COMMENT ON “PAUL AUSTER AND AUGUST
BRILL’S SOLITARY ROOMS: THE SPATIALITY OF SOLITUDE”
Jie
Tong[1]
Commented Article:
Chen, Ru; Liu,
Song; Lin, Jiaxin; Kan, Muhammad Khail. Paul
Auster and August Brill’s solitary rooms: the spatiality of solitude. Trans/Form/Ação: Unesp journal of philosophy, v. 45, n. 4, p. 183-204,
2022.
In
“The Invention of Isolation”, “The New York Trilogy”, “Man in the Dark”,
“Winter Journal”, and other works, Paul Auster explores the meaning of solitude
as “[…] one of the requirements of being human.” (ADAMO, 2002, p. 32). Auster
is essentially a reclusive author who spends a lot of time alone in a room
engaged in intense meditation. Invoking the French phenomenologist
Merleau-Ponty, the author makes the case that only complete separation of self
and other, subject and object, is necessary for true transcendental solitude.
We are in relation to what is other than the self. As long as we are aware of
our separation from the other, we cannot assert our solitary position. Since
each person's sense of himself largely depends on that perception, isolation in
this instance is “intersubjective.”
The
solitary chamber is a recurrent theme in Paul Auster's fiction, works, and life
because of its complicated architectural, psychological, and narrative
existence. According to Auster, a room is really “the substance of solitude
itself,” an isolation that is defined by space. It has transcended its physical
bounds and taken on existential and philosophical significance in this way. His
thorough investigation of the space also gives his trip into solitude more
depth. A room is primarily an architectural design that houses a single writer.
It is also one of the substances that Auster's fiction depicts the most
frequently. The writer's mind is then represented figuratively by a room that
contains all of her or his thoughts and memories. The three depictions of
chambers invariably form an interlinked trio in Auster's study of the
spatiality of isolation, expressing solitary in terms of intersubjectivity –
the relationship and intersection of different people's cognitive views.
Solitude
is defined simply as “[…] the condition or situation of being alone” in the
“Oxford Dictionary of English”. In “Solitude, A Philosophical Encounter”,
philosopher Philip Koch argues that solitude is a state of mind or condition of
aloneness along with aloneness, isolation, alienation, and privacy. In a
different study, researchers made the argument that isolation is distinct from
other modalities due to its ability to encompass a range of contradictory
emotions, its status as a voluntary act of will, and its innate exclusion of
other people from consciousness. In addition to being a condition of
loneliness, it has also been described as a “realm,” a “room,” or a “world,” a
place that a person creates in his mind where they have spiritual, psychological,
and philosophical experiences that are very different from those they have in a
real society. In addition, authors and thinkers have been known to voluntarily
lock themselves in a room and live in complete seclusion. However, there are
many differences between the “room” depicted in mental tranquility and the
actual space with architectural characteristics. However, “the room of
seclusion” is closely related.
For
inner serenity and self-knowledge, authors and intellectuals frequently decide
to stay in a room alone. For instance, Montaigne (2003, p. 201) argued
persuasively that older men, who have already provided for their families and
societies, should retire to solitude. He offers the following recommendation:
We
should designate a space specifically for ourselves, leaving it completely
unoccupied, and establish our actual liberty, primary solitude, and haven. It
should be a space where we regularly converse about ourselves, and with
ourselves; hence no outside business or communication should be allowed to take
place there. (AUSTER, 2005, p. 270).
In
this sense, a room of solitude is where people who have spent their entire
lives repressing their sentiments and emotions can come to terms with who they
are. It is also important to note that to achieve equilibrium, a person must
take a step back and examine his life while distancing himself from outside
gazes.
