Thinking the Twentieth Century (Tony Judt (with Timothy Snyder), 2010)

I've found Tony Judt immensely helpful in thinking about the 20th century - especially this book, but also this one though to a lesser extent.  I was interested in this - his final book - for two additional reasons.  First - he was collaborating with Timothy Snyder, author of Bloodlands (in queue but not read).  Second - this was written as Judt died of ALS - a pretty compelling circumstance in which to leave behind some thoughts; there was a very interesting NYT story about this, and I was particularly interested due to the Claude Lanners situation.

And I would recommend reading this book - I'd just stop before getting to the final chapter.

Judt is always a bit challenging for me - and useful - because he comes from Marxist, leftist, big government, faith in postwar social democracy background - different than my usual sources and inclinations.  But he's smart, not so dogmatic, always interesting (until that last chapter - but maybe that was Snyder's fault?)

This book goes through interesting discussion of his Jewish background - days in London - then active with Zionists until disillusioned.  Stefan Zweig as not representative of Jews outside big city Vienna - vast swathes of lesser educated countryside Jews in eastern European - very different in the pecking order depending on point of origin.  The Habsburg empire - not a bad thing for Jews.

He discusses his Marxist phase - why it was seductive, how hard it was for folks to let go.  That it had a significant religious component - end time, eschatology.

Sees Israel like the small nationalist states formed after WWI - vulnerable, insecure, identity wrapped up in some notion of ethnicity and self-determination.  A tough way to operate.

Fascism - interesting idea, probably not novel at all but it was to me - that this thrived in large part because of the fear of communism.  Which was a legitimate fear after WWI.  Fascism as lacking pretty much any intellectual framework (coherent or otherwise) - it did present itself as the chance to preserve order in the face of disorder.

At the end of the book - it's what it might be like sitting in the faculty lounge at Yale (where Snyder probably hangs around) - an echo chamber where insignificant little George W. Bush is responsible for all evils, corporate profits are bad, blah, blah, blah.

Judt does have a wonderful discussion about the difficulties of writing something useful - challenging writings will necessarily have a limited audience - says if he writes for New York Times Magazine, it "would be edited and distilled and reduced into acceptable midstream generalities."  A separate aspect I can relate to even in my little world:  "Obviously this is the condition of most people who write:  throwing a letter into the ocean in the forlorn hope that it will be picked up."  We write for ourselves in so many instances.

But how about this howler (from Snyder):  "The state that is responsible for health care is better (as we know) than the private sector at keeping costs down.  And because the state is thinking about long-term budgets rather than quarterly profits, the best way to keep costs down is to keep people healthy.  So where there is public health care there is intense attention to prevention."  Does Snyder really believe this?  If he's so careless to accept this, should I bother reading Bloodlands?  He sounds frighteningly like our president, especially with that dismissive "as we know" line.

Another one from Snyder:  "Amtrak is another example:  a kind of zombie train system which is kept lurching along [by Republicans] to demonstrate that public transportation is and must always be dysfunctional."  What??

Paintings in Proust (Eric Karpeles, 2008)

I've been thinking about Proust's signature book lately - maybe attaching too much significance?  But I'm pretty sure it's quite important.  (Previous discussions of the book are here and here.)  (One reason I'm thinking about the book is that during our recent and most enjoyable visit to Portland, I found a basically untouched used set at "Powell's World of Books" - nice to own it, finally.)

Proust helps me see differently.  Other authors have this effect, but not as strongly.

I have no idea how to distill his essential messages, if there are any.  But somehow he applies a combination of open-mindedness and studied preparation to see people, objects in art or nature (sublime or otherwise), everyday objects - with far more depth than most of us do.  We miss so much.

As I get older, I can better see that the "studied preparation" part is crucial.  Being open-minded and receptive is just a threshold - if you don't bring anything of depth to the process of perceiving, you cannot see or appreciate nearly as much.  Seems obvious, right?  ("Studied preparation" - not sure exactly what this involves - but at a minimum it would be steady exposure to sophisticated literature, art, music.)

Proust wrote "Imagine today a writer to whom the idea would occur to treat twenty times under different lights the same theme, and who would have the sensation of creating something profound, subtle, powerful, overwhelming, original, startling like the fifty cathedrals or forty water-lily ponds of Monet." That's how he writes; that's how to see.  (Also an example of how he saw painting and literature as similar arts.)

Technology brings valuable exposure to us, but (as has been lamented for a couple hundred years now) makes it more difficult to find (or, more accurately, to choose to find) the time, quiet, and/or serendipity to generate useful, original, thought or in-depth perception.  We exchange this possibility for a diet of spoon-fed mediocrity, while stalwartly rationalizing the sad trade-off via absurd assertions that a person can focus on multiple distractions at the same time without affecting cognition, depth of thought or receptivity to sensations and ideas.  Oh well.

