Amerika

From Goodreads

Amerika: The Missing Person
Franz Kafka

I'm not sure how to describe Amerika by Franz Kafka. Through what lens do I see the work? On the one hand it seems like it's a story about Karl, the main character, and his struggles against the fates. In that way Karl seems like Odysseus and each episode in Karl's life is another obstacle between he and his home. But, if it's a travelogue style book, Karl seems much more like Candide than anything Homeric. The suffering in this book seems more intense than in Voltaire, but Karl is just as naive and optimistic. It's a strange mixture of cheery fatalism and abject horror. Maybe it's the plodding pace of Amerika that allows the reader to feel each injustice and injury Karl faces that gave me the crawlies, but Kafka's meanderings have a more devastating effect than Voltaire's relentless pace.  The ending, with Karl being rewarded for accepting his fate with biscuits from Delamarche and Brunelda seems like a perverse, if fitting iteration of one's citrons and pistachios.

But, I often compare books I like with Candide, still one of my favorites. Delamarche and Robinson don't have quite as good of a reflection in Candide so I won't try to and shoehorn it in here. I loved this book, but I can't help thinking about how incredibly sad Kafka's works are. I was glad it ended, for Karl's sake. Even in the fragments (as Kafka never actually finished the book) I found myself grimacing as to what horrors awaited Karl in Oklahoma. Mercifully, I can imagine that he and Fanny lived a happy life out there, but I fear that Delamarche, or the specter of his uncle would somehow have robbed Karl of pleasant circumstances. The question I don't have the answer for though is could a Delamarche or his uncle or any rapidly deteriorating situation ever have robbed Karl of his spirit? In a way, Karl could be seen as a saint in Camus' views. He stared at the absurd and remained firm, seeking neither negation nor escape. He simply accepted fate and went about his business.

Review of Gulliver's Travels

(Originally written March 23, 2018)

My Goodreads review of Gulliver's Travels by Jonathan Swift

When I was a kid I read the abridged versions of classics like this one. As a reward my mother would have me read the unabridged versions and write a book report on them. A great way to spend your summer vacation, right? Being younger, I hadn't quite grasped satire. The first version of this book that I read included, A Modest Proposal. Needless to say the shock of reading about poor people selling their children off as food for the rich shocked me? Now, as an adult, and understanding a trifle more of what satire is, I can still say I was shocked by this book.

Swift is nearly as ruthless as Voltaire in his bluntness. He excoriates mankind and lays bare the ugliest parts of human nature to show those qualities to be inherent and truly fundamental. He hammers home the point that we all are merely Yahoos.

Beyond being good satire this book is a good story. It's easy to read and moves quickly. While it compares to Voltaire, I still find the pace of Candide to be preferable - but that is merely opinion, and not a rational fact.

The Salmon of Doubt

With a name like The Salmon of Doubt I wasn't sure what to expect. I mean, I've read nearly every major work of Douglas Adams, but this one wasn't giving any clues as to what was going to happen by the title. That's just a part of the charm in this book.

Here's my Goodreads review: This book is an anthology; therefore it's impossible to review as a whole. The Dirk Gently draft at the end is very humorous and very unfinished. I understand why Adams struggled a bit with it. It certainly felt mixed up between The Hitchhiker world and The Gently world. Had he finished the novel it would have been on par with most of his other work, which I thoroughly enjoyed.

The other bits of this book are essays, interviews and just random scraps of thoughts found on Adams' macs after he passed away. I'll tell you my favorites were some of his little blurbs as they gave me some insight into his thinking. That was fun. His essays were what you'd expect from anyone who writes essays. They fell on a spectrum. I don't adhere to all of Adams' worldview, but some of his arguments for it were weightier than others (much as some theistic arguments are weightier than others). The interviews are as good as the interviewer was. 

Some of the highlights for me are the biscuits at the train station because that is flat out one of the funniest stories I've ever read, the puddle analogy against a teleological worldview because it makes me think even when I disagree and his story about the manta rays because it highlights how good stories can be about nature. If more conservationists were like Adams there would be less need of them.

