LSE Literary Festival - Academic Inspiration: Favourite works of fiction II

Summary

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Episode Overview

Podcast: LSE: Public lectures and events
Episode: Academic Inspiration: Favourite works of fiction II (LSE Literary Festival)
Date: March 1, 2013

This special episode celebrates the LSE's fifth annual Literary Festival by inviting prominent LSE academics to read from and discuss their favorite works of fiction. The episode explores the power and personal resonance of literature, featuring readings and reflections in a multilingual, multicultural context. Each speaker shares not only a passage from a chosen text, but also personal insight into its significance and relationship to their own academic or personal interests.

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Key Discussion Points and Insights

1. Introduction and Context (00:00-00:45)

• Host Amy Mullet introduces the festival and explains that academics were asked to contribute their favorite fiction. The goal is to celebrate literary inspiration across disciplines and backgrounds.

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2. Arne Westad on ‘Hunger’ by Knut Hamsun (00:45–06:13)

• Introduction to Hamsun and Context (00:45–01:51)

  • Arne Westad (Director, LSE IDEAS) chooses Hunger for its exploration of Norwegian urban migration in the 19th century and for its literary beauty.
  • He addresses Hamsun’s problematic legacy due to Nazi collaboration but argues for appreciating his literary merits.
  • Notable Quote:

    “He is one of those who write the most beautiful Norwegian that I know of. ... He deals with a period in Norwegian history that no one has ever dealt with better than he does.” — Arne Westad (00:45)

• Readings from ‘Hunger’ (01:51–06:13)

  • The narrator reads vivid and somber descriptions of hunger and daily life in Christiana (Oslo), reflecting urban alienation with atmospheric details.
  • Passages highlight existential despair, the mundane struggles of survival, and sharp powers of observation in poverty.
    • Vivid scene: “I had grown nervous and irritable. A few times I had kept my bed for the day with vertigo..." (01:51)
  • Memorable Moment: Westad alternates between English translation and select lines in Norwegian, emphasizing linguistic beauty.

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3. John van Reenen on ‘The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte’ by Karl Marx (06:13–08:16)

• Marx as Literary Prose (06:13–08:16)

  • John van Reenen (Director, Centre for Economic Performance) reads from the introduction, highlighting Marx’s historical perspective and literary power.
  • Focuses on how historical patterns repeat and the burden of tradition on living generations.
  • Notable Quote:

    “Men make their own history, but they do not make it as they please. ... The tradition of all dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brains of the living.” — Karl Marx read by John van Reenen (06:43)

• Reflection

  • The passage demonstrates how language and storytelling shape historical interpretation and collective memory.

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4. Fatima El Isawi on ‘The Messenger with Her Hair Long to the Springs’ by Unnamed Lebanese Poet (08:16–10:26)

• Poetry as Emotional Geography (08:16–10:26)

  • Fatima El Isawi (Research Fellow, Polis) chooses a work of Lebanese poetry (read in English translation), selecting a passage filled with vows, longing, and the language of intimate devotion and national love.
  • The passage fuses themes of desire, sacrifice, homeland, and the ambiguity of love.
  • Notable Quote:

    “I swear to fade out for the sake of your happiness like stars at day. ... I swear to love you without knowing how much.” — Fatima El Isawi (08:33–10:26)

• Reflection

  • The reading underscores poetry’s power to articulate mixed personal and political emotions, echoing exile and belonging.

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5. Simon Glendinning on ‘Before the Law’ by Franz Kafka (10:26–14:52)

• Kafka’s Allegory of Law and Literature (10:26–14:52)

  • Simon Glendinning (Reader in European Philosophy) reads Kafka’s parable, in which a countryman seeks entry to “the law” and is eternally denied by an ever-present doorkeeper.
  • Glendinning admires the text for its self-conscious literariness—how it exemplifies, through style and structure, the boundaries of literature and authority.
  • Notable Quote:

    “One of the things that this text says better than many others that I know is that it seems all the way through it to say, this is literature.” — Simon Glendinning (10:26)

  • Memorable Ending:

    “No one else could ever be admitted here. Since this gate was made only for you. I am now going to shut it.” — Kafka, read by Glendinning (14:34)

• Reflection

  • Kafka’s story becomes a metaphor for personal fate, the paradoxes of law, and the irreplaceable yet isolating nature of individual experience.

