John Granger Attempts to Convince Nick (and You!) That The Hallmarked Man will be Considered the Best of the Series.
We review our take-away impressions from our initial reading of The Hallmarked Man. Although we enjoyed it, especially John’s incredible prediction of Robin’s ectopic pregnancy, neither of us came away thinking this was the finest book in the series. For Nick, this was a surprise, as enthusiastic J. K. Rowling fan that he is other than Career of Evil every book he has read has been his favourite. Using an innovative analysis of the character pairs surrounding both Cormoran and Robin, John argues that we can’t really appreciate the artistry of book number eight until we consider its place in the series. Join John and Nick as they review the mysteries that remain to be resolved and how The Hallmarked Man sets readers up for shocking reveals in Strike 9 and 10!
Why Troubled Blood is the Best Strike Novel:
* The Pillar Post Collection of Troubled Blood Posts at HogwartsProfessor by John Granger, Elizabeth Baird-Hardy, Louise Freeman, Beatrice Groves, and Nick Jeffery
Troubled Blood and Faerie Queene: The Kanreki Conversation
But What If We Judge Strike Novels by a Different Standard than Shed Artifice? What About Setting Up the ‘Biggest Twist’ in Detective Fiction History?
* If Rowling is to be judged by the ‘shock’ of the reveals in Strike 10, then The Hallmarked Man, the most disappointing book in the series even to many Serious Strikers, will almost certainly be remembered as the book that set up the finale with the greatest technical misdirection while playing fair.
* The ending must be a shock, one that readers do not see coming, BUT
* The author must provide the necessary clues and pointers repeatedly and emphatically lest the reader feel cheated at the point of revelation.
* If the Big Mysteries of the series are to be solved with the necessary shock per both Russian Formalist and Perennialist understanding, then the answers to be revealed in the final two Strike novels, Books Two and Three of the finale trilogy, should be embedded in The Hallmarked Man.
* Rowling on Playing Fair with Readers:
The writer says that she wanted to extend the shelf of detective fiction without breaking it. “Part of the appeal and fascination of the genre is that it has clear rules. I’m intrigued by those rules and I like playing with them. Your detective should always lay out the information fairly for the reader, but he will always be ahead of the game. In terms of creating a character, I think Cormoran Strike conforms to certain universal rules but he is very much of this time.
* On the Virtue of ‘Penetration’ in Austen, Dickens, and Rowling
* Rowling on the Big Twist’ in Austen’s Emma:
“I have never set up a surprise ending in a Harry Potter book without knowing I can never, and will never, do it anywhere near as well as Austen did in Emma.”
What are the Key Mysteries of the Strike series?
Nancarrow Family
Why did Leda and Ted leave home in Cornwall as they did?
Why did Ted and Joan not “save” Strike and Lucy?
Was Leda murdered or did she commit suicide?
If she was murdered, who dunit?
If she commited suicide, why did she do it?
What happened to Switch Whittaker?
Cormoran Strike
Is Jonny Rokeby his biological father?
What SIB case was he investigating when he was blown up?
Was he the father of Charlotte’s lost baby? If not, then who was?
Why has he been so unstable in his relations with women post Charlotte Campbell?
Charlotte Campbell
Why did her mother hate her so much?What was her relationship with her three step-fathers? Especially Dino Longcaster
Who was the father of her lost child?
Was the child intentionally aborted or was it a miscarriage?
What was written in her “suicide note”?
Was Charlotte murdered or did she commit suicide?
If she was murdered, who done it?
If she committed suicide, why did she do it?
What happened to the billionaire lover?
What clues do we get in Hallmarked Man that would answer these questions?
