ARTICLES OF IBSEN, 1998
This year’s survey of
the essay-length discussions of Ibsen completes the coverage of the
items published in 1998. It
covers two journal articles not available to me last year, three journal
articles from the past republished in a 1998 book, and sixteen essays
from a conference Proceedings.
Inga-Stina Ewbank’s "Translating Ibsen
for the English Stage" (1) is an addition to the series of essays
that she has written on Ibsen’s language, a series that has made her
the leading authority on that subject.
The essay is based on her experience of translating, mostly
in association with Sir Peter Hall
and John Barton, six of Ibsen's plays for productions in major English
theaters. The method employed was Ewbank’s providing the
director with a literal translation intended to convey, "within
the text and in footnotes, as much as possible not only of the paraphraseable
sense but also of the stylistic qualities of the original (which are
of course crucial to an understanding of tone and meaning); the undertones
and allusions, the grammar and syntax, the sounds and the speech rhythms." This text then goes back and forth with the
director revising for speakability and Ewbank revising his revisions
"in the interest of the original’s qualities" until the
two agree on a text that is then "fine tuned through minor adjustments
in rehearsal." Ewbank
structures her essay in terms of "the three often troublesomely
contradictory aims of dramatic translation: faithfulness to the original
text, speakability for the actors, and intelligibility for the audience." Ewbank considers the first of these to be the
most important, for she finds that good and well-trained actors can
take care of the other two. In
the course of the essay she discusses several important aspects of
Ibsen's language, both in general and as it varies from play to play.
Terry Otten effectively
demonstrates that the question asked by his title—"How Old Is
Dr. Rank?"—is an extremely important
one, for it is connected to a strikingly new way of considering A Doll House (2). Otten's argument
has two basic premises. The
first is that Nora herself "embodies the authority of the [.
. .] sexist views that enslave her," so that her victory "is
over herself" and is thus genuine, not superficial. The second is that her victory is enabled by
the man with whom she most meaningfully interacts in the play, who
is neither Torvald nor Krogstad but Rank. According to this argument, the key scene in
the play is the one in which Nora entices Rank
in an effort to free herself from her problems with Krogstad and Torvald. Otten calls this scene "one of the most
subtle and dramatically effective in Ibsen's works," relates
it to the play's theme of "violated love," and observes
that it constitutes "the point when we first understand that
the play is elementally about prostitution, about the willful
selling of one's self to gain some advantage." Most important, here Nora "for the first
time confronts what she has become openly, and with increasing self-consciousness,
she plays the prostitute that she sees in the mirror for the first
time." Otten supports his argument by examining the “ideas regarding
women's issues” contemporary with the play and, especially, by tracing
the evolution of Rank's role through
the various drafts. When asserting
what the play is really about Otten sounds a bit too much like those
whom Joan Templeton took to task in "The Doll House Backlash," and at one point he absurdly suggests that
Ibsen could "envision Nora's psychological and possibly physical
attraction to an older man" because of his own "brief flirtations
with much younger women"; all of these that have actually been
documented took place after the writing of the play.
Otherwise, however, this essay is a valuable contribution to
Ibsen studies.
Six articles on Ibsen previously published in
Modern Drama were republished
in a 1998 volume, Modernism
in European Drama (Toronto,
University of Toronto
Press). Three of them have been reviewed by Otto Reinert
in Ibsen News and Comment:
Eleanor Fuchs' "Marriage, Metaphysics and The
Lady from the Sea" (1990), Evert Sprinchorn's "The Unspoken
Text in Hedda Gabler"
(1993), and Brian Johnston's "The Dangerous Seductions of the
Past: Ibsen’s Counter-Discourse to Modernity" (1994).
Since the other three articles are listed in the Ibsen bibliographies
for 1998, I review them here.
Marvin Carlson's discussion
of patterns of structure and character in Rosmersholm
(3) provides an excellent guide to much of what makes it "perhaps
the most complex [play] Ibsen ever created"; these are Carlson’s
words, but many would agree with them—even without the "perhaps." Carlson notes the play’s "remarkable concentration,"
which calls to mind "the practice of classic tragedy," and
shows how this impression is enhanced by Ibsen's having "entrusted
[Madame Helseth] with the duties assigned in classic tragedy to a
whole group of characters." The
patterns of structure he describes have to do with the way the acts
of the play are related to one another.
