As you may have heard, the comedian Robin Williams was found dead earlier today of an apparent suicide. Though I haven't seen any of his new movies in a decade or so, the news hit me like a gut punch. I'm not a big celebrity chaser and there aren't many movie stars that I have any real emotional involvement with. When Philip Seymour Hoffman died a few months ago, I thought it was sad, but it didn't touch me. This one did though.
Why am I posting about this on a blog (ostensibly) dedicated to read the Great Books? Two reasons. The first one is this:
That's the 'Carpe Diem' scene from 'Dead Poet's Society', of course. One of the main themes of the reading that we've been doing so far is how we deal with death. Our days are few and we need to make the most of them. We should make our lives 'extraordinary'.
I'll never be able to read 'To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time' without hearing this scene. I'm certain that I'm not the only one for whom this is true.
Second reason? There are truths that we only allow jesters and comedians to tell us. I think that's why the second half of Robin Williams career was so touching. The first half was filled with zany, frenetic energy. Starting with 'Dead Poet Society', Williams moved on to some serious fare. He followed that with 'Awakenings', which didn't have a single comedic note.
My favorite of his more serious work was 'The Fisher King', where Williams played a homeless man whose life was shattered by a shooting. There are certainly funny moments but the dominant emotion is deep sympathy. It seems that this was something of an echo of the depression that he faced in his real life. That laughter had a price.
RIP
Monday, August 11, 2014
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Federico Garcia Lorca - Poetry
Another new poem and poet for me. Maybe I'll go back and count, but this seems more common with the newer poems in the book. This poem is by Federico Garcia Lorca. The title is 'Lament for Ignacio Sanchez Mejias' and what I have is a translation from Spanish.
The bull does not know you, nor the fig tree,
nor horses, nor the ants on your floors.
The child does not know you, nor the evening,
because your death is forever.
The saddleback of rock does not know you,
nor the black satin where you tore apart.
Your silent recollection does not know you
because your death is forever.
Autumn will return bringing snails,
misted-over grapes, and clustered mountains,
but none will wish to gaze in your eyes
because your death is forever.
Because your death is forever;
Like everyone's who ever died on Earth,
like all dead bodies discarded
on rubbish heaps with mongrels' corpses.
No one knows you. No one. But I sing you -
sing your profile and your grace, for later on.
The signal ripeness of your mastery.
The way you sought death out, savored its taste.
The sadness just beneath your gay valor.
Not soon, if ever; will Andalusia see
so towering a man, so venturesome.
I sing his elegance with words that moan
and remember a sad breeze in the olive groves.
Well. That's a heavy poem and a strong lament. It would help us if we knew how Ignacio Sanchez Mejias was. But let me look at the poem before I bring Google to bear.
Someone has died and, as we're repeatedly reminded, death is forever. No one knows the person. No thing knows the person. The body has been discarded and will soon disappear like rubbish. The only lament (or certainly the most important!) is the one given here by Senor Lorca.
Lorca honors the man. He 'sought death out, savored its taste'. He was sad but valorous. He was towering and venturesome. This lament has made the poet so sad that he can only moan and remember the past. This is the lament of a lover, right? A lover talking about his fallen love, that no one will love as much as he does.
A quick look at his Wikipedia page suggests that I'm right. A Google search tells me that this is the fourth part of a longer poem. The full work is here. The rest of it is also passionate and very, very sad.
This is a very touching piece.
The bull does not know you, nor the fig tree,
nor horses, nor the ants on your floors.
The child does not know you, nor the evening,
because your death is forever.
The saddleback of rock does not know you,
nor the black satin where you tore apart.
Your silent recollection does not know you
because your death is forever.
Autumn will return bringing snails,
misted-over grapes, and clustered mountains,
but none will wish to gaze in your eyes
because your death is forever.
Because your death is forever;
Like everyone's who ever died on Earth,
like all dead bodies discarded
on rubbish heaps with mongrels' corpses.
No one knows you. No one. But I sing you -
sing your profile and your grace, for later on.
The signal ripeness of your mastery.
The way you sought death out, savored its taste.
The sadness just beneath your gay valor.
