Stéphane Mallarmé is dead. Long may his absence linger. Long may the horrifying abyss of the white (and black) pages confound we poets, prattlers and plagiarists. And long may we question the substance of our languages, the correspondences between organic, systemic lifeforms and the unstoppable progress of symbols: numbers, letters, marks, voids . . .
One hundred years have passed since the death of one of France’s most enigmatic and curious poets. And yet for one hundred chaotic and turbulent years editors and publishers all over the world have surveyed poems, articles, essays and stories stamped with Mallarmé’s indelible influence, brushed with his unmistakable reverie.
In the same way, his paradoxical presence could be felt at the Mallarmé Writers’ Event, a small-scale but intense seminar held at the Alliance Française de Melbourne on 8–9 October 1998. The event was a celebration as much of Australian writings and writers as of Mallarmé himself.
Who was this man? What does he mean to us in Australia as we approach a new millennium (this timeless excuse for reflection, this milestone we potentially pass each day and yet, like all true symbols, this number celebrated as much for its mystique as its significance in fact)? Where is Mallarmé—is he present in these rhetorical questions? Is he behind my eyelids, guiding my thoughts as I touch type? Or is he in the air we both breathe, ineffable as a gnat, unquestionable as a virus, trenchant as an offensive rumour?
Ironically, the spirit of Mallarmé’s oeuvre can be said to have influenced writers far more than any general, widespread knowledge of his works. Particular attention was paid during this conference to the ways in which Australian writers have been influenced by Mallarmé’s poetic theories, and the works of the French Symbolistes (Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Verlaine et al) in general. Despite this, the overwhelming impression I received from the Event was that when Mallarmé was not mentioned at all, the question of his influence became more fascinating. Therein lies both the charm of his legacy and the frustration of attempting to write anything substantial on the subject.
The strong impression I was left with is of the number of contemporary Australian writers whose work, though defying categorisation, can be analysed constructively in the light of Mallarmé’s writing, thus positing him as an inspirational figure, even demi-god, in certain writing circles. An unanswered question, however: is this glorification of Mallarmé appropriate today, or is it merely our millennial musings that cause us to look back on his works in such a favourable light?
Martin Harrison, John Hawke and Kris Hemensley opened proceedings with a spirited discussion of the inadequacy of critical responses to 20th century Australian Modernism (or, as Martin Harrison preferred to phrase it, ‘Modernities’). Of particular interest was John Hawke’s examination of Symbolism’s parallel influence on Australian letters, from the first critical responses to Mallarmé’s work in the Bulletin in the 1890s, to the more recent writings of Judith Wright, Kenneth Slessor and Patrick White.
It was a revelation to hear of writings on Mallarmé in the 1890s Bulletin and I was initially surprised that his works should have appeared alongside those of fallen Aust. Lit. 101 icons Steele Rudd and Henry Lawson. I also had to admit to a certain sense of relief that, in the 1890s at least, Australian literature was not quite as provincial and ignorant as we have all been led to believe. Perhaps this is just a symptom of Ye Olde Cultural Cringe. The fact remains however that our appreciation of that time period is, in many respects, restricted to recitations of bush balladry, acts of larrikinism and various other shenanigans the validity of which lies, unfortunately, outside the scope of this review. May I simply say, the fact that there was, of all things, French poetry in our midst during those pre-Federation years is reason enough for a conference in itself.
The correspondence between Mallarmé and Christopher Brennan (the first Australian poet to appreciate Symboliste writers, as shown by his Sydney University lectures in 1904) lends weight to Hawke’s insistence on a wider and more appreciative reading of Australian writers and their responses to international trends and movements. His research was thorough and thought provoking, offering solid evidence of Mallarmé’s influence where, at times, others have been content to ponder the apparent insubstantiality of ‘originality’, ‘inspiration’ and ‘uniqueness’ in Australian verse.
His examination of James Macauley and A.D. Hope, two poets traditionally regarded as conservative, was a case in point. Hawke showed that they had come under the spell of the Symbolistes during their formative years, only to reject them later in life in favour of more personal poetic visions. Macauley’s Catholicism, for instance, led him to substitute “the ultimate symbol”, Jesus Christ for what, in his earlier work, can only be described as an occultist fascination with sign and symbol.
