So when I was eight years old, a new girl came to join the class, and she was so impressive, as the new girl always seems to be. She had vast quantities of very shiny hair and a cute little pencil case, super strong on state capitals, just a great speller. And I just curdled with jealousy that year, until I hatched my devious plan. So one day I stayed a little late after school, a little too late, and I lurked in the girls' bathroom. When the coast was clear, I emerged, crept into the classroom, and took from my teacher's desk the grade book. And then I did it. I fiddled with my rival's grades, just a little, just demoted some of those A's. All of those A's. (Laughter) And I got ready to return the book to the drawer, when hang on, some of my other classmates had appallingly good grades too. So, in a frenzy, I corrected everybody's marks, not imaginatively. I gave everybody a row of D's and I gave myself a row of A's, just because I was there, you know, might as well.
Kada sam imala osam godina, došla je nova devojčica u naš razred. Bila je toliko impresivna, kao što uvek deluje svaka nova devojčica. Imala je bujnu, vrlo sjajnu kosu i zgodnu malu peratonicu. Bila je odlična u glavnim gradovima i odlična u pravopisu. I naprosto sam se kiselila od ljubomore te godine, dok nisam smislila svoj opaki plan. Tako sam jednog dana ostala posle predavanja, prilično kasno, vrebajući iz kupatila. Kada je sve bilo čisto, izvukla sam se, uvukla u učionicu i uzela dnevnik sa učiteljskog stola. I onda sam uradila to. Igrala sam se s ocenama mojih rivala, samo sam malo smanjila neke najbolje ocene. Sve najbolje ocene. (Smeh) I taman kad sam htela da vratim knjigu u fioku, kad gle, primetih da i neki drugi iz razreda imaju užasno dobre ocene. Tako sam u ludilu, popravila ocene svima, ne baš maštovito. Svima sam dala niz dvojki, a sebi dodala red petica, samo zato što sam bila tamo i mogla.
And I am still baffled by my behavior. I don't understand where the idea came from. I don't understand why I felt so great doing it. I felt great. I don't understand why I was never caught. I mean, it should have been so blatantly obvious. I was never caught. But most of all, I am baffled by, why did it bother me so much that this little girl, this tiny little girl, was so good at spelling? Jealousy baffles me. It's so mysterious, and it's so pervasive. We know babies suffer from jealousy. We know primates do. Bluebirds are actually very prone. We know that jealousy is the number one cause of spousal murder in the United States. And yet, I have never read a study that can parse to me its loneliness or its longevity or its grim thrill. For that, we have to go to fiction, because the novel is the lab that has studied jealousy in every possible configuration. In fact, I don't know if it's an exaggeration to say that if we didn't have jealousy, would we even have literature? Well no faithless Helen, no "Odyssey." No jealous king, no "Arabian Nights." No Shakespeare. There goes high school reading lists, because we're losing "Sound and the Fury," we're losing "Gatsby," "Sun Also Rises," we're losing "Madame Bovary," "Anna K." No jealousy, no Proust. And now, I mean, I know it's fashionable to say that Proust has the answers to everything, but in the case of jealousy, he kind of does. This year is the centennial of his masterpiece, "In Search of Lost Time," and it's the most exhaustive study of sexual jealousy and just regular competitiveness, my brand, that we can hope to have. (Laughter) And we think about Proust, we think about the sentimental bits, right? We think about a little boy trying to get to sleep. We think about a madeleine moistened in lavender tea. We forget how harsh his vision was. We forget how pitiless he is. I mean, these are books that Virginia Woolf said were tough as cat gut. I don't know what cat gut is, but let's assume it's formidable.
