Some years ago I saw a great debate on C-Span between the historians Stephen Ambrose and Patricia Limerick on the issue of heroism. Ambrose seemed to believe that important figures from our past should be practically deified, and whatever elements of their personal lives that in any way undermined that sanctified stature ought to be downplayed if not outright ignored. Limerick argued that it was overcoming their human imperfections that ultimately made them heroic, and to deny attention to those imperfections was to, in a sense, make their accomplishments less noteworthy-- after all, it's not hard for a god to do great things. I was reminded of that exchange while reading Sam Kashner's memoir When I Was Cool, which chronicles his days as a student at the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics, learning about life and poetry from his own literary heroes of the Beat Generation, including Allen Ginsberg, William Burroughs and Gregory Corso. It becomes evident soon after Kashner arrives at the school that these writers whom he had lionized were riddled with human-scale foibles and shortcomings that caught Kashner off-guard. His story is by turns funny and touching, as he adjusted his expectations to the reality of living among the Beats and seeing close up the often messy circumstances of their relationships with one another and the rest of the world. In the end, the story he tells doesn't tarnish their image, but rather embellishes and enriches their mythological personas into well-rounded human beings, making their often transcendent work all the more impressive. Stephen Ambrose can have his heroes carved in stone, but for me (and Limerick, and I think Kashner too), the real people are endlessly more fascinating and no less inspirational for the fact that they aren't perfect.
No comments:
Post a Comment