After an interpretation of the poem ‘L’Aprés Midi d’un Faune’ by dance students from Monash University, Robert Adamson joined Martin Harrison in conversation, recalling his first reading of Mallarmé in the late 1960s. Listening to his casual responses to Harrison’s questions, I got the impression that, for Adamson at least, Mallarmé is still around, like a good friend: “He was an amazing guy”. Adamson also shared some humorous anecdotes, such as his avid reading of Dylan Thomas in the mistaken belief that the Welsh poet was in some way related to Bob Dylan. He even went so far as to claim that, had he not seen the word ‘Rimbaud’ on one of Dylan’s album sleeves, he might never have got into the Symbolistes at all. Some would argue that this illustrates well the fact that, in many ways, pop culture supplies writers and artists of post-war generations (or, should I say, writers and artists steeped in ‘Postmodernities’) with what are supposedly literary influences. Think also of Patti Smith’s insistent “Go, Rimbaud, Rimbaud, Rimbaud!”
Speaking of pop culture, it was encouraging to see younger writers and artists featured on the programme at this Event. Dmetri Kakmi examined sexual metaphor in the works of Edgar Allen Poe, referring to the current trend in Gothic horror movies and fiction. Textbase (an art and writing collective based in Melbourne) launched its 3rd issue (devoted, fittingly, to ‘chance’) as part of the Event. At the launch, the editorial collective gave a simultaneous performance of their textual contributions, a cacophonic and often amusing babel of noise, voice, sound byte and silence.
Another boundary-pushing writer whose work was featured at the event is Javant Biarujia, who has spent the last twenty years constructing his own language, Teneraic. Only Biarujia and one other person speak this clever and engaging dialect. Notwithstanding translation problems, a piece incorporating Teneraic, English, French and Greek was performed for the baffled audience. I found it a highly entertaining take on Dadaist techniques, with the creator of the language absent, a reading from inside a pink box and memorable phrases such as “Genet-sait-quoi?” and “L’Aprés-midi du toc tudieu” (trans: “dog turd afternoon”).
The evening session on Thursday was devoted to readings, with Rosemary Lloyd in the chair. First up was Michael Deguy, who was visiting from France for the Australian Divigations conference held at the Australian Centre earlier in the week. It was a delight to hear him speak, even as a non-French speaker. Robert Adamson (who also cannot speak French, though his poetry has been translated into that language) read from his new collection of poetry, his take on Mallarmé’s ‘Tomb for Anatole’ drawing a quiet murmur of appreciation from the audience. Chris Wallace Crabbe also read from several of his collections, introducing a translation of one of Mallarmé’s poems with, perhaps, just a little too much self-deprecation. Though Jean-Luc Steinmetz (another French poet scheduled to appear at the Event) could not attend, Rosemary Lloyd more than made up for his absence with a reading from his work.
After the readings, there were some questions from the audience, especially on the subject of translation. However, perhaps there had been a little too much champagne imbibed before the proceedings began, for all too soon there was nothing left to say. When asked how he felt about being translated into other languages, Deguy replied in French, drawing laughter from the francophones. When Rosemary Lloyd thoughtfully translated Deguy’s answer as ‘I am overwhelmed by sloth’, all present knew that it was time to go home and dream of the abyss of the empty white (or black) page once more.
Friday morning’s session was devoted to both readings and papers. Paul Carter’s discussion of Mallarmé’s intriguing phrase book for French students of English brought into play issues of (mis)translation, (trans)migration and (linguistic) representation. A little-known work, Mallarmé’s phrase book deserves greater attention, if only for its beautiful, almost Absurdist turn of phrase: “Is this a taxi or a cloud?” Following this, Kevin Hart shared some poems from (I assume) his new collection and Justin Clemens spoke of Mallarmé in terms of postmodern and media theories.
Elsewhere at the Event, Rosemary Lloyd presented an academic paper on Mallarmé’s prose writings, particularly ‘Italage’; Michael Farrell delivered his own translation of ‘Tomb for Anatole’, using knocks and pauses to dramatic effect; and Michael Graf, the Event organiser, read from his own translations of Mallarmé. Visual artist Juno Gemes graced the walls of the Alliance Française with an installation inspired by Mallarme’s famous dice poem. The Event culminated with a Christopher Brennan Gala, a chance for the participants to draw together the various strands unravelled over the two days and also to unwind in a social and relaxed atmosphere.
The Mallarmé Writers’ Event abounded with creative talent and was a showcase as much of contemporary Australian writing as of Mallarmé himself. The fact that all speakers agreed to appear without payment illustrates further the dedication of all involved. The spirit of generosity and exchange produced lively and stimulating discussion, proving that Mallarmé, though dead one hundred years, lives on in the words and images of writers today. All praise the empty page!
This review was first published in print in Cordite Poetry Review No. 5 (1999). Download the issue (PDF) from the Cordite website.