I još uvek sam zbunjena svojim ponašanjem. Ne razumem odakle mi ideja, ni zašto sam se osećala tako dobro dok sam to radila. Osećala sam se super. Ne razumem zašto nisam bila nikada uhvaćena. Mislim, to je trebalo biti očigledno. Nikada nisam bila uhvaćena. No, najviše od svega me zbunjuje zašto me je to toliko morilo što je ova malena devojčica, bila toliko dobra u pravopisu? Ljubomora me je zbunjivala. Toliko je tajanstvena i tako je prodorna. Znamo da bebe pate od ljubomore. Znamo i za majmune. Plave ptice su joj zapravo vrlo sklone. Znamo da je ljubomora glavni uzrok ubistava u braku u SAD, a ipak, nikada nisam pročitala studiju koja bi mi raščlanila njenu usamljenost ili dugovečnost ili njeno sumorno uzbuđenje. Za to se moramo obratiti beletristici, jer roman je laboratorija u kojoj se proučavala ljubomora u svim mogućim oblicima. Pitam se da li bi bilo preterano reći - kada ne bi bilo ljubomore, da li bismo uopšte imali književnost? Bar ne nevernu Jelenu, ni "Odiseju", ni ljubomornog kralja, ni "1001 noć", ni Šekspira. Tu spada i spisak gimnazijske lektire, jer bismo inače izgubili "Buku i bes," "Getsbija", "Sunce se ponovo rađa" "Madam Bovari", "Anu K." Da nema ljubomore, ne bi bilo ni Prusta. Znam da je pomodno reći da Prust ima odgovore na sve, ali u slučaju ljubomore, nekako ima. Ove godine je stogodišnjica remek-dela "U potrazi za izgubljenim vremenom" i to je najiscrpnija studija seksualne ljubomore, kao i obične konkurentnosti, moje sorte, za koju se možemo nadati da je imamo. (Smeh) A kad pomislimo na Prusta, mislimo na sentimentalnosti, zar ne? Mislimo o malom dečaku koji pokušava da zaspi. Mislimo o kolaču umočenom u čaj lavande. Zaboravili smo kako je bila surova njegova vizija. Zaboravili smo koliko je nemilosrdan. Mislim, to su knjige za koje je Virdžinija Vulf rekla da su teške kao mačija utroba. Ne znam šta je mačija utroba, ali pretpostavimo da je teška.
Let's look at why they go so well together, the novel and jealousy, jealousy and Proust. Is it something as obvious as that jealousy, which boils down into person, desire, impediment, is such a solid narrative foundation? I don't know. I think it cuts very close to the bone, because let's think about what happens when we feel jealous. When we feel jealous, we tell ourselves a story. We tell ourselves a story about other people's lives, and these stories make us feel terrible because they're designed to make us feel terrible. As the teller of the tale and the audience, we know just what details to include, to dig that knife in. Right? Jealousy makes us all amateur novelists, and this is something Proust understood.
Pogledajmo zašto toliko pašu zajedno, roman i ljubomora, ljubomora i Prust. Da li je išta tako očito kao to da je ljubomora, koja se svodi na osobu, žudnju i prepreku, takav čvrst temelj za pripovedanje? Ne znam. Mislim da taj rez zadire do blizu kosti, jer razmislimo o tome šta se događa kada osećamo ljubomoru. Kad osećamo ljubomoru, mi sebi pričamo priču o tuđim životima i užasno se osećamo, jer su te priče baš zato i stvorene. Kao pripovedač u priči i kao publika, znamo tačno koje detalje da uključimo, da bismo zarili taj nož. Zar ne? Ljubomora nas sve čini amaterskim romanopiscima i to je Prust razumeo.
In the first volume, Swann's Way, the series of books, Swann, one of the main characters, is thinking very fondly of his mistress and how great she is in bed, and suddenly, in the course of a few sentences, and these are Proustian sentences, so they're long as rivers, but in the course of a few sentences, he suddenly recoils and he realizes, "Hang on, everything I love about this woman, somebody else would love about this woman. Everything that she does that gives me pleasure could be giving somebody else pleasure, maybe right about now." And this is the story he starts to tell himself, and from then on, Proust writes that every fresh charm Swann detects in his mistress, he adds to his "collection of instruments in his private torture chamber."
U prvom delu iz serije knjiga U Svanovom kraju, Svan, jedan od glavnih likova, razmišlja vrlo nežno o svojoj ljubavnici, kako je dobra u krevetu i odjednom, u toku nekoliko rečenica, a to su prustovske rečenice pa su duge kao reke, ali u toku nekoliko rečenica, odjednom se priseća i shvata: "Čekaj malo, sve što volim u toj ženi mogao bi i neko drugi da voli. Sve što ona radi i što mi prija, moglo bi prijati i nekom drugom, i to možda baš sada." To je priča koju počinje sebi da priča, i od tada, Prust piše da svaku svežinu šarma koju Svan otkriva u svojoj ljubavnici, dodaje ličnoj "zbirci instrumenata u svojoj privatnoj sobi za mučenje."
