In 1926: living at the edge of time - Monoskop

152 ARRAYS
Egyptian myths from the standpoint of twentieth-century rationality:
"'Whoever wishes to avenge himself on the dead and expel someone
from the bliss of paradise need only chisel away the name of the deceased,
and the poor fellow will lose everlasting life. These were the very
childlike thoughts associated with the idea of immortality.' No, Mister
Author! These are the very childlike presuppositions for a trip to Egypt"
(Benjamin, 34). The tension between Benjamin's position and the position
of the book he is reviewing epitomizes the distance that separates
those who emphasize the otherness of remote cultures brought to life and
those who try to integrate such cultures into the historical genealogy of
their own Judeo-Christian tradition. In this spirit an article published on
October 2 in the Argentinian magazine Caras y Caretas, under the title
"A King of Ancient Chaldea, Five Thousand Years Ago, Amassed Riches
Greater Than Those of Tutankhamen," sets up a strange competition
between the artifacts excavated at the site of the biblical town of Ur and
Howard Carter's discovery: "The details of dress and headgear are of a
surprising realism. The facial features seem vibrant with life ... Many
jewels have been found, and, without fear of exaggeration, it can be
affirmed that the treasures of King Ur-Engur surpass those of the already
famous and much publicized Tutankhamen." [see Center = Periphery
[Infinitude], Present = Past (Eternity)]
The Sunday edition of the Berliner Tageblatt on March 25 contains a
long essay recounting an excursion to the Spree Forest, two hours by
train east of Berlin. At first ironically referring to the trip as an "expedition,"
the author winds up launching into a solemn discourse that, in its
pathos, rivals Howard Carter's description of the unwrapping of Tutankhamen's
body. He has decided to visit the forest because he is intrigued
by the unusual appearance and behavior of a peasant woman who
regularly comes to Berlin to sell eggs, butter, and poultry: "Her black
bonnet, which looks nothing like bobbed or Gretchen-style hair, swims
like a strange waterbird through the crowd of fashionable hats; her full,
stiff skirt whips around with a rhythm that is strange to us. Despite her
nordic coolness, she appears somehow exotic. She has not yet been
affected by the modern world's tendency to level everything. One senses
it somehow: in contrast to you and me, who have 'only just arrived,' she
is a native, one who possesses something steadfast, a clear and innate
distinctness." The first layer of otherness which the Berlin journalist
discovers in the near-but-remote Spree Forest is the banality that per-