Review of Wolfram Eilenberger’s Time of the Magicians

Posted on December 11, 2021 by rose-coutre

Book Review
Title: Time of the Magicians: Wittgenstein, Benjamin, Cassirer, Heidegger, and the Decade That Reinvented Philosophy
By: Wolfram Eilenberger
Publisher: Penguin Books
Date: August 17, 2021
ISBN: 978-0525559689

Eilenberger tells four stories in tandem that cover roughly the years 1918 to 1929, culminating at a philosophical conference in Davos, Switzerland. The four main characters are Ludwig Wittgenstein, Martin Heidegger, Ernst Cassier, and Walter Benjamin. Cassier and Heidegger spoke at the Davos conference, which occurs near the end of the book.

The book provides an enjoyable mix of history, biography, philosophy, and novel—four genres that I enjoy individually. So reading a book with all four genres in one made my day—especially one so well written.

The novelistic quality emerges from Eilenberger as a compelling storyteller with a crystal clear style. The story focuses on the most productive periods in the subjects’ lives, when their brilliance shined brightest and their best work was done. This is particularly true for Wittgenstein and Heidegger. Cassier was a little older and farther along in his career. Walter Benjamin doesn’t seem to have done much work at any time, but this is when he generated ideas for which he would later become known. Benjamin’s life as told in the book reads more like soap opera.

The time-travel experience of the book was exciting to me because of my interest in history. I can read “dry” history books all day—reading history with such dynamic characters about whom I already knew a lot—so vividly brought to life—in a period I think is fascinating—thoroughly affirmed my initial impression when I saw the book at a bookstore: I needed to buy it immediately.

Eilenberger delves into some detail of the major works of the four subjects, especially Wittgenstein’s Tractatus logico-philosphicus and Heidegger’s Being and Time.

The author does a great job teasing out the loci of certain philosophical disagreements, such as between Heidegger and Cassier: Cassier’s epistemological neo-Kantian approach to meaning versus Heidegger’s ontological approach, which he viewed as “Kantian” but not “neo-Kantian.” Read the book for more details!

Also between Wittgenstein and the Vienna Circle—the disconnect was palpable between the Vienna Circle’s scientific-empirical approach to analyze meaning via philosophy of language (Viz. Schlick: “The meaning of an assertion lies in the method of its verification” [275]), versus Wittgenstein who writes “…if all possible scientific questions be answered, the problems of life have still not been touched at all” (41), or, ideas such as, the logical form that allows a proposition to represent reality cannot be expressed in language (171). Yet, Wittgenstein was excruciatingly scientific in his study and exposition of philosophical ideas. Wittgenstein drove his Vienna sparring partners batty with his unconventional yet analytically incisive theses. They remained friends but went their separate ways philosophically, and geographically (Wittgenstein ending up at Cambridge).

Why am I so enamored with this book? Because I knew the cast of characters so well. In both undergraduate and graduate studies, I was immersed in Wittgenstein studies under one of the premier authorities on Wittgenstein (Professor Jaakko Hintikka), and I studied Heidegger under an actual colleague of Heidegger’s at Freiburg (Professor William Werkmeister).

Aside: I was in a grad student’s colloquium once, when Dr. Werkmeister contradicted a statement made by the grad student. The student said something like, “I think the evidence in the… “. But Dr. Werkmeister interrupted, “You see the last time I discussed this question with Martin (aka Martin Heidegger!), he said that he meant ….” And so ended the debate. The grad student embarrassed himself but also learned something while experiencing an authentic moment of his own fact of Dasein.

I also studied Cassier, primarily from the angle of the philosophy of mythology. I also studied many of the minor characters in this book: Karl Jaspers, Rudolph Bultmann, Bertrand Russel, Rene Descartes, Immanuel Kant, Gottlob Frege, Maynard Keynes, Frank Ramsey, Rudolph Carnap, Moritz Schlick, and several others in the storyline. So naturally I was excited to see so many familiar names show up in this book. The main gap in my previous knowledge of these figures was Walter Benjamin. His flâneuresque character and desultory intellectual efforts made him more of a distraction and less interesting than the others. In fact the inclusion of Benjamin in the book seemed a bit incongruous.

That incongruity aside, the book is a treasure and a treat for any serious lover of books. It offers delights for just about any taste, and for aficionados of any genre. The philosophical discussions are well developed, and true to the characters. But they are not weighty or dry by any means. Readers will appreciate the author’s clarity and discretion—he gives us just enough to understand what’s happening, and avoids going down any rabbit holes.

Thank you Wolfram Eilenberger for this exceptional reading experience.

Related Book Reviews:

Hintikkas’ Investigation of Wittgenstein

Kant and Critique: New Essays in Honor of W.H. Werkmeister

Georg Henrik von Wright on Wittgenstein

Plato’s Phaedo and Its Theory of Forms: Conversations and Language Games

My philosophy book:

Abstract Objects, Ideal Forms, and Works of Art: An Epistemic and Aesthetic Analysis

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David Lowenthal’s book
The Past is a Foreign Country

Posted on September 30, 2021 by rose-coutre

Book Review
Title: The Past is a Foreign Country
Author: David Lowenthal
Publisher: Cambridge University Press
Date: 1985, 1988
ISBN: 978-0521294805

Lowenthal launches an in-depth investigation into our relation to the past in this book. He discusses many angles and methods of perceiving, characterizing, and experiencing our past. He compares memory-past versus ancestral oral history versus formal documented past versus imagined past. Lowenthal highlights the many ways that we shape the past to fit our present—intentionally, subconsciously, and unintentionally, including when we are convinced we are being purely objective and truthful. Indeed, those who are the most convinced of their objectivity, are the ones with the most bias.

We alter the past every time we think about it. Our world view and our values significantly color how we see the past, the past of other cultures as well as our own, from ten years ago to 10,000 years ago. Conversely, the manifold influences from the multi-form past continuously transmogrify our present. We better understand our relationship with history as we understand this endlessly evolving lifecycle of past-colors-present-colors-past-colors-present-colors-past.

That we “see the past through our present-day lens” is a cliché, but also a fact. In this book Lowenthal shows us what that really means and how it works, with myriad examples.

The book shows us how we reject the past, shun obsolescent influences we deem out of touch, condemn world views that differ from today’s. We reject outmoded value systems, social systems, former popular attitudes with which we no longer identify. The book also shows us how we embrace the past, preserve old architecture, cherish old books and their old ideas, admire things “old-school,” view the past as full of wisdom, mix the bad in with the good into a romanticized nostalgia, fund historical preservation of all kinds, save old art from disintegration because losing them would be a horrific injury to culture. We go through each day shunning and embracing ideas and actions dating from ancient history through yesterday.

What we shun and what we embrace shapes part of who we are. Who we are, in turn, shapes our version of the “reality” we call “history,” or “our past,” or “the good old days,” or “those stodgy old days,” and a plethora of other judgment-laden labels. We create the past in our image, so that the aspects of it that align with our world view are elevated, and the aspects that do not align with our world view are deprecated. Through all this, we very often believe we can see the past as it really was.

Lowenthal makes the interesting point that the more radical the rejection of the past, the greater the dependence on the past. In that instance, the past serves as a counter example against which we hold ourselves in shining relief, as superior to the dusky has-been times. Conversely, it is often those who embrace the past the most who thoroughly wreck it. One example is in the restoration of buildings so that they seem hoary and stalwart, but in fact bear no resemblance to what the building once was. We often change old things to be “better-old-looking” based on our present day aesthetic preferences for what is aged. We do something similar in our Creative Anachronism events such as Renaissance Fairs where we make the old days all jolly and festive, or in our authentic historic villages such as Williamsburg, Virginia. Lowenthal does not pass judgment though, in fact, quite the opposite. He embraces any and all ways of “remembering” or valuing the past. Keeping it alive in some aspect is better than forgetting. It also seems to be a healthy practice for everyone involved. Imitation is the greatest flattery, and often the imitation is much nicer than the original.

One example Lowenthal mentions is that the changes to the Bloomsbury district of London were so comprehensive, that it bore no resemblance to the old neighborhood. But soon, no one remembered the old look. After a few years, tourists flocked to the district and experienced awe at the quaint charm of the authentic historic quarter. Is this a problem? Lowenthal cites many historians, architects, and others, on both sides. Some think it is a horrible outcome. Others think it’s the best possible outcome. Lowenthal, ever the voice of reason, asks Why judge? Everyone experiences the past in their own way. Everyone molds the past to fit their own way. Everyone values something different about history and memory and the æsthetics of antiquity.

