Miss Potter

For those of us who watched the old Peter Rabbit animations just to see the beginning, "real life" scenes of Beatrix at work in her cottage, Miss Potter is exactly what we've been waiting for. A story beautifully told with a soundtrack to match. Highly recommended. (You can read Lanier's review here.)

The week of books

In the post, from the bookstore, for summer classes or summer reading lists, the books came pouring in this week. Every day. Books I didn't need and books I had been wanting. Some I've been avoiding, like the math book; others that I can't wait to really begin. All told, I have more than I shall ever, ever be able to read this summer. And that's alright.

In no particular order (other than the order in which I have stacked them on my dresser):

Articulating Reasons (Robert B. Brandom): Philosophy summer reading list [PSRL].

Two copies of Manalive (G.K. Chesterton): I just finished reading a copy borrowed from the library, and I knew that I needed one for my shelf. The extra copy is for my cousin, whom I introduced to The Man Who Was Thursday this last weekend. He loved it. "I haven't read nearly enough Chesterton," he told me. And I agreed, for both of us.

The Name of the Rose (Umberto Eco): I started reading this last summer, an enormous volume borrowed from the library at a cousin's recommendation. I didn't make it through the first few chapters. There was too much going on and not enough time to read a long, borrowed book. Yesterday I saw it on the shelf at Borders and though that I ought to give it another try. The back of the book says that the detective protagonist's tools are "the logic of Aristotle, the theology of Aquinas, the empirical insights of Roger Bacon--all sharpened to a glistening edge by wry humor and a ferocious curiosity."

On Literature (Umberto Eco): A collection of essays gleaned from the long career of a man who loves words.

Shame and Necessity (Bernard Williams): PSRL. From the "Preface": "I am someone who received what used to be called a classical education, became a philosopher, and has kept in touch with Greek studies primarily through work in ancient philosophy . . . for much of the books the writers I discuss are not philosophers but poets, and I try to discuss them as poets, not as providing rhythmic examples for philosophers."

The Fragility of Goodness: Luck and Ethics in Greek Tragedy and Philosophy (Martha Nussbaum): PSRL.

When Heaven and Earth Changed Places (Le Ly Hayslip): History class.

Zadig and L'Ingenu (Voltaire): History class.

De Anima (Aristotle): PSRL.

The Concept of Mind (Gilbert Ryle): PSRL.

An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding (Hume): PSRL.

Utilitarianism (Mill): PSRL.

Meditations on First Philosophy (Descartes): PSRL.

Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals (Kant): PSRL.

There is still another package on its way. And several of the books I have left off (like, for example, the less than inspiring math text). Now if only I could buy some real novels to lighten the load.

Intersession

It's the end of my first year as a college student, and I've been spending the nine days between the close of spring term and the beginning of summer session (yes, summer session) working and reading and sleeping. In the mornings I mend books and process periodicals and newspapers. In the afternoons I rotate through my six books: shall I read Perelandra or Articulating Reasons or In This House of Brede or Being and Time or Reading Like A Writer or The Thirteenth Tale first? Lavender Girl always votes for Tale (we're reading this one together), I try to get through all of them (but have spent most of the last three days with Articulating Reasons). My philosophy advisor gave me a list of twenty books to read this summer. Twenty books, and four hefty essays written by colleagues. Do you have any idea how long it takes to read a philosophy book? It is important to get started--to keep on keeping on.

Every day now, a box of books has arrived in the mail. For me. I pick them up at the mailbox on the top of the hill when I drive home from work. Then I open the boxes and stack the books on my dresser. I don't want to put them away yet. I just want to look at them, admire their (mostly) unbent spines and clean pages and beguiling titles.

Next Monday, while the rest of the world is still on holiday, I'll head back to the classroom for another six weeks. Four weeks of math and six of history. And after that, I'll be working nearly full time at the library until the end of September.

"When are you going to rest?" someone asked me.

"I don't know," I said.

But I suspect that somewhere in there I'll find some moments to myself. It's going to be a long, wonderful summer.

Toward the world

Poet Christian Wiman has a sincere and thought-provoking reflection on a life lived in the absence (but also, at times, with the presence) of God.

[I]f I look back on the poems I’ve written in the past two decades, it almost seems as if the one constant is God. Or, rather, His absence.

***

I was brought up with the poisonous notion that you had to renounce love of the earth in order to receive the love of God. My experience has been just the opposite: a love of the earth and existence so overflowing that it implied, or included, or even absolutely demanded, God. Love did not deliver me from the earth, but into it . . . This I do believe in, and by this I live, in what the apostle Paul called “hope toward God.”

***

I don’t really think it’s possible for humans to be at the same time conscious and comfortable. Though we may be moved by nature to thoughts of grace, though art can tease our minds toward eternity and love’s abundance make us dream a love that does not end, these intuitions come only through the earth, and the earth we know only in passing, and only by passing.

***

So now I bow my head and try to pray in the mornings, not because I don’t doubt the reality of what I have experienced, but because I do . . . I go to church on Sundays, not to dispel this doubt but to expend its energy, because faith is not a state of mind but an action in the world, a movement toward the world.

You can read the entire article, published by The American Scholar, here.

Fine Art Friday

"Aristotle Gazing on a Bust of Homer" (1654)

Rembrandt

I don't know very much about Rembrandt, but when I learned that the Portland Art Museum recently opened an exhibition featuring 14 of his painting and prints, and scores of other works by contemporary Dutch painters, I decided to learn more. In my rummaging through the stacks at Hamersly, I came across this painting. And I fell in love. Two of my very favorite people in the same room. It really sets the inner English and Philosophy majors at peace.

You can find out more about the PAM exhibition here. It opened on June 2 and will be running through September 16. If you're in the area this summer, I think it will be well worth your time. (Unfortunately, I don't think they're displaying the Aristotle painting. But I could be wrong.)

Not a soap opera

"And what is wrong with being judgmental?" Domenica asked indignantly. "It drives me mad to hear people say: 'Don't be judgmental.' That's moral philosophy at the level of an Australian soap opera. If people weren't judgmental, how could we possibly have a moral viewpoint in society? We wouldn't have the first clue where we were. All rational discourse about what we should do would grind to a halt. No, whatever you do, don't fall for that weak-minded nonsense about not being judgmental. Don't be excessively judgmental, if you like, but always - always - be prepared to make a judgment. Otherwise you'll go through life not really knowing what you mean."

From, what else?, the new 44 Scotland Street novel: Espresso Tales (p. 49). There's a reason I buy into these McCall Smith books. Domenica, by the way, is my favorite character.