I bought the version at left Sept 2012 - at Powell's, Portland OR.

The premise of this book:  Proust wove dozens of references to art works throughout the novel, along with lengthy passages dealing with the fictional painter, Elstir.  Karpeles had a fine idea - he went through all ~3300 pages and came up with a list of art references, then included reproductions in this book along with text excerpts from the passage in which the art reference appeared.  (Heavy stock paper, nice quality reproductions.)  This approach really works, on at least three levels:

1.  Enjoying the art even if you didn't read or are one of those who don't particularly like Remembrance of Things Past.

2.  Providing a memory refresh on the novel independent of the art references - which is valuable, it is not easy to hang onto the story line given its length and complexity.

3.  Reflecting on the way Proust used art to illustrate points in the novel; perhaps picking up the ability to do the same; the irreplaceable way in which art can accomplish this.

Odette as a figure from a Botticelli painting.  I like so many of the paintings . . . perhaps especially The Mother (Pieter de Hooch) (see the part toward the back where the small child looks out the door); and Portrait of an Old Man and a Young Boy (Domenico Ghirlandaio) (from the Louvre).

Delightful, valuable.  Will buy it.

Memoirs of Hadrian (Marguerite Yourcenar, 1951)

I don't quite know what to make of this book. Reviews were highly favorable; it seemed like a topic I'd enjoy a lot. Probably I'm missing something. I do believe one of the problems is that some of Hadrian's musings sounded like Montaigne essays, only not as compelling.

But still.

The story is quite interesting; the comments from the author about her experiences and goals with this work are fascinating. She was struck by a quote from Gustave Flaubert: "Just when the gods had ceased to be, and the Christ had not yet come, there was a unique moment in history, between Cicero and Marcus Aurelius, when man stood alone."

This led her to a multi-decade effort to write memoirs from Hadrian's perspective.

I don't know much about the various emperors, but Hadrian apparently was one of the greats. He did far more than construct a big wall in Britain. The book goes through his ascent to power, military career, loving Antinuous (in an Achilles-Patroclus sort of way) (with the Antinuous thing resulting in significant follow-through, as described here), dealing with issues in Germany, Egypt, Roman politics, etc. Ruminations on impending death; this was written as a guide of some kind to Marcus Aurelius at the time Hadrian's health was failing.

A minor note: he recognized that stretching Roman interests all the way up into the Afghanistan area would be a mistake . . .

It seems that a movie version is in the works, scheduled for release in Italy this year (2010).

Candide - the Optimist (or All for the Best) (Voltaire, 1759)

I had never gotten around to reading this short work. It is one of Voltaire's most famous works; one of the more famous works in Western literature. It is a satire; among other things, he was reacting to the optimism of Leibniz, who considered that God had placed us in the best of all possible worlds.

Voltaire notes all of the suffering and bad behavior that the world always features; current events included the Seven Years War and the Lisbon earthquake (which happened on Sunday, resulting in the roasting of many churchgoers in the fires that followed the quake (including those not killed in the collapse of the churches)).

Candide is candid and pretty much retains his optimism despite going through some amazingly tough times, starting with being kicked out of the house and being pressed into the Bulgarian army. (Optimism had been instilled in him by his tutor, Pangloss, a Leibniz adherent (at least for awhile)).

All sorts of messaging; all sorts of controversy as he fairly directly criticized governments, royal houses, organized religion, etc.

Lots of philosophical debate among Candide, Pangloss, Martin. Voltaire is pointing out this leads to a dead end. Yet the ending of the story is very positive - great line from Candide as he snuffs another philosophical debate: "'Tis well said," replied Candide, "but we must cultivate our gardens."

The "Modern Library" version was neat - included the setting and illustrations from a 1920s edition.

Atlas Shrugged (Ayn Rand, 1957)

Kerry and Nicole had bought this book for me for Christmas. Because I had reached my early 50s without actually reading any of Rand's stuff.

I can see why her writings have gained in popularity - the Obama "hope and change" ruse fits right in with her messaging.

Her characters reminded me a bit of a Dan Brown novel, so that part wasn't so great for me. But the messaging - especially accessible to anyone who on any scale funds situations and gets to observe the too-common reactions of some of those being funded - is spot-on. Writ large, it's the increasingly tiresome rhetoric from politicians and non-profits in endless attack on their sole funding source - the sliver of the population that actually produces the wealth that keeps the entire system afloat.

The mistake of kowtowing to the takers' faux moralizing.

John Galt's best line: "Get the hell out of my way!"