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Elias Canetti

Memoirs of a European modernist

Memoirs of a European modernist

Party in the Blitz

July 26, 2012 by Roy Johnson

Canetti amidst English modernists during the war

The first three volumes of Elias Canetti’s memoirs cover the period 1905 to 1937. The Tongue Set Free traces his precocious childhood in Bulgaria, Manchester, Vienna, and Zurich; The Torch in my Ear describes his years in Frankfurt, Vienna, and Berlin as he mixed with German modernists and established his reputation as a writer; then The Play of the Eyes details his affair with Alma Mahler’s daughter as well as his friendships with writers such as Robert Musil and Hermann Broch. This fourth volume Party in the Blitz takes up the story when like many other European refugees he sought asylum in England (London, Hampstead) during the war.

Elias Canetti He is very grateful to England and the protection it offered him, and some of the better pages of this volume are devoted to an appreciation of English history and culture. There’s very little in the way of a continuous argument or a well-planned chronology – because the memoir is put together from journal entries, diaries, and fragments he left behind on his death in 1994. The lack of coherence can sometimes be disconcerting – William Empson’s parties and Margaret Thatcher’s Argentinean war policy discussed on the same page for instance.

Basically he takes a character or a topic and dredges up his ideas and impressions from fifty years previously. He seems to have known everybody who was anybody around that time – Dylan Thomas, Roland Penrose, Vaughan Williams, Herbert Read, Arthur Waley, Bertrand Russell, and J.D. Bernal.

The most amazing thing is that there’s no account of his own development as a writer or an intellectual. He doesn’t say what he was reading or writing; there is no sense of work completed that would lead to the Nobel Prize in 1981; and nothing he says is related to either his own cultural heritage or the development of European modernism in the first half of the twentieth century.

He is largely concerned with anecdotes and character sketches of completely inconsequential upper-class toffs and their servants amongst whom he seems to have spent his time. For a man who was supposed to be an intellectual and a writer, it’s amazing to note that the bulk of these pages are taken up by either attacking his contemporaries or driving round Britain in fast cars with dissolute members of the fallen aristocracy – people who he is pleased to relate, can trace their ancestry back to the Norman conquest.

He seems to be most sympathetic to people like himself – the self-confessed misogynist Arthur Waley; the womanizer Bertrand Russell; and a young Enoch Powell, smarting with anguish at the loss of India as part of the British Empire.

London in the war years was a centre for European emigres of all kinds – Kurt Schwitters and Oskar Kokoschka mingle with native artists Stevie Smith, Henry Moore, and Katherine Raine. There are pitilessly cruel portraits of Iris Murdoch, Katherine Raine, and Veronica Wedgewood – all of whom were his former lovers.

You could call Iris Murdoch the bubbling Oxford stewpot. Everything I despise about English life is in her. You could imagine her speaking incessantly, as a tutor, and incessantly listening: in the pub, in bed, in conversation with her male or female lovers … She invited me to Oxford, and met me at the station. She was wearing grotesque sandals, which showed off her large flat feet to terrible disadvantage … she would always come in slovenly academic gear, graceless in her wool or sacking dresses, never really seductive, sometimes in the wrong colours (she didn’t have the ghost of an aesthetic sense where her own clothes were concerned)

What he doesn’t take into account or ask himself is why if he found these women so repugnant, he should become sexually involved with them – as he was, with the full knowledge of his wife. Whilst he fills pages listing the shallowness and failures of his lovers, he says nothing whatever about his wife Veza, the woman to whom he was married throughout all these years. You would never know from these pages that she was a novelist in her own right, and that she had sacrificed much of her time to help him finish Crowds and Power.

But he reserves his most concentrated vitriol for T.S. Eliot, who he berates for embracing English traditions, working in a bank, and writing plays for money.