I really did enjoy much of the book. There were parts that had me rolling and laughing out loud to myself. Then there were parts that were humdrum. Here are some of my favorite parts in my first reading (I plan on rereading it at least 41 times to get to the meaning of everything). In writing some of this, I hope to glean some of the storytelling tricks Adams uses to employ in my own writing.

Fifteen Second Timespan

In describing himself and his nose Adams writes, "One of the more curious features of my nose is that it doesn't admit any air. This is hard to understand or even believe. The problem goes back a very long way to when I was a small boy living in my grandmother's house. My grandmother was the local representative of the RSPCA, which meant the house was always full of badly damaged dogs and cats, even the occasional badger, stoat, or pigeon. Some of them were damaged physically, some psychologically, but the effect they had on me was to seriously damage my attention span. Because the air was thick with animal hair and dust, my nose was continually inflamed and runny, and every fifteen seconds I would sneeze. Any though I could not explore, develop, and bring to some logical conclusion within fifteen second would therefore be forcibly expelled from my head, along with a great deal of mucus"(Adams, 13). 

P.G. Wodehouse

Douglas Adams and I both have a strong affinity for Kurt Vonnegut. Adams lists his favorite authors as Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, Kurt Vonnegut, P.G. Wodehouse and Ruth Rendell. I'll admit to have never heard of Rendell or Wodehouse. Wodehouse is now however on my periphery as someone I'd like to read. (Rendell doesn't really strike me as all that interesting and while I may get around to reading something of hers and have my mind completely blown, I've got a lot of other books I want to read until I get to hers). Dickens is fantastic. He is very wordy and very descriptive, which slows down my reading; but, there is no denying his incredible storytelling. Jane Austen is on my list for 2017. And, as previously stated, Vonnegut is one of my favorites. Adams writes about P.G. Wodehouse's last novel, Sunset at Blandings, as being unfinished, "It is unfinished not just in the sense that it suddenly, heartbreakingly for those of us who love this man and work, stops in mudflow, but in the more important sense that the text up to that point is unfinished. A first draft for Wodehouse was a question of getting the essential ingredients of a story organized - its plot structure, its characters and their comings and goings, the mountains they climb and the cliffs they fall off. It is the next stage of writing - the relentless revising, refining, and polishing - that turned his works into the marvels of language we know and love" (Adams, 63). Sadly, and rather poignantly, this is somewhat how I feel about The Salmon of Doubt (at least the Dirk Gently part).

Life as a matter of opinion & The predestined puddle

I find it somewhat unsettling that I am frequently drawn to writers and thinkers that I am thoroughly at odds with on some fundamental level. Bertrand Russell's History of Western Philosophy was what got me into philosophy in the first place and I've read much of his other work as well. Vonnegut and Adams are among my favorite authors from the relatively contemporary period we live in. Voltaire is one of my favorite authors of all time. Russell, Vonnegut and Adams were all atheists and Voltaire wasn't exactly friendly to orthodox Christianity. I don't know why I seem to be drawn to those who have such vastly different views from me on things that are as crucial and foundational as a belief in God, but I am. I think that is because I'm drawn to interesting writing and ideas and while I may agree with a sermon by the average preacher, unless they present it in an interesting manner I simply nod along. With Adams, he makes strong arguments for atheism that are challenging and I like to be challenged. In his speech Is there an artificial god? he notes, "without a god, life is only a matter of opinion" (Adams, 128). I think that he's right. If there is no god, the definition of everything becomes subjective - including the fundamental question of what is living and what is not. I find his notion of where did the idea of God come from as somewhat shallow, man looks around and sees a great world and as masters of that great world it must be made for us. I don't find that very convincing or challenging. He makes other points that are challenging. This just isn't one of them. But, the notion that the meaning of life is purely subjective without the existence of God is an intriguing philosophical problem to me. His parable of the puddle is a better nuanced version of this argument. The puddle finds itself in a hole exactly the shape that is suited for it and thinks that this world was made for him. As the puddle evaporates it hangs on to the notion for dear life that the world is made for him, even as he is receding into nothingness. That's a challenging idea. That's a difficult one for the theistic minded man to contend with. It calls for better apologetics (but not new theology). 