Not soon, if ever; will Andalusia see
so towering a man, so venturesome.
I sing his elegance with words that moan
and remember a sad breeze in the olive groves.
Well. That's a heavy poem and a strong lament. It would help us if we knew how Ignacio Sanchez Mejias was. But let me look at the poem before I bring Google to bear.
Someone has died and, as we're repeatedly reminded, death is forever. No one knows the person. No thing knows the person. The body has been discarded and will soon disappear like rubbish. The only lament (or certainly the most important!) is the one given here by Senor Lorca.
Lorca honors the man. He 'sought death out, savored its taste'. He was sad but valorous. He was towering and venturesome. This lament has made the poet so sad that he can only moan and remember the past. This is the lament of a lover, right? A lover talking about his fallen love, that no one will love as much as he does.
A quick look at his Wikipedia page suggests that I'm right. A Google search tells me that this is the fourth part of a longer poem. The full work is here. The rest of it is also passionate and very, very sad.
This is a very touching piece.
Friday, August 8, 2014
Biography of Milton
John Milton was born in 1608 in London. His father was a composer of
some note, successful enough that Milton was raised with a tutor. At
an early age he learned both Latin and Greek. A contemporary of his
said that "When he was young, he studied very hard and sat up very late,
commonly till twelve or one o'clock at night".
He spent time at Cambridge, where he was apparently suspended for fighting a few times. While there he also made contacts with various people, like Roger Williams a theologian. While at Cambridge, Milton was already marked for his poetic skills. After school he went to his father's house and studied hard on subjects of his own choosing for the next six years. He kept a record of his studies, which is now in the British Library.
Milton toured Europe, mostly France and Italy. While doing so, his poetic skills were given a larger audience and he met several of the leading intellectual lights of the continent. He skipped a visit to Greece because he wanted to return to England before civil war erupted there.
During the civil war, Milton was outspoken against Catholicism and a vocal proponent of 'republicanism', the belief that the head of state should be elected, not inherited. He also made an ill considered marriage and wrote about the advisability of divorce. These writings were attacked and Milton wrote the subject of this month, 'Areopagitica'.
After the war was over, Milton worked for Cromwell's government as the 'Secretary for Foreign Tongues'. His job was mainly to translate the correspondence into Latin but he also worked as a propagandist and censor. He wrote several defenses of the regicide of Charles I. By 1654, he was totally blind and had to dictate his work to assistants.
Cromwell died in 1658 and the Restoration (of the monarchy) period was a hard one for him. He went into hiding, only emerging after a general pardon had been issued. He was still arrested and briefly spent time in prison. Some influential friends sprung him and he lived quietly in London, being forced to move out of the city during the plague of 1665.
In 1667, 'Paradise Lost' was published. He'd been working on it since at least 1658. It's widely regarded as one of the best poems ever written in English. He followed it up with 'Paradise Regained' and other notable poems such as 'Samson Agonistes'.
He died of kidney failure in November of 1674.
He spent time at Cambridge, where he was apparently suspended for fighting a few times. While there he also made contacts with various people, like Roger Williams a theologian. While at Cambridge, Milton was already marked for his poetic skills. After school he went to his father's house and studied hard on subjects of his own choosing for the next six years. He kept a record of his studies, which is now in the British Library.
Milton toured Europe, mostly France and Italy. While doing so, his poetic skills were given a larger audience and he met several of the leading intellectual lights of the continent. He skipped a visit to Greece because he wanted to return to England before civil war erupted there.
During the civil war, Milton was outspoken against Catholicism and a vocal proponent of 'republicanism', the belief that the head of state should be elected, not inherited. He also made an ill considered marriage and wrote about the advisability of divorce. These writings were attacked and Milton wrote the subject of this month, 'Areopagitica'.
After the war was over, Milton worked for Cromwell's government as the 'Secretary for Foreign Tongues'. His job was mainly to translate the correspondence into Latin but he also worked as a propagandist and censor. He wrote several defenses of the regicide of Charles I. By 1654, he was totally blind and had to dictate his work to assistants.