Auster
feels his solitude is profoundly influenced by his time spent in lonely spaces,
where he is occasionally blessed with the ecstasy of deep thought and
inspiration and other times tormented by loneliness and self-doubt. In his life
works, especially “The Invention of Isolation” and “Winter Journal”, accounts
of experiences in a room of solitude are prevalent. He understands that his
solitude has never been contained even with the limitations of solid, enclosed
walls (ALLEN, 2020, p. 15; FOUCAULT; MISKOWIEC,
1986, p. 22). “Winter Journal” is a memoir that takes the reader on a journey
of the body and spans sixty-three years of the author's life, with “twenty
stopping places, then, a score of addresses leading to the one address that may
or may not prove to be permanent.” “The Invention of Solitude” approaches the
spatial dimension of solitude through multiple intertextual readings of the
rooms once occupied by Van Gogh, Dickinson, Ann Frank, Hölderlin, and many
others. An understanding of his embodied consciousness, which begins with his
sensual and physical experiences, is made easier by the detailed descriptions
of his solitary quarters, the peaceful moments he spent thinking about the
connection between “body” and “writing,” as well as the revelation of his
numerous near-death experiences. The records are simple and unremarkable.
Together, they created a reservoir for lived experiences that nourished his
lonesome literary efforts.
According
to Auster, a room is “the essence of isolation itself,” not just a reflection.
In other words, the space represents the solitary manifested in physical space.
He defined his isolation with an architectural signification and gave his room,
originally a concrete building, intersubjective and intellectual details by
connecting a real room with the substance of solitude. Now, a writer's room is
more than just the physical area they occupy; it also represents their
philosophical existence. Auster (1998, p. 342) illustrates the gloomy days in
the room at Varick Street when he felt hesitant to leave by describing this
actualization of the mind, which he uses to explain the paradox of being in a
space that is one's thinking.
He
generally succeeds in filling this space with his thoughts by remaining there
for extended periods, which in turn seems to erase the gloom or, at the very
least, renders him ignorant of it. Every time he leaves the room, he takes his
ideas with him, and as a result, the space eventually becomes empty of his
efforts to occupy it. He needs to start the process again when he returns,
which requires significant spiritual effort.
Auster
dreads leaving the brick and concrete building because it houses his identity.
He even goes so far as to associate his psychological and spiritual makeup with
the room itself, remembering the reflective work he must do after leaving the
room unattended. Auster imagined a metamorphosis or substitution between his
physical body and his thoughts after spending a significant amount of time in
the “chamber” that is his head. He gradually believes that leaving would
destroy his cerebral inhabitation of space, which would require a lot of work
to restore. Faced with this conflict between introspection and adventure, he
suggests using memory as a bridge to connect solitudes through epistemic and
perceptual dialogue.
Memory
as a location, a structure, a series of columns, cornices, and porticoes. The
sound of our footsteps as we move from one location to another and the
sensation of our body moving about inside the mind give the impression that we
are traveling from one area to another.
Memory
is a container for the world, the things in it, and the body itself when
interpreted spatially and given the quality of “place.” Memory is also a result
of bodily observations and mental processes. When Auster asserts that “[…]
memory is not only as the resuscitation of one's history, but an immersion in the
past of others,” it is expressed in an intersubjective capacity. In other
words, when using memory to cross the barriers between the spatially separated
solitary realms, one must be willing to accept their position in their
recollections. The people who are alone are compelled to communicate with other
embodied awareness. To cross the barriers between the spatially separated
solitary realms, one must be willing to accept their position in their
recollections. They represent relation, connection, and alteration rather than
being distinct architectural existences. The lonely room is where the writer's
creative writing endeavors can bring together seemingly contradictory moments,
places, deeds, and beings in a thrilling interplay.
