Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Day 11: Dante adjusts to the smell

I read a fair amount of television criticism.  Let me clarify.  I read a lot about the show Breaking Bad, what I consider to be one of the most breathtaking visual experiences I've ever encountered.  But this isn't going to be a long-winded essay comparing Walter White's descent into moral depravity to Dante's decent into the underworld.  That would be a false premise, in that Dante goes through a transformative journey from sin to virtue, whereas Walter just goes deeper and deeper into decay.  But this is more about a particular phenomena in long form storytelling that has been affectionately called table setting.  In serialized television and it's precursor the serialized novel, there are certain chapters in the story that no forward momentum, or minimal action to move the plot along, occurs.  This is slightly misleading, as the best shows or novels, disguise these very essential pieces of information within these chapters.  In essence, sometimes the most critical ideas or themes are introduced in what used to be called filler episodes. 
Canto 11 is a prototypical example of a chapter when there is no forward movement, and yet the entire Divine Comedy rests upon some of the concepts explained within.  Dante and Virgil have rested, and Dante wants to know what gives.  Virgil explains that here in the land of heretics the stench is overwhelming to the visitor.  One must adjust their olifactory organs in order to proceed.  He seems to be saying, if you are so focused on how bad it smells, you're going to miss a whole lot about what you are about to witness. It's at this moment that Dante introduces, rather sheepishly, a metatextual explanation.  Virgil is going to use this moment of rest to expound upon the architecture of the lowest circles of hell to Dante, and thus to the reader.  The remaining two circles are Violence and Fraud.  Each contain within them three smaller circles.  With violence, one can sin against their neighbor, themselves, and God, with violence against God being the gravest sin.  What is most interesting at least to me as a modern reader, is that Usuary is how Virgil describe violence against God.  It is, to a medieval mind lie Dante's, so grave because it runs contrary to nature.  He relates it to sodomy.  It's difficult to see the correlation between chargin interest for loans, and sodomy (which in modern terms doesn't seem quite the grave sin it was, but is still considered by many folks to be pretty bad)  So those who charge interest are committing violence against God, even if it is in metaphorical terms. 
Virgil also speaks at length about the sins of fraud, which are graver sins than those of violence.  Once again, this is a confusing thing to the modern mind, which seems to put acts of violence above all others when weighing the gravity of sins.  But to lie or steal or manipulate with deception can cause far more damage to humanity than one individual act of violence, at least according to Virgil, and thus to Dante the poet.  A lie can infect a whole generation, can alter history in ways that violence does not.  Whether you agree with this is beside the point.  The fact is, this is Dante's poem, and he is the god-head of this world.  I must say, it's a provocative position, one that I have spent a lot of time ruminating upon.  I dare say i've thought more on this canto than a majority of the action packed cantos.  It's when "nothing happens" that we are allowed to ask the bigger questions, not distracted by the vivid imagery or unforgettable characters.  It's kind of like Breaking Bad, where an episode puts the two main character in one room for an hour and produces a compelling chapter of ideas not action.  Nothing happens and yet everything changes from the perspective of the consumer.  Dante enriched and enlivened his epic by stopping and talking.  Remarkable.

No comments:

Post a Comment