- Strike 8 - Greatest Hits of Strikes 1-7: compilation, concentration of perumbration in series as whole
* Decima/Lion - incest
* Rupert’s biological father not his father of record (Dino)
* Sacha Legard a liar with secrets
* Ryan Murphy working a plan off-stage - Charlotte’s long game
Strike about ‘Pairings’ in Lethal White
Strike continued to pore over the list of names as though he might suddenly see something emerging out of his dense, spiky handwriting, the way unfocused eyes may spot the 3D image hidden in a series of brightly colored dots. All that occurred to him, however, was the fact that there was an unusual number of pairs connected to Chiswell’s death: couples—Geraint and Della, Jimmy and Flick; pairs of full siblings—Izzy and Fizzy, Jimmy and Billy; the duo of blackmailing collaborators—Jimmy and Geraint; and the subsets of each blackmailer and his deputy—Flick and Aamir. There was even the quasi-parental pairing of Della and Aamir. This left two people who formed a pair in being isolated within the otherwise close-knit family: the widowed Kinvara and Raphael, the unsatisfactory, outsider son.
Strike tapped his pen unconsciously against the notebook, thinking. Pairs. The whole business had begun with a pair of crimes: Chiswell’s blackmail and Billy’s allegation of infanticide. He had been trying to find the connection between them from the start, unable to believe that they could be entirely separate cases, even if on the face of it their only link was in the blood tie between the Knight brothers.
Part Two, Chapter 52
Key Relationship Pairings in Cormoran Strike:
Who Killed Leda Strike?
To Rowling-Galbraith’s credit, credible arguments in dedicated posts have been made that every person in the list below was the one who murdered Leda Strike. Who do you think did it?
* Jonny Rokeby and the Harringay Crime Syndicate (Heroin Dark Lord 2.0),
* Ted Nancarrow (Uncle Ted Did It),
* Dave Polworth,
* Leda Strike (!),
* Lucy Fantoni (Lucy and Joan Did It and here),
* Sir Randolph Whittaker,
* Nick Herbert,
* Peter Gillespie, and
* Charlotte Campbell-Ross
Scripted Ten Questions:
1. So, Nick, back when we first read Hallmarked Man we said that there were four things we knew for sure would be said about Strike 8 in the future. Do you remember what they were?
2. And, John, you’ve been thinking about the ‘Set-Up’ idea and how future Rowling Readers will think of Hallmarked Man, even that they will think of it as the best Strike novel. I thought that was Troubled Blood by consensus. What’s made you change your mind?
3. So, Nick, yes, Troubled Blood I suspect will be ranked as the best of series, even best book written by Rowling ever, but, if looked at as the book that served the most critical place in setting up the finale, I think Hallmarked Man has to be considered better in that crucial way than Strike 5, better than any Strike novel. Can you think of another Strike mystery that reviews specific plot points and raises new aspects of characters and relationships the way Strike 8 does?
4. Are you giving Hallmarked Man a specific function with respect to the last three books than any of the others? If so, John, what is that exactly and what evidence do we have that in Rowling’s comments about reader-writer obligations and writer ambitions?
5. Nick, I think Hallmarked Man sets us up to answer the Key mysteries that remain, that the first seven books left for the final three to answer. I’m going to organize those unresolved questions into three groups and challenge you to think of the ones I’m missing, especially if I’m missing a category.
6. If I understand the intention of your listing these remaining questions, John, your saying that the restatement of specific plot points and characters from the first seven Strike novels in Hallmarked Man points to the possible, even probable answers to those questions. What specifically are the hallmarks in this respect of Hallmarked Man?
7. If you take those four points, Nick, and revisit the mysteries lists in three categories, do you see how Rowling hits a fairness point with respect to clueing readers into what will no doubt be shocking answers to them if they’re not looking for the set-ups?
8. That’s fun, Nick, but there’s another way at reaching the same conclusions, namely, charting the key relationships of Strike and Ellacott to the key family, friends, and foes in their lives and how they run in pairs or parallel couplets (cue PPoint slides).
9. Can we review incest and violence against or trafficking of young women in the Strike series? Are those the underpinning of the majority of the mysteries that remain in the books?
10. Many Serious Strikers and Gonzo Galbraithians hated Striuke 8 because Hallmarked Man failed to meet expectations. In conclusion, do you think, Nick, that this argument that the most recent Strike-Ellacott adventure is the best because of how it sets us up for the wild finish to come will be persuasive -- or just annoying?
