COMMON CALVINISM: ROBERT LOWELL, THOMAS PYNCHON, and PURITAN ANXIETY by JOSHUA SCHNEIDERMAN (Under the Direction of Susan Rosenb
Total Page:16
File Type:pdf, Size:1020Kb
COMMON CALVINISM: ROBERT LOWELL, THOMAS PYNCHON, AND PURITAN ANXIETY by JOSHUA SCHNEIDERMAN (Under the Direction of Susan Rosenbaum) ABSTRACT Both Robert Lowell’s For the Union Dead and Thomas Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow evince an anxiety over Puritanism that is ineluctably bound to the sociological conditions of 1960s’ American culture. Each work envisions an America where the old Calvinist binary of elect (the few chosen by God for salvation) and preterite (those left behind—everybody else) has collapsed under Cold War threats of nuclear annihilation, thus reconfiguring the two driving concepts behind the Puritans’ errand into the New World: the apocalypse and salvation. In an uncannily similar fashion, Lowell and Pynchon suggest that the Puritan desire for salvation has developed into a secular pursuit of material wealth, and that this pursuit, in turn, has led to this technocratic nuclear tension. With grim irony, these works claim that America’s capitalist pursuit of technology to save itself in a strained geopolitical environment has actually created a nation of preterition. INDEX WORDS: Robert Lowell, Thomas Pynchon, Puritanism, Calvinism, Twentieth Century, American Literature COMMON CALVINISM: ROBERT LOWELL, THOMAS PYNCHON, AND PURITAN ANXIETY by JOSHUA SCHNEIDERMAN B.A., La Salle University, 2003 A Thesis Submitted to the Graduate Faculty of The University of Georgia in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree MASTER OF ARTS ATHENS, GEORGIA 2005 © 2005 Joshua Schneiderman All Rights Reserved COMMON CALVINISM: ROBERT LOWELL, THOMAS PYNCHON, AND PURITAN ANXIETY by JOSHUA SCHNEIDERMAN Major Professor: Susan Rosenbaum Committee: Jed Rasula Hugh Ruppersburg Electronic Version Approved: Maureen Grasso Dean of the Graduate School The University of Georgia May 2005 iv TABLE OF CONTENTS Page CHAPTER 1 PROLOGUE: COMMON CALVINISM...................................................................... 1 2 “PILGRIM’S BLUES” ................................................................................................ 16 3 SALT OF THE EARTH .............................................................................................. 38 4 EPILOGUE: PURITAN ANXIETY IN TWENTIETH-CENTURY AMERICAN LITERATURE ........................................................................................................ 63 WORKS CITED…………………………………………………………………………..65 1 CHAPTER 1 PROLOGUE: COMMON CALVINISM Now everybody— Gravity’s Rainbow On the map of postwar American literature, it is difficult to find two public personalities more disparate than those of Robert Lowell and Thomas Pynchon. Artist Sidney Nolan immortalized Lowell’s ponderous visage on the cover of the June 2, 1967 issue of Time, his bodiless head adorned with a laurelled halo as if to announce the poet’s canonization as late modernism’s patron saint. Pynchon’s last public image isn’t really a public image at all but a Navy file photograph snapped at a Bainbridge, Maryland training facility in 1955. Unearthed by David Cowart in 1990, the photo reveals a buck-toothed teenager in full seaman’s regalia, perhaps as we might imagine one of Pig Bodine’s faceless, beer-tap-suckling cohorts at “Suck Hour” in the opening scene of Pynchon’s V. Pynchon made a guest appearance on The Simpsons in 2004—with a paper bag covering his cartoon head. For a less-abstract comparison, consider the Pulitzer Prize. Lowell won it for Lord Weary’s Castle in 1947 at the age of thirty. Judges unanimously chose Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow for the 1974 Pulitzer Prize in fiction, but that decision was struck down by the Pulitzer’s advisory board, which found the novel “turgid, overwritten, unreadable, obscene” (qtd. in Moore 1). In Lowell and Pynchon we are ostensibly confronted with the opposition that defined the literary world after 1945: Lowell, the poet of the establishment; Pynchon, the writer on the fringe. The conformist-versus-nonconformist scenario would play itself out countless times in the years following World War II as the literary establishment clashed with groups such as the 2 Beats, the New York School, and the Black Mountain writers, thus forming a mirror image of the oppositional culture that pervaded American society at large throughout the sixties and into the seventies. Jed Rasula provides useful terms in which to consider Lowell’s early career when he describes Lowell as “the poet prepared, golem-like, by the founders of the New Criticism, programmed as it were to produce the poems that would confirm for a contemporary audience that their tastes (as honed by the curriculum of Understanding Poetry) could handle the new poetry as readily as the old” (248). On