Book review: The Allegory of Love

I don't have a lot to say about this but want to record reading it. See some Goodreads reviews for things I might have said, if my memory were better. My picture, of the cover (FFS flickr on phone won't let me embed it, so for now I'll just reuse that image), is I see with amusement the picture I used for The Discarded Image; this may have been Hulme's fault. I found this harder going than TDI, perhaps because I do not have the congenial model in my mind. It has however inspired me to acquire The Romance of the Rose (Dahlberg translation), and to begin reading it in Meung sur Loire.

Just as TDI transformed or perhaps just informed how I saw ye olde folkes' views of that aspect, so I found TAOL very helpful in getting at least some initial hooks in... well, the bookes it covers: ROTR, Fairie Queene - which I haven't yet ordered - and others. However I am conscious how much of Lewis's thought slips my mind even as I read it; I am too unfamiliar with this stuff.

Here's a sample of Lewis:

In many periods the historian of literature discovers a dominant literary form, such as the blood tragedy among the Elizabethans, or satire in the eighteenth century, or the novel of sentiment and manners in the last age or in our own. During the years between Chaucer's death and the poetry of Wyatt allegory becomes such a dominant form and suffers all the vicissitudes to which dominant forms are exposed. For it must be noticed that such dominance is not necessarily good for the form that enjoys it. When every one feels it natural to attempt the same kind of writing, that kind is in danger. Its characteristics are formalized. A stereotyped monotony, unnoticed by contemporaries but cruelly apparent to posterity, begins to pervade it. Thus, even in times that I can still remember, the threadbare motives of the novel were not nearly so obvious as they now threaten to become. The monotony of Augustan satire, on the other hand, is easily felt; that of Italianate blank-verse tragedy more easily still; and that of late medieval allegory unescapably and with resentment. In the second place, a dominant form tends to attract to itself writers whose talents would have fitted them much better for work of some other kind. Thus the retired Cowper writes satire in the eighteenth century; or in the nineteenth a mystic and natural symbolist like George Macdonald is seduced into writing novels. Thus in the fifteenth and sixteenth century we have the Assembly of Ladies written by a poet who has no better vocation to allegory than that of fashion. And thirdly-which is more disastrous-a dominant form attracts to itself those who ought not to have written at all; it becomes a kind of trap or drain towards which bad work moves by a certain 'kindly enclyning'. Youthful vanity and dullness, determined to write, will almost certainly write in the dominant form of their epoch. It is the operation of this law which has given later medieval allegory and hence allegory in general a bad name. A recognition of the law will perhaps liberate our critical faculties to distinguish between good and bad work-between the poetic use and the fashionable abuse.

But there is yet another 'accident' to which dominant forms are liable, and it is one which much concerns the historian. Often, though not always, we can detect under the apparent sameness of such productions the burgeoning of new forms, and find that a tradition which seemed most strictly bound to the past is big with the promise, or the threat, of the future. I half suspect that such a process is going on about us while I write: that the novel, which we saw becoming so biographical in works like Sinister Street and so preoccupied with period in works like The Forsyte Saga, is even now transforming itself-has transformed itself, in the work of Strachey and M. Maurois and Mr. Herbert Read-into the imaginative biography, a genuinely new form standing at the same distance from biography proper as the Chronicle play stands from the 'just' history.