“The Integration of Temples and Families: A Latter-day Saint Structure for the Jacob Cycle” was published on Friday. This is my first peer-reviewed, academic article, so I’m pretty excited. Anyone with an interest in Biblical literature, or its temple and family themes, would likely enjoy it.
I did have to order it. Here are the passages I marked:
I don’t know what it is, but there is something about steady manual labor like this, alone in the fields, that gives one a curious deep satisfaction. I like the sense of doing hard work that is also useful work. One’s mind at first drops asleep, except for the narrow margin relating to this or that repetitive process. One lets go, calms down. For hours, sometimes, while at such work, I came near the point of complete mental vacuity. The mind sets itself the minute task it has to do and goes off somewhere to its own high pastures, serene uplands, to rest and play. The hours pass magically: the sun that was low when the work began rides high in the heavens—and suddenly the mind comes home again. It comes home refreshed stimulated, happy. I always know the exact moment of its arrival. Yesterday it did not return until I had nearly finished my work in the field. It seemed to cry out: “What, asleep! Listen to the bobolinks.”
I straightened up quickly and realized that I had been working for several hours without hearing or seeing much of anything—this literally. The whole world now became flooded with delightful sounds, not only the bobolinks, but a hundred other voices both of nature and human nature, so that I had a deep and indescribably friendly feeling towards all things. I thought it good and beautiful to be there and to be alive. Even the grass clinging wetly to my legs as I walked seemed consciously holding me close to the earth; and the shovel held warmly, even painfully in my blistered hands, was proof that I had at last become part of a universal process. These sensations, even as I set them down, seem difficult to express, but they were there, and they were true and sound. (11-12)
Steve had been working all day, harrowing and fertilizing his tobacco land, and should, I suppose, be properly tired. But the weeds in the onions are growing! Down on his knees he went and began weeding. A moment later his wife was at his side. The children cried a little, for they were tired and hungry and wanted to go home, but soon whimpered down. I wondered what an American family I know of, which keeps a nurse for each of their weakling children and a second girl to help the nurses, would say to this way of “raising” children! These two little Poles are magnificent physical specimens, and the boy, when clean, is really beautiful. At eight-thirty when it was too dark to see, the family trailed homeward, Steve carrying the little boy in his arms. Can these people be beaten? (86-87)
Early this week, I heard of the passing of British novelist P.D. James.
Here are my thoughts from reading Death in Holy Orders in 2009.
Here is Mark Steyn reflecting on her dystopian masterpiece The Children of Men.
I’m currently reading The Murder Room, and you should, too.
Just a day later, I heard of the death of Kent Haruf.
This is what I wrote nearly two years ago, when his book Benediction was about to come out.
Now I’m re-reading Plainsong, his magnum opus. You really should read it, also. I even liked the Hallmark movie version.
The other great writer who died in the past week is the poet Mark Strand, but I actually didn’t like his work very much–I found it too narrow and self-consciously obscure for my taste. Still, a great talent who made a major contribution to letters.
No, the third writer who I loved and who we recently lost is the critic D.G. Myers, who died in September. I found his work A Commonplace Blog years ago, and long treasured his thoughts about writers, especially his fellow Jewish writers–I learned a lot about Saul Bellow and I.S. Singer from him.
Peruse his final months of posts–those from 2014–and you’ll be treated to two posts about his battle with cancer, posts about the best debut novels and the bets novels of the 1940s, and two posts about the degradation of the humanities in the American university. A 21st century Allan Bloom, he was. Though his link sat in my sidebar for as long as this blog has existed, I never mentioned him here explicitly, and for that I am sorry.
Here are some thoughts about him from some other prominent thinkers and writers.
The work of all three of these writers were essentially conservative. James was celebrated in some circles; Haruf and Myers were under-appreciated. All three are worthy of your time.
A wonderful parody, posted here.
Today’s poem is by David Hernandez
We Real Nerds
We real nerds. We
Love words. We
Trim vines. We
Craft poems. We
Tall gnomes. We
Can’t dance. We
Hold stance. We
Wear tweed. We
Small herd. We
Got smarts. We
Fat hearts. We
In my project of reading the complete works of Shakespeare this year (currently at 33 down, 5 to go), I read King Lear for a second time. Something that struck me is just how complementary the five most sympathetic male characters are. I was reminded of the Five Man Band trope, which shows itself in numerous stories and films.