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Notable Quotes & Memorable Moments (with Timestamps)

• Arne Westad on Hamsun’s appeal, despite his politics:

  “A lot of younger people have taken him to their heart ... simply because he writes beautifully and because he deals with a period in Norwegian history that no one has ever dealt with better.” (00:45)

• Narrator (Reading Hamsun):

  “It was during the time I wandered about and starved in Christiana ... this singular city from which no man departs without carrying away the traces of his sojourn...” (01:51)

• John van Reenen citing Marx:

  “Men make their own history, but they do not make it as they please... The tradition of all dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brains of the living.” (06:43)

• Fatima El Isawi, on love and devotion:

  “I swear to be the world's rapture between you and be in its solitude. I swear to call out for you so happiness will answer the call.” (09:55)

• Simon Glendinning, introducing Kafka:

  “One of the things that this text says better than many others that I know is that it seems all the way through it to say, this is literature.” (10:26)

• Kafka’s closing revelation (via Glendinning):

  “No one else could ever be admitted here. Since this gate was made only for you. I am now going to shut it.” (14:34)

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Segment Timestamps

• 00:00–00:45 – Introduction (host, Amy Mullet)
• 00:45–06:13 – Arne Westad on Hunger by Knut Hamsun
• 06:13–08:16 – John van Reenen on The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte by Karl Marx
• 08:16–10:26 – Fatima El Isawi on Lebanese poetry (The Messenger with Her Hair Long to the Springs)
• 10:26–14:52 – Simon Glendinning on Before the Law by Franz Kafka

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Tone and Style

• The episode is contemplative, intellectual yet deeply personal, and marked by a sense of literary reverence.
• Each academic speaks with passion for both the literary qualities and the personal or cultural connections associated with their choices.
• Readings vary between dramatic, melancholic and intensely lyrical, showcasing both the diversity of literature and the unique perspectives of each reader.

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Transcript

[Amy Mullet]

From 26 February to 2 March 2013, the London School of Economics holds its fifth annual literary festival, featuring talks, readings and panel discussions to celebrate and support the event. Here at the LSE Review of Books, we've asked a selection of LSE academics to read from their favourite books, building on the Academic Inspiration series On our website lsereviewofbooks.com in this podcast we'll hear readings and translations from from Arne Westad, Director of LSE Ideas John van Reenen, Director of the LSE center for Economic Performance Simon Glendinning, Reader in European Philosophy and Fatima El Isawi, Research Fellow at polis.

[Arne Westad]

My name is Aaron Westard and I'm the Director of LSE Ideas and I will be reading from Hunger by Knut Thompson in Norwegian Now Knut Hamsen is an author that's always preoccupied me. He is one of those who write the most beautiful Norwegian that I know of. He is a fascinating figure in terms of having started to deal with the people who came in from the countryside and who settled in the cities in the late 19th century, a process that I've been preoccupied with in my work as an historian as well. He's a controversial figure. He sided with the Nazis during the Second World War, became a German collaborator, and was punished for that after the war was over. I think what's been happening to Hamsun more recently is that a lot of younger people have taken him to their heart, in spite of the abhorrence of his politics, simply because he writes beautifully and because he deals with a period in Norwegian history that no one has ever dealt with better than what he does. Devardentidia ikon kringo sulta di Christiania.

