What I Learned Today

Reading, like talking, serves many different purposes: entertainment, education, enlightenment, et cetera. A few months ago, I sampled an audio lecture on “Books That Have Made History: Books That Can Change Your Life” from The Teaching Company. I was so impressed by this single lecture that I purchased the entire 36-lecture course and recently started listening to it. And wow: that sample was definitely characteristic of the whole course. Dr. J. Rufus Fears is simply one of the best orators that I have ever had the pleasure of listening to, especially in a course setting. I actually finish each of his lectures feeling uplifted, energized, and excited about all of the grand ideas that we don’t often take time to meditate upon—but which are critical to our existence: Does God exist? Do good and evil exist? What is the role of duty in our lives? What about social justice? Courage, ambition, and honor? And the kicker: What is the purpose of my life?

Dr. Fears’s definition of a “great book” is not simply one that appears on an Educated Person’s Reading List, but one from which he believes we can individually derive lessons useful in our own lives, here and now. “What do great books say to you?” he asks. And even more importantly, “What personal wisdom can you derive from them?”

We’ve begun with The Iliad, The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, and The Bhagavad Gita, none of which I had previously read (although I did read Ilium, by Dan Simmons, which familiarized me with the story of the Iliad, in its own way). All three discuss the notion of duty and life purpose quite heavily. The Iliad advocates a personal quest to discover what purpose the gods have selected for you, and then pursuit of that goal with both courage and moderation. Marcus Aurelius, who managed to find time to write his Meditations while actively fighting to defend the borders of the Roman Empire, had a very stoic approach to life, and likewise believed that everyone must determine their assigned duty and then do it to the best of their ability, regardless of their own inclinations. The Bhagavad Gita (which I’m now in the middle of reading) makes an even stronger case for subjugating your will, your desires, your body, and your senses to your duty, being attached only to the fulfillment of it, but not to the outcome and side effects (positive or negative). I think there’s a certain danger in following your duty so narrowly, because what happens if you guess wrong about what that duty is? If you’re Arjuna in the Bhagavad Gita, you may end up killing friends and relatives in a misguided battle, believing that it was your duty simply to be a warrior and fight.

In terms of applying these ideas to my own life, a pre-destined duty is a bit of a strange concept to me… but a purpose in life—now that I can subscribe to. Pre-destined or not, what other reason to live on day to day than at the behest of a grand Purpose? It’s always been clear to me what mine is, whether inbred or emergent: to study and learn and grow in understanding about the world, and people, and ideas, as much as I can possibly absorb. (I’m fortunate enough to have my credo already encapsulated by someone else, in this case a song by Cat Stevens: “There’s so much left to know, and I’m on the road to find out.”) And ultimately, I want to be able to turn it around and share what I’ve learned, with anyone of like-minded interests. If I am very lucky, they’ll do the same for me along the road to find out.

Mark Twain is one of my absolute favorite authors. (If I’d realized his brilliance a little earlier, I might have avoided detention in middle school.) I’ve particularly enjoyed Roughing It (including his tales of traveling through Utah (and meeting Brigham Young), setting a forest fire near Mono Lake, crunching across barely-cooled lava in Kilauea, and other amazing adventures), Letters to the Earth (with hilarious retellings of Adam and Eve’s first experiences in the world), At a Fire (satire of an etiquette book likely titled “At a Dance”, which would have indicated the order in which ladies may be asked to dance, etc.), and a dinner speech on the crazy English alphabet (don’t worry, he picked on German, too), and more.

To promote a new book on Twain trivia, the Twainia folks are having a competition titled “I Am The Next Mark Twain.” Contestants are to read an unfinished piece by Twain (Conversations with Satan) and finish it, using up to 300 words. Entries will be judged 50% on “originality of idea/creativity” and 50% on “writing style”. Entries are due May 31. I’m immediately intrigued. Who’s in it with me?

Another interesting Twain resource: The Mark Twain Project is working to put all of Twain’s writings (including his letters) online in a central location. Not only do they provide access to the texts, but they also provide a split-pane view so you can see the original text plus edits that were made and explanatory notes side-by-side. In some cases, you can also see a scanned version of the original handwritten version (mainly for letters). (It reminds me a little of the marvelous online version of Darwin’s works.) To date, only some of his letters have been added to the archive, but they make for delightful reading, including his courtship letters to his future wife, Livy. And more is in the works!

It’s the story of a world superpower that reached its height and then was felled by corruption (from its extreme wealth) and inattention to local threats (due to embroilment in the Middle East). Not contemporary news, not science fiction, but Gibbon’s “The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire”. I haven’t read this book, but after a fascinating lecture on it today, I’m eager to get my hands on a copy.