Now Swann and Proust, we have to admit, were notoriously jealous. You know, Proust's boyfriends would have to leave the country if they wanted to break up with him. But you don't have to be that jealous to concede that it's hard work. Right? Jealousy is exhausting. It's a hungry emotion. It must be fed.
Pa sad, moramo priznati da su Svan i Prust izuzetno ljubomorni. Prustovi momci bi morali da napuste zemlju, ako bi hteli da prekinu s njim. Ali ne morate biti toliko ljubomorni da priznate da je to teško. Zar ne? Ljubomora je iscrpljujuća. To je gladna emocija. Mora se hraniti.
And what does jealousy like? Jealousy likes information. Jealousy likes details. Jealousy likes the vast quantities of shiny hair, the cute little pencil case. Jealousy likes photos. That's why Instagram is such a hit. (Laughter) Proust actually links the language of scholarship and jealousy. When Swann is in his jealous throes, and suddenly he's listening at doorways and bribing his mistress' servants, he defends these behaviors. He says, "You know, look, I know you think this is repugnant, but it is no different from interpreting an ancient text or looking at a monument." He says, "They are scientific investigations with real intellectual value." Proust is trying to show us that jealousy feels intolerable and makes us look absurd, but it is, at its crux, a quest for knowledge, a quest for truth, painful truth, and actually, where Proust is concerned, the more painful the truth, the better. Grief, humiliation, loss: These were the avenues to wisdom for Proust. He says, "A woman whom we need, who makes us suffer, elicits from us a gamut of feelings far more profound and vital than a man of genius who interests us." Is he telling us to just go and find cruel women? No. I think he's trying to say that jealousy reveals us to ourselves. And does any other emotion crack us open in this particular way? Does any other emotion reveal to us our aggression and our hideous ambition and our entitlement? Does any other emotion teach us to look with such peculiar intensity?
Šta voli ljubomora? Ona voli informacije, detalje, ogromne količine sjajne kose, zgodnu malu peratonicu, fotografije. Zato je Instagram takav hit. (Smeh) Prust povezuje jezik učenosti i ljubomore. Kad je Svan u svom ljubomornom grču i odjednom osluškuje na vratima, podmićuje poslugu svoje ljubavnice, on brani ta ponašanja. Kaže: "Znam da mislite da je to odvratno, ali to se ne razlikuje od tumačenja drevnog teksta ili razgledanja spomenika." Kaže: "To su naučna istraživanja s pravom intelektualnom vrednošću." Prust pokušava da nam pokaže da se ljubomora oseća nepodnošljivom i da nas čini apsurdnim, ali da je, na svom vrhuncu, potraga za znanjem, za istinom, bolnom istinom i zapravo, što se tiče Prusta, što je istina bolnija, to je bolje. Žalost, poniženje, gubitak: To su avenije do mudrosti za Prusta. On kaže: "Žena koja nam je potrebna, ona koja nam stvara patnju, izvlači iz nas paletu osećanja daleko dubljih i vitalnijih od genija koji nas zanima." Da li nam on to sugeriše da krenemo u potragu za okrutnim ženama? Ne. Mislim da pokušava da kaže da nas ljubomora otkriva samima sebi. I da li nas bilo koja druga emocija otvara na ovakav poseban način? Da li nam bilo koja druga emocija otkriva našu agresivnost, odvratne ambicije i naša ovlašćenja? Da li nas bilo koja druga emocija uči da gledamo s tako neobičnim intenzitetom?
Freud would write about this later. One day, Freud was visited by this very anxious young man who was consumed with the thought of his wife cheating on him. And Freud says, it's something strange about this guy, because he's not looking at what his wife is doing. Because she's blameless; everybody knows it. The poor creature is just under suspicion for no cause. But he's looking for things that his wife is doing without noticing, unintentional behaviors. Is she smiling too brightly here, or did she accidentally brush up against a man there? [Freud] says that the man is becoming the custodian of his wife's unconscious.