On Imagination as Transpersonal Faculty and Non-Liturgical Sacred Art
The Neo-Iconoclasm of Film (and Other Screened Adaptations): Justin requested within his question for an expansion of my allusion to story adaptations into screened media as a “neo-iconoclasm.” I can do that here briefly in two parts. First, by urging you to read my review of the first Hunger Games movie adaptation, ‘Gamesmakers Hijack Story: Capitol Wins Again,’ in which I discussed at post’s end how ‘Watching Movies is a a Near Sure Means to Being Hijacked by Movie Makers.’ In that, I explain via an excerpt from Jerry Mander’s Four Arguments for the Elimination of Television, the soul corrosive effects of screened images.
Second, here is a brief introduction to the substance of the book I am working on.
Rowling is a woman of profound contradictions. On the one hand, like all of us she is the walking incarnation of her Freudian family romance per Paglia, the ideas and blindspots of the age in which we live, with the peculiar individual prejudices and preferences and politics of her upbringing, education, and life experiences, especially the experiences we can call crises and consequent core beliefs, aversions, and desires. Rowling acknowledges all this, and, due to her CBT exercises and one assumes further talking therapy, she is more conscious of the elephant she is riding and pretending to steer than most of her readers.
She points to this both in asides she make in her tweets and public comments but also in her descriptive metaphor of how she writes. The ‘Lake’ of that metaphor, the alocal place within her from her story ideas and inspiration spring, is her “muse,” the word for superconscious rather than subconscious ideas that she used in her 2007 de la Cruz interview. She consciously recognizes that, despite her deliberate reflection on her PTSD, daddy drama, and idiosyncratic likes and dislikes, she still has unresolved issues that her non-conscious mind presents to her as story conflict for imaginative resolution.
Her Lake is her persona well, the depths of her individual identity and a mask she wears.
The Shed, in contrast, is the metaphorical place where Rowling takes the “stuff” given her by the creature in her Lake, the blobs of molten glass inspiration, to work it into proper story. The tools in this Shed are unusual, to say the least, and are the great markers of what makes Rowling unique among contemporary writers and a departure from, close to a contradiction of the artist you would expect to be born of her life experiences, formative crises, and education.
Out of a cauldron potion made from listening to the Smiths, Siouxie and the Banshees, and The Clash, reading and loving Val McDermid, Roddy Doyle, and Jessica Mitford, and surviving a lower middle class upbringing with an emotionally barren homelife and Comprehensive education on the England-Wales border, you’d expect a Voldemort figure at Goblet of Fire’s climax to rise rather than a writer who weaves archetypally rich myths of the soul’s journey to perfection in the spirit with alchemical coloring and sequences, ornate chiastic structures, and a bevy of symbols visible only to the eye of the Heart.
To understand Rowling, as she all but says in her Lake and Shed metaphor, one has to know her life story and experiences to “get” from where her inspiration bubbles up and, as important, you need a strong grasp of the traditionalist worldview and place of literature in it to appreciate the power of the tools she uses, especially how she uses them in combination.
The biggest part of that is understanding the Perennialist definition of “Sacred Art.” I touched on this in a post about Rowling’s beloved Christmas story, ‘Dante, Sacred Art, and The Christmas Pig.’
Rowling has been publicly modest about the aims of her work, allowing that it would be nice to think that readers will be more empathetic after reading her imaginative fiction. Dante was anything but modest or secretive in sharing his self-understanding in the letter he wrote to Cangrande about The Divine Comedy: “The purpose of the whole work is to remove those living in this life from the state of wretchedness and to lead them to the state of blessedness.” His aim, point blank, was to create a work of sacred art, a category of writing and experience that largely exists outside our understanding as profane postmoderns, but, given Rowling’s esoteric artistry and clear debts to Dante, deserves serious consideration as what she is writing as well.
Sacred art, in brief, is representational work — painting, statuary, liturgical vessels and instruments, and the folk art of theocentric cultures in which even cutlery and furniture are means to reflection and transcendence of the world — that employ revealed forms and symbols to bring the noetic faculty or heart into contact with the supra-sensible realities each depicts. It is not synonymous with religious art; most of the art today that has a religious subject is naturalist and sentimental rather than noetic and iconographic, which is to say, contemporary artists imitate the creation of God as perceived by human senses rather than the operation of God in creation or, worse, create abstractions of their own internally or infernally generated ideas.
