Books Read in May

It seems like this was a busy month of reading.  The following is a list of the things that I read outside of the various projects with which this blog is concerned.

• Dragonsinger, Ann McCaffery - This is the sequel to Dragonsong and another that I've read at least a dozen times.  This takes place at a school for music and deals with the trouble Menolly has in fitting in with a place that isn't used to dealing with talented young women.  Love it.
• Hard Magic, Larry Correia - A new one to me.  This book is an alternate history style story where people started to develop super powers around 1850 or so.  The book itself is set around 1930 so it has some noir elements.  Very enjoyable.  (I picked this up because it is the first of a series and the third one is, rather controversially, nominated for a Hugo this year.  If book three is of a similar level of quality, it will be a fine Hugo nominee.)
• Monster of Florence, Preston and Spezi - A fascinating book that I picked up at a garage sale.  It details a serial killer that was active in Florence Italy in the 70's and 80's and the ensuing investigation.  The Italian police procedures are a bit different than in the US and fairly horrifying.  Evidence can be withheld, the police routinely leak info to the press to try people in the media and there seems to be no bar from tapping phones and computers.  Several lives were ruined and no one has confidence that the killer was ever caught.
• Popular Crime, Bill James - A reread for me.  Bill James is known as a baseball guy and no one has done more to revolutionize the use of statistical analysis than he has.  It seems that he has been a fan of true crime novels for some time.  This book is a) a review of those books, b) a short history on various well known crimes/killers and c) an interesting set of opinions about what our justice system does well and what it can improve upon.  Highly recommended.

A heavy amount of reading about legal matters then, but I couldn't tie much of it back to Aquinas.  We simply don't have the same set of questions about the law that he did then.  In part, I'm sure, because he helped settle his own disputes.  I wish that I could give him about thirty questions that are of more concern to we moderns.

Maya Angelou - Poetry

I'm breaking the pattern here.  The book I'm working from (found here) has the poems listed in chronological order.  Whether that's chronological from the time the poem was published or from the author's lifetime, I don't know.  In any case, I'm jumping to the very last poem in the book.  It's my project and this seems to be a fitting exception.
The poem is by Maya Angelou, who died yesterday.  She was the only poet in the book that was still living when it was published, so now the slate is clear.  I've heard of her (of course) but I don't think I've read any of her work.  The poem is called 'Still I Rise'.

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may  cut me iwth your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefullness
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs? Out of the huts of
history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise

Into a daybreak that's wonderously clear
I rise
Bring the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

That's a powerful poem, with some very striking passages.  I particularly like the comparison to wealth and confidence: 'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells/Pumping in my living room'.  She seems to be saying that if you're rich enough, you can tell everyone off.  And, though her wealth might not be material, she has enough of it to fend off those that want to keep her down.
Of course, fighting back against those who want to keep her down, is very much a part of her moment in history.  The fight against Jim Crowe and segregation was literally a fight against those who wanted to trap a minority into a permanent underclass.  It was a fight to rise against that.  The anger in this poem is earned.  So is the sense of accomplishment.
There is some echo of that in today's struggles, I'm sure.  As a white man, at the age of forty, I'm not really the target audience but I can stretch my empathy a bit to try and understand.  It's not hard for me to think of modern high schoolers (especially girls) who see some of this in their own growing up.  This poem, I'm sure, serves as a reminder to them that rising is possible for them.  
As I've said, I haven't read any of the rest of Angelou's work.  Maybe I should change that.

Does the Law Make Men Good - Aquinas

One of the questions that Thomas Aquinas addresses is 'Whether an effect of law is to make men good?'.  The objections that he proposes are as follows:

• Men are good through virtue and virtue is given to man through God.
• Men profit only by following the law. They follow the law because they are good. Being good happens before someone follows the law.
• The law deals with common good. Some people follow that common good but in personal matters are bad. The law doesn't make them good.
• Some laws are bad and tyrannical. These obviously don't make man good.

Aquinas quotes Aristotle as saying "the intention of every lawgiver is to make good citizens".  He goes on to say in his own words:

For if the intention  of the lawgiver is fixed on true good, which is the common good regulated according to Divine justice, it follows that the effect of the law is to make men good simply.