[Narrator (Reading from Hunger by Knut Hamsun)]

It was during the time I wandered about and starved in Christiana Christiana, this singular city from which no man departs without carrying away the traces of his sojourn. There. I was, lying awake in my attic, and I heard a clock below strike six. It was already broad daylight, and people had begun to go up and down the stairs by the door, where the wall of the room was papered with old numbers of the Morgenbladat. I could distinguish clearly a notice from the Director of Lighthouses and a little to the left of that, an inflated advertisement of Fabian Olson's new baked bread. The instant I opened my eyes I began from sheer force of habit to think if I had anything to rejoice over that day. I had been somewhat hard up lately, and one after the other of my belongings had been taken to my Uncle. I had grown nervous and irritable. A few times I had kept my bed for the day with vertigo now and then, when luck had favored me, I had managed to get five shillings for a fuel ton from some newspaper.

[Arne Westad]

Or other the listener.

[Narrator (Reading from Hunger by Knut Hamsun)]

It grew lighter and lighter and I took to reading the advertisements near the door. I could even make out the grinning lean letters of winding sheets to be had at Ms. Anderson's or on the right of it that occupied me for a long while. I heard the clock below strike eight as I got up and put on my clothes.

[Arne Westad]

Den vile svalle oersted the alting shifted further or forbor.

[Narrator (Reading from Hunger by Knut Hamsun)]

I opened the window and looked out. From where I was standing I had a view of a clothes line and open field. Farther away lay the ruins of a burnt out smithy which some laborers were busy clearing away. I leant with my elbows resting on the window frame and gazed into open space. It promised to be a cool day, autumn, that tender cool time of the year when all things change their color and dye had come to us.

[Arne Westad]

They were completely lost for the. Foreign.

[Narrator (Reading from Hunger by Knut Hamsun)]

The ever increasing noise in the streets lured me out. The bare room, the floor of which rocked up and down with every step I took across it seemed like a gasping sinister coffin. There was no proper fastening to the door either, and no stove. I used to lie on my socks at night to dry them a little. By the morning the only thing I had to divert myself with was a little red rocking chair in which I used to sit in the evenings and doze and muse on all manner of things. When it blew hard and the door below stood open, all kinds of eerie sounds moaned up through the floor and from out the walls, and the Morgen bladder near the door was rent in strips of span.

[John van Reenen]

Hegel remarks somewhere that all great world historic facts appear twice. He forgot to add the first time as tragedy, the second as farce. Casadier for Danton, Louis Blanc for Robespierre, the montagne of 1848-1851, the montagne of 1793-1795, the nephew for the uncle and the same caricature occurs in the Circumstance of the second edition of the 18th Grumaire. My name is John van Renam. I'm the director for the Centre of Economic Performance and I'm reading from the introduction to the 18th Bruma of Louis Bonaparte by Karl Marx. Men make their own history, but they do not make it as they please. They do not make it under self selected circumstances, but other circumstances existing already given and transmitted from the past the tradition of all dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brains of the living. And just as they seem to be occupied with revolutionising themselves and things, creating something that did not exist before, precisely in such epochs of revolutionary crisis, they anxiously conjure up the spirits of the past to their service, borrowing from them names, battle slogans and costumes, in order to present this new scene in world history in time honoured disguise and borrowed language. Thus Luther put on the mask of the apostle Paul. The Revolution of 1789-1814 draped itself alternatively in the guise of the Roman Republic and the Roman Empire and the Revolution of 1848. Nothing better to do than to parody now 1789, now the revolutionary tradition of 1793-95. In like manner, the beginner who has learned a new language always translates it back into his mother tongue. But he assimilates the spirit of the new language and expresses himself freely in it only when he moves in it without recalling the old and when he forgets his native tongue.

[Amy Mullet]

My name is Fatima Isawi. I'm a research fellow with Polis and I'm reading from the messenger with her hair long to the springs by the Lebanese poet.