An American brings over a Frenchman from Paris, someone who died young (Laforgue), drools his self-loathing over him, lives quite literally as a bank clerk, while at the same time he criticises and diminishes anything that was before … and comes up with the end result: an impotency which he shares around with the whole country; he kowtows to any order that’s sufficiently venerable … tormented by his nymphomaniac of a wife …

And for all that Canetti obviously considers himself the great “Dichter”, the only two books he mentions in the four volumes of these memoirs are Auto-da-Fe which he had written by the time he was twenty-six, and Crowds and Power, a study that took him thirty years to bring to completion – a study that in the words of Clive James ‘advanced a thesis no more gripping than its title’.

These are memoirs written in spleen and resentment, and it’s possible that there might be even more to come. Canetti put a twenty-two year embargo on his diaries and personal writings that will not expire until 2024. But it seems unlikely that further revelations will endear him to a new generation of readers, even if that Nobel committee did give him a prize.

Party in the Blitz Buy the book at Amazon UK

Party in the Blitz Buy the book at Amazon US

© Roy Johnson 2012


Elias Canetti, Party in the Blitz: The English Years, New York: New Directions, 2005, pp.249, ISBN: 0811218309


The Tongue Set Free Volume One of the memoirs — The Tongue Set Free

The Torch in My Ear Volume Two of the memoirs — The Torch in My Ear

The Play of the Eyes Volume Three of the memoirs — The Play of the Eyes

Party in the Blitz Volume Four of the memoirs — Party in the Blitz


Twentieth century literature
More on biography


Filed Under: Biography, Elias Canetti Tagged With: Biography, Cultural history, Elias Canetti, Modernism, Party in the Blitz

The Play of the Eyes

July 5, 2012 by Roy Johnson

Vienna – Strasbourg – Paris – Prague

The Play of the Eyes is the third volume of the memoirs of Elias Canetti, a trilogy which I have read with a growing sense of frustration. He was an amazingly clever, talented, and well-connected writer who at only twenty-six produced what has become a European modernist classic novel (Auto-da-Fé) he won the Nobel Prize for literature in 1981, and he was personally acquainted with some of the most prestigious artists of the modernist period of the early twentieth century – Karl Kraus, Bethold Brecht, Georg Groz, Robert Musil, Hermann Broch, Alban Berg – and yet he tells you almost nothing about them. Every attempt at a character sketch or an artistic evaluation is shrouded by either abstract generalizations, his own egoism – or both.

The Play of the EyesWhen Hermann Broch is given a chapter of his own we are presented with nothing except Canetti’s own reactions to him, including the quite ridiculous notion that Canetti was able to detect Broch’s secret method for penetrating insights into other people through his manner of breathing. When introducing the conductor Hermann Scherchen he ends up talking about his own play The Wedding, how powerfully moving it is, and how talented must be the writer who can create such moving effects. It is not surprising that he is somewhat unloved by most commentators.

He moves on to describe Alma Mahler (the composer’s widow) and falls in love with her daughter Anna, a sculptor, through whom he meets her tutor Fritz Wotruba, who was considered one of the more avant-gard artists of the Vienna Sezession movement. He doesn’t bother explaining what his wife Veza thought about his affairs with other women.

In fact there is very little by way of personal revelation of the kind you might normally expect in someone’s memoirs. He makes no mention of his emotional life, which was very complex; there’s nothing about his family, which was very important in the first volume, The Tongue Set Free; and it’s not at all clear how he earned his living – or even if he earned it at all.

The most moving chapter is a description of the funeral of Manon, Alma Mahler’s daughter from her second marriage to the architect Walter Gropius. Manon died of polio at the age of only eighteen, and the occasion was immortalized in the violin concerto Alban Berg wrote and dedicated ‘To the memory of an angel’. Canetti manages to combine a heartfelt tribute to the girl with a fulsome picture of her grieving mother which is tinged with satire (Alma Mahler was well known for very theatrical public displays).

Even after his marriage and the publication of Auto-da-Fé in 1935, the long-running conflict with his mother continues just as intensely as it is described in the first two volumes. On a visit to her in Paris she predicts what will happen to him with amazing critical zeal and foresight:

She saw me surrounded by women, who would worship me for the ‘misogyny’ of Auto-da-Fé and long to let me chastise them for being women. She saw a fast-moving procession of bewitching beauties at my home in Grinzing, and in the end she saw Veza [his wife] banished and forgotten in a tiny apartment just like her own in Paris.

