Theatricality as Medium by Weber Samuel;

Author:Weber, Samuel;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fordham University Press
Published: 2004-11-14T16:00:00+00:00

9

After the End: Adorno

The Art of Reading

A SCENE from Repetition, a passage that Adorno considered to be among the most important Kierkegaard ever wrote, can suggest a framework within which to approach Adorno’s own work today. To call it a “passage” is misleading, however, since in a certain sense it leads nowhere, neither from nor to any clearly defined place. And yet it doesn’t simply stand still, either.

So I arrived in Berlin. I hurried at once to my old lodgings … one of the most pleasant apartments in Berlin… . Gensd’arme Square is certainly the most beautiful in Berlin; das Schauspielhaus and the two churches are superb, especially when viewed from a window by moonlight. The recollection of these things was an important factor in my taking the journey. One climbs the stairs to the first floor in a gas-illuminated building, opens a little door, and stands in the entry. To the left is a glass door leading to a room. Straight ahead is an anteroom. Beyond are two entirely identical rooms, identically furnished, so that one sees the room double in the mirror. The inner room is tastefully illuminated. A candelabra stands on a writing table; a gracefully designed armchair upholstered in red velvet stands before the desk. The first room is not illuminated. Here the pale light of the moon blends with the strong light from the inner room. Sitting in a chair by the window, one looks out on the great square, sees the shadows of passersby hurrying along the walls; everything is transformed into a stage setting. A dream world glimmers in the background of the soul. One feels a desire to toss on a cape, steal softly along the wall with a searching gaze, aware of every sound. One does not do this but merely sees a rejuvenated self doing it. Having smoked a cigar, one goes back to the inner room and begins to work. It is past midnight. One extinguishes the candles and lights a little night candle. Unmingled, the light of the moon is victorious. A single shadow appears even blacker; a single footstep takes a long time to disappear. The cloudless vault of heaven looks so melancholy, so dreamlike and so thoughtful, as though the end of the world had come and gone, had already passed, and heaven, undisturbed, was occupied with itself. Once again, one goes out into the hallway, into the entry, into that little room, and—if one is among the fortunate who are able to sleep—goes to sleep.1

This passage—which Adorno cites as evidence of the retreat into the inner sanctum of private space, the “interior” that, he asserts, forms the nucleus of Kierkegaard’s work—is situated at the problematic but decisive moment when Constantin Constantius returns to Berlin because, as he announces at the very outset of the work, at home he has found himself totally blocked by the question of repetition: Is there such a thing, he asks, and if there is, what does it mean? The simplest

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