| In “Picture This,” Joseph Heller uses Rembrandt’s portrait of Aristotle with a bust of Homer as a device to analyze avarice and empire, traveling from ancient Athens to mercantile Amsterdam all the way into the present day. In his trademark style, Heller uses repetitive, layered storytelling–much as a painter uses brushstrokes–to illustrate his central theme: that power is derived from cruelty. There isn’t much of a narrative to advance this thesis. We do get scenes of Rembrandt in his workshop, applying and removing paint as he ponders how to dodge his creditors. But much of what Heller offers is synopsis, selections from the Greek classics: the trial of Socrates, the plague of Athens, the siege of Melos. He uses these pieces of history, like a lawyer building a case, to argue for the essential futility of the human condition. Warmongers profit, Heller tells us. Innocent people are massacred, enslaved, exploitatively forced to toil. Thus it ever was, and thus it ever will be. In sketching this pattern, though, Heller finds himself drawn to the outliers. Take Rembrandt, for instance. The painter is a crude man. He squanders his childrens’ inheritances, impregnates his housemaids, takes on debts he’ll never repay. He stitches old canvases together to try to make a buck from frustrated patrons. And yet he is exquisite in conjuring the gilt of gold or using a few brushstrokes to evoke the contours of lace. There is something inexplicable about Rembrandt, a bit of the divine, even if he never benefits from it. Instead, he dies bankrupt while his paintings appreciate in the hands of counts and wealthy widows. Socrates too is unique. The philosopher opts out of the striving and cruelty of his ancient home; he walks away from a dictator’s orders, accumulates nothing, has his wife dump a chamber pot on his head. Put on trial for blasphemy and corrupting the youth, he defends himself, arguing that he deserves a pension from the state for his work. He refuses compromise, contrition, escape and exile, sticking to his principles…that and a large glass of hemlock. It’s worth noting, as Heller does, that Socrates risked his life for Athens, taking up arms multiple times as a common soldier on the city’s behalf. These actions were pointless–everything seems pointless to Socrates, at least in Heller’s telling–but he did it anyway. One has to serve the empire one is born into, Socrates suggests. In this service, it’s easy to see a parallel to John Yossarian in “Catch 22” and Heller’s own combat experience in World War II. Like most of Heller’s books, “Picture This” argues that the world is senseless and arbitrary and often cruel. In transmuting history into fiction, it also argues that history isn’t really knowable. Many of the paintings credited to Rembrandt are forgeries. Socrates’ words are passed down to us through Plato, who was only a child when many of them were uttered. And so like Socrates, Heller makes a show of flaunting his ignorance, highlighting what he doesn’t know–what can’t be known. We never learn anything from history it seems. Only that the same dark patterns keep recurring. Quotes“Nowhere in history is this assumption that human life has a value borne out by human events. All our religions but the Judaic and the Greek think more of us dead than alive.” *** “Rich is the country that has plenty of poor. In periods when prosperity is general, the value of the impoverished to that country increases, and nations not rich in poor must import indigents from inferior countries for the labor now considered degrading for citizens of repute to perform. The bidding sometimes goes high. It is fortunate for the progress of civilization that there are always plenty of poor.” *** “War is always in fashion, my dear old friend. Look at our history. In our golden age of Athens there is scarcely a period as long as five years in which we have not been at war. We lost most of the big battles and can’t hold on to what we win. Yet the city prospers, the economy booms. And now see how unconvincing and feeble poor Nicias appears each time he comes into public to argue for threadbare, ragged, tedious peace. A politician can roar for war. For peace he can only plead.” |