Story as sacred art, in black to white contrast, is edifying literature and drama in which the soul’s journey to spiritual perfection is portrayed for the reader or the audience’s participation within for transformation from wretchedness to blessedness, as Dante said. As with the plastic arts, these stories employ traditional symbols of the revealed traditions in conformity with their understanding of cosmology, soteriology, and spiritual anthropology. The myths and folklore of the world’s various traditions, ancient Greek drama, the epic poetry of Greece, Rome, and Medieval Europe, the parables of Christ, the plays of Shakespeare’s later period, and the English high fantasy tradition from Coleridge to the Inklings speak this same symbolic language and relay the psychomachia experience of the human victory over death.
Dante is a sacred artist of this type. As difficult as it may be to understand Rowling as a writer akin to Dante, Shakespeare, Homer, Virgil, Aeschylus, Spenser, Lewis, and Tolkien, her deployment of traditional symbolism and the success she enjoys almost uniquely in engaging and edifying readers of all ages, beliefs, and circumstances suggests this is the best way of understanding her work. Christmas Pig is the most obviously sacred art piece that Rowling has created to date. It is the marriage of Dantean depths and the Estecean lightness of Lewis Carroll’s Alice books, about which more later.
[For an introduction to reading poems, plays, and stories as sacred art, that is, allegorical depictions of the soul’s journey to spiritual perfection that are rich in traditional symbolism, Ray Livingston’s The Traditional Theory of Literature is the only book length text in print. Kenneth Oldmeadow’s ‘Symbolism and Sacred Art’ in his Traditionalism: Religion in the light of the Perennial Philosophy(102-113), ‘Traditional Art’ in The Essential Seyyed Hossein Nasr(203-214), and ‘The Christian and Oriental, or True Philosophy of Art’ in The Essential Ananda K. Coomaraswamy(123-152) explain in depth the distinctions between sacred and religious, natural, and humanist art. Martin Lings’ The Sacred Art of Shakespeare: To Take Upon Us the Mystery of Things and Jennifer Doane Upton’s two books on The Divine Comedy, Dark Way to Paradise and The Ordeal of Mercy are the best examples I know of reading specific works of literature as sacred art rather than as ‘stories with symbolic meaning’ read through a profane and analytic lens.]
‘Profane Art’ from this view is “art for art’s sake,” an expression of individual genius and subjective meaning that is more or less powerful. The Perennialist concern with art is less about gauging an artist’s success in expressing his or her perception or its audience’s response than with its conformity to traditional rules and its utility, both in the sense of practical everyday use and in being a means by which to be more human. Insofar as a work of art is good with respect to this conformity and edifying utility, it is “sacred art;” so much as it fails, it is “profane.” The best of modern art, even that with religious subject matter or superficially beautiful and in that respect edifying, is from this view necessarily profane.
Sacred art differs from modern and postmodern conceptions of art most specifically, though, in what it is representing. Sacred art is not representing the natural world as the senses perceive it or abstractions of what the individual and subjective mind “sees,” but is an imitation of the Divine art of creation. The artist “therefore imitates nature not in its external forms but in its manner of operation as asserted so categorically by St. Thomas Aquinas [who] insists that the artist must not imitate nature but must be accomplished in ‘imitating nature in her manner of operation’” (Nasr 2007, 206, cf. “Art is the imitation of Nature in her manner of operation: Art is the principle of manufacture” (Summa Theologia Q. 117, a. I). Schuon described naturalist art which imitates God’s creation in nature by faithful depiction of it, consequently, as “clearly luciferian.” “Man must imitate the creative act, not the thing created,” Aquinas’ “manner of operation” rather than God’s operation manifested in created things in order to produce ‘creations’
which are not would-be duplications of those of God, but rather a reflection of them according to a real analogy, revealing the transcendental aspect of things; and this revelation is the only sufficient reason of art, apart from any practical uses such and such objects may serve. There is here a metaphysical inversion of relation [the inverse analogy connecting the principial and manifested orders in consequence of which the highest realities are manifested in their remotest reflections[1]]: for God, His creature is a reflection or an ‘exteriorized’ aspect of Himself; for the artist, on the contrary, the work is a reflection of an inner reality of which he himself is only an outward aspect; God creates His own image, while man, so to speak, fashions his own essence, at least symbolically. On the principial plane, the inner manifests the outer, but on the manifested plane, the outer fashions the inner (Schuon 1953, 81, 96).