Copyists paint copies of famous old paintings. In some cases, the 1800s copy of a 1600s painting is as valuable as the 1600s original. Some imitation Tudor homes are far more authentic in appearance than actual old Tudor homes still standing. The original Tudor buildings are in such a ruin that the original inhabitants would not recognize it—but they would recognize, and prefer, the new “imitation.”

Some argue there is an attrition of meaning, as we favor imitations, reenactments, anachronisms, copies. Some also fault museums. Taking precious old objects out of their original setting, putting them into a sterile new building, wipes away any vestige of authenticity of context or meaning. They argue that painstaking care should be applied to keep old things in their original state. Any exploration of the past should aim towards maximum verisimilitude in every way. But all these competing approaches to experiencing the past need not be mutually exclusive. One can appreciate in multiple ways. And in fact, most people do just that. They appreciate museums, old original settings still in situ and intact, original art, copies of art, ruins, restorations, imitations, unchanged remote villages, and Ye Olde Festivals.

Most everyone likes the past in some way or another. This is evident in how most everyone cringes at dystopian nightmares where the past is destroyed, all records erased, all works deleted or falsified, such as in Orwell’s Ministry of Truth. We want to know that the past is there, that it is at least partially within reach, and that someone is keeping records.

As we grow older, much of our “memory-past” also becomes “history-past.” Now the senses—smells, sounds, sights—bring a flood of memories. Now the history-past becomes highly subjective as it mingles with our memory-past’s inner life and nostalgia. Then we ourselves become a piece of the past. When younger people see older people, they often merge older people in with older homes, older cars, long-past wars, out-of-touch ideas, forgotten presidents, and outdated fashions—or conversely—with wise old owls, tough old birds, rough old school characters, windows into ancient lore. We “people the past” with our older people. Here again, we remold the past to fit our fancy.

One troubling trend that Lowenthal points out: While there is huge increase in anachronistic festivals, reenactments, creation and traffic in museums, historical novels and movies—there is also a steep decline in history majors in college. People increasingly want to have fun with the past, but decreasingly want to put in the effort to really understand it. Fortunately, we have Lowenthal and the like, giving us a deep dive into the very concept of history and a very rewarding 400+ pages of historical insights.

Conclusion
Given that, theoretically, there must be a perfectly true and accurate past that exists back there in time—it is most certainly the most remote, obscure, unintelligible, irrecoverable, foreign-est of all foreign countries imaginable. We can pretend, but we cannot and will never speak its language, feel its feelings, think its thoughts. At the same time, we are inextricably integrated into the past. Our every word, every feeling, and every thought emanates from the past. Yet, we cannot know it.

If this sounds like a sad ending, that’s my fault. The book is very uplifting and the multi-form ways of learning, experiencing, and appreciating the past are fully fleshed out in Lowenthal’s analysis. Anyone with the faintest feeling for our shared timeline will love this book. It was a very rewarding experience.

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The Past is a Foreign Country

Stendhal’s The Life of Henry Brulard

Posted on June 13, 2021 by rose-coutre

Book Review
Title: The Life of Henry Brulard
Author: Stendhal (Henri Beyle), Trans. from the French by Catherine Alison Phillips
Publisher: Alfred A. Knopf, Inc.
Date: February 20, 1925 (written 1835)
ASIN : B000MMIJYK (ASIN for a more recent available edition)

Stendhal is a great writer so you cannot go wrong buying this book. Most readers are familiar with his two great and classic novels The Red and the Black and The Charterhouse of Parma. The present book, The Life of Henry Brulard, is much less known . He lived an eventful life so there’s a lot of material to make a compelling story. The book was written in 1835 when Stendhal was 52 years old (bn. 1783). Most of the book dwells on the author’s life as a child and young adult.

The main counterpoint of Stendhal’s childhood is his antipathy for his father versus his reverence for his grandfather. Satellite characters more or less align with one or the other, as “evil” or “good” forces in his life. Stendhal lived a suffocating life, prevented from knowing or playing with other boys, kept from exposure to the outside world, which he hated and struggle against constantly. The grandfather is his only real companion for many years, the only one with whom he can share ideas and agree.

Stendhal’s life shifts from the worst depression to the liveliest happiness when the liberty of which he had dreamed, came true at the Central school at age 11. Stendhal studied drawing and music extensively, along with Latin and others.

At age 17 he became a lieutenant of the 6th Dragoons. We see Stendhal transition into manhood at a young age, considering his sheltered youth. He engages in battles across Europe, which we see through his eyes, which see absurdity in everything.

Ultimately Milan became Stendhal’s favorite place to live, where he spent most of his time from 1800 to 1821. We learn this in the last few pages, and the story ends. The book is written in 1835, and he lives to 1842, but the book does not cover those later years.

Stendhal did not complete this book, and it was never published in his lifetime. It must be read in light of the fact that it is an unfinished draft of randomly recorded memories. In this light, it is an interesting study into Stendhal’s retrospection and the psychology of memory. He often comments on the tricks the mind plays on memory, and alternative ways of interpreting his childhood experiences.

The book is a must for anyone interested in Stendhal, or who enjoyed his novels. I also recommend it for anyone interested in history in general.

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Simon Winchester’s new book Land

Posted on May 1, 2021 by rose-coutre

Book Review
Title: Land
Author: Simon Winchester
Publisher: Harper
Date: January 19, 2021
ISBN: 978-0062938336

Simon Winchester’s new book Land is aptly titled because it is so general in its study of land. The story moves from measuring the size of the earth, to mapping the earth, to differing concepts of land among diverse peoples, to some very odd border situations, to the creation of new land in the Netherlands, to the loss of land due to climate change, to the shifting legal status of land in many countries, to “Wilding” efforts, to who owns the most land today, among many other subthemes. Winchester explores shifting laws and attitudes about land in all corners of the globe, mediæval to contemporary.

The book achieves coherence by looking the many historical, social, and political developments via the lens of how it affects land or how land influenced those developments. It is a land-centric view of cultures past and present.

Measuring the planet is one of Winchester’s first topics. Friedrich Wilhelm Georg von Struve spent forty years measuring the size of the earth. He was fortunate when Tsar Nicholas I came to power, who was an engineer by trade before ascending to the throne. Nicholas believed in the project and provided Struve with unlimited financing to obtain the best equipment in the world, and the staff he needed to assist as he traveled across, and measured, the earth. Struve’s measurements proved very accurate—40,008,696 meters compared with NASA’s measurement of 40,007, 017 meters using satellites.

Another aspect of land is borders. The oldest extant official border in the world Andorra’s. A Minnesota border around Angle Inlet (population 123) is an odd border. Access requires driving into Canada, then circling back to re-enter the US from above and enter Angle Inlet. Winchester offers several odd border situations.

The Netherlands gets the prize for most land added by humans to the planet (1.2 million acres). Look up the Zuider Zee works, brainchild of engineer Cornelis Lely, to see how one of the official Wonders of the World provided a major expansion to the nation’s landmass. On the opposite side, the book discusses land being gradually lost due to a rising sea level, with several examples.

Winchester explores land being essentially taken from people in Scotland due to legal changes such as “enclosures” and “clearances,” at the same time when huge amounts of land were being given away to anyone who would work it in the western US. Many of those losing land in Scotland came to the US to seize the opportunity.

The book briefly looks at the largest landowners in the world, and how they use the vast resource. The book illustrates the contrasting property laws among different nations, and how many are experimenting with returning land to nature, in a wide variety of different ways.

The book discusses many other land-related fascinating facts and phenomena—too many to summarize in this review. I wholeheartedly recommend Winchester’s Land story to anyone interested in any aspect of history, as land plays a rôle in so much of it.

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Anhinga Press Poetry Anthology North of Wakulla

Posted on April 4, 2021 by rose-coutre

Book Review
Title: North of Wakulla: An Anhinga Anthology
Editors: Donna Decker and Mary Jane Ryals
Publisher: Anhinga Press
Date: September 1, 1989
ISBN: 978-0938078302

The poetry anthology North of Wakulla fulfills and rewards the reader with its outstanding assemblage of unique voices and compelling stories. The high-quality expression is consistent throughout the collection, which is an accomplishment in itself given more than 100 writers included. There are approximately 130 poems and every one motivates the reader onto the next. For this, we have to give credit to the editors of the volume, Donna Decker and May Jane Ryals (both also have poems in the anthology). Their intelligent organization lends both logical and artistic coherence to the flow, which helps readers like me who like to read many per sitting.

