Tribute to Dr. Birenbaum
I attended San Jose State in the early seventies, earning a master’s
degree in English. Of all the wonderful teachers I had, Dr. Harvey Birenbaum
made an especially lasting impression on me. He showed my fellow students
and me how literature reflects our lives.
Dr. Birenbaum was a gentleman and a scholar. Standing at a lectern or
sitting at a table, he would enlighten us about Shakespeare, mythology, or
symbolism, giving us a comprehensive and sensitive interpretation of the work at
hand. He controlled the classroom through the power of his intellect, never
raising his voice for dramatic effect. He must have taken to heart Hamlet’s
advice to the players, “Use all gently for in the very torrent, tempest, and I may
say whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that
may give it smoothness.” His focus was entirely on literature, not on stories of
his own life or unrelated asides.
Applying his own formulation, he was interesting because he was
interested. He was interested in understanding the poems, stories, and plays on
their own terms. He was especially interested in our responses to literature. He
followed our thoughts and nurtured them. He made us feel as if we had clarified
implications for him when, in fact, he had clarified them for us. He always wrote
long comments on our essays in his meticulous, small script, often with a B+ or
A- at the end, encouraging us to keep on probing. “You don’t always get what
you want,” he would say, “but sometimes you get what you need.”
My generation of students was one of the earlier ones in Dr. Birenbaum’s
long career. I am sure he connected with the later generations as well as he did
with ours, showing us how Bob Dylan’s “Desolation Row” fit into the mythic cycle.
Some of my fellow students called him Mr. Natural, referring to R. Crumb’s
character from The Berkeley Barb. They meant no disrespect. Besides a
superficial resemblance, both Mr. Natural and Dr. Birenbaum were gurus. While
Mr. Natural was reluctant to reveal the meaning of life, Dr. Birenbaum was
always ready to discuss the version of reality projected by a work of art, which
held “the mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature and scorn her own
face.” With his teachings, Dr. Birenbaum provided us with a critical solvent for
cleaning mirrors, antique and modern, well enough to see ourselves.
Some years ago, I wrote to Dr. Birenbaum to thank him for being such a
wonderful teacher. I asked him for a photograph that I might put it on my wall
next to Joseph Campbell and Cantinflas. He replied graciously, saying that he
remembered me and offering his books The Happy Critic and The Art of Our
Necessities as a substitute for the picture. He inscribed one book with Hamlet’s
advice to “use all gently.” Later I printed out the picture of Dr. Birenbaum from
the University’s website to put on my wall.
Dr. Birenbaum passed away on Sept. 30, 2005. Ever the gentleman and
the scholar, he left us his books. I just re-read The Happy Critic. Dr.
Birenbaum’s voice—sensitive, ironic, quizzical, and confident but never
dogmatic—comes through on every page. I hope that every applicant for the
Harvey Birenbaum Prize for Excellence in the Graduate Study of Literature
receives a copy of The Happy Critic as a gift. That way everyone will win. In his
interpretation of King Lear, Dr. Birenbaum explained, “Whatever good we get is
by way of a gift; the bad goes without saying.” Dr. Birenbaum was a gift of grace
and wisdom in a tough world. Through his books, he continues to enlighten us
all.
625 words
James Gonzales