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OF SUBLIMITY,SHRINKAGE,AND SELFHOOD
IN THE WORKSOF BRUNO SCHULZ1
Andreas Schonle, Universityof Michigan
town had been sinking into the perpetual graynessof dusk, had become
affected at the edges by a rash of shadows, by fluffy mildew and by moss
the dull color of iron" (12).
This state of realitycarriesarchetypalsignificancein Schulz'sworks. The
blurringof edges due to a propagationof parasitictissuesand the disappear-
ance of color contrastsresult in a near-to-totalleveling of differencesand,
ultimately,of meaning.Objectscease to be objects andfuse withthe aggres-
sive uniformityof the externalworld. In his "Essayfor S. I. Witkiewicz,"
Schulz maintainedthat "the substance of that reality exists in a state of
constantfermentation,germination,hiddenlife. It containsno dead, hard,
limited objects. Everythingdiffusesbeyond its borders,remainsin a given
shape only momentarily,leaving this shape behind at the first opportu-
nity ... This migrationof formsis the essence of life ... There is an ever-
present atmosphere of the stage . .." (Letters 113).11Father's heretical criti-
cism of God's creation, "Lessmatter,more form"(29), is derivedfrom the
realization- a truly Kantianone - that the pleasure affordedby the free,
calmandslightlydistancedcontemplationof a beautifulandlimitedobject is
indispensablein order to secure a balanced relationshipwith the world.
The trivialityof the externalpretextsettingoff the sublimemay of course
affectits scenario.An ubiquitoussublimityis doomed to degradationat the
very time of its unfolding.In the "Visitation",for instance, Father spends
days and nightsworkingon the ledgers of his shop, attemptingdesperately
to straighten out the accounting of his small business. This apparently
innocuous activity grows out of proportionsand reaches dimensionsthat
invite an analogywith Kant'smathematicalsublime. Father'sundertaking
can be seen as a last-ditch effort to bring under control the unchecked
progressionand proliferationof numbersand calculationsconnected with
his trade. The issue is, indeed, one of power and authority.At the very
time that this struggletakes place, however,anotherdramaunfolds. It thus
happens that while Father "seemed to be engrossed in the complicated
currentaccounts-his thoughtshad been secretlyplumbingthe labyrinths
of his own entrails"(15), by whichhe is made awareof "claimsand sugges-
tions." As these inner impulsesbecome increasinglypressing, the ensuing
conflict develops along two tracks. On one level it turns into a highly
dramaticdisputeof mythicmagnitudebetween the old man, who is likened
to the prophetsof the Old Testament(15), and Jehovahappearingthrough
the upper window. Simultaneously,however, a contrapuntalline develops
in whichFatheris sittingon a chamberpot, desperatelytryingto stimulate
bowel movements, an enterpriseultimatelycrownedwith success, so that
the scene ends with Father emptyingwith "a terriblecurse"the content of
the pot through the window (16). Here the sublime is counteractedand
undercutby a suggestionof the grotesquethatcallsinto questionits serious-
ness. One comes to wonderwhetherthe sublimeattemptto bringnumbers
476 Slavicand East EuropeanJournal
under control is not simply an alibi for a more prosaic and physiological
battle. The claims of the body seem to supersede those of the self.12
The fact that just about anything is susceptible to being magnified into an
occurrence of sublimity is bound to raise suspicions about genuineness.
Indeed, in the works of Bruno Schulz the sublime, even in its truncated
form, takes on a tinge of theatricality. In "August," the comparison of the
Market Square with a biblical desert swept by hot winds is promptly quali-
fied by the acknowledgment that the trees "affect a storm, rustling theatri-
cally their crowns" (4). Similarly, in "The Gale," the darkness that had
fermented and evolved into a storm has surrounded the house "with a
backstage area full of howling, whistling and groaning" (82), so that in the
end the gale is exposed as "a donquixotesque invention of the night, imitat-
ing in the confined backstage area the tragic immensity, the cosmic home-
lessness and loneliness of the wind" (82). The theatrical metaphor runs
throughout Schulz's oeuvre, suggesting that the sublime requires a willing
suspension of disbelief, a deliberate ignoring of the ways aesthetic impres-
sions are fabricated behind the scenes. A dramatization of the scenery on
the private stage of consciousness, the sublime loses its firm ontological
grounding. In "Cinnamon Shops", for example, a stage curtain represent-
ing a starry sky is said to tremble and to create a "vibration of reality which,
in metaphysical moments, we experience as the glimmer of revelation"
(53). This "vibration" of reality alerts us to its instability. Rents in the fabric
of reality are such that one never knows whether what assails the senses is
an external phenomenon or a creation of the imagination. As a result,
sublimity and theatricality reinforce each other.
Ultimately, the difference between the Kantian and the Schulzian sub-
lime is one of function. For Kant, the sublime contributes to the self-
consciousness and freedom of human beings by rendering them mindful of
the existence of reason and its faculty to produce the ideas of unity and
totality; and since this principle of unity is the cornerstone of the formal
architecture of our understanding, the sublime fulfills a role very crucial
indeed. No such centrality can be claimed by Schulz's truncated sublime,
which, on the contrary, is emblematic of the bankruptcy of reason. As a
result, the Kantian multi-layered structure of consciousness collapses. The
legitimacy of categories like space, time, and causality, through which we
experience the world, is called into question. In Schulz's world a starry
firmament can be so "wide and ramified that it seems to have disintegrated,
to be divided and broken up into a labyrinth of separate skies, sufficient to
endow a whole month with winter nights" (54).13 Similarly, time may multi-
ply and branch out into different directions, unfolding along "illegal and
suspect" "parallel streams" (131), much as some events may occur that do
not fit in any time sequence at all,14 thus frustrating our ability to account
for their causes and consequences. In short, the three Kantian categories of
Of Sublimity,Shrinkage,and Selfhoodin the Worksof Bruno Schulz 477
spends most of her time sweeping things away, shutting rooms or windows,
covering up furniture with protective bags, keeping people separate, mini-
mizing thereby any emergence of freedom and irrationality. All of this is
emblematic of a principled withdrawal from the external world, of an
endeavor to arrest the free circulation of signifiers so as to preserve the
integrity and autonomy of the self. Numerous metaphors of closure, con-
striction, and confinement run through the stories of Bruno Schulz, suggest-
ing that self-preservation may require severance from the world.