It’s beyond our scope to highlight all 130 poems, but I’ll talk briefly about a small subset of my favorites, with extra comments about some of the poets.

Geoffrey Brock’s “Villanelle for a Suicide” confronts a self-inflicted sorting out of confusions. The act peels away illusions, and leaves behind a slow dissolution of memory. The feeling of the moment is sparse, stark, and powerful. The reader senses that a thin psychological thread holds the mind and heart together on the edge of clarity and hope. Personal Note: I worked with Geoffrey Brock for a short time at Van Brock’s International Quarterly magazine headquarters (his apartment), in 1994–1995. Geoffrey is a gifted poet, translator, and overall thinker. You will not find a better artist or conversationalist.

Hal Shows’ poem “Visiting Rights” is very brief, and very moving. It reminded me of Dylan Thomas’ villanelle “Do not go gentle into that good night.” Shows’ verse is not a villanelle, but the impression of the two poems was very similar on a deeper level than mere form. Read it two or three times—it does not feel repetitive, it pulls you in deeper every time. (See my review of Hal Shows’ essay collection, The Bandshell Project.)

Bruce Boehrer’s “Sestina for Tea” seems like it should be a happy occasion in a cottage amid the snowy hills in June. But the scene degenerates, there is a malignancy somewhere in the atmosphere. The fireplace is heartless, the tap water brown, even the cottage is soggy. But then the cold landscape acquires a warm white heart, and the kettle is a blessing. Finally, all is a fading memory of distant hills, a strange fire, and a cottage no longer for rent. It’s a bit of a rollercoaster, but it sings like a musical ballad of heartwarming light mixed with heartless forgotten memories. Personal Note: Bruce Boehrer was my graduate Renaissance literature professor. He is a very entertaining teacher as well as poet.

Steve Huss’ “The Blue Shoe” begins with reminiscence of driving a white chevy, with faded radio dial, amid the hum of the highway and the smell of orange groves. The carefree spell is broken by the revelation of injury and bruising of the battered wife in the car. The abrupt twist is like falling off a cliff. This kind of mood switch is not easy to pull off, but Huss handles it very well in this poem. Personal note: I served with Steve Huss on the Anhinga Press board, the press that published this anthology. (See more about our board activities below in my “Personal Notes about My Friendship with Van Brock.”)

Nick Bozanic’s “After the Journey” is filled with haunting and vivid imagery with concrete, touchable, verbal illustrations. Bozanic’s full images remind me of Dickens in the pleasing use of language to conger lifelike experience for the reader. The experience is real. Bozanic also surprises with interesting twists—very nicely done. As a sidenote, Bozanic won the 1989 Anhinga prize for poetry, with his poetry collection Long Drive Home. I was on the Anhinga board during its selection and publication, and I was very proud to be a part of this great poet’s publication.

Harry Morris’ “To a Suicide I knew but Slightly” rings with cheer, in an eerie way. The bouncing lyrical style, the spritely rhyming, starkly contrasts with the sad and desperate content. The form jarringly antagonizes the content. It is not surprising that Morris would know poetry. He was the Shakespeare scholar and professor at Florida State University (I studied Shakespeare under Professor Morris). You can read my book review of Dr. Morris’ landmark study, Last Things in Shakespeare.

Julie Weiler’s “Pieces Missing” pulls the reader into an everyday scene, sitting at a table, made suddenly immediate by the sister’s death. The pieces of a photo, and especially the missing pieces, collapse into the heart of emptiness. But there is a redeeming memory of “hands clasped tightly together.” The poem starts with a hard, commonplace environment, then changes into a hollow sadness tempered by a delicate hope. It is a great piece of writing. Personal note: I served with Julie Weiler on the Anhinga Press board, the press that published this anthology. (See more about our board activities below in my “Personal Notes about My Friendship with Van Brock.”)

Another outstanding talent featured in this anthology is Jerome Stern. His poem in the book, “Appeal,” propels the reader through a frenetic appeal for help, for funding, for rescue. Government agents steal equipment, hamsters keep the turntable spinning. The broken down studio atmosphere feels like many old shoestring-budget broadcasting enterprises. Stern seems to have personal experience with them. In the early 1990s, Stern was known for his NPR radio spot in which he read his cultural essays. Stern led the creative writing program at Florida State University until his death in 1996. He was the only professor I knew who rode a bicycle to work every day. It had a basket on the handlebars which typically contained a few books. Stern was also the author of one of the best books on writing, Making Shapely Fiction.

David Kirby’s “Madame Zebouni and Mr. White” tells the funny tale of the poet’s undergraduate schoolboy crush on his French teacher. He is just getting closer to her, when she tells him of her father who throws her suitors out of third-story windows. He then sinks into an infinitely deferred capture of the right word, le mot juste, struggling among the monks translating classics, lost in the old wing of romance languages and vulgar tongues. There is a wistful sadness beneath the funny surface. The fun of the piece should not hide the carefulness of the poet in constructing this verse so perfectly (echoes of Mr. White). Personal note: Professor David Kirby was on my thesis committee. Great guy too.

P. V. LeForge cannot stop himself, he always has to tell a story. Whether a novel, a short story, or a poem, you may expect to be taken on a thought-provoking trip. You will experience oddities, joys, frustrations, and sadness. In every event, you will find truth and meaning. LeForge’s poem “White” in this anthology is no exception. In this case we find ourselves burning up and freezing to death, while searching for survival clues, both spiritual and physical. Each line carries the reader forward, much like a compelling plotline, but with the poetic care and rigor for each word. LeForge also wrote a great short story collection called the Principle of Interchange, which I also reviewed here. As a side note, Mr. LeForge owned and operated the locally famous Paperback Rack bookstore in Tallahassee (no longer in operation). I didn’t exactly known him, except well enough to chat about the books I was buying in his shop, and to greet when passing on the FSU campus or around town.

Van K. Brock’s poem “Novas” radiates the bright colors of miraculous flowers, interrupted by fire ants and homicide, which guide the traveler among the stars to find direction and meaning. Typical of Van Brock’s poetry, each stanza packs a punch on its own, with strong anchored expression—while also serving as the perfect segue to the next stanza. This is a talent few poets possess, but which Brock possesses to perfection. (See more about Van Brock below in my “Personal Notes about My Friendship with Van Brock.”)

The publication of North of Wakulla was celebrated with a gathering of many of the poets in the anthology, others involved in the making of the book, and those otherwise affiliated with the Anhinga Press. I attended the Launch Party, which was held at the Chez Pierre restaurant in Tallahassee, Florida, in the early fall of 1989 (if I remember right). It was a lot of fun, and a rare treat to mingle among so many interesting people and so much talent in one place.

Personal Notes about My Friendship with Van K. Brock

The dedication of the anthology reads:
“To Van Brock, who lives poetry and has made it come alive in Tallahassee.”

A review of this anthology would not be complete without a tribute to Poet and Professor Van K. Brock. Indeed, half the poets in the anthology would not have grown as much or as well without Van’s guidance and inspiration.

For those who are not aware, Van Brock was an internationally acclaimed poet, active from 1970 through the 2010s. He was the founder and president of the Anhinga Press, which sponsored and spearheaded the publication of this anthology. It is yet another way that Van Brock brought meaning to the lives of so many people. The anthology remains a tribute to his talent and dedication, especially helping other poets develop and mature.

In early 1989, Van Brock invited me to join the Anhinga Press board. I served on it 1989–1990 with Van, Julie Weiler, and Steve Huss (all three of them have poems in this anthology). I have wonderful memories meeting weekly with Van, Julie, and Steve for Anhinga business. There was no office. Van, Julie, Steve, and I met weekly at Anthony’s Restaurant (corner of Thomasville Rd. and E. Bradford Rd. in Tallahassee, Florida). We talked poetry, discussed poetry-contest applicants (and winners), promotional activities, financial business (Steve’s specialty), as well as general discussions of literature, philosophy, and gastronomical topics.

Van Brock and I had another phase of literary activity later, 1994–1995, working together almost daily at his apartment on the International Quarterly literary magazine (especially Voices Across Continents and Fifty Years of Fallout). Van’s apartment was the magazine’s office. It was usually filled with people (editors, proofreaders, layout specialists, etc.). The apartment had a great balcony, where during the days, Van, the other editors, and I selected manuscripts, edited, and talked about philosophy and poetry. We would work all day, and then sometimes after everyone else had left, Van would pour a glass of vodka for himself and me, and we’d keep working a couple more hours. He let me browse through his books, and one evening gave me a copy of Henry James’ Italian Hours, knowing I was an avid reader of James.