Auster's
concept of “room,” in all its interconnected and all-encompassing
manifestations, somewhat echoes Michel Foucault and Jay Miskowiec's
investigation of “space.” The song “Of Other Spaces” (ALLOA; CHOURAQUI;
KAUSHIK, 2019, p. 165). According to Foucault and
Miskowiec, the space we occupy is never a “vacuum” where people and objects are
put. The environment in which we live can be described as “[…] a collection of
relations that delineates places which are irreducible to one another and not
superimposable.” They introduce the idea of “heterotopias” – spaces that can be
found within culture but are not limited to any locales and which are “[…]
simultaneously depicted, challenged, and inverted” – to emphasize the
relational character of space (AUSTER, 1998, p. 342). The two academics have
proposed several principles. To start, heterotopias are not exclusive to any
culture but are present in all known civilizations. Second, as history
progresses, heterotopias may behave differently. An illustration of how
“cemeteries” have evolved from representing sacred resurrection to emphasizing
personal seclusion, blood ties, and social rank is provided. Thirdly,
heterotopias are “[…] capable of juxtaposing in one actual location various
places, several sites that are inherently incompatible.” (AUSTER, 1998, p.
356). For instance, the garden reflects the diversity of nature and contains
plants from a variety of habitats because it is a microcosm of several
geographical and climatological conditions. The fourth kind of heterotopia is
the heterotopia of time, in which things that are wholly unrelated to one
another and from various historical periods are combined to demonstrate the
continuity of time. In their efforts to collect and conserve exhibits from
various eras, museums belong here. Libraries, vacation resorts, and theme parks
are just a few examples of heterotopias that Foucault and Miskowiec have
already highlighted. All of these places are characterized by a concentration
and accumulation of moments, natural ways of living, and strong sensations in a
single locus (BALSHAW; KENNEDY, 1999, p. 404).
Auster's
“room” and Foucault and Miskowiec's “heterotopia” might be compared to come to
the realization that both notions are spaces anchored in reality and culture.
They are not separate architectural systems. They instead suggest relationship,
connection, and transformation. Both ideas are also complex and always changing
because, in Auster's view, “room” refers to a space large enough to accommodate
both inward reflection and outer travel. The lonely room is a location where
the writer's creative writing endeavours can bring together seemingly
contradictory moments, places, deeds, and beings in a thrilling interplay. So,
in terms of its interconnected inclusiveness, his concept of “room” might be viewed
as a specific illustration of heterotopia.
Exploring
the spatiality of solitude, Auster proposes, “Memory as a room, as a body, as a
skull, as a skull that encloses the room in which a body sits,” connecting his
mind – an intellectually constructed room that contains his memories – and a
spatially structured room that contains his physical existence. As seen in the
picture: “A man sat by himself in his apartment.” The core of Auster's
understanding of a solitary mind is this philosophical idea of reciprocal
containment. His mind serves as a storage space for his memories of the past,
enabling him to write and extending the boundless potential of intersubjective
connections. On the other hand, his mind, which is the “room,” is also a part
of the actual room with four walls. In essence, a solitary “room,” in all of
its expressions, is inclusive and encompassing; as a result, when examined in
Auster's texts, the concept of “room” should never be understood as solely a
writer's location in an isolated space.
When
Auster's idea of solitude is considered in terms of how “room” and “thought”
interact, a crucial component – the physical body – deserves special
consideration. Without a thought firmly seated in her/his body, a writer, or
any person in a room, is indifferent to the excitement, tranquility, or anguish
in solitude. She or he must first place in a physical body in order to feel and
consider any conjectured thoughts, feelings, and experiences in the space.
Auster's spatial solitary is therefore substantially “embodied.” When a lone
person enters a room, muses over his past, and records what he thinks, his
solitude within the space expands and diffuses, becoming perceptible and
meaningful. In this way, despite their small size, these isolated “rooms” have
a lot of promise. The “[…] outside world, the tangible universe of objects and
beings, has come to seem no more than an emanation of his thought,” eventually.
In conclusion, even in the most isolated space, a person is equipped with
endless interaction thanks to the embodied consciousness.
The
resulting impressions of interrelations blur the lines between the interior and
exterior of the space, giving the embodied subject a paradoxical sense of
restriction and freedom while also giving them the ability to walk through
walls. In this way, the experience of body-mind oneness communicates both the
enormous freedom of transcendence and the terrible confinement of containment
in a solitary space. This is the comments to Chen,
Liu, Lin, Kan (2022) paper.
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Received:
10/09/2022
Approved: 12/09/2022