The Cookies Story at the Train Station

This might be one of my favorite bits of the book. Adams states that in 1976 he went to a train station and bought a bag of biscuits and a paper and sat down across from a man. The man opened a package of biscuits and began to eat one. Adams, in shock at having someone eat one of his biscuits, doesn't say anything but eats a biscuit himself. This back and forth goes on until the whole package is finished. The other man leaves without having said a word to Adams. Adams is in disbelief as to what had just happened (as was, presumably, the other man). When Adams finally gets up to go he picks up the paper to discover the packet of biscuits he bought is actually under his newspaper. "The thing I like particularly about this story is the sensation that somewhere in England there has been wandering around for the last quarter-century a perfectly ordinary guy who's had the same exact story, only he doesn't have the punch line" (Adams, 151). This is seriously one of the funniest things I've ever read.

The Letter to David Vogel at Walt Disney

When Adams and Disney are having problems with making Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy into a movie, Adams writes Vogel about the lack of communication between them and how it's making it difficult. So he ends the letter with a plead to get together to discuss the movie and a page and a half of ways of reaching Adams. He gives him his email, assistant's number, office fax, his home number, UK cell phone, US cellphone, his French home number, his wife's office number, his film agent's number, his book agent's number (office, home and other office), his producer's number, his director's number (office, home and cellphone), another woman's office, home and cellphone number, his UK producer's number (office, home and cell), his mother's number, his sister's work and home number, his nanny's number, his next door neighbor's number (work and home) and some 'restaurants I might conceivably be at', including the telephone number for Sainsbury's '(supermarket where I shop; they can always page me)' and his website. Too funny. "[Editor's Note: This letter had the desired effect. David Vogel responded, resulting in a productive meeting that pushed the movie forward]" (Adams, 171). Who says sarcasm never worked?

I also enjoyed his incomplete novel and his short story about Genghis Khan, but that is enough for now.

The One Eyed Porter - Book Report

A while ago I finished a short story collection by Voltaire. Given that I'd like to study Voltaire more closely I set about writing "Book Reports" on each story. I did a grand total of one. But, it is a new year and everything is made anew and so I'm setting out to make my book report goal anew. This time the book report is on The One Eyed Porter. This is a great little story; full of the wit and absurdity that makes me really enjoy Voltaire.

The story opens up, "Having two eyes does not improve our lot; the one serves to show us the good things in life, the other its evil" (Voltaire, 5). It finishes with the assessment of Mesrour, after attaining many great things and then losing them - "but then Mesrour lacked the eye which looks on the bad side of things" (Voltaire, 10).

Some of the highlights of this little story:
-"One would have had to be blind not to see that Mesrour was one-eyed" (Voltaire, 5).
-"Mélinade (the name of the lady, which I had my reasons for withholding, not having thought of it until now)..." (Voltaire, 7).

Voltaire seems to poke fun at the 'high society' or the 'morals' of the day in this little tale. Mesrour lacks an eye (he lacks the ability to see the dark side of things). He is simple and, as such, unencumbered by the trappings of a higher life. The princess he falls in love with sees an inscription at a gate as a warning to go away. But, Mesrour only sees the figures as 'Knock without Fear'. Mesrour (though having two eyes at the time) has only been able to see from one eye and is thus saved by his simple understanding of the world.

Cuckoldage - Book Report

Cuckoldage

-Dates from 1715

So if the dating by the Penguin authors and commentators is correct, Voltaire was roughly 21 years old when he wrote this really short fiction. The commentators note that it shows the authors gift for parody even when he was young. In this work Voltaire turns a fairly conventional story about the gods into something very unconventional. Its sacrilegious nature demonstrates what the commentators state as a bit of a shot across the brow towards Christianity, "Already, if only by implication, Christian values are dismissed in favour of a pagan world of free love" (ix)

The Literary Stuffs I like:

When talking about Vulcan (the blacksmith of the gods), Voltaire pens the line, "He filled the house with his din; cares and sorrows racked his spirit, jealous suspicions hammered at his brain" (Voltaire, 3).

The jealous of Vulcan drove his brain to give birth to Cuckoldage. Cuckoldage then goes about seducing married men's wives. As such, men must give devotion to this god: "whether from necessity or prudence, we must offer him our devotions, our incense and our candles. Married or unmarried, whether one acts or lives in fear, one must ever court his favors" (Voltaire, 4).

