Footnotes is a series of essays that build on each other. This one is the first essay in a chapter on the The Varieties of Religious Experience, William James’ book.
⩩ 24
I put myself in the position of one of these kids, at home, retired, costumeless, back after an evening of trick-or-treating, — especially with regard to my reading. What, I wonder, does it amount to? And when I try to answer this question, when I look out over the sprawling pile of things I’ve read, the pages I have held, the waters I have swum and dived in, the booty of my reading life, nothing stands out to me like this book by William James: The Varieties of Religious Experience.
Now why? And how can I recommend it to you?
Should I put it forward on account of its words? This is a book of poetry, by a master craftsman of the instrument of speech. James has a fully developed style, his own way of speaking, his own rhythm and gestures and figures. There are so many deep words and resounding images, so many of my kind of treats. There are images on every page, — this is a picture book! Where, for instance, have you ever seen a book with so much fruit in it? I think this is not so much a book as a tree, full-grown, a work not of a person but of nature. Shake one of its branches and fill your dress with the harvest.
Or should I recommend it on account of its topic, its approach to it? It may be the most important — he claims it is — and in a single stroke he cuts through a knot that holds others back forever. He throws out dogmas and official beliefs, and puts verbal formulas in their place, namely behind feeling and individual experience.
Its insight into it the human being? The guy knew the soul. In these leaves you find the dark, hidden movements of your heart rendered in hard and memorable English, a feat open to him because he was a person of great feeling and imagination.
On account of its breadth, its inclusiveness? Variety, that a thing comes in a variety of kinds and has various stages of growth, is a cornerstone of his thought. And see how he considers and appreciates diverse points of view, diverse kinds of people. He had ears for all sides. He strives toward the largest possible view of things.
I do not find a shred of dogmatism in this book. He is royally non-pedantic, and doesn’t overestimate for a second the usefulness of a definition. He is humble, openminded, the most perfect embodiment I know of of the spirit of inquiry, and for it he gets his arms around more of the truth.
Its elevation, its recommendation of anger? This student of feeling and mood knew that anger too is in the cycle, that it has its moment at the top. He likes the stage, he is alive to the heroic… have I passed from the book to its maker and to recommending it on his account, his person, habits and character? That’s just how I would have it. He was human, more alive and more human than we are, the type of person we want to be like.
Throughout this book James frequently recurs to an idiomatic phrase that, though he uses it inconspicuously, as a matter of fact says a lot about his character and ultimate philosophical orientation. He often speaks of an idea, an example, a fact, being brought home to one. The basic meaning of this phrase is to know something, for the thing in question to become clear to the person, but it means much more than this.
Since we can be aware of something for a while before it really comes home to us, the phrase implies there are a variety of ways of knowing something. For something to come home to us is, in particular, not to know it conceptually, not for us to nod our heads, to assent to it as a verbal proposition, but for it to sink in, for the full meaning to dawn on us, for its full significance to be revealed.
This, crucially, involves feeling and need. It involves evaluating it as an actor — urgent, bounded, embodied, vulnerable — registering its practical significance. Much of this is conveyed in the word home, which is itself a poem, proof of the genius of our language and the oldest and best symbol of the personal, the familiar and intimate.
To know something only theoretically, then, is to know it only partially, as if it were as a rumor, a matter of gossip, as if relating to someone else. To know it fully is to know it also personally, as a revelation, as deeply significant to you.
Something coming home to one: this is a portrait, James in a gesture. For my part, I would let this book come home to me.
And how could I leave out of account the one thing to be taken in? I recommend it on your account. This book is a guide to life.
You are reading Footnotes, by Garrett Allen, a series of philosophical-ish short essays. You just read ⩩ 24, the first installment in a chapter on William James’ Varieties of Religious Experience. Here are some highlights from what came before.
Retreat
⩩ 21 Review
⩩ 19 Storytelling
⩩ 17 Retreat
Firsthand
⩩ 16 Revelation
⩩ 14 Yourself
⩩ 12 Learning
⩩10 Habit
⩩ 9 Firsthand
Stagestranger
⩩ 7 Mistake
⩩ 6 Whim
⩩ 3 Speechless
⩩ 1 Headsup
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A shoutout as usual to Danny at breakfastswerved for his ink. See his drawings for the series here.
If you’ve come this far: thank you for reading my work and spending time with me. I would love to hear from you.
This "bringing home" reminded me of Jacob Klein's essay "The Problem and the Art of Writing". He notes that there's a recurring phrase in Homer - "winged words" - that's used almost exclusively when a single character speaks to another (i.e. not in public speeches). He suggests that an adequate translation of "winged words" is a speech that "sinks in" - and he says that the problem of writing (as such) is the problem of transforming dead, written words into living, winged words.