Monday, June 2, 2014

The Penelopiad

The Penelopiad
© 2006  Margaret Atwood
224 pages

             
Which is worse, waiting twenty years for a rascal of a husband to return home while simultaneously managing his kingdom, raising his son, and fending off scores of suitors – or being upheld as a saint for doing it?    Everyone mocked Penelope for her loyalty while she lived, and derided her for not doing more to discourage the suitors dining locust-like from his orchards, but now that she’s dead, she’s become a paragon of chastity and wifely duty?  It’s a little too much to take, and from the Asphodel Fields, the shade of Penelope reflects on her life. The Penelopeiad is the story of the Odyssey from her view, largely comic though sometimes regretful as she explains why she acted as she did. Penelope’s narrative is interrupted from time to time by a chorus of maids, in keeping with Greek theater.  The maids, Penelope’s servants before Odyssesus ordered their deaths, are the touchstone of her regret. For decades they were her daughters by proxy, her conspirators against the gold-hunting boors infesting her hall, her only friends – and Odysseus slaughtered them! Helen of Troy makes frequent appearances as Penelope’s opposite, a beautiful and wicked betrayer of men who even in death enjoys teasing them. Although The Penelopiad is fully grounded in Greek mythology, modern quirks abound;  the chorus parts move from verse to anthropology lectures and then a mock-trial that ends in a fantasy showdown between Athena and the Furies. It's great fun that doesn't diminish the original source.




This week at the library: Civil War and Sea People

Dear readers:

This weekend I finally posted comments for Away Down South, completing my unintentional miniseries of Books Whose Titles Came from the Chorus of "Dixie".   The traditional verses offer a lot of other phrases ripe for titles; imagine a cookbook called Buckwheat Cakes and Injun Batter, or a thriller named The Gay Deceiver.  Those books have started what may turn out to be a longer trend, an extended series concerning the South.

I've recently completed The World Until Yesterday by Jared Diamond, and have thus started in earnest  on my quest to take down the To Be Read list, that array of nonfiction titles I've purchased but not read in the last view weeks. My next conquest will be The Vikings,who I'm sure will be worthy foes.  Expect comments for Diamond within the week. For leisure I have Jeff Shaara's latest Civil War novel to enjoy, set during the Battle for Chattanooga.  This is especially fun because despite having been to Lookout Mountain where part of the Confederate force viewed its foe in the city, I've no knowledge of how the battle transpired.

To Be Read Takedown Challenge

Antifragile, Nassim Nicholas Taleb
The Vikings, Robert Ferguson (in progress)                                              Power, Inc; David Rothkopf
An Edible History of Humanity, Tom Standage
Small-Mart Revolution, Michael Shuman
The World Until Yesterday, Jared Diamond (5/29/14)
Fighting Traffic: the Dawn of the Motor Age in the American City, Peter Norton
Earth, Richard Fortey
Age of Empathy, Frans de Waal
Galileo's Finger, Peter Atkins

Sunday, June 1, 2014

The Burden of Southern History

The Burden of Southern History
© 1960, 1968, 1970 C. Vann Wordward
250 pages
Louisiana State University Press



The publication of these essays on southern character and its tragic history, from Civil War to the abandoned civil rights efforts of Reconstruction could not have converged more significantly with its time when the volume first appeared in the 1960s. Even as Woodward reflected on reconstruction,  drawing out why it failed to substantively change the condition of southern blacks, a new movement had begun on the ground.  Woodward is a moderate, holding loyalty to the South without being defensive (in the manner of I'll Take my Stand), and writing to urge justice and reconciliation in race relations.Three of the essays concern the failure of reconstruction and of civil rights, with Woodward charting emancipation and enfranchisement as political motives for the Union throughout the conflict, darkly concluding that the chief reason northerners pushed through the amendments that, in the count of one, two, three, transformed millions of slaves into millions of voters, was to prevent the defeated aristocracy from triumphing at the ballot-box instead of on the battlefield. The other major theme is southern identity and the South's role to play in the United States. Woodward sees the southern states occupying a unique role in the American experiment. The United States in 1960 had never known anything but victory; every problem, every foe, it hitherto conquered through force of arms, or new inventions; for it, history was something that happened to other people. This put the nation in great danger of engaging in catastrophic mistakes like preventive wars. The south, however, had experienced history; had known defeat and occupation. It could offer to America  a humbling perspective.  The south's view was used as a check on American hubris in literature before; in one essay Woodward  demonstrates how various  northern authors, including John Quincy Adams' grandson Henry Adams, employed southern characters to shine a spotlight on the rest of the nation's sins. Although most of the book is dated by now, including the comparison between the Cold War and the feud between abolitionists and slavers,  encountering a white southern voice from the 1960s arguing for civil rights is a breath of fresh air considering the usual Civil Rights narrative casts white southerners as villains.