Voltaire expresses his love for Iris, the goddess of the rainbow. But, he decries that love now that she has been enslaved by a contract (God's covenant to Noah). Prior to that enslavement he only invoked the god of love. But now, because contracts lock up everything, Hymen is in charge of love. (Hymen presided over weddings). Now, Voltaire must invoke Cuckoldage "because he is the only god in whom I can believe" (Voltaire, 4).

That's some pretty dark humor on marriage and faithfulness.

Micromegas & Other Short Fictions Assessment

I finished Micromégas and Other Short Fictions by Voltaire about five days ago. Generally my assessments on this blog about books I have finished have been mercifully brief. But, my obsession with Voltaire demands something a bit more.

I rated this book (a Penguin) with three stars. I noted on my review that "Some people on this app labeled Candide as dated and thus, out of touch with the current character of this age. I wholeheartedly disagreed and argued the timeless nature of the work. Had they argued that some of the fictions in this book were the case I would have still argued agains them, but not as wholeheartedly. As an anthology this book is great. Voltaire is incredibly easy to read, profound and cuts to the bone. But because it is an anthology there are better and worse stories in it. Some of the stories demand you read the footnotes, while others can be simply enjoyed free of historical context.

Pot-Poori and the Account of the illness, confession, death and apparition of the Jesuit Breathier necessitate a glance back at the footnotes. Without reading the footnotes Pot-Pouri reads a bit like surrealist fiction (I'm not entirely convince it isn't). Micromégas and The History of the Travels of Scarmentado can just stand alone as humorous satire without demanding one know exactly what is being satirized. If you like Candide, you'll enjoy this. If you love Candide (as I do), you'll really enjoy this. If you don't like Candide, you're wrong."

This would be about the end of most of my assessments. Then I would write a few quotes that I found interesting or highlight some passages that I think would be useful later in my studies. But, since I want to really get to know Voltaire, I'm going to a story-by-story assessment. So, I'll be posting over and over on this book. But, it won't be a back-to-back-to-back sort of endeavor. I'll be doing it to break up the dry copying of my notes on Chalmer's What is this thing called science? Based on my handwriting and notes from 2006 I enjoyed the work. But, at the moment I'm not reliving my excitement...

Notes on Breakfast of Champions

I just finished Breakfast of Champions today and what a fantastic book. Y-O-U have got to read it. Seriously though, it is truly fantastic for numerous reasons. Firstly, it skewers us as humans and us especially as Americans in a delightfully painful way. I'm not advocating masochistic pleasure-seeking when I recommend this book, but if you want to have your patriotic thought processes unnerved a bit (which you should so you don't end up goose-stepping your way through life) this is a great book to achieve that. Secondly, it's a brilliant description of life. I have been working to make myself a good storyteller recently. In fact, that's what this whole blog is essentially about - it's a repository of all my previous notes and current thoughts in the hopes that my future self will be able to easily look back at categorized notes in order to pull something worthy of putting into a story. Vonnegut hates storytellers. He blames storytelling on all the ills that America faces and his argument is pretty sound. Nonetheless, Vonnegut wrote one hell of a story. Thirdly, I love the meta-narrative he does of inserting himself into the story and explaining why he writes the way he does and so on and so forth. It's a fascinating literary device and has instructional value for me as an aspiring writer.

There could be a lot of metaphorical ink wasted if I were to point out every little jib and jab of this book that I particularly enjoyed so I will save the metaphorical carbon black by highlighting only a few of my favorites. In the introduction his discussion of Armistice Day and how the soldiers heard God was great.

"When I was a boy, and when Dwayne Hoover was a boy, all the people of all the nations which had fought in the First World War were silent during the eleventh minute of the eleventh hour of Armistice Day, which was the eleventh day of the eleventh month. It was during that minute in nineteen hundred and eighteen, that millions upon millions of human beings stopped butchering each one another. I have talked to old men who were on battlefields during that minute. They have told me in one way or another that the sudden silence was the Voice of God. So we still have among us some men who can remember when God spoke clearly to mankind" (Vonnegut, 6).