Van moved west, ending up in Arkansas; I moved to Pennsylvania. We stayed in touch through the late 1990s and 2000s, at first by email, then later by Facebook. But it was those days in the 1980s and 1990s that Van and I really hung out and shared a lot of life and work. Van passed away March 1, 2017 (Oct 31, 1932—Mar. 1, 2017). He was a great poet and a great man. I am just another person whose life was brightened by him.

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Harry Morris’ Landmark Study—Last Things in Shakespeare

Posted on February 17, 2021 by rose-coutre

Book Review
Title: Last Things in Shakespeare
Author: Harry Morris
Publisher: Florida State University Press
Date: January 1, 1985
ISBN: 978-0813007946

The book is an eschatological analysis of several Shakespeare plays:
Hamlet
Othello
King Lear
Macbeth
Romeo and Juliet
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
The Henry Plays (Henry IV #1, Henry IV #2, Henry V)
As You Like It

The first four plays listed constitute a hypothetical tetralogy with a shared theme of damnation versus redemption, and how they figure in the behavior and fate of the leading characters. For example, how do Hamlet and Othello, deemed to be in a state of grace at the outset, turn out by the end of the plays. Same question for King Lear and Macbeth, who are deemed to be in a fallen state at the outset of their respective plays. What decisions are key to their destinies. Morris goes to great lengths establishing the likely answers to these questions. He supports his conclusions with an impressive body of references.

Morris argues that Shakespeare was fluent in Spiritual Encyclopædiæ cataloguing the realms of the afterlife and the fates that await humanity. Shakespeare’s plays are laced with memento-mori, for example, the popular “Dance of Death.” The Mediæval iconography and tropes of “last things” was still in wide circulation in the sixteenth century and Shakespeare would’ve been intimately familiar with such traditions and the works that came out of those origins.

Another theme throughout the plays, Morris points out, is the topsy-turvy state of everything and everyone under the influence of demons and when evil usurps good. The wrong person is wearing the crown, reality seems upside down, life is a mixed-up mess. These perverse states of affairs ensue from leading characters making tragic choices to align with the demons instead of angels, for example.

Dante’s Inferno plays into Shakespeare’s descriptions of the fate of souls. Dante aligns degrees of evil with levels of Hell. These levels of punishment match up with the extent of depravity of the sins of those souls navigating the regions of the eternal Inferno. Shakespeare using Dantean descriptions of evildoers like Macbeth, shows Macbeth’s worst depravities that correspond to the most horrible punishments in the Inferno.

The final play in the collection, As You Like It, features the paradoxical themes of Et in Arcadia Ego and Memento-Mori. The former highlights timeless pastoral paradise, the latter inevitable deterioration, death, and decay. In the bucolic paradise, there is a conspicuous skull in a meadow. Carefree youths are reminded of their timeline towards that skull. It is a symbol of the universality of the ravages of time. Appropriately, As You Like It features the famous “Seven Ages of Man” speech.

Harry Morris’ scholarship is extensive and persuasive. His arguments are insightful and very enlightening. In addition to being deeply researched, the book is brilliant and beautifully written. The author is truly an artistic writer as well as a deep analytical thinker. I thoroughly enjoyed reading every line on every page. Anyone who appreciates crystal-clear thinking and æsthetic writing will enjoy the book. Anyone who appreciates Mediæval and Renaissance traditions, will especially love the book. It is obviously a must-read for any Shakespeare fan or scholar. Whether or not any of the above apply, I still recommend the book to any discerning reader.

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Thomas E. Ricks’ new book First Principles

Posted on January 18, 2021 by rose-coutre

Thomas E. Ricks’ new book First Principles

Book Review
Title: First Principles
Author: Thomas E. Ricks
Publisher: HarperCollins
Date: November 10, 2020
ISBN: 978-0062997456

Ricks’ First Principles gives us insight into the literary and philosophical factors that influenced the Founding Fathers of the United States. These influences formed the personal values of the individuals who signed the Declaration of Independence and who contributed to the US Constitution.

The book is relatively short and easy to read. That, combined with the fair amount of research behind it, makes it a good refresher course in how the US was formed. Published just a couple of months ago, it is an up-to-date perspective drawing relevant comparisons and contemporary points of view. The author shows some bias in his personal likes and dislikes of certain Founders, and he weaves in some Trump parallels, which reads like an odd cameo appearance of a current personality in an eighteenth-century story. Maybe better to stick to the characters of the period (there’s no shortage of characters back then).

Sometimes the author’s comparisons of issues of today are useful; for example, many today view the two-party system as corrupt and detrimental to democratic process. Others view the two-party system as balanced, providing an ever-present give-and-take as checks and balances. The same tension existed in the 1790s.

Equality wasn’t exactly as we think of it today. The most glaring example of course is the institution of slavery, built into the early nation as a terrible compromise to get the southern states to join into one nation. Many founders viewed the slavery compromise as a curse that would doom the nation. They predicted that such a “deal with the devil” would destroy the nation in the near future. Interestingly, plenty of leaders in the period viewed slavery as the evil that we think of today. Condemning slavery is not a case of projecting today’s morals and world view onto a past culture. Many people (though not enough) had the decency and conscience to condemn it back then as well.

Early American norms also included a definite ranking system. Liability and injury, for example, depended partly on rank. Libel or injury to a high-ranked individual carried harsher punishment than the same injury to a person of lower rank.

The early days of the republic were fraught with violent disputes about the basic principles of governance. After more than ten years of war to gain independence, internal wars were just heating up. John Adams, for example, wanted an authoritarian central federal government (Federalist), Thomas Jefferson wanted very little power in the federal government. Jefferson knew the Constitution would not be perfect—determining liberty for the people, he wanted to err on the side of too much liberty, rather than too little. Jefferson even favored periodic armed rebellion by the rabble. He thought bloodshed was a healthy way to refresh democracy and prevent the government from gaining authority over the people, instead of people having authority over the government.

Civil discourse did not hide extreme antagonism. The party in power viewed the other party as traitors and seditionists who should be jailed or put to death. This was not a reference to some fly-by-night troublemakers. This was John Adams talking about Thomas Jefferson. Newspaper editors who favored the party currently not in power were routinely kept in prison until the power shifted at the next election. 3rd-President Thomas Jefferson released many journalists from jail who had been imprisoned by 2nd-President John Adams.

After being voted out after one term as president, John Adams refused to attend Thomas Jefferson’s inauguration. Adams thought the American people had become degraded, having lost all virtue and sense (for voting against him). He left the Whitehouse at 4 a.m. the morning of Jefferson’s inauguration to avoid seeing him, or anyone else.

Most people know that Thomas Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence. But fewer are aware that a lesser-known founder, James Madison (4th US President), wrote the US Constitution. Madison was a brilliant and prolific writer, having written the famous Federalist Papers. He wrote so much, in one example, he wrote George Washington’s speech to the House of Representatives, he wrote the House’s Response to the speech, and he wrote Washington’s response to the House’s response. Madison’s writings largely constitute the entire history of the early nation.

A fair portion of the book is devoted to George Washington’s evolution as a military strategist—his rôle in the British military, then as the American Commander in Chief during the seven-year American Revolution. He shifted dramatically from sudden-impact engagements to a longer-term strategy of relentless precision harassment and guerilla warfare. Washington’s ability to adapt and optimize his approach fluidly in response to British military behavior, shifted the balance of power to make the revolution successful.

The book includes interesting historical trivia, such as the early years of Harvard, Yale, Princeton, and other nascent American institutions, and their political alliances. In 1828, Federalist newspaper editor Noah Webster published the first edition of a dictionary he conceived and authored on his own, known as “Webster’s Dictionary,” with Noah Webster’s own 70,000 hand-written entries. Another tidbit—many years after George Washington died, a well-meaning sculptor created a statue of George Washington in a Roman robe. It received its most devastating criticism from Davy Crockett: George Washington in a Roman Gown? “This ain’t right.” It was removed.

One weakness in the book is the overdone connection with Roman and Greek influences. It is true that Roman and Greek history and literature was widely known in those days. But the claim of particular influences upon the Founders might have been either less emphasized, or better documented.

In the final analysis, the book is an entertaining and informative window into the founding era of American political and philosophical history. It highlights some of the most extraordinary events and legendary figures during a fifty-year period before, during, and after the American Revolution. I recommend it to anyone interested in the people who formed the nation.