My own sense is that concepts like law, justice and good are very well intertwined with each other.  The law gives guidelines as to correct behavior.  For example, speed limit laws aren't universal.  They aren't any kind of law that occurred before cars were developed.  Before then, people would drive their horses and carts at whatever speed seemed appropriate and things were fine.  

The law was introduced and people had to adapt to it.  If they broke the speed limit law, they weren't necessarily immoral, but by following it as a guideline, they developed the common good that is a safe traffic place.  That means that they may sacrifice some speed (a kind of profit) for a greater good.

Again though, let me note that this isn't a universal law.  Speed limits vary and in some places they don't have them at all.  The people there aren't 'bad' but they do belong to a different driving culture.  (I can't help but think of my brother who was stationed in Germany for a while.  He would be horrified that I'm holding up speed limit laws as an example of law providing a good guideline!)

I think laws help people be good but on their own, they aren't reliable enough to create good behavior.  Laws against murder are fairly universal but if some clerical error struck murder laws from the books, I don't think many people would go on killing sprees.  Cultural elements and teaching of virtue have some (possibly greater) role than the actual text of the law does.

Carl Sandburg - Poetry

Sorry for the light blogging. It's been an unexpectedly busy week. I'll try to make up for it next week.

This time I know the poet and the poem.  For some reason I don't think that this is Carl Sandburg's most famous poem, but I may be wrong.  This little gem is called 'Fog'.

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and moves on.

What a wonderful little poem!  'The fog comes/on little cat feet'.  If you're a cat owner (like me) then you know exactly how silently they can move around.  Fog is famously the same, drifting in quietly, without notice.  And I like the image of it simply hovering over and watching the harbor and city before moving on.
I thought that 'Chicago' was his more famous poem, but I think I've been misled.  I know that the city is known as 'the city with big shoulders' based on that poem, but maybe that's not that big of a deal.

Reading for June

Only one piece again.

June
Chaucer: Troilus and Cressida link

The actual volume in the Great Books has this with the modern and middle English versions side by side.  That's what I'll be reading.  Feel free to make your own choice of version.

100 Plays Update

I'm still mentally trying to figure out the best process for this.  I'm going to try very hard to get to a place where I can reliably do one play per month.  That means that I need to have 84 plays left at the end of this year.  The first one is done (Peter Pan is here), so there are 15 left to get to in the next seven or so months.  That's not difficult but it may be tough for other people to follow along.  Or, to put it more simply, I'm not sure what the schedule is going to look like.  I may push to do one a week for some time, or if the other reading is intense, there might be some time between reviews.  That's not good for others.
The best way to fix that is to simply put up the first 16 plays and let people pick their way through.  If we match up, then good.  If not, so be it.  I'm going to try to stay in order, but I don't care if others choose to jump around.  Ready?

100. Peter Pan - JM Barrie
99. The King's the Best Magistrate - Lope de Vega
98. The Heidi Chronicles - Wendy Wasserstein
97. The Hostage - Brendan Behan
96. Accidental Death of an Anarchist - Dario Fo
95. The Balcony - Jean Genet
94. The Brothers - Terence
93. Awake and Sing! - Clifford Odets
92. The Rover - Aphra Behn
91. Le Cid - Pierre Corneille
90. The Weavers - Gerhard Hauptmann
89. The Visit - Friedrich Durrenmatt
88. The Dybbuk - S. Ansky
87. Fences - August Wilson
86. The Little Foxes - Lillian Hellman
85. The Other Shore - Gao Xingjian

The rest you will have to wait for.  (Or you could read the book!)  And when 2015 arrives, this will all be settled down and normalized.  I promise.

John Masefield - Poetry

I don't know this poet or the poem.  The poet is John Masefield and the poem is called 'Sea Fever'.

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sails shaking,
And a gray mist on the sea's face and a gray dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

Oh, this appeals to me!  I've lived almost all of my life in the prairie lands and yet, I've become absolutely entranced with sailing.  There is a romance to the whole notion, of course.  And, like all romances, the unpleasant realities are hidden by the glamour of the good stuff, I'm sure.  But I'm still in love with the idea.
The few times that I've been near the ocean, I've loved it.  And so, even though my experiences are very different, I can also say that 'I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky'.  I'm not sure that I'd do well with a 'tall ship and a star to steer her by', but someday I'd like to find out!
I like this, I really and truly do.