[Fatima El Isawi]

I swear to fade out for the sake of your happiness like stars at day. I swear to house my tears in your hand. I swear to be the distance between I love you and I love you. I swear to hurl my body for eternity to the lions of your discontent. I swear to be your cage's open door faithful tonight's promises. I swear that my waiting room will be jealousy, my entering it obedience, my staying there complete extinction. I swear to become prey for your shadow. I swear to long forever to be a book open on your lap. I swear to be the world's rapture between you and be in its solitude. I swear to call out for you so happiness will answer the call. I swear to harbor my country and my love for you and the world and my country. I swear to love you without knowing how much.

[Simon Glendinning]

Before the law stands a doorkeeper. To this doorkeeper there comes a countryman and prays for admittance to the law. But the doorkeeper says that he cannot grant admittance at the moment. The man thinks it over and then asks if he'll be allowed in later. It is possible, says the doorkeeper, but not at the moment. I'm Simon Glendinning and I'm the reader in European Philosophy at the European Institute. I'll be reading from a short story by Kafka called Before the Law. One of the things that this text says Better than many others that I know is that it seems all the way through it to say, this is literature. Since the gate stands open as usual and the doorkeeper steps to one side, the man stoops to peer through the gateway into the interior, observing that the doorkeeper laughs and says, if you're so drawn to it, just try to go in, despite my veto. But take note, I am powerful, and I am only the least of the doorkeepers. From hall to hall, there is one doorkeeper after another, each more powerful than the last. The third doorkeeper is already so terrible that even I cannot bear to look at him. These are difficulties the countryman has not expected. The law, he thinks, should surely be accessible at all times and to everyone. But as he now takes a closer look at the doorkeeper in his fur coat, with his big sharp nose and long, thin black Tartar beard, he decides that it's better to wait until he gets permission to enter. The doorkeeper gives him a stool and lets him sit down at one side of the door. And there he sits. For days and years he makes many attempts to be admitted and wearies the doorkeeper by his importunity. The doorkeeper frequently has little interviews with him, asking him questions about his home and many other things. But the questions are put indifferently, as great lords put them, and always finish with the statement that he cannot be let in. Yet the man, who has furnished himself with many things for his journey, sacrifices all he has, however valuable, to bribe the doorkeeper. That official accepts everything, but always with the remark, I am only taking it to keep you from thinking you have omitted anything. During these many years. The man fixes his attention almost continuously on the doorkeeper. He forgets the other doorkeepers, and this first one seems to him the sole obstacle preventing access to the Law. He curses his bad luck in his early years, boldly and loudly. Later, as he grows old, he only grumbles to himself. He becomes childish. And since in his years long contemplation of the doorkeeper, he has come to know even the fleas in his fur collar, he begs the fleas as well to help him and to change the doorkeeper's mind. At length his eyesight begins to fail, and he does not know whether the world is really growing darker or whether his eyes are only deceiving him. Yet in his darkness he is now aware of a radiance that streams inextinguishably from the gateway of the Law. Now he has not very long to live before he dies. All his experiences in these long years gather themselves in his head to one point a question he has not yet asked the doorkeeper. He waves him nearer. Since he can no longer raise his stiffening body, the doorkeeper has to bend low towards him, for the difference in height between them has altered much to the countryman's disadvantage. What do you want to know now? Asks the doorkeeper. You're insatiable. Everyone strives to reach the law, says the man. So how does it happen that for all these years no one but myself has ever begged for admittance? The doorkeeper recognises that the man has reached his end, and to let his failing senses catch the words roars in his ear. No one else could ever be admitted here. Since this gate was made only for you. I am now going to shut it.

[Amy Mullet]

To find out more about the LSE Literary Festival, go to lse.ac.uk spaceforthought podcasts of many events will be available soon. To read our academic inspiration essays and to hear more podcasts and interviews interviews, visit lsereviewofbooks.com you can also find a list of music used in this podcast on our website. I'm Amy Mullet. Thanks for listening.