And sure enough, the very next chapter is a self-indulgent description of a nineteen year old girl fan throwing herself at him in a night club.

The general picture he creates of Viennese artistic circles is one of snobbery, one-upmanship, rivalries, and undisguised private enmities. This is mixed in his own case with a marked degree of self-loathing that seems to be endemic in Austrian culture (one thinks of the extreme case of Thomas Benhard).

He makes a laughing stock out of the biographer Emil Ludwig. Robert Musil cuts him dead for daring to mention the very name of Thomas Mann. Heimito von Doderer is reduced to a vain fool. No doubt all these people had character flaws: writers are not renowned for being models of virtue – but Canetti seems to relish negativity, just as he elevates his personal heroes into saints.

The book ends with his mother’s death in 1937 – which is another quite moving chapter. Two years later he moved to live in Hampstead, London, a story which is taken up in the continuation to this grizzly but fascinating memoir, Party in the Blitz

The Play of the Eyes Buy the book at Amazon UK

The Play of the Eyes Buy the book at Amazon US

© Roy Johnson 2012


Elias Canetti, The Play of the Eyes, London: Granta Publications, 2011, pp.329, ISBN: 1847083552


The Tongue Set Free Volume One of the memoirs — The Tongue Set Free

The Torch in My Ear Volume Two of the memoirs — The Torch in My Ear

The Play of the Eyes Volume Three of the memoirs — The Play of the Eyes

Party in the Blitz Volume Four of the memoirs — Party in the Blitz


Twentieth century literature
More on biography


Filed Under: Biography, Elias Canetti Tagged With: Biography, Cultural history, Elias Canetti, Modernism, The Play of the Eyes

The Tongue Set Free

May 23, 2012 by Roy Johnson

Ruschuk – Manchester – Vienna – Zurich

The Tongue Set Free is the first volume of Elias Canetti’s memoirs. Although he is best known (though not widely) for his novel Auto-da-Fe (1935) he was a prolific writer in a number of literary genres. Crowds and Power (1960) is a sociological study of human behaviour in masses; Voices of Marrakesh (1968) is a collection of travel essays; Kafka’s Other Trial (1969) is a combination of literary criticism and a study of Kafka’s troubled relationship with his lover Felice Bauer. Canetti’s memoirs document the social and cultural life of Europe as well as his own intellectual development in the first half of the twentieth century. He was awarded the Nobel Prize for literature in 1981.

The Tongue Set FreeHis story constitutes an extraordinarily rich pan-European cultural history. He was raised in a Sephardic Jewish family of Spanish origin in Bulgaria, speaking Ladino, but with parents who spoke to each other in German. As a child he was taken to live in Manchester where English quickly became his adoptive language. On the early death of his father he was then taken to Switzerland where his mother drilled him in German, in preparation for school in Vienna, where he also learned to read Hebrew.

Living in Zurich, his neighbours include Busoni, and his mother points out Lenin in a caf&eacute. As a matter of fact James Joyce and Tristran Tzara were there at the same time, but they were less well known.

There are three central links joining together the short chapters of reminiscence: the passionate and intense relationship with his mother; his love of words and languages; and his insatiable appetite for learning and knowledge.

His father died very suddenly when quite young, and left an obviously attractive wife with one elder and two younger sons to be raised. She put Elias, the eldest, under tremendous pressure to replace his father as an intellectual companion, and he took to the role very enthusiastically.

She drilled him relentlessly to learn German, the language of love she had shared with her husband. She discussed books and ideas with her son. He became jealous whenever suitors came in sight – and drove them away. She told him that she had sacrificed her life to raise him, and expected total devotion in return. She even imposed a total prohibition on all knowledge of sexual matters.