This little blurb sums up for me what Vonnegut does in this book. First, he successfully makes himself a part of the story, which I like. Second, he touches on a brutal subject (WWI) with levity and jokes (stopped butchering one another) without being mean. It's dark, but not mean. Third, his wit and dark humor is amplified through dissonant sarcasm - the Voice of God is silence.

In a little jab at men and women and their roles with each other he writes "'I don't wonder you're tired and nervous,' Francine went on. 'If I was a man, I'd be tired and nervous, too. I guess God made women so men could relax and be treated like little babies from time to time.' She was more than satisfied with this arrangement." (Vonnegut, 154). That's just funny.

His shot at how wealth is accumulated is funny too. "With the passage of time, his shares had become one hundred times as valuable, simply lying in the total darkness and silence of a safe-deposit box. There was a lot of money magic like that going on. It was almost as though some blue fairy were flitting about that part of the dying planet, waving her magic wand over certain deeds and bonds and stock certificates" (Vonnegut, 161).

In contemplating the meaning of life as he is slowly starting to lose his grip on his sanity, Dwayne tells Francine about his visit to the Pontiac factory and the impact that the destruction tests had on him. He recalls seeing (and Vonnegut so kindly drew for us a rendition of it) a door labeled "Destructive Testing" where all the torture of the cars took place. "'I saw that sign,' said Dwayne, 'and I couldn't help wondering if that was what God put me on Earth for - to find out how much a man could take without breaking'" (Vonnegut, 166).

Again in pondering the meaning of life, Vonnegut inserted a story about a greyhound. Forgive me, this is a lengthy quotation but it's funny and can't really be pared down well and retain its hilarity. "The girl with the greyhound was an assistant lighting director for a musical comedy about American history, and she kept her poor greyhound, who was named Lancer, in a one-room apartment fourteen feet wide and twenty-six feet long, and six flights of stairs above street level. His entire life was devoted to unloading his excrement at the proper time and place. There were two proper places to put it: in the gutter outside the door seventy-two steps below, with the traffic whizzing by, or in a roasting pan his mistress kept in front of the Westinghouse refrigerator. Lancer had a very small brain, but he must have suspected from time to time, just as Wayne Hoobler did, that some kind of terrible mistake had been made" (Vonnegut, 198).

In discussing truth a Novelist (Beatrice) and a painter (Karabekian) a sad conclusion about truth is raised. Karabekian had just sold a minimalist painting entitled The Temptation of St. Anthony for an exorbitant price and Beatrice admitted to Karabekian that she had no idea who St. Anthony was. Karabekian responded, "'I don't know, and I would hate to find out,' said Karabekian. 'You have no use for truth?' said Beatrice. 'You know what truth is?' said Karabekian. 'It's some crazy thing my neighbor believes. If I want to make friends with him, I ask him what he believes. He tells me, and I say, Yeah, yeah - ain't it the truth?'" (Vonnegut, 209). Funny. But sad.

Vonnegut places the blame of what makes America a dangerous and unhappy place squarely on the shoulders of the story tellers. The government treated Americans as disposable (a war reference) because authors treated their bit-part players like that. The reason why some details in life are important and others are trivial and the reason why some people in life are important and others are trivial is because authors makes some details important and others trivial and some people important and others trivial in their stories. Vonnegut swore off storytelling. Instead he chose to write about life. "I resolved to shun storytelling. I would write about life. Every person would be exactly as important as any other. All facts would also be given equal weightiness. Nothing would be left out" (Vonnegut, 210). That's why Vonnegut stories have so many seemingly unimportant side passages.

"Milo now used a line from a television show which had been popular a few years back. The show wasn't on air anymore, but most people still remembered the line. Much of the conversation in the country consisted of lines from television shows, both present and past" (Vonnegut, 230). That's funny because it's true.

"I gazed at the Keedsler mansion, never dreaming that a volcanic dog was about to erupt behind me" (Vonnegut, 287). That's funny because of the wording.

