And not the least because it's about my own uncle.
My uncle, my dad tells me, recently clocked in one minute early at his job. Spontaneously, like a bat from the ceiling, his supervisor swooped down the stairs to confront him. "Tony," he chided managerially, "be sure to clock out today at 2:29, not 2:30, okay?" My uncle looked at him, and then broke out in to laughter. Still laughing, he grabbed a pen from his pocket and meticulously wrote "2:29" on the palm of his hand. "Okay, yes, 2:29, sure thing." Happily, the supervisor was able to laugh about it too.
Simply hilarious.
Monday, September 5, 2005
War and Peace ... what is it good for, huh?
Insofar as history is the record of events awash in a sea of personages and insofar as biography is personages awash in a sea of historical events, _War and Peace_ is both. This is, I believe, why Tolstoy said the work possessed a singular, and singularly Russian, place in literature.
Now, let me state quite plainly that I am inveterately skeptical of "the great books" since literary fanfare can often be mere "pop hype" in a sophisticated guise. All the same, _War and Peace_ really is a *great* book. It is worth the effort -- the true effort -- to forge through its hundreds of pages, plot turns, character names and observations. The length of reading it is itself a vital dimension to "the _War and Peace_ experience". It becomes a part of your life for at least a few weeks -- and I spent six months on it. Its epic size adds an immersive texture to the book, as if you are synchronically entering and experiencing the story's progress. _Les Miserables_, another huge-but-worth-it book, has the same capacity for pressing itself into your life, but I find its otherwise compelling pathos is, unfortunately, sometimes tainted with operatic bathos[1], such that it simply doesn't have the same "existential traction" as _War and Peace_.
This "immersive traction" is noticeable in the reading of a good number of any "big book," but I think _War and Peace_ really is in a league of its own in terms of its holistic vision, in terms of its historical scope and narrative detail, in terms of its ability to draw you into its own world. Karamazov's _The Brothers Karamazov_ does, however, have a similar immersive grip as _War and Peace_, but at a psychological and spiritual, rather than a philosophical and historical, level of transformation. Yes, both books are lengthy and profound enough to *transform* you, albeit in different ways. _War and Peace_ enables you to see the world in a different way. _The Brothers Karamazov_ enables you to see yourself in a different way. (And if I may be a little cheeky, _Les Miserables_ enables you to see the Parisian sewer system in a whole new way!) The first two books' transformative power lies, I believe, in their fundamentally Christian worldview.[2] Tolstoy arrays all things historical, from war to peace, in the benign but mysterious eye of divine Providence, whereas Dostoyevsky arrays all things most deeply personal, from murder to mercy, from tears to laughter, in the benign but equally mysterious "infiltration" of the God Man, of the joyous light of the Divine Life, of Jesus Christ, into the otherwise gloomy, and all too somber fabric of humanity.
Now, let me state quite plainly that I am inveterately skeptical of "the great books" since literary fanfare can often be mere "pop hype" in a sophisticated guise. All the same, _War and Peace_ really is a *great* book. It is worth the effort -- the true effort -- to forge through its hundreds of pages, plot turns, character names and observations. The length of reading it is itself a vital dimension to "the _War and Peace_ experience". It becomes a part of your life for at least a few weeks -- and I spent six months on it. Its epic size adds an immersive texture to the book, as if you are synchronically entering and experiencing the story's progress. _Les Miserables_, another huge-but-worth-it book, has the same capacity for pressing itself into your life, but I find its otherwise compelling pathos is, unfortunately, sometimes tainted with operatic bathos[1], such that it simply doesn't have the same "existential traction" as _War and Peace_.
This "immersive traction" is noticeable in the reading of a good number of any "big book," but I think _War and Peace_ really is in a league of its own in terms of its holistic vision, in terms of its historical scope and narrative detail, in terms of its ability to draw you into its own world. Karamazov's _The Brothers Karamazov_ does, however, have a similar immersive grip as _War and Peace_, but at a psychological and spiritual, rather than a philosophical and historical, level of transformation. Yes, both books are lengthy and profound enough to *transform* you, albeit in different ways. _War and Peace_ enables you to see the world in a different way. _The Brothers Karamazov_ enables you to see yourself in a different way. (And if I may be a little cheeky, _Les Miserables_ enables you to see the Parisian sewer system in a whole new way!) The first two books' transformative power lies, I believe, in their fundamentally Christian worldview.[2] Tolstoy arrays all things historical, from war to peace, in the benign but mysterious eye of divine Providence, whereas Dostoyevsky arrays all things most deeply personal, from murder to mercy, from tears to laughter, in the benign but equally mysterious "infiltration" of the God Man, of the joyous light of the Divine Life, of Jesus Christ, into the otherwise gloomy, and all too somber fabric of humanity.
[1] Tellingly, it was made into a world-famous musical drama, which is the way most people think of "Les Mis" ("I saw it in *London*!") by far more than as a novel.