He piles on page after page of admiration for his mother’s charm, intelligence, passionate devotion to literature, and her firm opposition to the war. It’s a well known psychological scenario – and a wonder he didn’t become homosexual – though there are hints of misogyny creeping through by the end of this first volume. Women are associated with bad smells – apart from his mother of course – and his negative attitude to women emerges despite all his efforts to conceal it in the second and third volume of this autobiography. .

His love of books and learning are unstoppable, and he has the grace to reveal that it made him into a somewhat priggish know-it-all at school, where he was subject to anti-Semitic prejudice.

The latter part of this first volume ends in a catalogue of character sketches of his ever-changing schoolmasters, who very typically range from petty martinets to the sort of Dead Poets Society and Jean Brodie favourites who treat their students as ‘equals’ – and end up being fired.

What comes through most admirably is a strong sense of internationalism. He knows his ancestors came from Spain; he was born in Bulgaria, but he also lived in Manchester, Vienna, and Zurich, with loyalties during the first world war (largely directed by his mother) towards those who had suffered most.

The struggle between him and his mother reaches a tremendous emotional climax when after encouraging his every cultural interest, she suddenly decides to jerk him out of what she sees as his complacent intellectualism, cosseted in the Zurich gymnasium, and drag him unwillingly to an inflation-struck Germany where he would have to live amongst people who were suffering, and learn to face ‘real life’. This takes him to Frankfurt – where the story is continued in the second volume of these remarkable memoirs..

Buy the book at Amazon UK

Buy the book at Amazon US

Elias Canetti – biographies

The Tongue Set Free Volume One of the memoirs — The Tongue Set Free

The Torch in My Ear Volume Two of the memoirs — The Torch in My Ear

The Play of the Eyes Volume Three of the memoirs — The Play of the Eyes

Party in the Blitz Volume Four of the memoirs — Party in the Blitz

© Roy Johnson 2012


Elias Canetti, The Tongue Set Free, London: Granta Publications, 2011, pp.268, ISBN: 1847083560


Twentieth century literature
More on biography


Filed Under: Biography, Elias Canetti Tagged With: Biography, Cultural history, Elias Canetti, The Tongue Set Free

The Torch in My Ear

July 2, 2012 by Roy Johnson

Frankfurt – Vienna – Berlin

The first volume of Elias Canetti’s remarkable memoirs ended in early 1920 when his mother plucked him out of what she regarded as his self-indulgent intellectual reveries in Zurich, and dragged him into inflation-torn Germany to face ‘real life’. That’s where the story is taken up here – in a Frankfurt boarding house in 1921. The Torch in My Ear continues the very Oedipal relationship with his widowed mother and reaches the point where he must decide on a career. He shifts again to Vienna and begins to study Chemistry, quite clearly without any genuine appetite for the subject.

The Torch in My EarIn all his activities there’s a remarkable degree of similarity with the life which Franz Kafka was leading in nearby Prague – restless moving from one temporary home to another, outdoor swimming and walking, psychological struggles with a dominant parent, and aesthetic aspirations as an antidote to the tedium of daily life.

These similarities are intensified in one or two completely bizarre scenes where Canetti stumbles upon an elderly woman flogging a housemaid who is stripped to the waist in a kitchen, and then later encounters his landlady late at night licking the backs of paintings of her late husband. Later in the memoir he makes friends with a young man who is completely paralysed, but with whom he has conversations about philosophy. These scenes might have come straight from a work by Kafka.

A major influence on his life in Vienna was Karl Kraus, author of the one-man newspaper Die Fackel (The Torch) which gives this volume its title in German – Die Fackel im Ohr – though he does not give an account of Kraus’s ideas, so much as his charisma as a public speaker.

Canetti’s personal life is dominated by a deeply literary friendship with a young woman called Veza, but it is characteristic of his approach to autobiography that his account of the relationship is completely intellectualized. He reveals absolutely nothing about the state of his feelings for the girl, and she disappears from the narrative without trace, as does even his mother.

You would never guess from this volume of the memoirs that Veza developed a literary career of her own, and eventually became his wife. Neither would you guess that she also had a relationship with his younger brother Georges – or that she only had one arm.