However, as a result of the circular nature of the sublime, the attempt to
bar the outer world or to tame its manifestations is nothing but a symptom
of the inner weakness of the self. This strategy of closure leads to the total
impoverishment of the self, to an unheard-of shrinkage and internal drain-
ing. The inner exhaustion ranges from the metaphysical to the sexual. In
his "Letter to Stefan Szuman, July 24, 1932," Schulz writes about a "state
of spellbound suspension within a person solitude," a "cutting oneself off
from life and action" that is linked to a dream in which as a young man he
performs his own castration in a dark forest at night, realizing afterwards
that as a punishment for his terrible sin he is condemned to "public confine-
ment in a glass retort, from which [he will] never escape" (Schulz, Letters
37). Schulz ascribes to this dream a "symbolic charge," a "semantic poten-
tial," that, in his own account, he has never been able to exhaust in his
works. This is one of Schulz's "master images," fundamental iconic situa-
tions that inform his consciousness (Kuprel 103-104). The dark forest is a
key to the dream. It stands for the threat that the world exerts upon the
individual, leading him to cripple himself. This nightmare sums up the
chain of reactions, by which sublimity prompts the self to withdraw from
the world, which in turn results in self-emasculation and self-seclusion.
The second possible response to sublimity is the reversal of the first one.
It consists of a readiness to give in to the immensity of the world and let the
self be swept away by it. Schulz supplies a paradigm for this attitude in his
"Letter to Romana Halpern, August 20-26, 1937," where he depicts his
current mental condition as a moment of awakening, a sudden eagerness to
be drawn into the "affairs and processes" of the world:
Thus inside me my specific being, my exceptionality,immersesitself into oblivion, so to
speak, withoutdissolving.What shut me off from the world'sonslaughtsrecedes gently into
the background,and I, like an insect releasedfrom its cocoon, exposed to the tempestof an
alien light and the winds of heaven, commit myself to the elements, in a way for the first
time. ... Now I am openingmyself to the world ... and all would be well if it weren'tfor
that terrorand innershrinking,as if before a perilousventure.. ." (Letters149)
This excerpt describes a point-by-point reversal of the attitude evoked in
the previous letter. Openness to the world implies a certain forgetfulness of
one's own self, but at the same time and in spite of the anxiety created by
this exposure, it is conceived as a new birth, or more precisely as a coming
Of Sublimity,Shrinkage,and Selfhoodin the Worksof Bruno Schulz 479
parts of a totality and cannot possibly exist as isolated artistic objects. The
disappearance of individual drawings compromises the value of them all.
There is a thin line, however, between the creative activity induced by
this surrender and another much more sinister possible outcome. For sur-
rendering entails the risk of becoming an object rather than an instrument
of transformation. After all, a human being whose reason is invalidated
loses nearly all claims to an autonomous essence distinct from the rest of
the world. Here the consistency of Schulz's poetic world is truly remark-
able. The sublime is as likely to trigger an outpouring of creative energy as
it is to expose the subject to misuse and appropriation as an element in a
transformational series. Nothing can ward off a confusion between agent
and material in the creative process, as if the metonymic relationship be-
tween the two would somehow invite their substitution. The many meta-
morphoses that Father undergoes tend to be intimately connected with his
creative activity. In "Cockroaches," for example, his intense loathing for
the repulsive insects and the all-out war he wages against them result only
in his eventual metamorphosis into a cockroach. The reversal normally
brought about by the sublime, the conversion of threat into creation, is
perverted here. What is turned around is the feeling of repulsion: for the
father it becomes straightforward fascination, paving the way to his own
transformation.
When it comes down to it, there is a long way from Kant's elevation of
the sublime to a self-consolidating discovery of reason to Schulz's exposure
of reason's potential irrelevance in a world devoid of stability and unity.
For Schulz the sublime has lost its cognitive dimension. Knowledge is of
little avail in a world whose forms are so fluid and vulnerable. One notices
not a reality deficit, as Lyotard had it, but a reality surplus: the real is so
productive that it loses all stability and keeps inundating the self. The only
attitude that can be envisioned in order to stem the fluidity of the real is
that of creating on our own, attempting to gain some leverage over the
world by rearranging our environment and thus staying a step ahead of the
principle of transformation at work in the universe. Thus, if in the age of
Kant aesthetics takes over the functions of speculative philosophy in an
attempt to salvage the unity of the world and the self, in late Modernism it
is poetics (in the etymological sense of poein, Greek for "to make," "to
produce") that comes to the fore, in a move that answers the same need but
betrays the increasing fragility and depersonalization of the self.
NOTES
1 I would like to thank one of my anonymousreferees, who proposed several helpful
revisionsto the translationfromwhichI was quotingas well as pointedout the reference
to Dorota Glowacka'sarticlecited below.
Of Sublimity, Shrinkage, and Selfhood in the Works of Bruno Schulz 481
14 For example: "events that have occurredtoo late, after the whole of time has been
distributed,dividedand allotted"(131).
WORKS CITED