Page 54 - WTP VOl. XII #1

Fielder and Me (continued from preceding page)
concept of peace of mind is introduced and made central to the act of technical work, a fusion of classic and romantic quality can take place at a basic level.”
“To say that [skilled machinists and mechanics] are not artists is to misunderstand the nature of art. They have patience, care and attentiveness to what they’re doing... The material and the craftsman’s thoughts change together in a progression of smooth, even changes until his mind is at rest at the exact instant the material is right.”
“Others can talk about how to expand the destiny of mankind. I just want to talk about how to fix a motor- cycle. The real cycle you’re working on is a cycle called yourself.”
The 90-minute show ended with Richard Brautigan’s naively optimistic poem which imagines a future human- ity “all watched over by machines of loving grace.”
After the lights were turned on in the projection room, Fiedler, who was sitting directly in front of me, turned around to face me. Our faces were no more than a foot apart, the room was quiet.
“Nice job,” Fiedler said, making eye-contact with me. “I really enjoyed it. According to what you said last night, you wish to credit me with some influence over the content of the narration and your literary choices. Thanks, but it’s all your work and it’s good. I think you used the pieces of literature in a creative manner to make interesting points. Very good.”
I nodded gratefully and managed a whispered “thank you.” I knew he’d dealt with students and colleagues showing him their work for many decades, so it was hard to know if he was being honest or falling back into being the generic, polite, encouraging professor.
Fiedler rubbed his chin, then went on. “But there’s something I have to tell you. Something sort of, well, to use the word that applies to this trip, something sort of freaky. Last night, when we chatted, you told me how much my article about Hemingway, how much it meant to you. How deeply you were affected by it. I think you said it brought you to tears...”
I nodded, letting him know that was true.
“Well, this is very interesting,” Fiedler said, “because a few weeks after that article was published, I received a big fat letter in the mail. When I see an envelope like that, I think uh-oh, an aggrieved reader, someone offended by something I wrote, sending me hate mail, it wouldn’t be the first time. Then I looked to see who it was from... it was from Robert Pirsig.”
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I was startled and showed it. “The author of—?”
“Right, right, the one who wrote Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. The same Robert Pirsig whose quotations you used in your show. That guy. But this was 1962, so it was, what, a dozen years before his book was published. Anyway, the letter, this 22-page letter was truly brilliant and really very perceptive. He dug into the implications of what I’d
chapters of Freaks, “I
Fiedler points out that in the 1960s the word ‘freaks’ was adopted by those whom the world called hippies—which is a word that most of us who lived that life avoided.“
written about Hemingway, that the macho writer was so feeble at 61.
“But some of what this letter focused on was the exact line you mentioned: that I loved Hemingway for his weakness without ceasing to despise him for his strength. Pirsig zeroed in on that idea. He said he was very moved by it and speculated on the philosophical and social implications of that. What if you apply that concept to relations between groups, between neigh- bors, between feuding families? Between countries? What would be the results of love based on weak- ness and hatred based on strength? Would that help mankind move forward? Would it be a positive step for civilization? These were fascinating questions I hadn’t considered. I mean, if you look at his book, it deals with philosophical questions like that.”
I nodded, stunned at how things seem to connect in unexpected ways.
“And by the way, there’s another thing,” Fiedler said. “I’m a character in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. A minor character based on me is at that dinner in Bozeman. Pirsig gave me a different name, but it’s me, in chapter 14 of that book.”
n one of the last