I think a modern movie or TV series based on Lear’s five man band could be quite good. Picture an ongoing series of conflicts in a large story arc, where their dynamic strengths and weaknesses both contribute to their success while often hindering them (not very original, that), could make for excellent episodic storytelling.
Consider these character notes:
I’ve always said this: teachers don’t leave because of bad pay, they leave because of poor working conditions.
I suspect I find this funny for reasons other than those the artist had:
LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE
Gioia’s intro to Finnegans Wake
Fun parkour video.
I’m a sucker for great astronomy photography.
Beautiful photo of contrasts.
Sunset AND a castle? Wow!
Here’s a chart I found online with some good productivity ideas:
POLITICS AND SOCIETY
“Ten Ways Mormons Can Celebrate Independence Day” Good advice for all of us, for every day.
Great essay about defining conservatism–required reading for all poli-sci wonks.
On conservative literature–a good start.
The complicated politics of Shakespeare.
On ostensibly conservative college students being intellectually stunted:
“They cannot think with a conservative worldview because they have had limited exposure to conservative values. Children spend thirteen years in a school system which was founded upon progressive ideals about education and which increasingly promotes statism. For eighteen years the entertainment industry communicated to them an equally progressive worldview. From all sides children are taught to believe in the inherent goodness of humankind and to cherish the values of tolerance and diversity. There is no good and evil; there is just diversity. There is no justice and truth; there is only tolerance for other opinions. Democracy has become a good in its own right instead of being founded upon virtue. When democracy becomes its own end, any atrocity can be justified by a majority vote.”
Great comment on an Instapundit link about politically biased professors:
I noticed that back when I was in university: the liberal students were so used to everyone around them validating their opinions that they didn’t learn to make good arguments; the conservative students knew they needed good arguments, so they learned to make them,
The unfortunate part comes when these liberal students go through many years of schooling, get loads of validation for twittering about the talking point of the day, and then turn into incredulous, raging jerks when an adult conservative makes a point contrary to their ideology.
Two great quotes I picked up on earlier this summer when I read Eric Wilson’s Against Happiness:
I compared notes with one of my friends who expects everything of the universe, and is disappointed when anything is less than best, and I found that I begin at the other extreme, expecting nothing, and am always full of thanks for moderate goods.
So, therefore, that mortal man who hath more of joy than sorrow in him, that mortal man cannot be true—not true, or undeveloped. With books the same. The truest of all men was the Man of Sorrows, and the truest of all books is Solomon’s, and Ecclesiastes is the fine hammered steel of woe. ‘All is vanity.’ ALL. This wilful world hath not got hold of unchristian Solomon’s wisdom yet. But he who dodges hospitals and jails, and walks fast crossing graveyards, and would rather talk of operas than hell; calls Cowper, Young, Pascal, Rousseau, poor devils all of sick men; and throughout a care-free lifetime swears by Rabelais as passing wise, and therefore jolly;—not that man is fitted to sit down on tombstones, and break the green damp mould with unfathomably wondrous Solomon.
But even Solomon, he says, ‘the man that wandereth out of the way of understanding shall remain’ (i.e. even while living) ‘in the congregation of the dead.’ Give not thyself up, then, to fire, lest it invert thee, deaden thee; as for the time it did me. There is a wisdom that is woe; but there is a woe that is madness. And there is a Catskill eagle in some souls that can alike dive down into the blackest gorges, and soar out of them again and become invisible in the sunny spaces. And even if he forever flies within the gorge, that gorge is in the mountains; so that even in his lowest swoop the mountain eagle is still higher than other birds upon the plain, even though they soar.
–Melville, Moby Dick, ch. XCVI
From chapter 5 of the autobiography…
On happiness through ignoring yourself:
On finding enjoyment in simple things:
On poetry (and mountains):
My love affair with Mill’s autobiography continues. This paragraph from chapter 4 reviews the effect that an editing job he held had on his own writing.
The middle struck me as a bit funny: he notes that some readers found someone else’s style too convoluted; this, in a sentence with eight commas and a colon. I actually love Mill’s constant subordination–it makes his prose exact, but he never overdoes it. Each sentence of his always has a perfect balance between precision and fluidity.
Also, I like the description of good writing elements at the end: the idea of fleshing out the bare bones of composition and creating something “lively and light.”