As a hopeful writer, as a hopeful storyteller, I find I've often inserted myself into a story or two. But, I've not found a way to do it later in the story. Either I'm in it from the beginning or I'm not it at all. Vonnegut is present from the beginning in this book in theory, but really jumps into the story when Dwayne, Wayne and Kilgore Trout are all in or around the Holiday Inn in Midland City. His entrance is flawless and I read and reread it about fifteen times. "'Give me a Black and White and water,' he heard the waitress say, and Wayne should have pricked up his ears at that. That particular drink wasn't for any ordinary person. That drink was for the person who had created all Wayne's misery to date, who could kill him or make him a millionaire or send him back to prison or do whatever he damn pleased with Wayne. That drink was for me" (Vonnegut, 192). From this point on, Vonnegut is a character with a major role to play in the conclusion of the story - which I won't reveal in case you haven't read it.

Maybe it's the sheer weirdness of Vonnegut's stories. Maybe it's his literary style. Maybe it's the fact that he's a Hoosier. Maybe its a je ne sais quoi amalgamation of all three and other unknown factors, but I'm really starting to see Vonnegut as among my favorite writers. Currently, I find myself enjoying and thus, emulating, however poorly, four writers more than anyone else: Voltaire, Douglas Adams, Raymond Queneau and Vonnegut. Voltaire has long been among my favorites, so he holds a sentimental place in my heart. But, between the other three I can't decide who I like the most.

I heard only the hum of silence

A Night of Serious Drinking by René Daumal was fantastic. It was a very enjoyable read; and, for those of you following this blog it should come to no surprise to you that I enjoyed it as it is yet another surrealist work of literature. The book is basically satirical in nature and like Voltaire, it's satire is about as subtle as a sledgehammer. And like Voltaire, Daumal's pace is incredibly rapid and absurd. There is a whole host of good satire on philosophy, theology and the human condition throughout the book and it is slam bang full of fantastic one-liners. One such example concerns a simile about suicide (which isn't really a laughing matter but is darkly humorous nonetheless). "There are aerial battles where sound waves bounce back on themselves, start spinning and whirl between heaven and earth, like the indestructible regret of the suicide, who halfway down from the sixth floor all of a sudden no longer wants to die any more" (Daumal, 19).

Again, my obsession with writing a good space/time travel piece saw me take some inspiration from what I was reading. In Daumal I found this passage which I might make use of somehow. "'It's the same here as anywhere else, but here it's made quite clear: space is generated by need. Let's say you'd like to take a walk. You simply project in front of you the necessary space which you walk across and when. The same with time. Just a s spider secretes the thread down which she climbs, so you secrete the time you need to do whatever you have to, and you proceed along this thread which is visible only behind you but usable only had of you. The key its in working it out properly. If the thread is too long, it goes into loops and if it's too short, it snaps'" (Daumal, 38). Future Modern Ancient Greeks stuff.

The builders of a fantastic house were describing it to the protagonist of the story and I had an audible chuckle when they told him about the climate controls. "The temperature is kept exactly at the ideal level for the ideal human organism as defined by our experts. It is the only temperature at which nobody feels comfortable: some shine and others sweat" (Daumal, 45). That's funny!

The definition of reason given in this book is another funny passage. "Reason, n., an imaginary process onto which the responsibility for thinking is off-loaded" (Daumal, 55). It's funny because those who are slavishly devoted to reason are often more dogmatic that those slavishly devoted to a certain comprehension of a religion. It's good sarcasm.

In describing a certain group of people in the asylum, the guide tells the protagonist these people are called The Nibblists. Upon reading the guide's description I realized I might be exactly who the guide was describing. "They spend their time retailing imaginary lives in writing. Some relate what they themselves have experienced and attribute it to characters of their invention so that they might avoid their obligations and indulge all manner of impertinence. The others, through their characters, live out everything they would like to have experienced themselves, in order to have the illusion of having really experienced it" (Daumal, 57). Guilty as charged.

Chapter 20 in part 2 as a whole is hysterical. But, the best line in the chapter is "philosophy teaches how man thinks he thinks; but drinking shows how he really thinks" (Daumal, 59). The humor in this statement is dark and finds its relevance in its truthfulness.

Lastly, Daumal makes reference to Homer and his hero Ulysses. Upon listening to intellectual conversations so tantalizing the protagonist of this story remembers the warnings of his guide. Suddenly, he takes action. "But, remembering the companions of Ulysses, I stuffed those ears with thick plugs of common sense, and, listening with another ear - my trust ear, my only good ear - I heard only the hum of silence" (Daumal, 77). What a good line.

