Paul Deb

In a recent lecture, the acclaimed novelist Amit Chaudhuri explored the apparently defining, but for him increasingly puzzling, question of why he writes novels. In the course of that exploration, he responds to an accusation which seemingly undermines that question and which has greeted his fiction from the start of his literary career: that insofar as his work lacks any real interest in narrative or story, he doesn't write novels at all. In this chapter, I first draw on the work of the philosopher Stephen Mulhall to show how (amongst other things) Chaudhuri’s denial of the dramatic identifies him as a modernist realist novelist; I then associate this denial, and his lecture’s motivating question, with a certain perfectionist conception of the self developed by Stanley Cavell.

Stanley Cavell’s influential philosophical work on American cinema concerns itself with the thought that some of the most famous movies of classical Hollywood constitute two related, but previously undefined, genres that he names “the comedy of remarriage” and “the melodrama of the unknown woman,” respectively. In this collection, the first devoted to the subject, leading figures in philosophy and film studies provide detailed readings of more recent Hollywood films that show how the two genres continue to be inherited in American cinema, not least by the films’ participation in a certain moral outlook—concerning personal and cultural transformation—that Cavell calls “Emersonian Perfectionism.” The films discussed include Rich and Famous, As Good as It Gets, My Best Friend’s Wedding, Revolutionary Road, On the Rocks, Palm Springs, and Tenet.

Of the various forms of life writing with which the present collection is concerned, I want in this chapter to devote my attention to the genre of the memoir (and so the autobiographical), and its relation to the seemingly sharply contrasting literary genre of the novel (insofar as the former is understood as a mode of writing concerned with the recounting of the facts or reality of a particular human life, and the latter is understood as concerned only with the appearance of such lives, with the essentially unreal or fictional). Of course, the recent interest in what is termed ‘autofiction’ has served to raise once again the question of the distinction between the memoir and the novel; but rather than engage with that discussion, I want here to focus instead on a particular author’s explicit critical response to that distinction, insofar as it has persistently marked the reception of his work. In a recent lecture, the acclaimed novelist Amit Chaudhuri replied to an accusation that has greeted his fiction from the start of his literary career: that since his novels contain people and events drawn from his own life, they are better thought of as thinly disguised memoirs—as not really novels at all. To examine this charge, I want to draw on an account by the philosopher Stephen Mulhall of the work of another celebrated novelist—J.M. Coetzee (more specifically, that work which features the character Elizabeth Costello). In particular, I want to establish the pertinence to Chaudhuri’s lecture of Mulhall’s analogy between aspects of that work and the work of the influential art historian and critic Michael Fried on the history of modernist painting. In so doing, I aim to show that the commitment to the projects of literary modernism and realism which Mulhall finds in Coetzee (and Costello), can also be found in Chaudhuri’s understanding of the sense in which his novels both are, and are not, autobiographical.

In a recent online lecture, the acclaimed novelist Amit Chaudhuri responded to an accusation that has greeted his fiction since the start of his literary career: that since, as he openly admits, his novels contain people and events that are drawn from his own life, they are better thought of as thinly disguised memoirs—as not really novels at all. In this paper, I discuss this charge by drawing on an account by the philosopher Stephen Mulhall of the work of another distinguished novelist—J.M. Coetzee (more specifically, that work which features the character Elizabeth Costello). In particular, I want to establish the pertinence to Chaudhuri’s lecture of Mulhall’s analogy between aspects of that work and the work of the influential art historian and critic Michael Fried on the history of modernist painting. In so doing, I aim to show that the commitment to the projects of literary modernism and realism which Mulhall sees in Coetzee (and Costello), can also be seen in Chaudhuri’s understanding of the sense in which his novels both are, and are not, autobiographical.

Interpretations of the ethical significance of the Bhagavadgītā typically understand the debate between Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa in terms of a struggle between consequentialist and deontological doctrines. In this paper, I provide instead a reading of the Gītā which draws on a conception of moral thinking that can be understood to cut across those positions – that developed by Stanley Cavell, which he calls ‘Emersonian Moral Perfectionism’. In so doing, I emphasise how Kṛṣṇa’s consolation of Arjuna can centrally and fruitfully be viewed as concerned with resuscitating the latter’s individuality, thereby allowing Arjuna to overcome an unthinking conformity to the current degenerate state of his society. This leads me to explore the relation between this perfectionist understanding of spiritual reorientation and the Gītā’s religious account of human redemption; and to conclude by suggesting how the text of the Gītā itself might have similar therapeutic designs upon its readers.