Saturday, May 31, 2014

Away Down South

Away Down South: A History of Southern Identity
© 2007 James C. Cobb
416 pages


            What does it mean to be southern, beyond a fondness for turnip greens and cornbread?  The answer is an evolving one, as the South’s distinctiveness has changed its expression throughout the United States’ history. Away Down South follows national and southern attitudes about southern-ness from settlement days to the present.  The Civil War, the South's stand against the rest of the nation, sets the stage for most of the book, including reconstruction and the continuing problem of race relations. The work  looks at the southern mind and heart, exploring not only intellectually-steeped expressions of the South like I'll Take my Stand and The Mind of the South, but delves deeply into southern literature, black and white.  The South as a concept remains negative throughout. Not that the South is without its virtues, but from the country’s beginnings James C. Cobb maintains that the south has been seen both by itself and the rest as a country as a place apart; first a wild frontier infested by poisonous snakes and Indians, a no-man's-land fit only for criminals, and later as the cesspool of American culture; the hiding place of aristocracy, slavery, ignorance, and all things foul. Having no France across  the Channel, or a Germany across the border, the South is the “other” which the rest of the country, with progressive, industrial New England as its model, can hold itself superior.  The  south's wild gave way to plantations and then Jim Crow, but regardless of changes the taint of ‘other’ remained.  This is a view not preached by Cobb, a man of the south himself, but the attitude haunts the imagination of the southern intellectuals and artists who later claim the story. What makes Away Down South stand out for me is the space given to black southerners, who left the fields for the  northern cities only to return in part to the southland. Despite its tragic history, its story is one they share;  the southern scene is the one fixed in their memories of home. That coming-to-terms with the past can't help but hold a fascination for a southern student of history such as myself.



Thursday, May 29, 2014

Who Killed Homer?

Who Killed Homer? The Demise of Classical Education and the Recovery of Greek Wisdom
© 1998 Victor Davis Hanson
290 pages



For hundreds of years, the study of the classics was at the heart of a liberal education, thought essential to the cultivation of free men.  Yet today speaking Latin would be regarded as a sign of eccentricity, not erudition. People now attend university for technical  expertise in fields like business, engineering, or nursing, and such a focus is lauded as practical.  A degree in Greek literature would be derided as useless as a degree in art history, the epitome of wasted public finance.  Victor Hanson argues that vocational training is not the point of a university education; an education is not what you know, but how you behave. In Who Killed Homer? he examines the soul-forming virtues of the classical tradition and contemplates their reason for their unnecessary but imminent demise.

Hansen begins by arguing that the greatest virtues of western civilization have their origin, and sustaining permanence, in the Greek tradition.  Drawing from philosophical treatise (to the Greeks, a category broad enough to cover politics, science, and more) in addition to extant literature, Hanson reviews a spectrum of values with origins in Greece.  These range from concepts given overt legal protection (consensual government and the open criticism thereof, armies subordinate to civil power, free enterprise, etc) to ideas understood at a deeper level, and contributing to the others.  These more fundamental appreciations include the belief that every polis' wellbeing depended on the average middling citizen, not the aristocracy or the mob, and that the world was fraught with meaning. Mysterious yet rational, the world was a place imbued with limits -- limits that extended to man. Part of the Greek heritage are more obvious than others; the very shape of US government structures bears witness to their past, and most histories of science will begin with the Greek enterprise. Other appreciations have been forgotten;  like the belief that man was nothing without the polis;  only the power of culture and threat of sanction by others kept the human animal from behaving worse than beasts.  It is in civilization than man finds salvation from his own destruction. This is a hard lesson given an obscene and brutal summation by Hanson: "Man is nothing without the state."  Ultimately, classical education imparted a cohesive view of the world in which science, politics, and philosophy were knit together, a part of the whole.

If these truths are indeed timeless, how have they fallen by the wayside during the 20th century? Hansen lays the blame solely at the feet of the Classicists, who have thrown away the responsibility of their tradition in the pursuit of status and fortune. They ought to know better, and here Hanson's attitude reveals how seriously he takes his belief that education was the moulding of character, not acquisition of knowledge. To Hanson,  those who have committed themselves to knowing the Greek mind, who have studied it in earnest, bear responsibility for practicing it. Just as we expect a minister to conduct himself with greater care than the average parishioner, so to does Hanson expect classicists to be, if not moral champions, at least contenders;  he expects them to live the values of the Greeks, to take their place in the hoplite ranks of the mind and defend what is theirs, to rise to the challenge of revealing the classics' enduring relevance. Instead,  they focus on increasingly more pointless esoterically in pursuit of esteem,  viewing fellow classicists as competition to be beat for choice university positions in which they can focus on their 'research' and leave the actual teaching to grad students, producing not keen minds but papers on mathematical relationships governing the use of similes in The Illiad.  The comprehension of the whole is lost, and insult is added to injury when said scholars apply tortured modern interpretations,laying waste to The Odyssey by accusing it of being the wellspring of western sexism. Instead of defending and advancing the Greek way, classicists have allowed it to become the scapegoat for every moral self-doubt of the west. After outlining his case against his colleagues, Hanson proposes ways to put the focus back on the meaning of the classics,  in part by forcing classicists to teach."Publish or perish" is anathema to this professor who sees his primary vocation as  giving young people a structured education, not advancing his own  prestige. The work ends on a bitter note, however, as he does not expect the modern world's slide into the moral abyss to be arrested. Instead,  we will probably have to wait for civilization to collapse and demand strong men again, men who will rediscover the Greek truths.