[2] In no way do I mean to disparage the transformative, and highly Christian, nature of _Les Miserables_. It's a great book, and I love it. But right now is Russian lit time. ;)
Thursday, September 1, 2005
Zubizantine analysis? Huh?
Zubizantine: a neologism coined by Jonathan Prejean at his Crimson Catholic blog.
Jonathan's been refining his focus and method on his blog for some months now, but he's finally (?) settled on delivering "monological" analysis of current theology and news from a "Zubirian" perspective. Add to this Jonathan's keenness for Byzantine metaphysics and he runs a "Zubizantine" revue.
I draw your attention to Jonathan's blog not only because I think he, as one of the ablest and most irenic presences in the Internet ecumenical sphere, deserves a wider audience, but also because I find his exposition of Zubiri -- really, Xavier Zubiri himself -- fascinating and rich with philosophical potential. I always enjoy "unearthing" obscure but great scholars and saints, and Zubiri certainly belongs in the former category. (Plus, hey, he was a Jesuit! How zuper!)
Months ago I asked Jonathan to explain more about this strange "Zubiri" he often referred to. Probably not just because of my email alone, Jonathan eventually ran a fifteen-part (!) series on Zubiri and the main features of his innovative thought. I have every intention of compiling and working through this series in greater depth, with an ultimate view of getting into Zubiri's full works themselves. Of course, while I do think it is a little, hmm, precarious to lay so much weight for so much analysis on a single modern scholar, I trust Jonathan enough to follow his Zubyzantine adventures in the Faith. So, if you're interested, go have a look at Jonathan's sidebar for (much) more about Zubiri and his immense contributions to Catholic thought, drawn, of course, from the truest depths of Catholicism itself.
Incidentally, Zubiri is one more reason I feel compelled to become proficient in (at least) reading Spanish. There are so many saints, scholars and writers I admire who wrote originally in Spanish: St. John of the Cross, St. Theresa of Avila, St. Ignatius of Loyola, Francisco Suarez, Miguel de Cervantes, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Jose Ortega y Gasset, Jorge Luis Borges, Miguel de Unamuno, Gustavo Gutierrez, Oscar Romero -- and now, Xavier Zubiri. Hasta la vista!
Jonathan's been refining his focus and method on his blog for some months now, but he's finally (?) settled on delivering "monological" analysis of current theology and news from a "Zubirian" perspective. Add to this Jonathan's keenness for Byzantine metaphysics and he runs a "Zubizantine" revue.
I draw your attention to Jonathan's blog not only because I think he, as one of the ablest and most irenic presences in the Internet ecumenical sphere, deserves a wider audience, but also because I find his exposition of Zubiri -- really, Xavier Zubiri himself -- fascinating and rich with philosophical potential. I always enjoy "unearthing" obscure but great scholars and saints, and Zubiri certainly belongs in the former category. (Plus, hey, he was a Jesuit! How zuper!)
Months ago I asked Jonathan to explain more about this strange "Zubiri" he often referred to. Probably not just because of my email alone, Jonathan eventually ran a fifteen-part (!) series on Zubiri and the main features of his innovative thought. I have every intention of compiling and working through this series in greater depth, with an ultimate view of getting into Zubiri's full works themselves. Of course, while I do think it is a little, hmm, precarious to lay so much weight for so much analysis on a single modern scholar, I trust Jonathan enough to follow his Zubyzantine adventures in the Faith. So, if you're interested, go have a look at Jonathan's sidebar for (much) more about Zubiri and his immense contributions to Catholic thought, drawn, of course, from the truest depths of Catholicism itself.
Incidentally, Zubiri is one more reason I feel compelled to become proficient in (at least) reading Spanish. There are so many saints, scholars and writers I admire who wrote originally in Spanish: St. John of the Cross, St. Theresa of Avila, St. Ignatius of Loyola, Francisco Suarez, Miguel de Cervantes, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Jose Ortega y Gasset, Jorge Luis Borges, Miguel de Unamuno, Gustavo Gutierrez, Oscar Romero -- and now, Xavier Zubiri. Hasta la vista!
One of my favorite movies...
...alluded to by one of my favorite friends. Sublimity, sheer and simple.
Something about...
..."the common lab fluorescent fish" just doesn't roll off the tongue like "the common lab rat." Maybe it's just me.
[2005-09-01 / Associated Press]
[2005-09-01 / Associated Press]
Having nun of it, not even at WYD
Belgian nun reprimanded for wild dancing
(Reuters, 3:26 p.m. ET Aug. 23, 2005)
Yes, I am a missionary; yes, I was at WYD; yes, I like to dance -- but no, that's not me!
(Reuters, 3:26 p.m. ET Aug. 23, 2005)
A Belgian nun's acrobatic and indecorous dancing with a missionary during the Catholic World Youth Day in Germany ... earned her a reprimand from her mother superior....
Yes, I am a missionary; yes, I was at WYD; yes, I like to dance -- but no, that's not me!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)