The Private Labyrinth of Malcolm Lowry: Under the Volcano and The Cabbala 
by 

Perle Besserman

 

Coming to God the Hard Way

That Under the Volcano is permeated by Cabbalistic references - from its overall organisation to its linguistic details - is attested by Lowry in his own comments about the work. The interesting question, for me, is why. And Epstein provides some compelling answers.

Geoffrey Firmin, the protagonist of Under the Volcano, is designated by Lowry as a Cabbalist. Epstein/Besserman, following on from Lowry, sees him as a mystical magician, a god-man who will heroically take on all of human sin and die for it as a scapegoat. He is in effect the Messiah.

Firmin is also a drunk. From the novel’s beginning to its tragic end, Firmin is heavily under the influence. But in good Cabbalistic fashion, Firmin’s drunkenness is not a vice but rather a disguised virtue. It is a quasi-mystical state through which the potential Messiah, much like Jesus, can enter the “Kelipah, the pit of demons, in order to release the power necessary for the redemption of mankind.” As Epstein notes: “[In Kabbalah] Evil is not to be shunned… [it is] actually another aspect of God’s multiple manifestations.”

Redemption from what? Why does Firmin have to pass through his own labyrinthine hell and die with ignominy? Lowry was intrigued by the occult and religion. But he was not an adherent of any sect, practices, or beliefs. He was a writer. So the redemption Lowry has in mind, while ‘spiritual’ in some sense, is literary not Jewish much less Christian. Firmin, or perhaps more accurately the novel, is directed not toward the abstract religious idea of universal salvation but the personal salvation of the reader from the literalness of the text itself.

This reversal is spiritual in a very specific sense and is inspired by the Cabbalah. The effect is to undermine one’s understanding of the story. That is to say, the language of Under the Volcano negates itself. In doing so, the power of language is both exerted and then undermined. Language is shown to have its own agenda. I can think of no better word than ‘revelation’ to describe what the book does. By revealing the existential inadequacy of language, it has the potential to save us from our real original sin: our mindless submission to the power of our most powerful creation.