The time occupied in this editorial work was extremely well employed in respect to my own improvement. The “Rationale of judicial Evidence” is one of the richest in matter of all Bentham’s productions. The theory of evidence being in itself one of the most important of his subjects, and ramifying into most of the others, the book contains, very fully developed, a great proportion of all his best thoughts: while, among more special things, it comprises the most elaborate exposure of the vices and defects of English law, as it then was, which is to be found in his works; not confined to the law of evidence, but including, by way of illustrative episode, the entire procedure or practice of Westminster Hall. The direct knowledge, therefore, which I obtained from the book, and which was imprinted upon me much more thoroughly than it could have been by mere reading, was itself no small acquisition. But this occupation did for me what might seem less to be expected; it gave a great start to my powers of composition. Everything which I wrote subsequently to this editorial employment, was markedly superior to anything that I had written before it. Bentham’s later style, as the world knows, was heavy and cumbersome, from the excess of a good quality, the love of precision, which made him introduce clause within clause into the heart of every sentence, that the reader might receive into his mind all the modifications and qualifications simultaneously with the main proposition: and the habit grew on him until his sentences became, to those not accustomed to them, most laborious reading. But his earlier style, that of the Fragment on Government, Plan of a judicial Establishment, &c., is a model of liveliness and ease combined with fulness of matter, scarcely ever surpassed: and of this earlier style there were many striking specimens in the manuscripts on Evidence, all of which I endeavoured to preserve. So long a course of this admirable writing had a considerable effect upon my own; and I added to it by the assiduous reading of other writers, both French and English, who combined, in a remarkable degree, ease with force, such as Goldsmith, Fielding, Pascal, Voltaire, and Courier. Through these influences my writing lost the jejuneness of my early compositions; the bones and cartilages began to clothe themselves with flesh, and the style became, at times, lively and almost light.
I just read these two great posts about rereading favorite books. I very rarely do that–I’m one of those who have so many new things I want to read that it’s hard to justify making time to go back to books I’ve already finished.
Still, this made me review the notes I’ve kept on my reading–a list of every book I’ve read since 2001. From that record, I see that I’ve given exactly 57 books a perfect 10, not suggesting that they’re all masterpieces, but that reading them was pure, supreme joy for me. If I were stranded on a desert island, this would be my library.
- The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, Stephen Covey
- As You Like It, William Shakespeare
- A Man in Full, Tom Wolfe
- The Razor’s Edge, W. Somerset Maugham
- Doctrinal New Testament Commentary vol.1-3, Bruce R. McConkie
- Raising Up A Family to the Lord, Gene R. Cook
- Charles Kuralt’s America, Charles Kuralt
- The Know-It-All, A.J. Jacobs
- Wuthering Heights, Emily Bronte
- Beowulf, Seamus Heaney, trans.
- The Rule of Four, Ian Caldwell & Dustin Thomason
- Heroes of History, Will Durant
- The Eyre Affair, Jasper Fforde
- The Pilgrim’s Progress, John Bunyan
- Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand
- How Proust Can Change Your Life, Alain de Botton
- The Stranger, Albert Camus
- Amusing Ourselves to Death, Neil Postman
- America Alone, Mark Steyn
- The Tetherballs of Bougainville, Mark Leyner
- On Liberty, John Stuart Mill
- A Confederacy of Dunces, John Kennedy Toole
- Code of the Woosters, P.G. Wodehouse
- A Princess of Mars, Edgar Rice Burroughs
- Reading the OED, Ammon Shea
- An Instance of the Fingerpost, Iain Pears
- Madame Bovary, Gustave Flaubert
- The Westing Game, Ellen Rankin
- The Road, Cormac McCarthy
- Rise To Rebellion, Jeff Shaara
- Sister Wendy’s 1000 Masterpieces, Wendy Beckett
- The Last American Man, Elizabeth Gilbert
- The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane, Kate DiCamillo
- The Federalist Papers, Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, John Jay
- Dune, Frank Herbert
- No Country For Old Men, Cormac McCarthy
- World War Z, Max Brooks
- Richard II, William Shakespeare
- Bleak House, Charles Dickens
- Prometheus Bound, Aeschylus
- Henry IV, Part I, William Shakespeare
- A Game of Thrones, George R. R. Martin
- Carry On, Jeeves, P.G. Wodehouse
- The Secret Knowledge, David Mamet
- Noble House, James Clavell
- Flatland, Edwin Abbott
- Born to Run, Christopher McDougall
- Gilead, Marilynne Robinson
- Lonesome Dove, Larry McMurtry
- Paradise Lost, John Milton
- Elric of Melniboné, Michael Moorcock
- One For the Books, Joe Queenan
- Dubliners, James Joyce
- Childhood’s End, Arthur C. Clarke
- Odd Thomas, Dean Koontz
- Tess of the d’Urbervilles, Thomas Hardy
- His Excellency: George Washington, Joseph J. Ellis
I’m getting a lot out of Mill’s autobiography. From the end of chapter 3, wise advice:
I learnt how to obtain the best I could, when I could not obtain everything; instead of being indignant or dispirited because I could not have entirely my own way, to be pleased and encouraged when I could have the smallest part of it; and when even that could not be, to bear with complete equanimity the being overruled altogether. I have found, through life, these acquisitions to be of the greatest possible importance for personal happiness, and they are also a very necessary condition for enabling any one, either as theorist or as practical man, to effect the greatest amount of good compatible with his opportunities.
