Showing posts with label jean-Jacques rousseau. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jean-Jacques rousseau. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 8, 2019

May 2019

A List: Rousseau--Confessions...……………………….628/683
B List: Lew Wallace--Ben-Hur………………………....137/488
C List: Rick Perlstein--The Invisible Bridge...……….....378/810

I am a few days late with this month's post. I tried to rush it through last night but it was such a mess even compared to this that I decided to hold it back another day.

This is the fourth update where I am reading Rousseau. Of course I did go on vacation twice. The Confessions is on the B-list too, though not until Vol. XVII (I'm on Vol. III now, so at my current pace I will be getting to it again in about 28 years). In the later parts of the book I am starting to have trouble keeping all of Rousseau's aristocratic friends, and former friends, straight. Having had some of these issues myself, I felt his pain in the parts where he related his kidney stone and bladder problems, and was especially attentive to his account of having a probe inserted into him in 1760, which I had not realized was already being done at that time, and could not have been pleasant.

Doubtless because of the famously gargantuan film adaptation, I anticipated Ben-Hur being one of those enormous 1,000+ page books, so I was surprised to realize that it is not in fact exceptionally long, though the expository parts of it really are written for an audience whose ideas of entertainment and stimulation would be listening to a two hour sermon in the Midwest in 1880. Ben-Hur does not actually appear in the story as a character until about 90 pages in, and Jesus Christ, who I take to be the other main character, is finally born around page 70 after a long introductory section featuring the wise men trekking across the desert, the journey of Joseph and Mary, a discursion on the shepherd(ic?) life in ancient times, etc. Reading the descriptive passages requires a lot of concentration that even I find hard to summon up in the present year, and needless to say it is impossible for me to read more than a paragraph or two at night without falling asleep straightaway. That said I do still like it. When I have the time and level of alertness to immerse myself in it for thirty minutes or an hour it truly puts me in a state of consciousness reminiscent of my pre-online life, which I miss badly much of the time.

The Perlstein book I took back to the library over my vacation and got it out again when I came home. Nixon is gone now and currently I am in the midst of a long recap of Ronald Reagan's Hollywood career and the beginnings of his shift to politics during the post-war Hollywood blacklist era, which I am not finding all that interesting. I like the parts where I am either reminded or learn something new about either how insane the 70s were or how smart people thought about things like the economy or education or how society should be organized, which in many instances is very different from how smart people think about those things now. The author's weak point is that he is an utterly conventional modern liberal, and therefore invariably takes a condescending attitude whenever the subject involves the white working class or Ronald Reagan's mental capacity, and a respectful one when the subject is minorities or immigrants or feminism. These are doubtless on the whole correct, and certainly they are safe, perspectives to adopt, but only liking/being enthusiastic for the approved parts of American history and culture and uniformly, without any apparent inner conflict, disliking the unapproved parts, do not make for very interesting reading.  I'll still be on this book in June so maybe I will try to go into my thoughts on this more.

This is the time of year when I finally am able to get back out and read on the porch again, but so far I have only managed to do this once. April 14th could have been the first day out, as it was in the 70s, but that was a Sunday and my wife loaded us all up with so many spring cleaning-like tasks that I was not able to slip out with my book on that day. Then from the 23rd to the 27th I was down in Pennsylvania and Maryland, but the 28th after I got home was still warm in New Hampshire and that is the day I sat out. Since then the weather has not been very warm, at least in the mornings when I am home it's still in the 40s and 50s, and most of the days it has rained as well. So I still haven't really gotten into porch-reading mode yet.

When I was in Philadelphia I met a new woman. It had been a few years since I had encountered anyone who stirred these kind of unforced love-like feelings in me, and I thought that maybe that part of my life had finally passed. But I guess it hasn't. Her name is Kate, and she is from Phoenixville, which I guess counts as a suburb of Philadelphia, though it's about 30 miles out of town. I've come across a number of people from this town over the years. I don't remember ever having actually been there, though it isn't far from where I used to live. So far it is true I only know her through television, though thanks to the power of the internet there are years of archival footage of her as well as a new upload nearly every day to keep my passion strong.