Acts One and Four both turn on a visit by Brendel, but Act
One involves a positive movement forward while Act Four reverses the
emotional forces in a negative movement.
Similarly, Act Three echoes Act two structurally, as Rebekka
goes through a psychological process much like the one Rosmer
goes through in Act Two. Carlson's
patterns of character concern the similarity between Kroll and Mortensgaard
despite their being at opposite ends of the political spectrum, the
parallels between Rosmer and Brendel,
and the relation between Beata and Rebekka,
who ends up having become another Beata.
There have been other attempts to trace the complex dynamics
of Rosmersholm—perhaps most notably the one by Brian Johnston in The Ibsen Cycle—but anyone interested in
this topic must consult Carlson's as well.
M. S. Barranger's article on When We Dead Awaken (4) does not get much
beyond conventional notions about the play and some rather crude interpretations
involving Rubek’s character and the
contrast between the two central couples, with Maja and Ulfheim always
proving to be the good side of a good/bad dichotomy—until very near
the end when a brief paragraph is devoted to their limitations. The apparent occasion of the article is Barranger's
discovery that Ibsen uses a new, quite modern device in When We Dead Awaken, that of "the
sequential pastime and game in order to structure and give definition
to the lives of his characters whose histories and motives are, at
best, vague and contradictory."
Much is said about what the games accomplish, but, unfortunately,
Barranger discusses only one game in any detail (the one in Act Two
when Irene and Rubek throw petals
and leaves into the stream), although she refers to another and calls
the courtship of Maja and Ulfheim game-playing.
Benjamin K. Bennett's essay on Strindberg and
Ibsen (5) is probably the most ground-breaking item in this year's
survey. His topic is one of
extreme importance to drama but also one that is seldom discussed:
the representation of time. The
essay needs to be read carefully and then probably re-read, so I am
not going to try to summarize it, but I will sketch Bennett's scenario. To discuss the representation of time in drama
he draws on the analogy of the representation of space in painting. In their major plays of the 1880s, Ibsen and
Strindberg represent time impressionistically.
Subsequently they both find this to be inadequate and move
toward an expressionistic representation of time.
Ibsen also finds this to be inadequate and retreats before
having gone very far in this direction, while Strindberg of course
goes much farther. But also ultimately finding the expressionistic
representation of time inadequate, Strindberg, who "measurably
surpasses" Ibsen in this area according to Bennett, is able to
solve the problem by developing a "cubism of time." Bennett’s discussions of the plays he looks
at give this scenario the clarity it lacks in my sketch and also provide
numerous important insights into the plays.
The essay also contains some suggestions for the revision of
theatrical history as it is now understood.
The remaining items all appeared in the official
proceedings of the Eighth International Ibsen Conference, held in
Gossensass, Italy,
June 23-28, 1997 (6). The Markers' “Ibsen and the New Stagecraft”
(7) is an interesting and informative account of Ibsen's being transformed
into a symbolist dramatist by the directors and designers who revolted
against theatrical naturalism in the late 1890s and the early twentieth
century. The Markers quote from Maeterlinck's famous
account of The Master Builder
as symbolist drama in The Tragical
in Daily Life and briefly consider Lugné-Poe's productions of
Ibsen, but their main focus is the work of Gordon Craig (who staged
a production of The Vikings at Helgeland, designed a production
of Rosmersholm for Eleanora Duse, and produced
designs for a production of The
Lady from the Sea that was abandoned when he and Duse quarreled),
Adolphe Appia (who sketched a pair of designs for Little
Eyolf), Vsevolod Meyerhold (who staged "Maeterlinck-influenced
distillations" of Hedda
Gabler and A Doll House),
and Max Reinhardt (who staged productions
of Ghosts and John
Gabriel Borkman). The work of Craig and Appia illustrates "the
New Stagecraft’s quest for simplification, stylization, and suggestion
in the theatre." Meyerhold carried the transformation of Ibsen
in the theater further by abandoning the invisible "fourth wall"
and with it "all considerations of actual period and place." But it was Max Reinhardt
who proved to be "the fullest realization" of "Craig's
vision of a supreme 'artist of the theatre' capable of mastering 'actions,
words, lines, colours, and rhythms.'"