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Gustave Flaubert’s Sentimental Education

Posted on December 9, 2020 by rose-coutre

Book Review
Title: Sentimental Education
Author: Gustave Flaubert
Publisher: Penguin Classics
Date: October 26, 2004
ISBN: 978-0140447972

With our busy schedules a lot of us have to keep an eye out not to miss those fleeting chances to get in some good reading. Fortunately, the holidays bring many of us a respite from our workaday routines. We might even come in from some of the cold nights and curl up in a cozy corner with one of those great books we’ve been meaning to sink our teeth into. But many may have a hard time selecting one to pull off the shelf. Here then is a suggestion.

I cannot help but be reminded of the great French novelist with his birthday just around the corner, December 12. Gustave Flaubert was one of the most colorful characters in literary history. His most difficult battle in life was governing his flamboyant imagination. This he accomplished with enormous discipline which allowed him to refine his art to a degree that is yet unrivaled in French literature. His idealism, tempestuous love affairs, and the Revolution of 1848 gave him the experience that crystalized in perhaps the greatest French novel ever; a historical novel, subtly blending fact and fiction, entitled Sentimental Education.

Sentimental Education is a sort of “intellectual history” showing how Flaubert and his peers, the young academicians of France, proceeded from idealism to realism from the years before the revolution to the years after. All the characters and the action corresponded to the real-life personalities and activities in Flaubert’s milieu. It’s full of great events and delightful conversation against the romantic background of nineteenth-century Paris.

The fine artistic writing style alone makes it exquisite reading. But Sentimental Education is a lively and spontaneous journey that also serves as an excellent window to an intriguing past society. It may lead you to want to read more of Flaubert, or other books about nineteenth-century Paris. In any case you will almost surely have an affinity for Sentimental Education years after you finish it.

Also see: Lottman’s Flaubert: A Biography.

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Lionel Trilling’s Book The Liberal Imagination

Posted on November 27, 2020 by rose-coutre

Lionel Trilling’s The Liberal Imagination comprises fifteen essays that range in time from 1946 to 1948. The book was first published in 1950. The collection provides a potpourri of intellectual refinements on the state of American literature in the late 1940s. He starts with a focus on the relation between literature and society, and how that relationship has changed over time.

As a side note: Trilling wrote these essays just a few years before people started watching TV, when reading habits rapidly declined—so the book provides a time capsule when there was still a dynamic relationship between the novels, poetry, and essays of the day, and society’s values, ideas, and norms. The average person today might be surprised at how influential literature once was to society and prevailing ideologies.

Back to Trilling’s time: Society and literature were inextricably linked in the 1940s and earlier, and this book provides analysis and criticism of that interplay. As examples of this evolution, Trilling references dozens of authors, from Plato to Faulkner, with varied representatives from the many eras in between.

Some authors suffer significantly under Trilling’s scrutiny: Dreiser, Dos Passos, O’Neill, Sherwood Anderson, Thucydides, Kipling, among others, he considers lesser figures. To paraphrase, these authors are viewed as naïve and self-absorbed, with limited intellectual faculties, and less in touch with the complicated subtleties of the social and psychological realities around them. They give us only a meager façade of literary art instead of the real thing.

Conversely, authors faring better include Henry James, Faulkner, Hemmingway, Tacitus, Aristotle, Fitzgerald, T. S. Eliot, Stendhal, Dickens, Flaubert, Balzac, and several others. These authors are viewed as giving us deeper and more powerful insights into the complexities of life, offering more profound and rewarding experiences for the reader. These greater authors also played a more significant rôle in the development of human societies, according to Trilling.

Of course, rattling off names of lesser and greater authors sounds dégagé and presumptuous out of context. I should emphasize that Trilling provides persuasive arguments and à propos examples to support his appraisals. The lesser authors have in common a tendency to over-confident declarations about a contrived self-serving version of reality. They emphasize brute emotional force that indicates a limited range of intellect and experience. Readers are manœuvred to feel good short-term, but there is little long-term learning or reward after the reading. Conversely, the greater authors have in common a more astute analysis of real-life experience that helps us better understand our social and psychological realities. According to Trilling, these preëminent authors reflect wider experience and deeper intellect in their works.

The general public, however, is not so coöperative—popular preferences do not seem to align with Trilling’s appraisals. Trilling points out that his so-called lesser authors are in fact more popular than the greater authors. The apparent difference lies in an affinity for emotional impact (lesser authors), regardless of expositional incoherence; versus a public mistrust of intellectuals (greater authors), regardless of deeper insights and æsthetic quality.

Another tension that Trilling highlights is the historical scholarship of a literary work’s context, versus the New Critics who say that a “work of art” stands alone outside of history. New Critics were Trilling’s coævals in the 1940s, and they dominated literary criticism at the time. New Critics discount any information about the author’s era, culture, social milieu, personality, etc., in their study of a literary work. New Critics treat the work as a bubble-wrapped ænigma isolated from the roots and atmosphere of its creation. Trilling disagrees with this view of a novel, for example, being a self-contained, self-referential æsthetic object. Trilling takes the position that “a literary work is ineluctably a fact of history, and, what is more important, that its historicity is a fact in our æsthetic experience” (184).

Culture changes over time, and a literary work is the product of its particular moment in a changing culture. Trilling notes the life-art interplay: culture influences art, and art influences culture, in the ongoing cycle of cause and effect. Trying to extract a work from its culture and time (New Criticism) strips away much of the meaning and significance of a literary work. Trilling argues that scholarship into the period, and into the author, give us a more thorough comprehension of the complex layers of literary art, and a more accurate critical appraisal. For Trilling, the roots and the atmosphere are vital to understanding our art as part of our existence.

The book touches on other topics such as the Romantic poets and epistemology, Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn, the rôle of Little Magazines, a look at Freud’s influence on criticism, and other topics.

As a bonus above and beyond this potpourri of intellectual refinements on the state of American literature, we discover that Trilling himself is a great writer. Academic books like The Liberal Imagination can be intimidating, stereotypically dreaded like reading an encyclopædia. Not so for this book. This book is lively and well written, every page drawing the reader forward. Every essay stimulates interesting thought vis-à-vis life, society, culture, and literature. Trilling’s insights and perspective reward the reader and make the time commitment to read this book very much worthwhile.

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The Battle of Hastings: and Literature Hasn’t Been the Same Since

Posted on October 12, 2020 by rose-coutre

The lifestyle of everyday people didn’t change much in the old days when their government was overthrown. Sometimes, a healthy invasion really enhanced a culture. The conquerors added their art and music and literature to the existing culture and suddenly new forms and styles emerged from the mixture. Remember, this was ages ago when the arts defined national character more than politics. As far as politics went, everyone was under a monarchy anyway. But this article particularly concerns the influence of a conquest over language.

Before the eleventh century, English was a pretty rough tongue. In the realm of literature, about the best it could do was Beowulf. Then came the Norman invasions. The Duke of Normandy stormed England in 1066 in a campaign to be known as the Norman Conquests, culminating at the Battle of Hastings. The finalé of that campaign in Hastings marked the demise of the last Anglo Saxon king, Harold II, and ushered in the reign of William the Conqueror, Duke of Normandy.

William the Conqueror thereby became King William I of England and brought with him the French language. Creating a new Anglo/Norman (English/French) language, William I virtually doubled the English vocabulary. Since 1066, English has evolved as the richest and most diverse language in the world. No other language approximates the vast number and variety of the words that are available to us.

The greatest paintings may be French or Italian and the greatest philosophies may be German, but because of William I, the greatest literature will always be English and American. If you love the language, take your hats off to the former Duke of Normandy and celebrate the anniversary of the Battle of Hastings on October 14.

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Kotsilibas-Davis’ Biography of Maurice Barrymore

Posted on October 10, 2020 by rose-coutre

Book Review
Title: Great times, good times: The Odyssey of Maurice Barrymore
Author: James Kotsilibas-Davis
Publisher: Doubleday & Co., Inc.
Date: January 1, 1977
ISBN: 978-0385049535

Author Kotsilibas-Davis is primarily a biographer, but he approaches his writing like a novelist. He thoroughly marshals the facts and doesn’t stray into interpretations and speculations about the subject; however, he develops the plotline like an artist, and writes with crystalline æsthetic clarity. The result is an exceedingly creative work of nonfiction. Every sentence is a linguistic pleasure. The overall organization is masterful. Kotsilibas-Davis writes as well as Dickens or Austen, a statement I don’t take lightly as a lifelong literary aficionado with a Master of Arts in literature. The present biography of Maurice Barrymore is a brilliant work of art, in addition to a being a fascinating window into late-nineteenth-century American society, stage, and even vaudeville.