By the way, she is like 37 or 38, so she is pretty mature, especially for me, but she retains some girlish qualities while being an overall serious person, which is what I really like. This black outfit is my favorite item from her wardrobe that I have seen so far.


     


Les Charmettes, home of Jean-Jacques Rousseau








Is Rick Perlstein a soyboy?


Tony Orlando and Betty Ford doing the bump

Warning: I may be closing all my posts for the foreseeable future with a Kate Bilo picture, until my love cools. That might take a while.


Friday, April 5, 2019

April 2019

"A" List: Rousseau--Confessions.................................................................421/683
"B" List: John Hersey--A Bell For Adano....................................................132/269
"C" List: Rick Perlstein--The Invisible Bridge...............................................98/810


A trifecta of white male authors this month. That sometimes happens. Perlstein at least is alive and Rousseau is a foreign language author, which I would think rescues the set from absolute irrelevance.


We are up to the point in Rousseau's life where he is continually falling out with his friends and with respectable society in general and one begins to get a sense of where the reputation he had in some quarters as being insane originated. The book gives a very thorough portrait of a true bohemian existence, with its unusual domestic arrangements, deep engagement with, in this case, musical and literary composition, and frankness about sexual matters, including boyhood memories of priests exposing themselves while ejaculating, the five children he fathered with his mistress and (famously in philosophical circles) persuaded her to give up to an orphanage, and, perhaps most peculiarly, a story about an eleven or twelve year old girl that he and a friend "bought" with the idea of nurturing her to become a shared mistress, though he says that when the time came several years later to bring this plan to its fruition, he was unable to follow through with it. I have generally found this book engaging. It has entered a little bit of a lull currently as he has removed himself from Paris to the countryside and is recapping his various disputes with now remote enemies, but there is the possibility it will pick up again.


The very long Perlstein book is concerned with the transition in the Republican party between the downfall of Richard Nixon in the early 1970s and the ascendancy of Ronald Reagan during the 1976 primary campaign, which he very narrowly lost to the sitting president, setting the stage for his epochal triumph four years after that, though the meat of the book appears to leave off after '76. I was a very little child during this period, and have no memory of the Nixon presidency and just a little of the 1976 election, though I do remember people around me talking about how ridiculous it was that anybody thought Ronald Reagan could be president, so that when he was elected in a landslide in 1980 the result was a great shock to my 10 year old self. So far the stuff about Reagan (of whom Perlstein, as a representative, I gather, of the educated urban liberal class, is no admirer), at the point I have reached still the governor of California, is the most interesting part of the book. It sounds like he was a more outwardly genial version of Trump in his ability to say things that were completely nonsensical or outrageous to sophisticates that were great hits with the general public. On one occasion as governor Reagan sent the National Guard to Berkeley or one of the University of California campuses to quell a protest that was getting out of hand, stating that, "If there has to be a bloodbath, let's get it over with. Appeasement is not the answer." The media apparently considered that he had committed political suicide. In truth of course, this sent his poll numbers through the roof.


While the narrative, at least as I understand it, is that Ronald Reagan's policies in the 1980s were the main impetus resulting in the destruction of large swathes of the former American middle class, I do have to wonder in reading this whether that was something he actively wished for, or was an inadvertent result because of changes in the nature of the economy, etc, which precluded bringing back much of the world of his memory/imagination. He was from a very ordinary Midwestern background himself, and it seems that more than any politician I can think of he genuinely loved all of that kitschy Americana stuff--football games, college social life, amateur theatricals, Hollywood, cowboys and Indians. It was reported by his son that when the former leader of the free world descended into dementia, he would (to the incredulity of the author Perlstein), instead of denouncing Brezhnev or even reciting lines from Bedtime for Bonzo, say things like "there's a game today...they're waiting for me" which sounds completely believable to me. Anyway, I do believe his vision of America was one where people who at least shared his vision and positive attitude would infallibly prosper. Maybe he would say that these people actually are still prospering, and all of the failures and junkies and homeless people need to get with the program. Actually he probably would say that.