On the 15 July 1927 in Vienna (known as Black Friday) the police shot dead eighty-four protesters in a demonstration against the government. The Palace of Justice was set alight, and there were riots in the streets – in all of which Canetti was caught up. This he depicts as one of his life-forming experiences, and he devoted the next thirty years or more to the study of mass psychology that resulted in his book Crowds and Power (1960).

Given that he wrote these memoirs fifty years and more after the events described, he has an astonishing memory for names, places, and the fine details of everyday life. Characters are brought into being on the page almost as if they were people he had encountered the day before. The downside of this approach is that the memoir becomes predominantly a series of anecdotal sketches – a boastful dwarf; a one-legged Mormon; a beautiful Russian girl who lives via Dostoyevski. But he doesn’t bother to relate any of these characters to any larger social or artistic issues.

When he does escape from describing characters to presenting general reflections on life, he often drifts into a sort of rambling which seems to combine narrative via metaphor with a form of German metaphysics:

Far more important was the fact that you were simultaneously learning how to hear. Everything that was spoken, anywhere, at any time, by anyone at all, was offered to your hearing, a dimension of the world that I had never had any inkling of. And since the issue was the combination—in all variants—of language and person, this was perhaps the most important dimension, or at least the richest. This kind of hearing was impossible unless you excluded your own feelings. As soon as you had put into motion what was to be heard, you stepped back and only absorbed and could not be hindered by any judgement on your part, any indignation, any delight. The important thing was the pure unadulterated shape: none of these acoustic masks (as I subsequently named them) could blend with the others For a long time you weren’t aware of how great a supply you were gathering.

His account moves up a gear when he visits Berlin in 1928 at the invitation of poetess Ibby Gordon. He meets most of the major artistic figures of the period – the montage artist John Heartfield (real name Helmut Herzfeld) his brother Wieland, the playwright Bethold Brecht, artist George Groz, and his favourite character the Russian writer Isaac Babel.

Some chapters are based on small incidents described in a puzzling degree of detail. At one point a conversation in a tavern with a group of criminals is expanded for several pages into minute descriptions of a burglar’s face and longwinded accounts of Canetti’s thoughts and feelings during the conversation. He has a personal theory of memory to explain this unusual approach – but it’s hard to know if this is just an excuse to cover his tracks:

I had seen many things in Berlin that stunned and confused me. These experiences have been transformed, transported to other locales, and, recognisable only by me, have passed into my later writings It goes against my grain to reduce something that now exists in its own right and to trace it back to its origin. This is why I prefer to cull out only a few things from those three months in Berlin—especially things that have kept their recognisable shape and have not vanished altogether into the secret labyrinth from which I would have to extricate them and clothe them anew. Contrary to many people, particularly those who have surrendered to a loquacious psychology, I am not convinced that one should plague, pester, and pressure memory or expose it to the effects of well-calculated lures; I bow to memory, every person’s memory

This seems to be a convoluted way of saying that he is only going to write about things that suit him, and there is certainly no attempt here to create a continuous picture of either his own intellectual development, or the artistic current of the times through which he lived. Indeed, as Clive James has argued in his own excellent review of this volume, Canetti’s ego was so overwhelming that it actually prevented him empathising with other people.

The Torch in My Ear Buy the book at Amazon UK

The Torch in My Ear Buy the book at Amazon US

© Roy Johnson 2012


Elias Canetti, The Torch in my Ear, London: Granta Publications, 2011, pp.384, ISBN: 1847083579


The Tongue Set Free Volume One of the memoirs — The Tongue Set Free

The Torch in My Ear Volume Two of the memoirs — The Torch in My Ear

The Play of the Eyes Volume Three of the memoirs — The Play of the Eyes

Party in the Blitz Volume Four of the memoirs — Party in the Blitz


Twentieth century literature
More on biography


Filed Under: Biography, Elias Canetti Tagged With: Biography, Cultural history, Elias Canetti, Modernism, The Torch in my Ear

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