Wilson Harris's "The Womb of Space" (Book Note)

 

In "The Womb of Space," Harris explores the realm of literary criticism, exploring a diverse array of works that span various facets of literature. Among them are pieces rooted in the North American continent, such as Poe's "Arthur Gordon Pym," Faulkner's "Intruder in the Dust," and Ralph Ellison's "Invisible Man." Concurrently, other works, like Jean Rhys's "Wide Sargasso Sea" and E. K. Brathwaite's poems, are deeply embedded in the Caribbean experience. Harris's distinctive approach to art is evident in his examination of Christopher Okigbo's fusion of T. S. Eliot and African tradition, the "decadent" mood of Gormenghast, and Juan Rulfo's "Pedro Paramo."

 

The rejection of realism, as perceived through a mirror-like reflection of the subject, is a central tenet of Harris's perspective. In the Caribbean context, marked by historical color prejudices and entrenched ethnic identities, Harris contends that realism merely reinforces polarization. He envisions literature as an art form that seeks the richness of otherness rather than perpetuating biases.

 

Harris confronts the challenges of transplantation and exile prevalent in the 19th and 20th centuries, particularly in the Caribbean. He perceives these experiences not solely as negative uprooting but as opportunities to comprehend the potentialities of art. In a region plagued by entrenched philistinism among the ruling classes, Harris asserts that value should not solely derive from foreign sources, challenging the expatriation of creative minds and the consumption of superficial novels.

 

Contrary to escapism, Harris's art aims to reevaluate premises and delve beneath the surface of seemingly commonplace reality. He sees the imagination constrained by convention and ideology, particularly in contemporary African literature. The temptation for order and homogeneity, he argues, stifles the diverse potentialities of a text.

 

Harris explores the impact of ruling representations even on celebrated writers like Edgar Allan Poe, exposing the "fissures" that disrupt stereotypes. He advocates for asymmetry over the comfort of symmetry, finding beauty in the alchemical process of fiction creation, even if steeped in the terror of catastrophe. Through his analysis, Harris underscores the necessity of acknowledging the destructive nature of negative capacities and the promise of a deeper sense of "mutuality" as a pathway to possible "resurrection."

 

Within Harris's own literary works, the Amerindian tale of Yurokon serves as a poignant illustration of the ironic reversal of tyranny. Yurokon's narrative highlights a unique blend between cannibalism and the creation of a bone-flute fashioned from each victim, wherein a morsel is consumed. Music and beauty emerge from the depths of terror, presenting a "transubstantiation in reverse." Harris discerns a parallel process in artistic creation, emphasizing its foundation on evolution and metamorphosis. He posits that the rebirth of imagination occurs only after the "fissure" in the "hubris of totality" and the breakdown of absolute, self-sufficient representations. In Harris's view, myths and metaphors resist reduction to simple equivalents, and meaning is discovered in the relationships between diverse terms rather than in any singular element.

 

When delving into novels like Gormenghast, Harris eschews simplistic descriptors such as "decadent" or "bastardized." He challenges these terms, which implicitly harken back to conquistadorial empires where institutions are viewed as perfect and static. In this context, any deviation is perceived as negative or the intrusion of alien elements into a supposedly "pure" homogeneous structure. Harris, however, focuses on the heterogeneous elements that animate potentially sterile structures. Even deprivation, he contends, harbors extraordinary potential. This notion is exemplified through Harris's use of the Anancy figure, the cunning spider in Caribbean and West African stories, adept at transforming weakness into assets. In parallel, Harris asserts that art thrives not on apparent strength but on the paradoxes of metamorphosis.

 

Wilson Harris assigns literature the crucial and demanding role of continually challenging the reader's biases. As a literary critic, he doesn't offer a definitive key to understanding a given book. Instead, he engages in a profound dialogue with the intricacies of the work, urging a revision of fixed definitions and a quest for more dynamic concepts. His language reflects a desire for fluidity of images, akin to what one might expect from a poet.