Cromwell died in 1658 and the Restoration (of the monarchy) period was a hard one for him. He went into hiding, only emerging after a general pardon had been issued. He was still arrested and briefly spent time in prison. Some influential friends sprung him and he lived quietly in London, being forced to move out of the city during the plague of 1665.
In 1667, 'Paradise Lost' was published. He'd been working on it since at least 1658. It's widely regarded as one of the best poems ever written in English. He followed it up with 'Paradise Regained' and other notable poems such as 'Samson Agonistes'.
He died of kidney failure in November of 1674.
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
Awake and Sing! - Odets (93)
'Awake and Sing!' is very much a play of the Great Depression. The play is set in a New York home, over-crowded with people all looking for a break. Life is bleak and unhappy for all. The home belongs to the Bergers, an overworked mother, a dream stricken father, an ambitious son, a wise grandfather and a daughter, Hennie, who has accidentally gotten herself in a family way. The son, Ralph, is something of the hero of the play. He wants a chance to succeed but he can't figure out how to do it. Other characters also board at the house, all of them interesting. The characters are one of the strong points of the play.
All of them are unhappy and their unhappiness is made worse by the regular visits of a rich uncle who subtlety rubs his wealth in their faces. He can't understand why they can't make it. What's worse, they don't understand it either. The grandfather, Jacob, wistfully hopes that the fine things happening in Russia will provide some clues on how to get society on track.
The climax comes when Jacob sacrifices himself to get some insurance money into Ralph's hands. If Ralph takes it, he can become self sufficient. But it may cost him his family as there is plenty of resentment from his mother about this kind of nest egg. She worked hard and sacrificed her life for her family and thinks it only just that a windfall should come to her as well. In the end, Ralph decides that the only way he can make himself an honorable life is to let the money go and confidently make his own fortune in life.
It's an interesting play and I can easily see why people would go to see it. It's thought provoking and well written. It debuted in 1935 at a time when society really did seem broken and people were looking for answers. I'd recommend it.
However, I can't just casually dismiss the Marxism of the piece, especially the fond words for the communists in Russia. If I were to find a newspaper article or play from 1935 that praised the Nazis in Germany, I could understand that the writer didn't know what horrors were ahead. Fair enough. In retrospect though, we'd assess a very heavy penalty to that piece. Same rules should apply here. A couple of years before this play was being put on in America, the Soviets starved about 4 million people in Ukraine. We should hardly be wistful about such an awful government.
Next up, we take a step back to 'Accidental Death of an Anarchist' by Daniel Fo. The play is from 1970 and I know virtually nothing about it yet. It's #96 on the list and this will finally fill that gap.
All of them are unhappy and their unhappiness is made worse by the regular visits of a rich uncle who subtlety rubs his wealth in their faces. He can't understand why they can't make it. What's worse, they don't understand it either. The grandfather, Jacob, wistfully hopes that the fine things happening in Russia will provide some clues on how to get society on track.
The climax comes when Jacob sacrifices himself to get some insurance money into Ralph's hands. If Ralph takes it, he can become self sufficient. But it may cost him his family as there is plenty of resentment from his mother about this kind of nest egg. She worked hard and sacrificed her life for her family and thinks it only just that a windfall should come to her as well. In the end, Ralph decides that the only way he can make himself an honorable life is to let the money go and confidently make his own fortune in life.
It's an interesting play and I can easily see why people would go to see it. It's thought provoking and well written. It debuted in 1935 at a time when society really did seem broken and people were looking for answers. I'd recommend it.
However, I can't just casually dismiss the Marxism of the piece, especially the fond words for the communists in Russia. If I were to find a newspaper article or play from 1935 that praised the Nazis in Germany, I could understand that the writer didn't know what horrors were ahead. Fair enough. In retrospect though, we'd assess a very heavy penalty to that piece. Same rules should apply here. A couple of years before this play was being put on in America, the Soviets starved about 4 million people in Ukraine. We should hardly be wistful about such an awful government.
Next up, we take a step back to 'Accidental Death of an Anarchist' by Daniel Fo. The play is from 1970 and I know virtually nothing about it yet. It's #96 on the list and this will finally fill that gap.