And near the end of chapter 4 Mill details the casual self-improvement programs he and some friends conducted, mostly as a sort of intense book club. They studied languages, read and discussed serious works, and debated issues. Where are such groups today?
Probably the single coolest phrase in all of scripture, right there. In Doctrine and Covenants 123, Joseph Smith encouraged the Latter-day Saints to keep track of all the “libelous publications,” as well as property damage and physical abuse, they had suffered.
Verse 5 uses this unique and memorable phrase to summarize that record: “the whole concatenation of diabolical rascality.” Isn’t it wonderful?
First of all, it’s funny in the way that wordy phrases are, using multiple long, obscure words right next to each other. Also, it’s a perfect example of that 19th century style of excruciatingly exact wording. The individual words themselves are quite funny, too. “Concatenation.” Just say that one aloud.
Everybody should definitely highlight this phrase in their own copies right away.
And if you haven’t read the Doctrine and Covenants, you really should. Who wouldn’t want to read a book that has gems like this in it?
“Something has happened to me, something that I must record. I strain to recapture my feeling of purple. It quickly comes, and there I am in my imagination weaving in and out of desolate trunks with my eyes wide open. In a flash of energy, I write several sentences on this experience. But then rises in my mind that amassment of sludge and the doll fragment. I think to myself that I shouldn’t be excited over this season of sordid appendages and squalor. I stop writing. I look over what I have written. It is turgid, hyperbolic. With slight disdain, I begin to mark out extraneous words and phrases. I feel the brisk satisfaction of making lean what had before been bloated, of rubbing off a layer of dirt. In the end I am left with a three tight sentences and the slow-burning rapture of successful creation, the play of energy and form, the beating heart and the mind that’s chilled.”
–Eric G. Wilson, Against Happiness: In Praise of Melancholy, 46-47
- List of technology-enhanced activities for secondary English classes.
- Examples of worthwhile technology-enhanced lesson plans.
- Quick thoughts from the Hardings, homeschooling parents of ten who have sent seven kids to college by age 12.
- Recently found this silly video I made for a class I was taking two years ago. Amusing.
- Instapundit nails it: the humanities lost relevance when they decided to preach that nothing has intrinsic value. It’s been my experience that students (yes, even at-risk, underprivileged minorities!) appreciate the classics. Everybody likes the egalitarian ideal of participation in the uniting, universal canon, rather than manufactured niche curricula that only panders to trends.
Language & Literature
- Great WSJ essay on one of my favorite books, A Confederacy of Dunces.
- Cute chart collects insults from famous authors who hated each other’s work.
- Fascinating memoir of writing the script for Star Trek: Insurrection. Included here because it shares so much about that specific writing craft. Also, Insurrection is often over-maligned—it is not great, but not nearly as bad as many say. This long essay shows how it could have been great.
- Long lost introduction by Anthony Burgess to Dubliners.
- Interesting city photos from around the world.
- Beautiful music and images celebrate the wonder of God’s creations.
- Basic training ideas for half marathons, with more resources.
- 101 running tips from Men’s Health
Recently, some pioneering work in neuroscience has begun to suggest what English teachers have long known: that the power of literature is the power of alterity, creating the possibility of encountering the other in a form not easily recuperable, not easily assimilable to the self. “Imaginative sympathy,” we used to call it. To read literature well is to be challenged, and to emerge changed.