the other hand, according to Edward Mendelson, Pynchon’s fiction “proposes grotesquerie that governance can never acknowledge,” so the novelist necessarily inhabits a territory “at the edge of a culture” (173, 178). Pynchon’s aesthetic, which can contemplate coprophagia and the Kabbalah in the same breath, would undoubtedly fall to the “raw” side of Lowell’s now-notorious “cooked”-versus-“raw” bisection of postwar poetry.1 But when we turn to Lowell and Pynchon’s comparable Puritan lineages (both trace their roots to American first families) and the ways in which they approach Puritanism, it becomes evident that they aren’t so different at all. Both Lowell’s For the Union Dead (1964) and Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow, published in 1973 but written throughout the latter half of the sixties, evince an anxiety over Puritanism that is ineluctably bound to the sociological conditions of 1960s American culture. Each work envisions an America where the old Calvinist binary of elect (the few chosen by God for salvation) and preterite (those left behind—everybody else) has collapsed under Cold War threats of nuclear annihilation, thus reconfiguring the two driving concepts behind the Puritans’ “errand into the wilderness”: the apocalypse and salvation. In an 1 Lowell made this declaration during his acceptance speech for the 1960 National Book Award: “Two poetries are now competing, a cooked and a raw. The cooked, marvelously expert, often seems laboriously concocted to be tasted and digested by a graduate seminar. The raw, huge blood-dripping gobbets of unseasoned experience are dished up for midnight listeners. There is a poetry that can only be studied, and a poetry that can only be declaimed, a poetry of pedantry, and a poetry of scandal” (qtd. in Kunitz 100). 3 uncannily similar fashion, Lowell and Pynchon suggest that the Puritan desire for salvation has developed into a secular pursuit of material wealth, and that this pursuit, in turn, has led to a technocratic nuclear tension. With grim irony, these works claim that America’s capitalist pursuit of technology to save itself in a strained geopolitical environment has actually created a nation of preterition. In the pages that follow, I consider the under-examined reemergence of Puritan themes in postwar American literature and align Lowell and Pynchon as the twentieth century’s two great inheritors of Puritan anxiety. To get a sense of Lowell’s family history, one need only flip through his recently published Collected Poems, which includes such titles as “In Memory of Arthur Winslow,” “Mary Winslow,” “Mr. Edwards and the Spider,” “My Last Afternoon with Uncle Devereux Winslow,” “Commander Lowell,” “Jonathan Edwards in Western Massachusetts,” and “The Worst Sinner, Jonathan Edwards’ God.” As Elizabeth Bishop recognized, Lowell’s poems conjure up a ghostly procession of names and figures associated with America’s founding. “I feel I could write in as much detail about my uncle Artie,” Bishop marveled in a letter to Lowell, “but what would be the significance? Nothing at all […] Whereas all you have to do is put down the names! And the fact that it seems significant, illustrative, American. […] In some ways you are the luckiest poet I know!” (qtd. in Hamilton 233). Whether he himself felt so lucky is another story altogether. Lowell’s ancestry provided ample raw material for his poetry and undoubtedly added to his literary appeal, but Lowell often seems trampled beneath what he called “the mob of ruling-class Bostonians” (Life Studies 66). The sheer amount of fetishized Puritan history that Lowell packs into his work makes it seem like an impulsive gesture, as if he had to write about it. Norman Mailer got this same feeling during the March on the Pentagon, 4 where he felt that Lowell “gave off at times the unwilling haunted saintliness of a man who was repaying the moral debts of ten generations of ancestors” (83). The first of these ancestors to reach America, Edward Winslow, stepped off the Mayflower in 1620. Winslow makes several cameo appearances in the urtext of New England consciousness, William Bradford’s narrative Of Plimmoth Plantation. After joining the Leyden Congregation at the age of twenty-two, Winslow, “a man of essentially adventurous and somewhat liberal outlook,” as Lowell’s English relative D. Kenelm Winslow describes him, found himself among “a worried, introverted community, strongly critical of the faults of others and none too sure of itself” (26). Nevertheless, Winslow made the Mayflower’s voyage to the New World and was one of fifty two (out of one hundred and two) pilgrims to survive into the summer of 1621 (Bradford 85). He spent his early years in Massachusetts engaged in Indian diplomacy and was elected Plymouth’s governor in 1633, 1636, and 1644 (Mariani 28). Edward’s brother, John Winslow, arrived on the Fortune in 1621 and soon after