Laura Caretti's well researched account of the
Craig-Duse production of Rosmersholm (8) begins by noting that it was staged in the same theater
in which a more conventional production of the play starring Duse
had failed a year previously, and we later learn that, in contrast,
the new production had a considerable success.
Caretti examines Craig’s designs and his various writings on
Rosmersholm and other indications of his take on the play to explore
his intentions. She also draws
on a photograph of Duse as well as eye-witness accounts (from critics
who saw the play performed and from Isadora Duncan who among other
things acted as translator for Duse and Craig) to recreate the effect
of the production.
In another well researched essay, Joan Templeton
describes, in rich and often hilarious detail, "the battle for
Ibsen on the French stage" (9).
Its first wave consisted of Antoine’s fiercely realistic productions,
in 1890 and 1891, of Ghosts
and The Wild Duck; here the battle was waged
between the detractors of Ibsen, led by Francisque Sarcey, "the
antediluvian doyen of French theatrical criticism," and those
who supported Ibsen, led by Jules Lemaitre; the latter carried the
day, establishing Ibsen’s arrival in France. The second wave consisted of Lugné-Poe's staging
eight Ibsen plays in the symbolist theatrical mode between 1892 and
1897—"surely [. . .] one of the most bizarre chapters in theatrical
history." Lugné-Poe learned
from Herman Bang and then Ibsen himself that he was imposing "a
particular style on a text that calls out for another," but he
persisted in doing so until the French press got after him, which
prompted him to acknowledge his error and stop making it.
In the third wave, more briefly described, Lugné-Poe, having
come round to using the style Ibsen's texts call for, staged his plays
so frequently and so successfully that even the Comédie Française
added Ibsen to its repertory with a production of An Enemy of the People in 1921.
Andrey Yuriev claims
(10) that Emperor and Galilean
is in the tradition of the medieval mystery play, which passed on
to German Romantic dramatists by
way of Calderon's autos sacramentales
and which Ibsen discovered, perhaps unwittingly, by trying to work
in the manner of Goethe’s Faust. Unfortunately, there is little attempt to demonstrate
these claims concretely. Most
of the essay consists of broad and sweeping generalizations of a dubious
nature, and Ibsen's text is read in a loose and allegorical way that
makes it possible to have it mean whatever one wants it to mean. The essay is difficult to follow because of
its many "major digressions," the longest of which asserts,
again with no real evidence, Ibsen's keen and enduring interest in
Gnostic lore, and because the English of the essay is often insufficiently
idiomatic.
Astrid Sæther (11) discusses Rosmersholm, Hedda Gabler, and The Master
Builder in order to explore the significance of "Place"—in
the sense of both literal space, such as a human dwelling, and symbolic
space, such as the natural world as a realm governed by Providence—in
an era when "Place" was losing its stability.
Her theoretical consideration of her concept is sketchy and
insufficiently precise, and her discussions of the plays also reflect
this weakness, since the idea of "Place" is used inconsistently
in them and is also frequently abandoned for more general considerations
of the plays. Here, too, the quality of the English increases
the difficulty of getting clearly articulated thoughts.
John Orr's well written and thoughtful essay
(12) discusses Ingmar Bergman’s "cinema from Through
a Glass Darkly onwards" as "a revisioning, eighty years
on, of the central themes of Ibsen’s drama" and sees the "power"
of this cinema as deriving from "a particular transformation
of Ibsen, a foregrounding of the female intimacies in films like The
Silence, Persona, Cries and Whispers, and Autumn
Sonata, which in Ibsen so often constituted dramatic sub-plot
and dramatic sub-text." Orr's
emphasis is the various ways the two artists differ, and his explorations
of this valuably illuminate Bergman's work and, to a lesser but still
important extent, Ibsen's. Orr
is also interested in Bergman's theater productions, and he concludes
the essay by pointing out "crossovers" from Bergman’s films
to his productions of Ibsen's plays: Peer
Gynt, Hedda Gabler (twice) The Wild Duck, A Doll House (twice), and John
Gabriel Borkman.
Helge Rønning's
“Dr. Ibsen Goes to Hollywood”
(13) deals with "the intersection between form and themes in
Ibsen's work and the techniques and themes of film and television. It deals with the meeting of nineteenth century
drama and the lived process of the creation of modern society, with
the two media which maybe more than any other have become the interpreters
of that modernity." The
essay has three major sections. "The
Writing of Everyday Speech" discusses Ibsen's perfecting "a
dramatic language which seemingly is like the form of speech which
is being used in day-to-day conversation, and thus seems natural,
but which in reality is a highly polished form of artistic language."