While I still think that I enjoy Queneau more than any other surrealist authors, A Night of Serious Drinking is up at the top of my list. I look forward to reading other books by René Daumal.

Twain - The Notorious Jumping Frog of Calaveras County

Since I have a current desire to try my hand at writing and since I was born on American soil I figured I ought to study up on the greatest American author to have ever put pen to paper. At the moment though I have not read every notable American author so I figured I'd just study Twain. I kid, I joke.

Humorous Stories and Sketches

Mark Twain

1996

The Notorious Jumping Frog of Calaveras County (1865) is a very short little story. The speed and shortness actually reminds me a bit of one of Voltaire's contes. Both are sharp, quick and satirical with heavy doses of irony. I love how the story began as a prank on the narrator to go and ask a man about a mythical friend that would ensnare the narrator in the clutches of a long winded storyteller. That is precisely what happens.

The story itself didn't sparkle for me but I liked the line, "he never smiled, he never frowned...but all through the interminable narrative there ran a vein of impressive earnestness and sincerity, which showed me plainly that, so far from imagining that there was anything ridiculous or funny about his story, he regarded it as a really important matter" (Twain, 1-2). The storyteller then weaved a tale of a compulsive gambler and how he was cheated out of $40 by a crooked man who filled a jumping frog's stomach full of led to ensure a victory in a bet. After this scenario the narrator escaped further stories about the gambling addict.

Voltaire - Abbé & Abraham

I love Voltaire's sarcasm and wit. This is the first of many entries on Voltaire's Philosophical Dictionary, translated by Peter Gay. Just a sample of his sarcasm comes in his Preface to the Seventh Edition: "This book will be read by enlightened persons alone, the common herd are not made for such knowledge, philosophy will never be their portion. Those who say there are truths that should be hidden from the people need not feel any alarm; the common people do not read; they work six days a week and go to the tavern on the seventh" (Voltaire, 56). I have read this volume before, though I don't know how fully so there may be some posts in other journals that will be added here duplicating these. But, that is ok for me - sorry, if it bores the readers, of which I am sure there are only a few enlightened ones.

Abbé

Voltaire notes the distinction between a father (Abbé means father) and a Father of some group of monks. A father does a work for the state; he does the best thing a man can do - causing the birth of a human being. But a Father of some Abby has become a perverse office. In the beginning they were poor men leading other poor men. Now they are corrupt and rich. Sarcastically, he encourages them to enrich themselves to the fullest at the downfall of the common man. But, he warns them to tremble, "lest the day of reason arrive" (Voltaire, 58).

Abraham

The post on Abraham is a scathing, anti-Semitic rant. But in some of the shrillness of the article he poses some difficulties for Christians to tend with. First, he brings up the age question of Abraham. The ages of the Old Testament patriarchs are definitely difficult to deal with for the believer. The second point of difficulty he brings up is the fact that Abraham passed his wife off as his sister to the king of Egypt and the king in the desert. While Voltaire attacks this from numerous angles, the angle I'm most concerned with is the moral aspect. If Abraham is the father of the Jews and through spiritual descent the father of Christians everywhere are we to absolve Abraham of this lie? What are we to do with it? I haven't answers at the moment, but it is a question to be asked.