I particularly appreciated the background, starting with Barrymore’s great-grandfather (the family name was Blythe—Maurice changed his name to Barrymore as a stage name, which became the actual last name of the family). The story begins in the 1780s and ends in the early 1900s. Developing the ancestors’ characters provided helpful insight into the personality of Maurice Barrymore. Barrymore’s rebellious nature and independent spirit was shared by his grandfather. Both of them “left the fold” of hearth and home and struck out on their own, without the blessing of their respective patriarchs.

Through Maurice Barrymore’s social circles, Kotsilibas-Davis provides enjoyable glimpses into the period. We meet Oscar Wilde, Mark Twain, Henry James, Charles Dickens, George Bernard Shaw, Ambrose Bierce, the Prince of Wales (who would become Edward VII), Tchaikovsky, President Grover Cleveland, and of course the other great actors of the time, such as Ellen Terry, Lillie Langtry, William Gillette, and then the less famous Joe Rickey who is the creator (or at least inspirer) of the very famous cocktail, the Gin Rickey. Barrymore socialized with all of the above, and they all considered themselves fortunate to socialize with Barrymore.

Aside from those stars flitting in and out of Barrymore’s social sphere, his own family overflowed with bright lights. When he married Georgie Drew, he married into the most famous acting family of the time. His mother-in-law Louisa Lane Drew (Mrs. John Drew) owned and managed Philadelphia’s Arch Street Theater, and was the most renowned actress of her generation in the US. As an interesting aside, in her younger years, Mrs. Drew had acted opposite a promising young actor, John Wilkes Booth, whose career was cut short when he was hanged for the assassination of President Lincoln. It’s just one of many historically fascinating anecdotes in this book.

Mrs. Drew’s daughter Georgie (who married Maurice) became just as renowned as her mother in her own generation. Her brother and cousins were all similarly famous. It was an amazing family of greats who were in the headlines and starring in theaters across America for two generations. As an author, Kotsilibas-Davis uses these compelling personalities and this fascinating time period to full advantage in his storyline. There is never a dull moment in this narrative.

Those who know about “life on the boards” in those days, know that the majority of actors’ lives were spent on trains and sketchy overnight lodgings in towns across America. This biography gives us plenty of insight into that railroad-bound nomadic lifestyle. Maurice was also a playwright, and often penned his plays on trains between towns. He wrote in both English and French when it was to be played in Paris, as Maurice was bilingual. As a result of their traveling lifestyle, families in show business might see each other a few times per year, if they played in shows that happened to be in the same town for a night or two, and then perhaps for a couple of weeks between runs. It was still the days of horse-and-buggies—even at the very end of the book, automobiles were a few years in the future.

As Maurice Barrymore’s health declined and was confined to the Long Island Home at Amityville, the last part of the book focuses on the rising stars of Barrymore’s three children: Lionel, Ethel, and John Barrymore. Like their parents’ and grandparents’ generations, all three Barrymore children became huge stars on the stage in their own right by their early 20s (around 1903–1904). Film was just a few years in the future—when it came, Lionel, Ethel, and John Barrymore became three of the biggest film stars in Hollywood. Their careers perfectly straddled the stage and film eras. Unlike many stage stars, the three Barrymore children made the transition seamlessly and successfully. If it involved acting, it was in the Barrymore blood, regardless of medium. Only one film was made that features all three Barrymores working together (Rasputin and the Empress [1932]), but several films star Lionel and John together.

Today in the twenty-first century, the most prominent representative of the family is Drew Blythe Barrymore (first name “Drew” from Maurice’s wife’s family; middle name “Blythe” from Maurice’s actual birth last name; “Barrymore” from Maurice’s adopted last name). She has carried on the Barrymore traditions in many respects.

In the final analysis, the present biography of Maurice Barrymore is a treasure. Rarely have I read a book with such an exciting story about such compelling lives. I felt I had a truly rewarding and rare experience after reading it. This is a testament to Kotsilibas-Davis’s superior writing—a preëminent writer’s treatment of the era’s preëminent actor. I wholeheartedly recommend this book to anyone, regardless of their preferences of genre or period. Witnessing the life of Maurice Barrymore is to witness a parade of wit, brilliance, and creativity, the likes of which we will never see again. But, thanks to author Kotsilibas-Davis, we can always look back and enjoy Maurice Barrymore’s nineteenth-century life on the boards, the trains, and his demimonde of genius.

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On Great Literature (Featuring T. S. Eliot’s Four Quartets)

Posted on October 7, 2020 by rose-coutre

Book Review
Title: Four Quartets
Author: T. S. Eliot
Publisher: Mariner Books
Date: March 20, 1968
ISBN: 978-0156332255

When you go to pick up a book to read, what normally comes to mind is, “Where’s a good story I can sink my teeth into?” or “Where can I find some good romance and action?” These are fine reasons and reading is a great occupation regardless of what or why. But once in a while another motive ought to come up: “Where can I find a taste of the best writing, where the writer approaches the work as an artist?” Such a motive is bound to open up all kinds of new discoveries and interests in one’s reading habits.

Some of the most mouthwatering stories and intense drama occur in the realm of “great literature.” And there is nothing necessarily highbrow in the term “literature”—such literary artists as Swift, Poe, Dylan Thomas, and Capote have seen to that. You won’t find a more suspenseful romance than Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice.

And you won’t find more intrigue and action than in Herman Melville’s Moby Dick. What these writers do-that the so called “trash writers” don’t do is sweat and bleed over the placement of every word, agonize over the location of every paragraph.

Of course they also begin with a genius for writing, but disciplining that talent makes creating a work of art possible. This makes it literary art. But it doesn’t make it highbrow, it just makes it deeper or more interesting reading.

There’s a big difference between a good writer and a great writer. But the greatest difference applies to that distinction between a great writer and an artist. Posterity alone judges which writers endure as literary artists. The ingredients that make writing an art remain vague. They may be recognized by a consensus of those most involved in literary art, but such ingredients will never be quite explainable.

The closest one may come to an explanation is a poetic description appearing in T.S. Eliot’s Four Quartets:

“ … where every word is at home,
Taking its place to support the others,
The word neither diffident nor ostentatious,
An easy commerce of the old and new,
The common word exact without vulgarity,
The formal word precise but not pedantic,
The complete consort dancing together …”

Poets are types of literary artists who don’t have the luxury of using a good story to support the form. They are one of the most overlooked groups of writers by modern readers. And no one sweats and bleeds over every word more than the poet. You may not find a juicy or compelling story, but you may find juicy and compelling thoughts; at the very least, thought provoking ways of looking at things. Every frame of mind and frame of reference can be explored in poetry. No other mode of expression is quite as capable of such blends of moods, from sensual to intellectual, violent to sublime, in such concentrated forms.

What follows is a passage of poetry which shifts from an intellectual expression to subtle sensual allusions:

“What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end,
which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened Into the rose-garden.
My words echo
Thus, in your mind.
But to what purpose
Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves
I do not know.’’

It’s from T.S. Eliot’s Four Quartets. T.S. Eliot is one of those literary artists who has been looked kindly upon by posterity. (We are posterity for him.) He will most likely endure as the greatest poet of the 20th century. So if you do look for different kinds of reading once in a while, T.S. Eliot’s work is one good possibility. Whether it’s T.S. Eliot, Jane Austen, or Truman Capote, try some literature and see what happens.

Related Quote:

Reading Good Books Enhances and Lengthens Life

Great works of fiction are those with a more layered, complex investigation into the human condition, written in an artistic language resulting from painstaking development, so that it appears effortless.

Reading is a demanding process that yields deeper pleasure and more meaningful experience than movies and video. Every good book we read creates more depth in our thinking.

We also gain a deeper understanding of other people: “an influential study published in Science found that reading literary fiction (rather than popular fiction) improved participants’ results on tests that measured social perception and empathy, which are crucial to ‘theory of mind’: the ability to guess with accuracy what another human being might be thinking or feeling.”

It turns out we can enjoy our books longer as well, because reading them makes us live longer, according to another study: “Overall, the researchers calculated that book reading was associated with an extra 23 months of survival. … Reading magazines or newspapers didn’t have the same effect … it’s the deep engagement required by the narrative and characters of fiction, and the length of both fiction and nonfiction books, that increases cognitive skills and therefore extends lives.” Reading lengthens life (and improves the quality of it); watching TV shortens life (and destroys the quality of life). What a choice.

— Screenformation 2.0 (p. 86).

Happy Reading.