"A Technique Not Yet Born" finds the ultimate source
of the form, technique, and themes of contemporary film and television
drama in the kind of drama Ibsen and others were writing in the second
half of the nineteenth century; this section also explores the capacities
of the novel, drama, and film—e.g., to dramatize history effectively.
"The Melodramatic Imagination" is concerned with
the considerable presence of melodrama (in Peter
Brooks' sense of the term) in Ibsen and contemporary film and television
drama; the discussion of Ibsen in this section includes a look at
When We Dead Awaken in relation
to nine "staple elements from the melodramatic tradition."
The essay is certainly worth reading, but it often seems more
like a proposal for a scholarly work rather than a finished one.
Egil Törnqvist (14) describes the presentation
of the ends of Acts Three and Four of Hedda
Gabler in two Scandinavian television productions, a Norwegian
one directed by Arild Brinchmann (1975) and a Swedish one directed
by Margareta Garpe (1993). Brinchmann's production, according to Törnqvist,
is rather faithful to Ibsen's text (except for the changes resulting
from television techniques), while Garpe's is more an adaptation,
since she eliminates much of the text and, more important, makes major
changes in the visual presentation of the characters, especially Hedda. The essay has an arbitrary quality to it, since
Törnqvist for the most part simply describes the sequences in the
two productions and then concludes with a list of things that screen
media can achieve that live theater cannot.
I say "for the most part" because there are occasional
interpretations of details from Ibsen’s play or from these productions
of it, some of which seem rather dubious to me.
Victor Castellani argues (15), plausibly and
interestingly, that When We Dead Awaken is in part informed by three Greek myths: "the
happy story of sculptor Pygmalion and his statue that comes to life,
the sad tale of singer-poet Orpheus and Eurydice, and the averted
tragedy of Admetus and his wife Alcestus."
Ibsen's tendency with these myths is to invert them, and in
demonstrating this Castellani significantly adds to our understanding
of the play. This is only the
main focus of the essay, however.
In his general remarks about Ibsen and myth, Castellani offers
several thought-provoking formulations about the dramas of contemporary
life as a whole and some important insights into Ibsen's working methods.
One example of this is his comparing first When
We Dead Awaken and then the rest of the last twelve plays to the
Greek satyr play. Once in a
while Castellani's readings are open to dispute, but the only really
serious problem of the essay is that he devotes far too much space
to showing how Ibsen could have known these myths, especially since
Ibsen demonstrates his knowledge of two of them in his writings.
Ning Wang's “Postmodenizing Ibsen” is not worth
bothering with (16). His attempt to use literary theory is so muddled
as to suggest that he doesn’t understand it. He turns to The Wild Duck to demonstrate his points, but his discussion of the
play doesn't seem to have anything to do with them, and the only part
of this discussion that isn't wrong-headed is the long and sometimes
erroneous plot summary that constitutes most of it.
The essay's command of English is inadequate.
His main point is that Ibsen's plays show that "literary
works of the 'fin-de-siècle'
are not necessarily all decadent or passive."
Fritz Paul's essay about Ghosts
and, especially, Rosmersholm (17, in German) identifies these
plays as "family dramas," in which the characters' fates
are determined by their interrelationships with other family members. These include those family members no longer
living who continue to have impact on the rest of the family, while
the place in which the family lives is also important since it is
representative of the family's nature.
In the action of these plays, one or more members of the present
generation seek to escape from the family history into freedom, but
that effort is doomed by the grip that the family continues to exercise
over them. Paul questions the
tendency of some to call Ibsen's plays tragedies, and states that
Rosmersholm is not a tragedy in the classical
sense since Rosmer is not guilty
in the way that classical protagonists are.
He does not say that classical tragedy is the only valid tragedy,
but he seems to mean this. For
me, one of those who think Ibsen wrote tragedies,
Paul's fine analysis of the dynamics of the family dramas is another
reason to think so.