This lecture, by Dr. J. Rufus Fears, comes from the “Books that have made history: Books that can change your life” course that was included on a sampler CD I recently received from The Teaching Company. In my opinion, the lecture is polished and engrossing enough to elevate it above “lecture” to “oration.” Dr. Fears posits that Gibbon identified two causes for the Empire’s fall, as noted above. (The “local threats” were the incursions by the Teutons (pre-French, pre-Germans) who, along with Iran’s religiously fanatical hordes, invaded the Roman Empire). These factors alone would make for relevant reading, but there may be more to it. The wikipedia page on The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire claims instead that Gibbon attributed the decline to 1) a “loss of civic virtue” in its citizens (brought on by wealth and prosperity) 2) the influence of Christianity (belief in an afterlife rendering citizens less concerned with the present, and pacifist tendencies weakening the “Roman martial spirit”). The latter seems to have made him especially unpopular (despite the otherwise runaway success of the book). Now I definitely want to take a look myself and see where he most strongly attributes the blame.

Dr. Fears also cites the work as being worth reading for the quality of its prose, noting that Winston Churchill claimed to have “learned to write” by reading Gibbon. High praise indeed!

Gibbon himself presents an interesting historical figure. He decided to write on the subject of Rome in the years before the American Revolution, and he was writing during the Revolution itself, and also serving in the British Parliament. He seems to have had some strong views about how England should be handling the situation (based on what can be seen in similar historical situations, and particularly that of the Roman Empire), but rarely spoke out about them in public, and always voted with Lord North (then the Prime Minister of England, and a strong force in opposition to the colonies). He also felt that if civilization ever failed in Europe, at least it could be carried forward in America.

This one definitely goes on my “to-read” list (or at least “to-sample”). You can read it yourself starting with Chapter 1 from Project Gutenberg or listen to Chapter 1 from librivox (19 hours, 50 minutes running time). And then I want to go back and re-read Sheri Tepper’s book, “Gibbon’s Decline and Fall.” Enjoyment is all the richer when you have the full context.

I’m re-reading The Lord of the Rings for the umpteenth time, and it is such a joy to re-immerse myself in Tolkien’s language–lyrical, visual, and sometimes beyond my ken. In particular, the use of archaic units of measurement has been tripping me up, so I finally looked them up:

league: the distance a man walks in an hour (about three miles, unless you are Aragorn son of Arathorn)

fathom: about six feet, literally “a pair of outstretched arms” (for a full-grown man, presumably)

furlong: a eighth of a mile, but originally used to describe the length of a furrow, which was the long side of a then-standard rectangular acre-plot (the short side was 22 yards or “one chain” wide). Thank you, Wikipedia!

I already knew that “fortnight” was “two weeks” but somehow hadn’t connected it as “fortnight” = “fourteen nights”. Wikipedia’s entry on the FFF System makes for some fun related reading.

I remain stymied by some other words Tolkien uses, though; most are landscape words. I cannot find any reasonable definitions for “hythe” (a place where a boat comes ashore, from context?), “mew” (something on a hill), or “thrawn” (a kind of tree, from context). If you have any hints, please share in the comments. Thanks!

Last semester, I joked that I’d somehow gotten ahold of a virtual Time-Turner, since I was taking a class at USC that occurred at the same time I was teaching at Cal State LA, on Thursday evenings. This was possible since I was taking the class through the Distance Education Network, and therefore could view the 2.5-hour lecture on my computer at a later date (usually the weekend).

Santa sometimes has a funny sense of humor, and this Christmas he brought me (among many other wonderful things) an actual Time-Turner. And yet — while it was pretty cool to be able to turn time last semester, unlike Hermione I didn’t actually end up with any more hours in the week. By the end of the term, I was aching for a break. So I held my Time-Turner and realized that, rather than a symbol of incentive for double-booking, really it was more of a warning — a caution against that kind of stacked-up crazy schedule.

But did I heed the warning of the Time-Turner? No. By the time January rolled around, I’d already committed to an even crazier term: working, teaching an entirely new class at Cal State LA, taking yet another class at USC, all the while trying to write a Master’s thesis so I can graduate this spring. None of them are technically overlapping in time, but (just as when the Time-Turner let me spread things out) all together it’s still a gradually suffocating weight.

Thank goodness my teaching duties end with the winter quarter at Cal State LA. As of March 15, I’ll have one less thing to occupy my energies. And if I ever propose this sort of schedule again in the future, someone kindly strangle me with the Time-Turner’s chain.