That final bitter retort casts a pall over a strongly-argued book already shadowed by contempt for the modern world, especially ideologies like multiculturalism and relativism. The Greeks understood nuance, but in Hanson's view they stood by everlasting truths. Hanson's own stand is strident at times, to the point that he's less a Pericles calling forth citizens to stand with him and more a Leonidas rallying the troops before a final stand. His appraisal of Greek contributions is surpassed by the analysis of why classical studies have faltered, but Who Killed Homer does double duty as a traditionalist critique of modernity and a passionate appraisal of how much value the tradition still holds, even for moderns overawed by their own cleverness. As a classical partisan myself, I found it invigorating, but Hanson's zeal may spook the unconvinced.

Related:




Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Ten in the life of Sharpe

Since 2010 I have been steadily reading through Sharpe's series, a set of historical novels following the storied career of the fictional Richard Sharpe, an orphan turned soldier who became an officer after saving the Duke of Wellington's life in India.   I wanted to commemorate the series' end  by sharing ten moments from the series, but there were so many to choose from I went with  mostly quotes, along with my tentatively-favorite book.

1. From Sharpe's Battle:

 “You did what, Sharpe? A duel? Don't you know dueling is illegal in the army?”
“I never said anything about a duel, General. I just offered to beat the hell out of him right here and now, but he seemed to have other things on his mind."
2.  A recent highlight was the scene in Sharpe's Waterloo, in which a blood-spattered Sharpe storms into a dinner party to inform the generals present that Napoleon is invading. As soon as he entes the doors, his adulterous wife (who ran away with his money to shack up with a more genteel aristocratic ponce) begins screaming bloody murder, and the aristo flees in terror. They're so pathetic by comparison its almost gratuitous, but made good by the fact that Sharpe ignores them because he's go his mission. Challenging a cuckholding coward to a duel can wait.

3. From Sharpe's Gold:

"Get him out, sir? There's two regiments there!"
"So? That's only eight hundred men. There are fifty-three of us."


4. From Sharpe's Escape

"Lieutenant Slingsby," the Colonel said, "tells me that you insulted him. That you invited him to duel. That you called him illegitimate. That you swore at him."
    Sharpe cast his mind back to the brief confrontation on the ridge's forward slope just after he had pulled the company out of the French panic. "I doubt I called him illegitimate, sir," he said. "I wouldn't use that sort of word. I probably called him a bastard.

5.  Sharpe's Prey is a rare Sharpe book, one taking place not on the battlefield but in the staggeringly beautiful port city of Copenhagan, in which Sharpe -- alone in a strange city -- must engage in dazzling heroics and prevent an entire fleet from falling into enemy hands by destroying it himself.

6.  From Sharpe's Challenge,  movie version:

Harper: So, you and me are going to stop a rebellion?
Sharpe: Well I don't see no bugger else.
.
7. Likewise:
"Don't know your place, do you, Sharpie?"
"Maybe not, but I know how to stand  before a French column." 

8. From Sharpe's Havoc:

 "So what do you believe in?" Vicente wanted to know.
"The trinity, sir," said Harper sententiously.
"The trinity?" Vicente was surprised.
"The Baker rifle," Sharpe said, "the sword bayonet, and me."

9. From Sharpe's Eagle, movie version:

"You can't stop Captain Sharpe, sir. You can walk away from him or you can stand behind him, but don't ever try and get in his way."

10. From Sharpe's Waterloo

"'Educated, Sharpe! Think of that! My whole lifetime has been devoted to the study of warfare, and shall I tell you what is the one lesson I have learned above all others?'
'I should like to know, sir.' Sharpe admired his own tactful restraint, especially as the Prince was just twenty-three years old and Sharpe had been a fighting soldier for twenty-two." [...]
'They took two Eagles! Two!' The Prince clapped his hands. 'You should go and take a look, Sharpe. It's not every day you see an Eagle!'
'Sergeant Harper and I once captured an Eagle,' Sharpe's voice was filled with an unmistakable loathing. 'It was five years ago when you were still in school.'"

Teaser Tuesday



Marvin interrupted. "Suppose I don't want to spend my life on anti-Communist work but I feel -- a calling to fight the Communists on as many fronts as I can. Am I an altruist then?"
"Yes," Lee said. "And you are contaminating freedom. You're putting someone else's interests -- the anti-Communist cause -- on a higher order than your own. In that way you are rejecting the moral dimension of liberty."
"Balls," Woodroe permitted himself.

p. 237, Getting it Right, William F. Buckley