In the last few days, several major English-language writers, like John Irving, have come to praise G. Grass, ex-Waffen-SS soldier, and novelist, for doing the right thing, and admitting to having once been 17 and harbouring urges to join the most infamous and criminal gang of war criminals known to history.These literate advocates observe that the Nobel prize-winner (never shy of publicity) has been the conscience of post-war Germany; figured thus, anything he was to say, or do - or to have said, and done - is both apt and exemplary - and supremely literary. It seems Grass has not only mastered the art and craft of fiction - but of shaping reality, as well.
Meanwhile, other Nazi-sympathizers, such as Ezra Pound, have never been brought in from the cold, presumably because they never admitted to having joined the wrong side, or never wrote about themes of guilt - though, of course, Pound is by far the greater writer of the two. It seems not all 17-year-olds are to be forgiven - Mao will never be able to live down the egomaniacal diary entries of his adolescence; and yet again, we praise Rimbaud for his youthful works.
What emerges, then, seems to be a muddled ethics of praise and blame, depending on the weather: some young people are responsible - even admirable - for what they decide to do in their youth - and others not; and other, older writers, are responsible for what they do then too - and some are not. If Grass is to be now easily and retroactively pardoned, like one more WWI deserter, then perhaps we must absolve all young men and women - and all writers of talent - from what they do. In such a world, only the middle-aged and old (and talentless) will henceforth be punishable for their moral choices.
Meanwhile, for sheer clarity, precision and purity of genius, look to hard-to-see Mr. G. Perelman. The eccentric, reclusive mathematical master, pictured above when young, has recently declined to accept the equivalent, in the maths world, of the Nobel (The Fields Medal) and a million dollars, for having apparently solved one of the most daunting of all the puzzle's human intelligence has devised (or observed). This man has neither time for, or desire of, wealth, fame or power, and works solely - one assumes - because what he does is sublime, good and difficult - the ideal model of both scientist, and artist. This seems a more exemplary heroic model than Grass is able to present to posterity.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/sci/tech/5274040.stm?ls
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