I ran across this op-ed piece by A. E. Hotchner in the NY times the other day objecting to how the new edition of Ernest Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast,
“…has been extensively reworked by a grandson who doesn’t like what the original said about his grandmother, Hemingway’s second wife. The grandson has removed several sections of the book’s final chapter and replaced them with other writing of Hemingway’s that the grandson feels paints his grandma in a more sympathetic light. Ten other chapters that roused the grandson’s displeasure have been relegated to an appendix, thereby, according to the grandson, creating “a truer representation of the book my grandfather intended to publish.”
This piece goes on to decry the attempt made by these editors and others to “clean up” Hemingway’s work. Here, we have a wonderful example of how the antiseptic, edited versions of people’s lives are instinctively preferred to thereal. Now, in Hemingway’s case, one could perhaps forgive his descendants for a little bit of posthumous character resuscitation; however, the idea that we somehow need to protect others from the foibles of who we actually are—the questionable opinions, the knee-jerk judgments, the areas of unexamined blindness—presupposes that these are not the universals of the human condition, that what really unites us is our altruism, moments of selfless love and periods of insightful introspection.
In no way is this an excuse for the, shall we say, regrettable aspects of our humanity; rather, this helps understand the need for the theology of the Cross as something which, in the words of the late Gerhard O. Forde, “calls a thing what it is.” Only with a proper diagnosis can we be appropriately treated; only with an acceptance of who we really are can we appreciate who we might become. This is where the Cross serves its dual function: revelation and redemption. It reveals the depth of our need–the dark places of un-edited fallen humanity–and the means and hope of our redemption.
When the library of my voluminous works are edited posthumously, I only hope that my editors, descendants, whoever, will appreciate that the very areas of my un-edited life were the ones that forced me to the Cross, forced me to proclaim this message (in some form) day after day, the ones that allows me to cry out with the Apostle Paul,”who will deliver me from this (un-edited) body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ!”
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5 responses to “A Malleable Feast? Perception, Reality and the Cross”
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Jady, this is really wonderful!
There is so much gospel in what you say, I especially love, "I only hope that my editors, descendants, whoever, will appreciate that the very areas of my un-edited life were the ones that forced me to the Cross…" Really speaks! Amen!
wow, great post, JDK! I read Moveable Feast when i was living abroad and it fueled an enormous amount of romantic illusions about being an ex-pat. great book, though.
the whole thing reminds me of george lucas…
Great post, JDK. I am not sure how or if it relates to what you have so beautifully said, but it is interesting to see how the "art" that was created out of real human pain still evokes that pain in the flesh and blood off-spring of the artists. I recall Jakob Dylan of the Wallflowers saying that he could not listen to "Blood on the Tracks" because of the painful memories it carried of his parent's divorce. I love it, but I didn't live it. Thanks be indeed to Jesus Christ, or none of us could live with the "legacy" of pain we all will leave behind, to one degree or another, even if a few have converted some of it into "art."
I think this is a fabulous, important post.
"who will deliver me from this (un-edited) body of death?…"
love this!