The traditional artist, then, in imitation of God’s “exteriorizing” His interior Logos in the manifested space-time plane, that is, nature, instead of depicting imitations of nature in his craft, submits to creating within the revealed forms of his craft, which forms qua intellections correspond to his inner essence or logos.[2] The work produced in imitation of God’s “manner of operation” then resembles the symbolic or iconographic quality of everything existent in being a transparency whose allegorical and anagogical content within its traditional forms is relatively easy to access and a consequent support and edifying shock-reminder to man on his spiritual journey. The spiritual function of art is that “it exteriorizes truths and beauties in view of our interiorization… or simply, so that the human soul might, through given phenomena, make contact with the heavenly archetypes, and thereby with its own archetype” (Schuon 1995a, 45-46).
Rowling in her novels, crafted with tools all taken from the chest of a traditional Sacred Artist, is writing non-liturgical Sacred Art. Films and all the story experiences derived of adaptations of imaginative literature to screened images, are by necessity Profane Art, which is to say per the meaning of “profane,” outside the temple or not edifying spiritually. Film making is the depiction of how human beings encounter the time-space world through the senses, not an imitation of how God creates and a depiction of the spiritual aspect of the world, a liminal point of entry to its spiritual dimension. Whence my describing it as a “neo-iconoclasm.”
The original iconoclasts or “icon bashers” were believers who treasured sacred art but did not believe it could use images of what is divine without necessarily being blasphemous; after the incarnation of God as Man, this was no longer true, but traditional Christian iconography is anything but naturalistic. It could not be without becoming subjective and profane rather than being a means to spiritual growth and encounters. Western religious art from the Renaissance and Reformation forward, however, embraces profane imitation of the sense perceived world, which is to say naturalistic and as such the antithesis of sacred art. Film making, on religious and non-religious subjects, is the apogee of this profane art which is a denial of any and all of the parameters of Sacred art per Aquinas, traditional civilizations, and the Perennialists.
It is a neo-iconoclasm and a much more pervasive and successful destruction of the traditional world-view, so much so that to even point out the profanity inherent to film making is to insure dismissal as some kind of “fundamentalist,” “Puritan,” or “religious fanatic.”
Screened images, then, are a type of iconoclasm, albeit the inverse and much more subtle kind than the relatively traditional and theocentric denial of sacred images (the iconoclasm still prevalent in certain Reform Church cults, Judaism, and Islam). This neo-iconoclasm of moving pictures depicts everything in realistic, life-like images, everything, that is, except the sacred which cannot be depicted as we see and experience things. This exclusion of the sacred turns upside down the anti-naturalistic depictions of sacred persons and events in iconography and sacred art. The effect of this flood of natural pictures akin to what we see with our eyes is to compel the flooded mind to accept time and space created nature as the ‘most real,’ even ‘the only real.’ The sacred, by never being depicted in conformity with accepted supernatural forms, is effectively denied.
Few of us spend much time in live drama theaters today. Everyone watches screened images on cineplex screens, home computers, and smart phones. And we are all, consequently, iconoclasts and de facto agnostics, I’m afraid, to greater and lesser degrees because of this immersion and repetitive learning from the predominant art of our secular culture and its implicit atheism.
Contrast that with the imaginative experience of a novel that is not pornographic or primarily a vehicle of perversion and violence. We are obliged to generate images of the story in the transpersonal faculty within each of us called the imagination, one I think that is very much akin to conscience or the biblical ‘heart.’ This is in essence an edifying exercise, unlike viewing photographic images on screens. That the novel appears at the dawn of the Modern Age and the beginning of the end of Western corporate spirituality, I think is no accident but a providential advent. Moving pictures, the de facto regime artistry of the materialist civilization in which we live, are the counter-blow to the novel’s spiritual oxygen.
That’s the best I can manage tonight to offer something to Justin in response to more about the “neo-iconoclasm” of film
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