A Dance to the Music of Time

(photo by Nick Hewling)

(First posted, 17.11.10)

‘Gathered round the bucket of coke that burned in front of the shelter, several figures were swinging arms against bodies and rubbing hands together with large, pantomimic gestures: like comedians giving formal expression to the concept of extreme cold. ..something in the physical attitudes of the men themselves as they turned to the fire, suddenly suggested Poussin’s scene

..[The dance to the music of time - painting  c.1640].. in which the Seasons, hand in hand and facing outward, tread in rhythm to the notes of the lyre that the winged and naked greybeard plays. The image of Time brought thoughts of mortality: of human beings, facing outward like the Seasons, moving hand in hand in intricate measure: stepping slowly, methodically, sometimes a trifle awkwardly, in evolutions that take recognisable shape: or breaking into seemingly meaningless gyrations, while partners disappear only to reappear again, once more giving pattern to the spectacle: unable to control the melody, unable, perhaps, to control the steps of the dance.’

Part of the opening passage of Anthony Powell’s 12 novel sequence, A Dance to the Music of Time in which he presents his own life, across 55 years of the 20^th century, through the fictional form of his narrator Nicholas Jenkins. Nick stands at the calm centre of a social world of two hundred characters as the observer and chronicler of their lives. Yet he remains also the central character, changing over time, offering different observations and explanations as he ages. His only conclusion, that he has exerted little influence over the direction his life has taken, drawn along by the rhythm of the dances of others.

It’s my favourite work of English literature and I’m currently in my 5^th cycle of reading.                                             

(As you can see from the first photo, I’m now on my 6^th cycle!)