Running out of time...one more thing...I've always known that conservatives hate "Hanoi" Jane Fonda for her Vietnam era activities, but I didn't realize what she (actually) said on television at the time. Wow. I will say one thing, to be able to say something like that in the environment that existed at the time shows, to me, a level of security in one's citizenship and membership in the polity that I don't see in the same way now, unless, ironically, it is from 1st and 2nd generation immigrants, and black Americans.


No pictures again this month. I ran out of time.





Wednesday, March 6, 2019

March 2019

A List: Rousseau--Confessions............................................................................................165/683
B List: Gerhart Hauptmann--Before Dawn..............................................................................62/98
C List: Coughlin/Kuhlman/Davis--Shooter: The Autobiography of the Top-Ranked Marine Sniper              ....................................................................................................................................65/293


I haven't gotten very far in the Confessions, though it is a classic, and engaging reading to boot. The A-List are the books I bring with me to work, and besides having gone on vacation for a decent part of the last month, I have not had, for various reasons, quite as much opportunity of late (in any area of my life, really) to indulge in my books, so it will probably be several months before I finish this one. I am enjoying the book, however, so I am not in any great hurry to finish it off.


As noted in my last post on Hauptmann's Beaver Coat, I was unable to finish my entry on that play before I left for Florida, however as I do like to go away anymore without one of my old B-list books I made an exception to my rule about not beginning the next book on the list before I have completed the blog post on the one just finished and allowed myself to move on to Before Dawn while I was there, which I wholly expected to finish. However with all of the children--most of whom don't even go to bed early anymore either--needing attention and supervision, etc, I wash only able to get in a couple of sessions alone in the warm sun with the play, which enabled me to finish half of it, and then when I got back home I put it aside again to finish the abandoned post on the other play. But I should be back on my schedule now.


With regard to the C-list, I regretfully confess that I gave up on the Will Self book. I did not want to put in the work that would have been required to read it satisfactorily, and I found I was looking for excuses such as having to do laundry to put off taking it up, which defeats the point of the whole exercise. He comes off as belonging to the class of author where the fault is all on you if you don't like his book, and perhaps that is true, in my case anyway, but that said, I didn't find his intelligence to be either of the enlightening or seductive sort, which is probably a necessity for long term earthly immortality.


Shooter was published in 2005, and appears that it is going to have for its setting the initial invasion of Iraq that culminated in the overthrow of Saddam Hussein. I've always felt some remorse for not paying more attention to the American government's myriad wars and other foreign meddlings, since many intelligent people, and most foreign persons one encounters of that description, are borderline apoplectic about them, and consider the generally brain dead American citizenry to have a high degree of culpability for their effects even if it is only on account of their stupidity and obliviousness. I have hung in with the book so far, though I am not able to overcome my literary prejudices. When our Marine narrator states upon his departure from his daughters when leaving for Iraq that "I felt like shit", my reaction is that Tolstoy would have made a lot more out of this occasion. The incessant braggadocio and intra-male conflict-seeking I find a little wearying also, though we admittedly find similar attitudes among fighting men in the Iliad and the Bible and the Norse sagas and other comparable ancient literature, and it is doubtless a beneficial attribute for the warrior to have. Even though Sergeant Coughlin is, certainly by his own account, a great fighter, the top sniper in the army, fearless obviously, a leader, a man who holds other men accountable for their actions, including his ostensible superiors, among other superior qualities, I don't quite feel a great admiration for him as yet. There isn't any common ground, whether of mental outlook, or spiritual understanding or yearning, or anything wherein this could from...But I am out of time and have to post this now. No girlie pictures this month.