Category: literature

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Art, virtue, and dogs in sailor suits

Nine biographies into his work, Plutarch explains what he’s up to! See, each of the Plutarch so far has essentially dived into the biography itself. But with Pericles’ section, Plutarch instead begins by, um, decrying people who love their pets too much:

Caesar once, seeing some wealthy strangers at Rome, carrying up and down with them in their arms and bosoms young puppy-dogs and monkeys, embracing and making much of them, took occasion not unnaturally to ask whether the women in their country were not used to bear children; by that prince-like reprimand gravely reflecting upon persons who spend and lavish upon brute beasts that affection and kindness which nature has implanted in us to be bestowed on those of our own kind.

Sure, I was a little insulted by this. It’s not like I dress Rufus up in a little sailor suit, but he does make a wonderful substitute kid for us, and he’s already lived up to his old man’s dream of being a professional athlete! Still, I get what Caesar was complaining about, even though he had to pass his power on to his nephew, rather than a son.

Anyway, Plutarch’s point is that our enjoyment of the sensual world is a betrayal of our natural spirit of inquiry, just as fawning over pets is a betrayal of our parental impulses. He goes on to contend that art — whether it be dyeing, perfuming, music, poetry or sculpture (note that art carried a stronger connotation of artifice than art nowadays does) — doesn’t enrich the soul —

He who busies himself in mean occupations [the aforementioned arts] produces in the very pains he takes about things of little or no use an evidence against himself of his negligence and indisposition to what is really good. Nor did any generous and ingenuous young man at the sight of the statue of Jupiter at Pisa ever desire to be a Phidias or on seeing that of Juno at Argos long to be a Polycletus or feel induced by his pleasure in their poems to wish to be an Anacreon or Philetas or Archilochus. For it does not necessarily follow that if a piece of work please for its gracefulness therefore he that wrought it deserves our admiration.

— the way reflecting on virtue does. Hence, writing these paired biographies of noble lives!

[V]irtue, by the bare statement of its actions, can so affect men’s minds as to create at once both admiration of the things done and desire to imitate the doers of them. The goods of fortune we would possess and would enjoy; those of virtue we long to practice and exercise; we are content to receive the former from others, the latter we wish others to experience from us.

Because I’m all about The Why (and secondarily about The Process), I’m glad Plutarch explored his rationale in this passage, even if my depiction of it makes the Lives sound boring or moralistic. They’re not, and I’m awfully glad I’ve made the time to read them.

On to Pericles and Fabius Maximus!

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Cinc0-fer de Mayo

In honor of “Drink Corona (or whatever Mexican beer you choose) Day,” I thought I’d go find some well-regarded Mexican authors whom I’ve never read a word of. Only having thought up this idea this morning, I decided to dive into the “canonical appendixes” of Harold Bloom’s Western Canon, since the lists of authors and books are broken up by nationality.

Except for Latin America, which is lumped together. So I had to spend a few minutes checking out the nationality of all the authors he listed, only to discover that he only has two Mexican authors on his list and I’ve actually read a book by one of them (Aura, by Carlos Fuentes)! Grr!

Bloom’s list did manage to yield a Mexican 0-fer author for me: Octavio Paz.

For the sake of bulking up this post, here’s the full list of Bloom’s canonical authors of Latin America (in the sequence he lists them), with 0-fer annotations:

  1. Rubén Darío (Nicaragua): 0-fer
  2. Jorge Luis Borges (Argentina): I’ve even read his long novel!
  3. Alejo Carpentier (Cuba): 0-fer
  4. Guillermo Cabrera Infante (Cuba): 0-fer
  5. Severo Sarduy (Cuba): 0-fer
  6. Reinaldo Arenas (Cuba): 0-fer. Haven’t even seen that movie about him.
  7. Pablo Neruda (Chile): We read one of his poems at our wedding.
  8. Nicolás Guillén (Cuba): 0-fer
  9. Octavio Paz (Mexico): 0-fer
  10. César Vallejo (Peru): 0-fer
  11. Miguel Angel Asturias (Guatemala): 0-fer
  12. José Lezama Lima (Cuba): 0-fer (but his wife is awesome)
  13. Julio Cortázar (Argentina): I tried reading Hopscotch, but didn’t get far.
  14. Gabriel Garcia Marquez (Colombia): Read One Hundred Years of Solitude and some short stories
  15. Mario Vargas Llosa (Peru): 0-fer
  16. Carlos Fuentes (Mexico): The aforementioned Aura.
  17. Carlos Drummond de Andrade (Brazil): Wh0-fer?

Looks like Bloom really digs Cuban writers, huh? Now go get messed up on Tecate!

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What It Is: 4/27/09

What I’m reading: Plutarch’s Lives (Numa Pompilius, Solon, Poplicola and about half of Themistocles), Push Man and Other Stories, by Yoshihiro Tatsumi, Clyde Fans, Bk. 1, by Seth. Oh, and that new ish of Fantastic Man.

What I’m listening to: Not a lot. I watched The Wire on my Pod during both flights last week, and my two days back in the office were so hectic that I didn’t put any music on.

What I’m watching: The first season of The Wire again, Slumdog Millionaire, which must be Danny Boyle’s most sentimental movie, and Behavioral Problems the new Ron White standup show.

What I’m drinking: I had 2 beers in Vegas, and 1 G&T since returning.