In my own essay (18), I argue that although
Ibsen was definitely a dramatist in the Aristotelian mode he made
a number of modifications of this mode that went a long way toward
undermining it. With respect
to The Wild Duck, I discuss
the mixture of the standard genres tragedy and comedy to form the
new genre of modern tragicomedy, the assigning of the role of protagonist
to three different characters in sequence (Gregers, Hjalmar, and Hedwig),
Hjalmar's seeming recognition that is in reality a pseudo-recognition,
and the play's "refusal to provide definitive formulation of
particular details of its action and story material."
With respect to The Master
Builder, I discuss its "providing two conflicting perspectives
for understanding the ending, thereby making possible both a tragic
reading and a triumphant one" and the way in which Solness' narrative
of defying God ten years earlier is presented in such a way that we
can understand it not as a recollection of something that really happened
but rather as a story made up on the spot to make sense of his experience.
Theoharis C. Theoharis' essay (19) is essentially
a condensed version of his reading of the ending of The
Master Builder in the final chapter of his book Ibsen’s
Drama: Right Action and Tragic Joy (New York, 1996).
Since this book belongs to the short list of books that ought
to be owned by serious Ibsen scholars, the longer version is the one
to read. But if the book is
unavailable then this essay is necessary reading.
In last year's Ibsen
News and Comment, I reviewed the late William Mishler's reading
of some of Ibsen's poems from the point of view of René
Girard’s concept of "mimetic desire"; in his essay on Love’s
Comedy in this volume, Mishler once again demonstrates the usefulness
of this concept for understanding Ibsen (20).
According to this concept, "human desire is seen as inherently
imitative, i.e., not mobilized by the object (as in Freudian theory)
but by the example of the desires of others."
This soon leads to conflict that spirals into "reciprocating
violence," thus putting "in peril the existence of the group
unless the members hit upon the solution of shifting the weight of
their accumulated violence onto a randomly chosen victim in human
sacrifice." After some perceptive comments on the complexity
of the character Falk, Mishler shows how the various acts of falling
in love in the play perfectly conform to the concept of mimetic desire
and then traces Falk's fashioning of Svanhild into a symbolic sacrificial
victim.
Vigdis Ystad discusses Ibsen's use of anagnorisis
by looking at the moments of recognition in Ghosts,
Rosmersholm, and John Gabriel
Borkman (21) and distinguishing three
types. Manders' recognizing "Osvald as his father's
son through an Aristotelean 'sign,' namely through the pipe Osvald
is smoking" and Mrs. Alving's recognition at the end of Act One
of Osvald and Regina as "ghosts"
of Alving and Regina's mother are
Aristotelean versions of recognition, in which any guilt involved
is tragic because the individuals accrue it unwittingly. Mrs. Alving's recognition at the end of Act
Two that she has contributed to the evils in her marriage constitutes
a more modern version of recognition, "with emphasis on individual
responsibility." Her recognition
at the end of the play of "the final and most ghastly truth about
Oswald’s sickness" is a version of recognition that corresponds
to Kierkegaard's definition of recognition in Fear
and Trembling; this involves the experience of "anxiety and
aporia," through which "the isolated self enters into enigmatic
life-contexts larger than the self" and thus is able to achieve
tragic status. This essay is worth consulting, although the
third type of recognition is not fully clarified because of insufficient
concreteness, the failure to translate Kierkegaard's terms into more
understandable language, and the attempt to make points too quickly.
Ane Hoel argues (22) that Hedda Gabler is not
pregnant and that she indicates to Tesman in Act Four that she is
only because she wants to use the false pregnancy "as a smokescreen"
in order "to escape from public scrutiny of her criminal acts."
I think Hoel misstates Hedda's motive here and in her discussion
of the episode, for Hedda is entirely preoccupied with her expectations
about Løvborg’s "beautiful" suicide, Brack's telling her
what really happened, and her determination to stay out of Brack's
clutches until Brack threatens her with scandal very late in the act.
Perhaps the problem is not that Hoel is wrong about her claim
but that the language in which she expresses it is excessively melodramatic.
In making her case for Hedda's not being pregnant, Hoel rightly
draws on Strindberg's short story "Mot Betaling" ("For
Payment"), which may be a major source for Hedda
Gabler, but her implying that the refusal of the wife in the story
to have sex with her husband proves that the same thing is true of
Hedda ignores the complexity of the kind of evidence she is using. She is much more successful with her examination
of Hedda's body language in the play, and I rather liked her consideration
of Hedda as "androgynous general." Furthermore, even if Hoel can't prove that Hedda
isn't pregnant, her essay is still valuable for reminding us that
all the evidence in the play for Hedda's being pregnant is equivocal.
