14 Morality-wise, let’s concede that this cuts both ways. Lobster-eating is at least not abetted by the system of corporate factory farms that produces most beef, pork, and chicken. Because, if nothing else, of the way they’re marketed and packaged for sale, we eat these latter meats without having to consider that they were once conscious, sentient creatures to whom horrible things were done. (N.B. “Horrible” here meaning really, really horrible. Write off to PETA or peta.org for their free “Meet Your Meat” video, narrated by Mr. Alec Baldwin, if you want to see just about everything meat-related you don’t want to see or think about. (N.B. Not that PETA’s any sort of font of unspun truth. Like many partisans in complex moral disputes, the PETA people are fanatics, and a lot of their rhetoric seems simplistic and self-righteous. But this particular video, replete with actual factory-farm and corporate-slaughterhouse footage, is both credible and traumatizing.)) (back to text)
15 Is it significant that “lobster,” “fish,” and “chicken” are our culture’s words for both the animal and the meat, whereas most mammals seem to require euphemisms like “beef” and “pork” that help us separate the meat we eat from the living creature the meat once was? Is this evidence that some kind of deep unease about eating higher animals is endemic enough to show up in English usage, but that the unease diminishes as we move out of the mammalian order? (And is “lamb”/“lamb” the counterexample that sinks the whole theory, or are there special, biblico-historical reasons for that equivalence?) (back to text)
16 There’s a relevant populist myth about the high-pitched whistling sound that sometimes issues from a pot of boiling lobster. The sound is really vented steam from the layer of seawater between the lobster’s flesh and its carapace (this is why shedders whistle more than hard-shells), but the pop version has it that the sound is the lobster’s rabbit-like death-scream. Lobsters communicate via pheromones in their urine and don’t have anything close to the vocal equipment for screaming, but the myth’s very persistent — which might, once again, point to a low-level cultural unease about the boiling thing. (back to text)
17 “Interests” basically means strong and legitimate preferences, which obviously require some degree of consciousness, responsiveness to stimuli, etc. See, for instance, the utilitarian philosopher Peter Singer, whose 1974 Animal Liberation is more or less the bible of the modern animal-rights movement: It would be nonsense to say that it was not in the interests of a stone to be kicked along the road by a schoolboy. A stone does not have interests because it cannot suffer. Nothing that we can do to it could possibly make any difference to its welfare. A mouse, on the other hand, does have an interest in not being kicked along the road, because it will suffer if it is. (back to text)
18 This is the neurological term for special pain-receptors that are “sensitive to potentially damaging extremes of temperature, to mechanical forces, and to chemical substances which are released when body tissues are damaged.” (back to text)
19 “Preference” is maybe roughly synonymous with “interests,” but it is a better term for our purposes because it’s less abstractly philosophical — “preference” seems more personal, and it’s the whole idea of a living creature’s personal experience that’s at issue. (back to text)
20 Of course, the most common sort of counterargument here would begin by objecting that “like best” is really just a metaphor, and a misleadingly anthropomorphic one at that. The counterarguer would posit that the lobster seeks to maintain a certain optimal ambient temperature out of nothing but unconscious instinct (with a similar explanation for the low-light affinities upcoming in the main text). The thrust of such a counterargument will be that the lobster’s thrashings and clankings in the kettle express not unpreferred pain but involuntary reflexes, like your leg shooting out when the doctor hits your knee. Be advised that there are professional scientists, including many researchers who use animals in experiments, who hold to the view that nonhuman creatures have no real feelings at all, merely “behaviors.” Be further advised that this view has a long history that goes all the way back to Descartes, although its modern support comes mostly from behaviorist psychology.
To these what-looks-like-pain-is-really-just-reflexes counterarguments, however, there happen to be all sorts of scientific and pro — animal rights counter-counterarguments. And then further attempted rebuttals and redirects, and so on. Suffice it to say that both the scientific and the philosophical arguments on either side of the animal-suffering issue are involved, abstruse, technical, often informed by self-interest or ideology, and in the end so totally inconclusive that as a practical matter, in the kitchen or restaurant, it all still seems to come down to individual conscience, going with (no pun) your gut. (back to text)
21 Meaning a lot less important, apparently, since the moral comparison here is not the value of one human’s life vs. the value of one animal’s life, but rather the value of one animal’s life vs. the value of one human’s taste for a particular kind of protein. Even the most diehard carniphile will acknowledge that it’s possible to live and eat well without consuming animals. (back to text)
1 From “Can These Bones Live?” in The Edward Dahlberg Reader, New Directions, 1957. (back to text)
2 Of course, contemporary literary theory is all about showing that there’s no real distinction between these two ways to read — or rather it’s about showing that aesthetics can pretty much always be reduced to ideology. For me, one reason Frank’s overall project is so worthwhile is that it shows a whole different way to marry formal and ideological readings, an approach that isn’t nearly as abstruse and (sometimes) reductive and (all too often) joy-killing as literary theory. (back to text)
3 The amount of library time he must have put in would take the stuffing out of anybody, I’d imagine. (back to text)
4 Among the striking parallels with Shakespeare is the fact that FMD had four works of his “mature period” that are considered total masterpieces — Crime and Punishment, The Idiot, Demons (a.k.a. The Demons, a.k.a. The Devils, a.k.a. The Possessed), and The Brothers Karamazov — all four of which involve murders and are (arguably) tragedies. (back to text)
5 Volume III, The Stir of Liberation, includes a very fine explicative reading of Notes, tracing the book’s genesis as a reply to the “rational egoism” made fashionable by N. G. Chernyshevsky’s What Is to Be Done? and identifying the Underground Man as basically a parodic caricature. Frank’s explanation for the widespread misreading of Notes (a lot of people don’t read the book as a conte philosophique, and they assume that Dostoevsky designed the Underground Man as a serious Hamlet-grade archetype) also helps explain why FMD’s more famous novels are often read and admired without any real appreciation of their ideological premises: “The parodistic function of [the Underground Man’s] character has always been obscured by the immense vitality of his artistic embodiment.” That is, in some ways Dostoevsky was too good for his own good. (back to text)