On second thought, according to Kundera's "two tears" definition of kitsch, my love for Christmas is totalitarian. I love it largely because it is a canonically loved thing, and I think everyone else should love it on behalf of everyone else. I retract it.
(That happened to be the only site I found with a quick and direct reprint of that quote, but Beckus will also understand my delight in its particular appearance on the list of my Google results.)
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
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9 comments:
Why object to the second tear, so long as one cries the first tear? The second alone is a bit hollow, granted, but it need not be cried alone, and it doesn't make the first one less genuine.
I understand, Rita. It's fate.
Also, my kitten's REAL cute.
The internet is so weird.
Hi Rita! Hi Becky!
Why would you retract your love for Christmas because of whatever Kundera thinks about kitsch? Lots of people think lots of things about kitsch.
Withywindle: It doesn't make the first one less genuine, but it does distort the motive behind the crying. It is one thing to be moved, another to be moved because one suspects that this is a socially desirable thing to be moved by or because other people are typically moved by it. I think Kundera suggests one should stop crying after the first tear, if at all.
Becky: I know.
Adam: Hello.
Alex: But I haven't read all those other people. That's why I have you. Let's say I'll put my love for Christmas on probation until further consideration.
SMI: I suspect that there is a romantization of the naive going on in that definition, and an unwarranted bashing of sophistication. Who that is thoughtful can entirely escape the knowledge of what society desires or what moves other people? The argument delegitimizes any combination of contemplation and emotion under the denigrating term of 'kitsch.' It is in some sort an anti-intellectualism of an intellectual.
I.e., Kundera would doubtless call me kitschy! And, no, I think that second tear is not so bad as all that.
Well, I have not yet read Kundera and that is because a certain self-important somebody's birthday package has not arrived.
Withywindle: I took it as a caution against prescriptive sophistication of the variety of "Small children in the grass seem like just the kind of thing that the masses could get behind, so I will get behind it as well in solidarity with them." The alternative should not be naivete, but perhaps something more like, "Why do I find these children in the grass so lovely?" The rest of the book's characters do not, in any case, romanticize the naive. Except Franz the great admirer of kitsch, who is himself naive and doesn't understand the distorted basis of his own sympathy for "revolutionaries."
Alex: In fact, I got your copy yesterday. The package will hopefully be mailed out this weekend.
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