Monday, August 4, 2014
e.e. cummings - Poetry
I've heard of e.e. cummings before, even read some of his work, though I don't know any of his poems specifically. He is famous for his avant-garde style, especially the lack of capitalization. This work is called 'Buffalo Bill's'.
Buffalo Bill's
defunct
who used to
ride a watersmooth-sillver
stallion
and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat
Jesus
he was a handsome man
and what I want to know is
how do you like your blueeyed boy
Mister Death
I've long been turned off by the avant-garde style and I just figured out why. The entire style seems to be screaming 'pay attention to how weird I am!'. It doesn't feel natural or organic. It seems calculated and tiresome. (Maybe I would have felt differently at the time these pieces were created though frankly I doubt it.) The lower case letters and the run on words here are a perfect example. They seem like more of a showcase of strangeness than as an aid to poetic understanding.
But let me put that aside and focus on the story. Buffalo Bill was a showman and I take from this poem that during his act he would ride in all smoothly and proceed to kill some pigeons. He was handsome and suave and at the same time cruel and monstrous. No good and civilized person could enjoy such a performance.
But Mister Death could. I don't know if Mister Death is attending the show or if those who enjoy such things are some kind of manifestation of death. Either way, do they actually enjoy this blend of beauty and violence? They must, right? Even though they shouldn't.
Incidentally, I agree with that point. I'm the type of guy who rolls his eyes at the 'no animals were harmed in the making of this' style disclaimer, but I'm not happy watching animals be hurt or killed. I don't find it entertaining in the least. However, the style of this poem makes me want to mount a defense to the show-goers, though I'm not quite sure why.
Perhaps, the packaging is so obviously artificial that it's hard for me to take the message seriously.
Buffalo Bill's
defunct
who used to
ride a watersmooth-sillver
stallion
and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat
Jesus
he was a handsome man
and what I want to know is
how do you like your blueeyed boy
Mister Death
I've long been turned off by the avant-garde style and I just figured out why. The entire style seems to be screaming 'pay attention to how weird I am!'. It doesn't feel natural or organic. It seems calculated and tiresome. (Maybe I would have felt differently at the time these pieces were created though frankly I doubt it.) The lower case letters and the run on words here are a perfect example. They seem like more of a showcase of strangeness than as an aid to poetic understanding.
But let me put that aside and focus on the story. Buffalo Bill was a showman and I take from this poem that during his act he would ride in all smoothly and proceed to kill some pigeons. He was handsome and suave and at the same time cruel and monstrous. No good and civilized person could enjoy such a performance.
But Mister Death could. I don't know if Mister Death is attending the show or if those who enjoy such things are some kind of manifestation of death. Either way, do they actually enjoy this blend of beauty and violence? They must, right? Even though they shouldn't.
Incidentally, I agree with that point. I'm the type of guy who rolls his eyes at the 'no animals were harmed in the making of this' style disclaimer, but I'm not happy watching animals be hurt or killed. I don't find it entertaining in the least. However, the style of this poem makes me want to mount a defense to the show-goers, though I'm not quite sure why.
Perhaps, the packaging is so obviously artificial that it's hard for me to take the message seriously.
Sunday, August 3, 2014
Author Timeline
BC
Aeschylus 525-456
Herodotus 484-425
Thucydides 460-395
Plato 428-348
Aristotle 384-322
Euclid Unknown (300 BC?)
AD
Tacitus 56-117
St Thomas Aquinas 1225-1274
Chaucer 1343-1400
Shakespeare 1564-1616
Milton 1608-1674
Locke 1632-1704
Kant 1724-1804
Mill 1806-1873
Lavoisier 1743-1794
Dostoevsky 1821-1881
Freud 1856-1939
Aeschylus 525-456
Herodotus 484-425
Thucydides 460-395
Plato 428-348
Aristotle 384-322
Euclid Unknown (300 BC?)
AD
Tacitus 56-117
St Thomas Aquinas 1225-1274
Chaucer 1343-1400
Shakespeare 1564-1616
Milton 1608-1674
Locke 1632-1704
Kant 1724-1804
Mill 1806-1873
Lavoisier 1743-1794
Dostoevsky 1821-1881
Freud 1856-1939
Friday, August 1, 2014
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