Now his attack on why we give credit to the Jews rather than the more ancient established cultures like that of Assyria, Babylon, Egypt and Phoenicia is much easier for me to understand. He claims that "The Jews, then, treat their history and ancient fables as their peddlers treat their old clothes: they turn them and sell them for new as dearly as possible" (Voltaire, 61). Firstly, that shows some of Voltaire's racist tendencies towards the Jews, earlier he speaks of the Jews as "our masters and our enemies, whom we believe in and detest" (Voltaire, 58). But, the sum of his argument is that the Israelites were relative newcomers on the scene in the Ancient Near East, surrounded by powerful and more ancient civilizations like the aforementioned societies. Why then do we give credit to the Jews and not these others? He claims that the name Abraham or Ibrahim, comes from Babylonians and that the Jews gave names to God such as Eloi, Eloa, Adonai, and Jehovah after the Phoenician usage. I'll disregard his skepticism about the historicity of Abraham at this point. Just because the journey of Abraham seems to difficult to have been done is not a valid argument for it not having been undertaken. (The age question still persists though). But, as for language it is only natural that languages adopt from their neighbors. Also, on a more fundamental level the commonality of language and religion throughout the region (and really throughout the world) often leads those skeptical of the existence of God, or of organized religion to point out that the similarities between the religions automatically show that religion is man-made, hence the similarities. But, a counter point to this is that the similarities of religious sentiment could also point to the fact that there is a truth behind all of these religions and some of the closeness of religion throughout the world is actually a testament to the existence of God, or the event of the flood, or other shared "fables" across world religions. He ends this article with an elevation of the Greeks above the Jews. "A man must be either a great ignoramus or a great rascal to say that the Jews taught the Greeks" (Voltaire, 62). Even in the Greek philosophy, which is highly sophisticated we can weave it in to this commonality theory. Not, so much a commonality theory as a divine plan theory. To some God gave a similar vein of religion to pave the way for the human understanding and eventual acceptance of Him. To some he gave Philosophy to pave the path for understanding Him. To others he gave some ineffable, mystical experience. To all he gave a general revelation. To the Jews he gave the Chosen revelation. And through the Jews he gave Christ and at that moment all the other paths were the framework for which Christ could be understood culturally. The other paths were not paths to salvation, but paths to the one way to salvation.

A Reading List

(Originally Written April 1, 2009 in the Journal)

Books to Explore

Viking History
Heimskringla (History of the Kings of Norway) - Snorri Sturluson

Voltaire
The Fables of Reason: A study of Voltaire's contes philosophiques - Roger Pearson
La Religion de Voltaire - Rene Pomeau
D'Arouet a Voltaire- Rene Pomeau
Voltaire & English Literature, Studies on Voltaire and the 18th Century
Voltaire en toutes lettres
Voltaire: A biography - Haydn Mason
Voltaire - Haydn Mason
Voltaire dans ses Contes - Jacques Van den Heuvel
Disabled Powers: A Reading of Voltaire's Contes - Robin Howells
Complete Works (Oxford: Voltaire Foundation) - Voltaire

Existentialism

Soren Kierkegaard
Jean-Paul Sartre
Martin Heidegger
Karl Jaspers
Paul Tillich

Other Books

Personal Knowledge - Michael Polanyi
Lectures on the Religious Thought of S. Kierkegaard - E.O. Geisman
Kierkegaard - Walter Lowrie
A Short Life of Kierkegaard - Walter Lowrie
Something about Kierkegaard - David Swanson
What is Existentialism - William Barrett
An Introduction to contemporary German Philosophy - Werner Brock
Existentialism - Guido Ruggiero
The Future of Mankind - Karl Jaspers

Neoclassicism & Candide

(Originally Written September 6, 2006 in World Lit)

Neoclassicism (circa 1650-1789)

aka Enlightenment/Augustan Age/Age of Reason

Neoclassicism

- the understanding that real reason knows the limits of reason.
- there are other forces besides reason within us
- there are reasoning people around us
- there is a higher reason above our own

Voltaire

Voltaire is satirizing rationalism - the confident human claim that everything has a cause. Rationalism seems to claim that there is no reason higher than ours.

Candide

provincialism - the idea that what is true in your province is true everywhere

education vs. experience

overload of plot, overload of suffering and the idea of coincidence.

Bad Humor concerening Voltaire

(Originally Written May 8, 2006 in Book 1)


Voltarians, wherefore art thou?

Ecrasons l'infame! We must crush the thing. Voltarians, wherefore art thou Voltarians? It took twelve to establish Christianity and only one to destroy it. Yet, here 228 years later I can hear the bells of the Christian churches ringing at every hour. Where are the Voltarian churches? The time is late, seven has passed, why do I not hear the bells of the first church of Voltaire?

If Voltaire had crushed the vile thing, how is it that it still exists? It seems as if the vile thing has crushed its would be crusher. I guess that this is ok because if it had not turned out this way, I would not be sitting here with my pistachio nuts. Where is your garden Monsieur Voltaire? How will you cultivate it?