Time Must Have a Stop

With this I've now read or re-read all eleven of Aldous Huxley's novels. I read Time Must Have a Stop (1944) last and out of chronological order because I didn't have a copy handy until recently, but it was a good one to end on. Set in London and Florence just prior to World War II, the story revolves around young Sebastian Barnack, a very self-absorbed and precocious schoolboy with a gift for poetry, who spends most of his time seeking aesthetic experiences and converting them to verse. On summer vacation in Italy with his uncle Eustace and on the verge of achieving his fondest desire, a new suit of formal wear so he can attend a party, Sebastian experiences not only his first sexual encounter but also the early stages of a unexpected spiritual awakening that brings about a personal transformation in the novel's epilog five years later.

As with all of Huxley's novels, Time Must Have a Stop is very decidedly another novel of ideas, or more precisely in this case, a single idea revolving around the meaning of life (and death). What I've found most interesting as I've read through all of Huxley's fiction, is the variety of creative approaches he employs in his storytelling. Most notable in this book is the insight he provides into young Sebastian's methods of poetic composition. We are given glimpses into the boy's mind as he converts his impressions and experiences into images and lines of poetry, seeking just the right word or expression to convey his attitude and meaning. His mind is always at work, which also means that his fantasy life tends to leak into his perceptions and convert them almost directly into works of art. Sebastian's self-absorption and refusal to engage other than aesthetically with his surroundings leads to a series of unintended but nearly disastrous complications for himself and others when his Uncle Eustace suddenly dies.

Although the novel is very much about how to live, the focus is also on death, both as a physical and spiritual reality. There is some fascinating and extremely imaginative writing in several chapters Huxley intersperses in the story focusing on Uncle Eustace's mental activity leading up to and after his actual demise. Eustace tends to linger almost ghostlike, reluctant to let go of his consciousness and particularly his memories of existence, seemingly aware of his physical transformation, but unwilling to accept his loss of presence. Naturally, as in other Huxley novels, there is also an enlightened spiritual guide who patiently tries to explain the true meaning of existence, even though no one seems to want to listen to him. In Time Must Have a Stop, this character is a book dealer, Bruno Rontini, who annoys Uncle Eustace even in death, and who enlightens young Sebastian, even against his own will.

Bruno Rontini is also the most seriously injured of the unintended victims of Sebastian's foolish self-regard, even though he helps to salvage the boy's reputation and save him from his instinctive selfishness. Aware that he has done great harm, Sebastian fails to make amends until five years later, in the novel's epilog, when he has a chance encounter back in London with the dying Rontini. Sebastian's path to enlightenment is not an easy one, but as the novel reaches its conclusion, we are confident of his eventual arrival. Huxley's message is simple and familiar, similar to his conclusions in The Perennial Philosophy. The quest for enlightenment always entails the surrender of self, and is not so much about doing good as about being good in the very specific way that Huxley imagines is essential to true enlightenment. There is a kind of aggressive passivity associated with this quest, and as Uncle Eustace and Sebastian both demonstrate, the similar passivity associated with the surrender to art is actually a serious roadblock to achieving true spiritual enlightenment.

This may seem to be an insurmountable problem for Huxley as well, who writes so persistently and beautifully about a subject that necessarily leads him away from art and into experience. But I think that is what attracts me to Huxley. While I awaited the arrival of Time Must Have a Stop, I re-read The Doors of Perception (1954), which details Huxley's experiences with pharmaceutically induced spiritual awakenings. I confess I read this in the late sixties or early seventies, but wasn't yet mature enough to absorb all that Huxley was trying to convey, although I'm sure I thought I understood it at the time. The quest for enlightenment is one thing when you're still in your twenties, and quite another when you're approaching seventy. I've found a lot of what I would consider wisdom in Huxley's writings, and I continue to think about the problems associated with human existence he explores in his fiction and essays. His books have a great deal to teach us about human sexuality, psychology, sociology, and religion. I'm especially struck by his dedication to pacifism and his abhorrence of war. Although in some ways my time with reading Huxley must now have a stop, at least for a while, I'm glad I embarked on this journey. It's been rewarding as well as entertaining.