Frojd će pisati o ovom kasnije. Frojda je jednog dana posetio vrlo uznemiren mladić obuzet mišlju da ga njegova supruga vara. Frojd je rekao da ima nešto čudno u tom čoveku, jer on ne gleda na to šta njegova supruga radi. Jer ona je bez mane, to svi znaju. Jadno stvorenje je samo pod sumnjom bez uzroka. Ali on je u potrazi za onim što njegova supruga radi neprimećujući, nenamerna ponašanja. Da li se ona previše smeška ovde ili se slučajno očeše o onog čoveka tamo? Frojd kaže da je čovek postao čuvar podsvesnog u svojoj supruzi.
The novel is very good on this point. The novel is very good at describing how jealousy trains us to look with intensity but not accuracy. In fact, the more intensely jealous we are, the more we become residents of fantasy. And this is why, I think, jealousy doesn't just provoke us to do violent things or illegal things. Jealousy prompts us to behave in ways that are wildly inventive. Now I'm thinking of myself at eight, I concede, but I'm also thinking of this story I heard on the news. A 52-year-old Michigan woman was caught creating a fake Facebook account from which she sent vile, hideous messages to herself for a year. For a year. A year. And she was trying to frame her ex-boyfriend's new girlfriend, and I have to confess when I heard this, I just reacted with admiration. (Laughter) Because, I mean, let's be real. What immense, if misplaced, creativity. Right? This is something from a novel. This is something from a Patricia Highsmith novel.
Roman je vrlo dobar u tome. Roman vrlo dobro opisuje kako nas ljubomora trenira da gledamo s intenzitetom, ali ne i s preciznošću. U stvari, što smo više ljubomorni, sve više postajemo stanovnici fantazije. I mislim da nas zato ljubomora ne samo provocira da učinimo nasilne stvari ili ilegalne stvari. Ljubomora nas podstiče da se ponašamo na načine koji su mahnito inventivni. Priznajem da razmišljam o sebi sa osam godina, ali takođe razmišljam o ovoj priči koju sam čula na vestima. 52-godišnja žena iz Mičigena je uhvaćena kada je napravila lažni nalog na Fejsbuku sa koga je slala zlobne, ružne poruke sebi godinu dana. Godinu dana. Godinu. Pokušala je da namesti novoj devojci svog bivšeg dečka i moram priznati kad sam to čula, da sam odreagovala divljenjem. (Smeh) Jer, mislim, budimo realni. Kakva ogromna, mada zagubljena, kreativnost. Zar ne? To je nešto iz romana. Iz romana Patricije Hajsmit.
Now Highsmith is a particular favorite of mine. She is the very brilliant and bizarre woman of American letters. She's the author of "Strangers on a Train" and "The Talented Mr. Ripley," books that are all about how jealousy, it muddles our minds, and once we're in the sphere, in that realm of jealousy, the membrane between what is and what could be can be pierced in an instant. Take Tom Ripley, her most famous character. Now, Tom Ripley goes from wanting you or wanting what you have to being you and having what you once had, and you're under the floorboards, he's answering to your name, he's wearing your rings, emptying your bank account. That's one way to go.
Hajsmitova mi je posebno draga. Sjajna i bizarna žena američkog pera. Autor je knjige "Nepoznati iz Nord Ekspresa" i "Talentovani gospodin Ripli", knjige koje su sve o tome kako ljubomora, pomuti naše umove i jednom kada smo u sferi, u tom području ljubomore, membrana između onoga što jeste i onoga što bi moglo biti može biti probijena u trenu. Uzmite Toma Riplija, njen najpoznatiji lik. Tom Ripli ide od toga da vas želi ili želi ono što imate do toga da je on vi i da ima ono što ste nekada imali, a vi ste ispod podnih dasaka, on se odaziva na vaše ime, nosi vaše prstenje, prazni vaš bankovni račun. To je jedan način.
But what do we do? We can't go the Tom Ripley route. I can't give the world D's, as much as I would really like to, some days. And it's a pity, because we live in envious times. We live in jealous times. I mean, we're all good citizens of social media, aren't we, where the currency is envy?
Ali, šta mi radimo? Ne možemo ići putem Toma Riplija. Ne mogu svetu da podelim dvojke, koliko god to nekad zaista želela. I to je šteta, jer živimo u vremenima zavisti. Živimo u ljubomornim vremenima. Mislim, zar nismo svi mi dobri građani društvenih medija, gde je valuta zavist?
