I have read a few books since I last posted.
I blame Cosmopolitanism by Kwame Anthony Appiah for my two months of absenteeism. I wanted to provide you with extensive notes--to all but quote you the work in its entirety, like The Brothers Karamazov--but the project was too ambitious. Inevitably, guilt set in, followed by paralysis. (More on courage later). The book, of course, is excellent, although past conversations suggest that you will not be captivated if (a) you staunchly uphold a utilitarian* ethics or (b) you think that positivism** explains everything quite well enough, thank you. A glorious book, Appiah's, because it refutes cultural relativism in a nicely relativist way. We may not know what is good and right, but something is, and hadn't we better talk about it? The textalso includes the sentence (quoted by memory): "You are not killing people by going to the opera." Appiah presumes a leftist humanities-based audience and is sometimes coy in his handling of you. Hence, a coffee shop colleague was annoyed that anyone was arguing against self-denial (i.e. pro opera and opera glasses and boas and luxurious sets) when so many third-year English students believe that homelessness is a matter of personal choice. A good point, I suppose, but one that only highlights the gap between educators and most educatees. Segments of the humanities could do with a little shaking free from the real and imagined chains of systemic, irremediable collusion in oppression. (Guilt, paralysis). Take a few deep breaths. There. Now. If you were to see a child drowning in a shallow pond, wouldn't you go and save him, even if in the alternate you could sell the expensive, un-ponded suit you were wearing and extend the lives of 100 African children? You probably would wade into the weeds. And, you know, that may be okay.
I also began Foucault 2.0, which seemed interesting enough. Ill-timed articles discussing Michel's poor scholarship excused my putting it aside in favour of The Tempest. I have tried to memorize one line: "Tis fresh morning with me/when you are by at night." Like remembering the name of Lord David (?) Ochterlony (?) (13 concubines, evening strolls, elephants), even this has proven difficult. Bill Clinton did better. (Cf. "Shakespeare and the Uses of Power" by Stephen Greenblatt in the NYRB, April 12, 2007. While you're on the website (www.nybooks.com), you might also read "The American Prison Nightmare" by Jason DeParle in the same issue. Finally, and here we finally come to our promised discussion of bravery, please see "A Different Kind of Courage" by Charles Taylor, in the April 26 issue. The last goes all Aristotelian (sp), but in a convincing sort of way that made me long for political theory class. Virtues are moderations: courage, the balance between acting rashly and hopelessly versus standing paralysed in the face of realities such as, say, the prospect of impending cultural death. I've found myself applying the dictum to my daily battles to eschew disposable cups and practice generous giving. Obviously, cultural death and convenient coffee are not equivalent battles). My favourite character was the boatswain.
There was a good deal of bardolatry (and Miltonology, Bronteism) in The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde. A Christmas present, it was entertaining enough. A passage describes dodos waddling about in a park, splashing in a fountain. I briefly felt that a good share of humanity (in all sorts of senses) might have to do with the ability to imagine dodos waddling about in a park, splashing in a fountain.
A Grain of Wheat by Ngugi is good if you feel that Fanon might have exaggerated things.
I also read Persuasion. Jane Austen in the springtime--even her more puritanical prose--will toast a pasty soul. (Unless that firmly material bit of mind/body is satisfied that positivism does quite enough, thank you). Vanity Fair is giving the base-tan a golden glow.
*I sense this might be a vague term. Doing the most for the most people, shall we say?
** Appiah explains this very well, though I'm sure some would argue with him. A poor, truncated summary: empirical, sensical observation, combined with logic, tells us facts about the world. These facts ought to guide our beliefs.
I blame Cosmopolitanism by Kwame Anthony Appiah for my two months of absenteeism. I wanted to provide you with extensive notes--to all but quote you the work in its entirety, like The Brothers Karamazov--but the project was too ambitious. Inevitably, guilt set in, followed by paralysis. (More on courage later). The book, of course, is excellent, although past conversations suggest that you will not be captivated if (a) you staunchly uphold a utilitarian* ethics or (b) you think that positivism** explains everything quite well enough, thank you. A glorious book, Appiah's, because it refutes cultural relativism in a nicely relativist way. We may not know what is good and right, but something is, and hadn't we better talk about it? The textalso includes the sentence (quoted by memory): "You are not killing people by going to the opera." Appiah presumes a leftist humanities-based audience and is sometimes coy in his handling of you. Hence, a coffee shop colleague was annoyed that anyone was arguing against self-denial (i.e. pro opera and opera glasses and boas and luxurious sets) when so many third-year English students believe that homelessness is a matter of personal choice. A good point, I suppose, but one that only highlights the gap between educators and most educatees. Segments of the humanities could do with a little shaking free from the real and imagined chains of systemic, irremediable collusion in oppression. (Guilt, paralysis). Take a few deep breaths. There. Now. If you were to see a child drowning in a shallow pond, wouldn't you go and save him, even if in the alternate you could sell the expensive, un-ponded suit you were wearing and extend the lives of 100 African children? You probably would wade into the weeds. And, you know, that may be okay.
I also began Foucault 2.0, which seemed interesting enough. Ill-timed articles discussing Michel's poor scholarship excused my putting it aside in favour of The Tempest. I have tried to memorize one line: "Tis fresh morning with me/when you are by at night." Like remembering the name of Lord David (?) Ochterlony (?) (13 concubines, evening strolls, elephants), even this has proven difficult. Bill Clinton did better. (Cf. "Shakespeare and the Uses of Power" by Stephen Greenblatt in the NYRB, April 12, 2007. While you're on the website (www.nybooks.com), you might also read "The American Prison Nightmare" by Jason DeParle in the same issue. Finally, and here we finally come to our promised discussion of bravery, please see "A Different Kind of Courage" by Charles Taylor, in the April 26 issue. The last goes all Aristotelian (sp), but in a convincing sort of way that made me long for political theory class. Virtues are moderations: courage, the balance between acting rashly and hopelessly versus standing paralysed in the face of realities such as, say, the prospect of impending cultural death. I've found myself applying the dictum to my daily battles to eschew disposable cups and practice generous giving. Obviously, cultural death and convenient coffee are not equivalent battles). My favourite character was the boatswain.
There was a good deal of bardolatry (and Miltonology, Bronteism) in The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde. A Christmas present, it was entertaining enough. A passage describes dodos waddling about in a park, splashing in a fountain. I briefly felt that a good share of humanity (in all sorts of senses) might have to do with the ability to imagine dodos waddling about in a park, splashing in a fountain.
A Grain of Wheat by Ngugi is good if you feel that Fanon might have exaggerated things.
I also read Persuasion. Jane Austen in the springtime--even her more puritanical prose--will toast a pasty soul. (Unless that firmly material bit of mind/body is satisfied that positivism does quite enough, thank you). Vanity Fair is giving the base-tan a golden glow.
*I sense this might be a vague term. Doing the most for the most people, shall we say?
** Appiah explains this very well, though I'm sure some would argue with him. A poor, truncated summary: empirical, sensical observation, combined with logic, tells us facts about the world. These facts ought to guide our beliefs.
posted by Precocity at 7:08 PM
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