me. It's so complex that I can't even describe the things about it that made me love it. However, as someone who 'thinks too much' and has a naturally analytic mind, there were many places where I felt like I was reading something I could have written myself. It's a very exciting experience when you're reading a book and suddenly discover something like that. As a musician, I particularly appreciated the musical references. But perhaps my favorite moment was where Lord Edward's brother rings him up in great excitement to explain that he's just found mathematical proof of the existence of God....
It is more broadly a "novel of ideas" with a novelist of ideas, Philip Quarles, at its center surrounded by friends and family whose lives are like those of
I particularly enjoyed the wealth of references to literature and philosophy, Huxley's polymathic mind shows through on every page. Among the literary references was the use of Dickens in a way that captures one of his essential character traits, "the appearance of Dickensian young-girlishness" (p. 19). Overall, I found the play of wit and ideas compelling, enough to bear with the bad people and their antics.
Much of the plot revolves around the discussions they have, and the implications of
The characters themselves are well developed, and supposedly inspired by actual people, one of whom being Huxley himself.
In places this story is as comic as Huxley's “Antic Hay”, though the characters here are more convincing and have greater depth as individuals, as opposed to the tendency Huxley had to caricature in some of his other works. The emphasis on philosophical discussion, as found in other works of his, such as “Those Barren Leaves”, is also present here, though his philosophical message seems to differ somewhat between books.
This is one of Huxley's finest novels, and despite the fact that most of the characters here are actually not very nice, a very enjoyable read.
Character #3 would say I think C. Character #4 would say I disagree I think D.
Point.
Counterpoint.
sigh...
“A bad book is as much of a labor to write as a good one; it comes as sincerely from the author's soul.”
Indeed.