The Marble Faun serves as my introduction to the writings of Nathanael Hawthorne. It's more of a back door in, as a move in the middle of my junior year of high school prevented me from having the normal entre of The Scarlet Letter. I did get a chance to read his friend, Herman Melville's great work, Moby Dick, which still ranks pretty high on my list of all-time favorites. At any rate, it was about time that I sat down with a work by one of New England's great writers.
The Marble Faun is often seen as one of Hawthorne's weaker works because of the heavy element of travel-log in the story. I have to say that made it particularly enjoyable to me as I could sit down every hundred pages or so and google-image every place, monument, painting, and sculpture that he mentions. It added a welcome layer of thick description, and put him instantly in dialog with so many great works, that I felt that I received more than the usual level of enrichment. Besides, I've traveled a little bit, so the travel-log doesn't seem so quaint or artificial to me. I've actually lived a bit of that lifestyle in Oxford and Africa (yes, yes, great white hunter, colonialist, neo-orientalist, adventurer prig and all that rot...).
On a deeper level, I was intrigued by Hawthorne's handling of the Fall of Man. I felt as if Hawthorne is pushing hard for a Felix Culpa, but didn't want to openly espouse heresy. He dances upon the point in such a way, however, that I'm not sure whether he is merely wrestling with idea or committed to it. The ambiguity seems intentional.
The thing I appreciate most about Hawthorne's writing in the novel is the way that he constantly uses imagery and symbolism to draw attention to the spiritual realities behind the overt action of the plot. Towers, for instance, seem to symbolize the soul's assent toward God. Donatello's mythic ancestry reminds us that he serves as a cypher for man in the state of nature. Rome, as the image of Civilization, seems to take on a life of its own; now horribly corrupt, now sublime beyond the ability of words to capture. In spite of this, the novel is not allegorical and, better yet, escapes the feel of allegory while one is in the midst of reading it. To understand it, one must be immersed in enjoying the work; the minute you step away to examine it, the inner meaning slips away.
So there you have it, The Marble Faun. If you're already a fan of Hawthorne, I recommend that you renew the acquaintance with his work by picking up a copy of this enjoyable romance. If you've never read him, don't be shy of starting here! There's time enough for The Scarlet Letter and all those other books you were supposed to have read in high school.
The Marble Faun is often seen as one of Hawthorne's weaker works because of the heavy element of travel-log in the story. I have to say that made it particularly enjoyable to me as I could sit down every hundred pages or so and google-image every place, monument, painting, and sculpture that he mentions. It added a welcome layer of thick description, and put him instantly in dialog with so many great works, that I felt that I received more than the usual level of enrichment. Besides, I've traveled a little bit, so the travel-log doesn't seem so quaint or artificial to me. I've actually lived a bit of that lifestyle in Oxford and Africa (yes, yes, great white hunter, colonialist, neo-orientalist, adventurer prig and all that rot...).
On a deeper level, I was intrigued by Hawthorne's handling of the Fall of Man. I felt as if Hawthorne is pushing hard for a Felix Culpa, but didn't want to openly espouse heresy. He dances upon the point in such a way, however, that I'm not sure whether he is merely wrestling with idea or committed to it. The ambiguity seems intentional.
The thing I appreciate most about Hawthorne's writing in the novel is the way that he constantly uses imagery and symbolism to draw attention to the spiritual realities behind the overt action of the plot. Towers, for instance, seem to symbolize the soul's assent toward God. Donatello's mythic ancestry reminds us that he serves as a cypher for man in the state of nature. Rome, as the image of Civilization, seems to take on a life of its own; now horribly corrupt, now sublime beyond the ability of words to capture. In spite of this, the novel is not allegorical and, better yet, escapes the feel of allegory while one is in the midst of reading it. To understand it, one must be immersed in enjoying the work; the minute you step away to examine it, the inner meaning slips away.
So there you have it, The Marble Faun. If you're already a fan of Hawthorne, I recommend that you renew the acquaintance with his work by picking up a copy of this enjoyable romance. If you've never read him, don't be shy of starting here! There's time enough for The Scarlet Letter and all those other books you were supposed to have read in high school.
Comments
I didn't see the Felix Culpa thing as the ultimate argument - maybe because I didn't want to! - but rather more a meditation on the loss of innocence necessary in gaining experience. I don't quite agree with him on that point, but I like the meditation. :)