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Plato’s Phaedo and Its Theory of Forms: Conversations and Language Games

Posted on September 5, 2020 by rose-coutre

Title: Plato’s Phaedo
Author: Plato, Translated by Hugh Tredennick
Publisher: London: Penguin Books; First Edition
Date: January 1, 1954
ASIN : B0017DM39A

My first question upon reading Plato’s Phaedo was, “How and why did Plato invent the Theory of Forms?”

The “How” part of the question leads to a linguistic process (from the perception and naming of an object to the “perception” and naming of a Form) by which Plato commits a fallacy that leads to his Theory of Forms. For purposes of expedience, a single attribute (beauty) is used for this brief analysis. Plato commits an inductive fallacy regarding the existence of the Form for that attribute (the Form of the Beautiful). The same analysis could be applied to all attributes and objects to which Plato ascribes a Form.

The “Why” question leads to a brief psychological inquiry, treating the Theory of Forms as myth, similar in structure to Greek Mythology. The two have a similar psychological derivation which comes to light in an analysis of Plato’s invention of and experience with the Forms. First, the linguistic analysis will answer “how,” then a brief psychological analysis will provide an explanation “why.”

Socrates sees a flower. He considers its beauty, and how it is heightened by the beauty of the early morning, and the dew on the petals. He considers the beauty of the chance of circumstances that made him happen upon this flower on such a beautiful morning. The beauty of the morning diversifies in the cool morning breeze.

Later in the day Socrates converses with Plato. Socrates points out the beauty he finds in conversation. He says conversation is even more beautiful than his morning’s experience, and proceeds to give Plato an account of that experience so that Plato will understand what he is saying. This leads Plato to inquire,

“If we had been in conversation this morning, on that same path, would all of the beauty you beheld have been redoubled by the inclusion of our conversation, or would all of that beauty you just described to me have been made paltry and ugly by comparison with the beauty of our conversation?”

Socrates responds,

“Your theory from relativity should not be invoked here. We are talking about different kinds of beauty, and therefore they cannot be compared. One beauty would not make the lesser beauty ugly. The pleasure of experiencing different kinds of beauty at once would have increased the level of experience.”

Plato pursues this train of thought,

“It seems then that combining all these different kinds of beauty in an experience stimulates one to reflect upon beauty itself, a predicate that evokes reflection on the higher, more general Form. That is, the accumulation of the many manifestations of beauty, objects participating with beauty in different ways, begins to approximate something ultimate, the Ideal Form of the Beautiful. In fact, it is The Beautiful we unknowingly refer to when we talk about each manifestation of beauty in our experience.”

Socrates left Plato in this reverie.

Plato, deep in thought, did not notice that a very young man had been passing by, and had stopped to listen in on the conversation. The man wore a long black coat and rubbed his chin in a troubled manner. Wittgenstein approached Plato and introduced himself, and made the following comments.

“I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. Now how can we refer to that which we do not really know? I mean, if I refer to beauty in a flower, I think I really mean the beauty only as it appears to me in my perception of that flower at that time. Yet you seem to say that unknowingly I refer to a Form, the Beautiful, from which this flower gets its beauty. But I know nothing of this Form, and yet somehow I refer to it. Perhaps if I can delineate the steps between your perception of an object and your supposition of the Theory of Forms, and what those steps entail, I will be able to point out where you have made a mistake. I believe we will find an inductive fallacy.”

The steps may be seen as forming a circle, beginning at the top of the circle with the hypothesized “object in itself” and ending with the “Form in itself,” superseding the original “object in itself” back at the top of the circle.

“Firstly, we never perceive the ‘object in itself.’ At most, we hypothesize the ‘real’ flower from our perception of qualities that we associate with flowers. These qualities are only those accessible to our senses. Part of our shared game in language is referred to as ‘naming.’ When many people point to the same object and say the word ‘flower,’ they share a language game for flowers. When many people point to the same object and say it is beautiful, they share a language game for beauty.

“The object in itself is remote from us, so we begin with our object-perception. We take a kind of attribute that in some way strikes us as attractive, or appeals to our senses in a certain way, and we name that attribute ‘beauty.’ After a series of object-perceptions, and attendant sensations of beauty (like those in Socrates’ morning experience), we build a variety, or ‘repertoire,’ of diverse characteristics of beauty. We now have double groupings of language games working together: e.g., ‘flower’ hooks into the flower-like object-perception; ‘beautiful’ hooks into an attribute that appeals to our senses in a certain way and is part-and-parcel of the flower-perception. I will call this an attribute-perception. Many people may share the new compound language game ‘beautiful flower.’

“Naming the ‘beautiful flower’ is like asserting a proposition as follows: ‘the object-perception I call flower and the attribute-perception I call beautiful occur in the world, and further, in the thing I’m pointing to.’ Thus, naming the ‘beautiful flower’ involves applying a (compound) language game which entails the above (complex) proposition. The language game is true if the name hooks into the real world (the described state of affairs corresponds to the state of affairs in the world). In other words, the language game is true if the proposition it entails is true. So, after experiences with many object-perceptions with attendant attribute-perceptions (‘beautiful’), we accumulate the above-mentioned repertoire of manifestations of beauty. We accumulate this repertoire from a series of true complex propositions, or a series of compound language games where we apply the name of the attribute ‘beautiful’ to a variety of object-perceptions. As a result, Socrates accumulated those non-comparable manifestations of beauty this morning. Each one involved a new language game and became part of his repertoire of ‘beautiful.’

“What I mean by each one involves a new language game is as follows: the things beautiful are beautiful in this way and in that way, each attribute-perception ‘beautiful’ being different, for which each language game hooks into the world in a different way (beautiful glimmer from the dew, beautiful color, beautiful shape, and so on). Each experience of a new manifestation of beauty develops a new language game and contributes to Socrates’ repertoire of ‘true meanings’ of beauty (remembering the above-stated conditions of ‘true’).

“Now that the repertoire of language games is built, one may be far from any flowers and utter the compound name ‘beautiful flower’. The utterance of the name in the absence of the object/attribute-perception referred to, conjures up an object of reflection or mental image of what the name refers to (the referent). To review, perception first triggers development of a language game in the naming process, and, in turn, later uttering the name triggers the language game which evokes the mental image of the thing named.

“This latter process, this utterance/language game/mental image process, occurs countless times every day. Also, in the case of Socrates reflecting on the varied manifestations of beauty of his morning’s experience, each mental image will carry ‘true meaning.’ The pattern, by countless repetition, becomes entrenched in the mind, almost an automatic assumption, that these mental images of things beautiful carry ‘true meaning,’ because they are evoked by names that trigger language games that are true (which hook into the world of object- and attribute-perceptions). Through this chain, each mental image is a true picture of a part of the world. Through the ongoing repetition of occurrences of this chain, a pattern is established that mental images are generally true, over and over again. From this pattern, induction leads us to believe that our mental images will always be true, just as induction leads us to believe that the sun will rise tomorrow morning, is true.

“Now, Plato, you have your repertoire of ‘beauty’ language games just as Socrates has his. The amalgam of ‘beauty’ language games taken together in contemplation causes a sort of set intersection. You extract and keep only the one general element they all have in common—’appealing to the senses in a certain way’—you project the element, create an abstraction, and name it ‘The Beautiful.’ By definition now, ‘The Beautiful’ can never not appeal to the senses in that certain way. Now you are working with an abstract amalgam in your mind of all things beautiful. So instead of starting with the object/attribute-perception in the world, you now start with your amalgamated mental image (your created abstraction). Now you are not naming anything in the real world (e.g., beautiful flower), instead, you are naming something entirely in your mind (i.e., beauty). But you treat it as you would treat an object/attribute-perception from the world. You name it (‘The Beautiful’) and develop a language game which triggers a mental image. Now when you utter ‘The Beautiful,’ the language game triggers a mental image of an amalgamated abstraction. You trigger a language game that hooks back into only your created abstraction in your mind, not in the world. It does not hook into any object/attribute-perception in the real world. But by induction you subconsciously take for granted that the language game will act the same for your created abstraction, that it will always be true.

Because the language game functions in a familiar way, you assume it is a true language game. You assume the compound name (Form of the Beautiful) represents a true complex proposition (an object ‘Form’ exists and furthermore, that object possesses ultimate Beauty which is beyond the beauty that any single object in the world can possibly possess). You have named ‘The Beautiful,’ so by induction you think your mental image must refer to something that must exist.