The other essays from this volume that are also
substantially on Ibsen are all in German: Maria Brunner, "Fassbinders
Welttheater in Nora Helmer (1973) als Zeit-Bild," 163-78; Heinrich Detering,
"'Es geschiet': Nietzsche, Ibsen, Strindberg und des Drama der
Abstraktion," 235-55; Lutz Rühling,
"Ibsen und das Unheimliche," 275-92; Raminta
Gamziukaite-Maziuliene, "Kaiser Julian in der Sicht von Dimitrij
Merežkovskij und Henrik Ibsen," 309-22; Moritz Bassler, "Auf
dem Zwischenplane—Gespenster bei Ibsen, Rilke
und Breton," 331-51; Aleksej J. Zerebin, "Zum russichen
Bild Henrik Ibsens," 353-64; Gottfried Franz Kasperek, "Ibsen
und die Musik. Der Einsatz von Musik in Ibsens
Dramen, mit seitenblicken auf Vertonungen," 443-49; Oswald Panagi,
"Die Schauspielmusiken zu Henrik Ibsens Das Fest auf Solhaug und Peer
Gynt."
1.
Inga-Stina Ewbank, "Translating Ibsen for the English
Stage," Tijdschrift voor Skandinavistiek, 19 (1998) 51-74.
2.
Terry Otten, "How Old Is Dr. Rank?"
Modern Drama, 41 (1998)
509-22.
3.
Marvin Carlson, "Patterns of Structure and Character in
Ibsen’s Rosmersholm," first published in Modern Drama in 1974.
4.
M. S. Barranger, "Ibsen's Endgame: A Reconsideration
of When We Dead Awaken," first published
in Modern Drama in 1974.
5.
Benjamin K. Bennett, "Strindberg and Ibsen: Toward a Cubism
of Time in Drama," first published in Modern
Drama in 1983.
6.
Ibsen im europäischen Spannungsfeld zwischen
Naturalismus und Symbolismus (Peter
Lang, 1998).
7.
Lise-Lona Marker and Frederick J. Marker, "Ibsen and the
new Stagecraft," 37-50.
8.
Laure Caretti, "Rosmer’s
House of Shadows: Craig's Designs for Eleanor Duse," 51-69.
9.
Joan Templeton, "Antoine Versus
Lugné-Poe: The Battle
for Ibsen on the French Stage," 71-88.
10.
Andrey Yuriev, "'Tegn imod Tegn' as a Paradox of
Genre: A Mystery Play Tradition in Ibsen’s Kejser
og Galilæer," 89-121.
11.
Astrid Sæther, "The Significance of 'Place' in the Age
of Decadence: A Reading
of Three Plays by Henrik Ibsen," 147-159.
12.
John Orr, "Ibsen in the Cinema and Theatre of Ingmar Bergman,"
179-88.
13.
Helge Rønning, "Dr. Ibsen
Goes to Hollywood: Reflections
on the Intersection between Ibsen's Dramatic Art and the Moving Image,"
189-203.
14.
Egil Törnqvist, "Screening Hedda
Gabler," 205-12.
15.
Victor Castellani, "Ibsen and the Return
of Myth: When We Dead Awaken,"
257-273.
16.
Ning Wang, "Postmodernizing Ibsen: Toward a New Interpretation
of the Fin-de-Siecle," 295-307.
17.
Fritz Paul, "Familie als Fatum:
Ibsens Rosmersholm—eine untragische Tragëdie?" 217-33.
18.
Thomas F. Van Laan, "Ibsen's Transformations in the Aristotelian
Tragic Pattern of Action in The Wild Duck and The Master Builder," 367-77.
19.
Theoharis Constantine Theoharis, "Catharsis, Ancient and
Modern in The Master Builder," 379-88.
20.
William Mishler, "Mimesis and Sacrifice in Ibsen's Love’s
Comedy," 389-97.
21.
Vigdis Ystad, "Ibsen and Anagnorisis," 399-410.
22.
Ane Hoel, "The Provocative Pregnancy in Hedda Gabler," 411-22.
Thomas
Van Laan
Emeritus, Rutgers
University