Does the novel show us a way out? I'm not sure. So let's do what characters always do when they're not sure, when they are in possession of a mystery. Let's go to 221B Baker Street and ask for Sherlock Holmes. When people think of Holmes, they think of his nemesis being Professor Moriarty, right, this criminal mastermind. But I've always preferred [Inspector] Lestrade, who is the rat-faced head of Scotland Yard who needs Holmes desperately, needs Holmes' genius, but resents him. Oh, it's so familiar to me. So Lestrade needs his help, resents him, and sort of seethes with bitterness over the course of the mysteries. But as they work together, something starts to change, and finally in "The Adventure of the Six Napoleons," once Holmes comes in, dazzles everybody with his solution, Lestrade turns to Holmes and he says, "We're not jealous of you, Mr. Holmes. We're proud of you." And he says that there's not a man at Scotland Yard who wouldn't want to shake Sherlock Holmes' hand.
Da li nam roman pokazuje izlaz? Nisam sigurna. Učinimo ono što likovi uvek rade kada nisu sigurni, kada su u posedu misterije. Idemo u 221B Bejker ulicu i potražimo Šerloka Holmsa. Kad ljudi misle o Holmsu, oni pomisle da je njegov neprijatelj profesor Moriarti, taj kriminalni genije. Ali uvek mi se više dopadao inspektor Lestrejd, pacovskog lica, koji je šef Skotland Jarda, kome je Holms očajnički potreban, treba mu Holmsov genije, ali ga prezire O, to mi je tako poznato. Dakle, Lestrejd treba njegovu pomoć, prezire ga i istovremeno kipi od gorčine u toku trajanja misterija. No, u toku zajedničkog rada, nešto počinje da se menja i konačno u "Šest Napoleona," kada se Holms pojavi, zaslepljuje svakog svojim rešenjem, Lestrejd se okreće Holmsu i kaže: "Nismo ljubomorni na vas, gospodine Holms. Ponosni smo na vas". I on kaže da ne postoji čovek u Skotland Jardu koji ne bi želeo da se rukuje sa Šerlokom Holmsom.
It's one of the few times we see Holmes moved in the mysteries, and I find it very moving, this little scene, but it's also mysterious, right? It seems to treat jealousy as a problem of geometry, not emotion. You know, one minute Holmes is on the other side from Lestrade. The next minute they're on the same side. Suddenly, Lestrade is letting himself admire this mind that he's resented. Could it be so simple though? What if jealousy really is a matter of geometry, just a matter of where we allow ourselves to stand in relation to another? Well, maybe then we wouldn't have to resent somebody's excellence. We could align ourselves with it.
To je jedan od retkih trenutaka kada vidimo Holmsa ganutog u misterijama i meni je jako dirljiva ta kratka scena, ali je takođe tajanstvena, zar ne? Izgleda da posmatra ljubomoru kao problem geometrije, ne emocija. Za minutu je Holmes na drugoj strani od Lestrejda. Sledećeg minuta su na istoj strani. Odjednom je Lestrejd dozvolio sebi divljenje ovom umu kome je zamerao. Može li to biti tako jednostavno? Šta ako je ljubomora zaista stvar geometrije, samo stvar toga gde sebi dopustimo da se postavimo u odnosu na drugog? Onda možda ne bismo morali da preziremo nečiju izvrsnost. Mogli bismo se uskladiti s njom.
But I like contingency plans. So while we wait for that to happen, let us remember that we have fiction for consolation. Fiction alone demystifies jealousy. Fiction alone domesticates it, invites it to the table. And look who it gathers: sweet Lestrade, terrifying Tom Ripley, crazy Swann, Marcel Proust himself. We are in excellent company. Thank you. (Applause)
Ali sviđaju mi se planovi s neočekivanim krajem. Pa dok čekamo da se to dogodi, setimo se da imamo beletristiku za utehu. Samo beletristika demistifikuje ljubomoru, pripitomljava je, poziva je za sto. A pogledajte koga ona okuplja: slatkog Lestrejda, zastrašujućeg Toma Riplija, ludog Svana i samog Marsela Prusta. U izvrsnom smo društvu. Hvala vam. (Aplauz)