Abstract
Faced by the issue of co-education in his book Opinions, the English philosopher C E M Joad once tried to draw up an intuitive list of the differences between little boys and girls. His list was an intelligent man’s summary of the salient distinguishing features characterised by the non-scientist’s reluctance to invoke behaviouristic factors. He thus opined that boys were more abstract, girls more empirical, boys more inquisitive, girls more obedient, and so on. An analogous account of the relations holding between literature and philosophy will have occurred to people who read widely and credit themselves with a cultured receptivity: their commonest formula is that literature portrays real life while philosophy explains it. At this level of insight come those readers who state as a grave paradox that Dostoievski is ‘really more of a philosopher’ and Plato ‘a creative writer’. Others perceive that though philosophy may achieve the artistic effects of poetry or the novel, it is normally governed by rigour of method; that written philosophy tends to follow Occam’s razor, whereas literature approaches the sublime almost in inverse proportion to the noted rule, since a considerable part of its aesthetic relies on repetition, digression or what the Russian formalist critic Sklovskij termed ‘postponement of the effect’. Perhaps indeed there are some lateral factors, symptoms rather than causes, which do throw light on the parting of company between literary and philosophical writing: there is, for example, no such thing as a child prodigy in philosophy, though such a phenomenon exists in all the arts. Wittgenstein was making his first jottings at the same age when Rimbaud had given up writing poetry. No philosopher has developed a system by the age when most great novelists have formed their style. If personal maturity is a sine qua non of philosophy, it is marginal, even deleterious, to literature, for it may close off and ossify the inspiration, as is thought to be the case with the Wordsworth of 1840 onwards. The writer must in a sense never grow up, not only for the oft-cited reason that he has to remain in touch with the material provided by memory, but also because the disponibilité to experience of youth and early adulthood seems to be the essential initiatory stage of the literary hero. Jacopo Ortis, Julien Sorel, Raskolnikov, Felix Krull and Amory Blaine constitute a perennial type for all of whom adventure, travel, temptation and conflict are items of implicit acceptance.