What Rufus is up to: Not being happy with the sudden near-90 temps that we got this weekend. And giving free rides to the ticks of NJ.

Where I’m going: Nowhere this week, but I’ll probably take a day off and do all sorts of errands.

What I’m happy about: I went to a minor-league baseball game on my last night in Vegas, and had a fun time (pix and story to follow). And I’ll get to meet both Tatsumi and Seth (I hope) during my Toronto visit in two weeks.

What I’m sad about: Bea Arthur’s death, I guess. (Thanks, Tom!) UPDATE: a great tribute to Bea from the Fugly Girls!

What I’m worried about: Global pandemic.

What I’m pondering: How you tell if the raider is cheating.

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0-fer of the week: Pulitzer edition

Evidently, this year’s Pulitzer Awards come out soon. In fact, they may’ve been awarded already. I’m not really sure, because I don’t give a crap about awards.

But, so, hey, I came across a link to this AbeBooks list of the Top 10 Forgotten Pulitzer Prize-Winning Novels, and guess what?

I haven’t read a single book on this list! In fact, I haven’t read any other work by any of the authors on the list, except for one!

That would be Steven Millhauser, because David Gates recommended one of his books to me. This recommendation was from our first conversation a dozen years ago, and I realize now that I never actually read more than a couple pages of that book, although it looked promising.

It’s Edwin Mullhouse: The Life and Death of an American Writer 1943-1954 by Jeffrey Cartwright, and now that I think about it,  it might make a good post-Salinger read for me. I’ll try to get to it this summertime and let you know.

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0-fer: MLB edition

This isn’t a true 0-fer this week, but it does point out my literary failings, which is what I’m all about.

Last night, it occurred to me that the number of ballparks I’ve visited may be greater than the number of Shakespeare plays I’ve read. I checked out both lists this morning and I’m glad to report that’s not the case:

Ballparks I’ve attended:

  1. Anaheim
  2. Baltimore
  3. Boston
  4. New York Yankees (old)
  5. New York Mets (old)
  6. Oakland
  7. Philadelphia (old)
  8. San Diego
  9. Seattle
  10. Toronto

Shakespeare plays I’ve read:

  1. As You Like It
  2. Henry IV, 1
  3. Henry IV, 2
  4. Henry V
  5. Hamlet
  6. King Lear
  7. Macbeth
  8. The Merchant of Venice
  9. A Midsummer Night’s Dream
  10. Much Ado About Nothing
  11. Othello
  12. Richard II
  13. Romeo and Juliet
  14. The Tempest
  15. Winter’s Tale

I’ll probably see a Braves game when I’m in Atlanta next month, but I also just began reading Antony and Cleopatra, so the deficit will remain at 5. Unless I go on a real Shakespeare binge (which is possible) or get fired and decide to go on that “8 parks in 10 days” tour of midwestern ballparks I plotted out back in 2002 (which is very unlikely (I hope)).

Howzabout you, dear readers? Any of you read fewer plays of Shakespeare than the number of MLB ballparks you’ve visited?

Bonus! NBA arenas I’ve attended:

  1. Philadelphia
  2. Chicago
  3. New Jersey
  4. Toronto
  5. New York
  6. Washington (old)
  7. New Orleans
  8. Dallas

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The 0-fer Intersection

Many years ago, when I was a micropress publisher, the first book I put out had an introduction written by Samuel R. Delany. This was a coup, because Delany had built a significant fan-following over his years in publishing, first in science fiction and then in the high-brow world of literary theory. He loved the short stories that we were publishing and, while his introduction may not have convinced a single person to actually read the stories, I believe his imprimatur did boost sales. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that having his name on the cover helped us move tens of books. (I keeeed: I was not a good publisher.)

A year later, shooting the breeze in his impossibly book-lined apartment, Chip (as I’d come to know him) asked me what the press’ next book would be. I had no ideas, so he offered me two collections of his letters, one set from 1984 and another from the early 1990s. I looked over both sets of bound photocopies. I thought about the cachet of publishing new work by a guy who’d written some of the seminal science fiction (and fantasy) novels of the 1960’s and ’70’s. I considered the kindness he was bestowing by essentially offering to waive any royalties in order to strengthen the micropress.

And I told him, “Y’know, Chip, I’d love to say yes right now, but I have to tell you: I’ve never read a single book of yours. Given that fact, I’m a little nervous about committing to publishing a book by you.”

He chewed on his lower lip for half a second, reached over to one of the many bookshelves in his apartment, and said, “Well, why don’t you read the Einstein Intersection? It’s quick and somewhat representative of my earlier work. You can read it in a day or two and then let me know if you still want to publish my letters!”

I did, and I did and we published 1984 a year later. (Neil Gaiman gave us a blurb for that one; I’d actually read his work beforehand.)

So that’s our 0-fer of the week: I was once asked to publish a book by someone whose books I’d never read.

I’ve gone on to read a bunch of Chip’s work, including his best-known novel, Dhalgren. I’ve even volunteered to proofread his galleys under crazy time constraints (the all-time craziest being the 30 hours I spent poring over the reissue of The Fall of the Towers back in 2003). Despite my insecurities, we’ve stayed pals long after I closed the press down, and that brings me to the point of this piece: to wish my pal Chip a happy birthday!

Many happy returns, y’hirsute galoot!