“The former language game (qua object/attribute-perception) hooks into the world—the latter language game (qua created abstraction) does not: it does not, because you claim the status of objectified reality for your Realm of Forms, not merely a reality of mind or conceptualization. The latter language game, false though it is, may be a powerful language game because it represents the link between, and the rarefied characteristic of, all the ‘beauty’ language games in your repertoire. It is the essential something that appeals to our senses in a certain way (by definition making it ultimately appealing), waiting for an object-perception to participate in it and take on the participatory form of attribute-perception.

You have not only a mental image, but a powerful mental image, and by induction as stated above, you conclude that this mental image (the Beautiful) is true, by which you conclude that ‘the Beautiful’ is true. This might be called the Platonic Inductive Fallacy of the Theory of Forms.

Thus you conclude that your mental image’s name ‘the Beautiful’ must entail a true language game, which we have seen is not the case. The language game fails because one can’t find an object/attribute-perception in the world that the name ‘the Beautiful’ hooks into. One only finds perceptions of particular combinations of types of beauty. That the language game fails, shows that ‘the Beautiful’ does not represent what is the case in the objective, real world.

“Of course, the Beautiful must reside somewhere, epistemologically speaking, or we couldn’t utter the name, for we can only name that which we can experience in some manner. The Beautiful is pure concept. It is a small step from the subjective concept of the Form to an inductive conclusion of an objective Form of the Beautiful. From there, because we do not see The Beautiful in the real world of our normal acquaintance, it is another small step to positing a ‘realm’ that accommodates the objective, rarefied Forms. Such a realm would accommodate not just the Beautiful, but all significant object- and attribute-perceptions. I believe you have posited such a realm, and call it, ‘The Realm of Forms.’ Because this Realm is rarefied, unchanging, and pure, you ascribe higher value to it. Finding the Unchanging, or the Unchangeable, has long been an intellectual and emotional holy grail. Investing a superior objective reality into a Realm of Forms seems to be the necessary outcome of the one inductive leap to the objective existence of the Form of the Beautiful. You have a ‘more real’ place with ‘more real’ things which affords the luxury (albeit an illusion) of ‘more real’ language games. The language game for The Beautiful hooks into a ‘more real’ world, which we can’t see. So you might say that the language game is somehow ‘more true,’ so true we cannot even experience it, because the place hooked into is too refined for our paltry senses. Unfortunately these hooks must remain your hypothesis, hooking only in your mind.

Nevertheless, this is a powerful illusion indeed. The theory is constructed, the Theory of Forms is in place, and exists in a place. A question remains: Why did the fantastical, myth-like nature of the final product not alert you to the problems in your reasoning immediately?”

By this time a crowd had gathered around the two men. A man by the name of Carl Jung stepped forward from the crowd in response to Wittgenstein’s last question. The ensuing conversation began with Mr. Jung.

“It may be that there is something more powerful yet at work behind the Theory of Forms. Deep in the unconscious, our myth-generating Archetypes contain information not available to conscious or rational thought. Primordial images were passed to us from primitive man, who lived in a preconscious state. These are myth-forming structural elements. The psyche wields such power that primordial images become reality, equal to or greater than the material world. They demand expression with metaphors borrowed from the material world. It might be said that myths are not invented, but experienced. They are thrust upon the conscious mind when the psyche reveals bits and pieces of an Archetype through metaphors provided by the conscious mind. The Realm of the Forms might have emerged from archetypal origins in Plato’s personal unconscious in much the same way that Greek Mythology emerged from Archetypes in the collective unconscious of Greek society. Ancient Greek culture is a setting amenable to the emergence of a Realm of Forms, an abstracted version of Mount Olympus. The mythical structure is similar as can be seen in the myth-structure of perfected beings/attributes: beauty perfected in Aphrodite is not far from the abstracted version in the Form of at least one type of Beautiful. Greek Mythology seems a likely influence in the structure of and experience with the Theory of Forms (‘experience’ as natural revelation from the Archetypal structure in Plato’s personal unconscious).

“Now consider the language game for the Beautiful—it hooks into a reality at least as substantial as the material world. Does this not make it ‘true’ given your conditions?

Wittgenstein was again rubbing his chin as he responded,

“No. The world to which language games must correspond is the world of object/attribute-perceptions. You may have hit upon a ‘substantial reality.’ Your ‘substantial reality’ is hypothetical and subjective in a way that the world of object/attribute-perceptions is not. A language game cannot be considered true when it hooks into a reality that is only psychological and therefore not directly demonstrable. But even if it could be considered so, the reality you suggest is not the reality Plato claims for his Realm of Forms. Plato asserts an objective realm outside of and independent of yours and my psyches.

“Your primordial reality is as insubstantial as Plato’s Realm of Forms in the following manner: We never see, hear, or know of an object-in-itself; only object/attribute-perceptions. Similarly, the primordial reality, as well as the Realm of Forms, relies on inference from metaphors presented in the world of object-perceptions. Yours is a speculation of what lies behind the perception, a thing-in-itself. We cannot get beyond the world of object-perception, because by definition what is beyond it is what we cannot perceive. In such areas we can only speculate.

If language games hook into nothing (the result of talking about that which we cannot perceive), then we are talking nonsense. We talk about that which can have no objective meaning in our language. In this sense, the Theory of Forms and the Realm of the Forms have no coherence. That is, their names hook into only images, images that have no corresponding direct referent. Meaning was ascribed to them as a result of the Platonic Inductive Fallacy of the Theory of Forms.

Wittgenstein turned again to Plato,

“Mr. Jung’s comments helped clarify the totality of your predicament. As long as you claim an objectified status for the Realm of the Forms, you carry the mental image of the Form of the Beautiful unavoidably into your Inductive Fallacy. Now, if you say that your Theory of Forms is true, and that it is true that a Form may be an abstract amalgam of your ‘beauty’ language game repertoire compiled by your psyche, generated by your primordial imagination, existing only in your mind, then I concede that your Theory of Forms is true. However, I have not heard you say that. Therefore, as shown by your Inductive Fallacy, and because of the failure of your language game for the Beautiful, the Theory of Forms must be false.”

Plato seemed a little troubled. But he looked upon a nearby rose and smiled, “Nevertheless, the flower has beauty.”

Works Consulted

Jung, Carl G. “The Psychology of the Child Archetype.” In Essays on a Science of Mythology, pp. 70—100. Translated by R.F.C. Hull. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1973.

Plato. “Phaedo.” Translated by Hugh Tredennick. “Republic.” Translated by Paul Shorey. In Collected Dialogues, pp. 40—98, 75—844. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1989.

Wittgenstein, Ludwig. Notebooks 1914—1916. Translated by G.E.M. Anscombe, Edited by G.H. von Wright and G.E.M. Anscombe. New York: Harper and Brothers Publishers, 1961.

My Related Book Reviews:

Hintikkas’ Investigation of Wittgenstein

Kant and Critique: New Essays in Honor of W.H. Werkmeister

Georg Henrik von Wright on Wittgenstein

Wolfram Eilenberger’s Time of the Magicians

My philosophy book:

Abstract Objects, Ideal Forms, and Works of Art: An Epistemic and Aesthetic Analysis

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P. V. LeForge’s Principle of Interchange

Posted on August 22, 2020 by rose-coutre

Book Review
Title: Principle of Interchange and Other Stories
Author: P. V. LeForge
Publisher: Paperback Rack Books
Date: April 1, 1990
ISBN: 978-0962487804

A collection of sixteen stories, Principle of Interchange holds its share of surprises, mostly pleasant surprises. The subject matter varies widely: from an impoverished girl in Bombay who becomes a prophetic hero, to a downtrodden writer in Alaska who mainly corresponds with comic book publishers, to a troubled married couple in rural China where the woman’s mother-in-law keeps trying to kill her. Some stories are third-person, some first-person. The point of view works well in each case, and the imaginative plots provide compelling reading experiences.

The most important quality to me is how well written a book is. This volume is very well written from beginning to end. There are subtle changes of style supporting the substance of the stories, and this is done very effectively. LeForge clearly takes his craft seriously, because the sentences are æsthetically pleasing and seem effortless (which takes enormous effort).

To me, the most excellent stories were “Bowl of Sunshine,” “Abe Mott,” “Railroad Days,” “In Canton,” and “Vandals.” That is not to speak less of the others—the front-to-back experience was a true literary pleasure, and a lot of fun to read. On a personal note, I enjoyed the references to places in Tallahassee, Florida in “Railroad Days” as I had lived in that city several decades ago.

Don’t let the flowery book cover mislead you, the writing is strong, disciplined, well crafted, smooth, and clean. It is not flowery. I happily recommend this book to anyone who likes to read.

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