Difficult Time: What Would Teddy Roosevelt Do?

I am leaving the Internet again for a couple of weeks. I am realizing that I am 1) behind on my reading list, and 2) behind on what I had proposed myself regarding my writing. This is not the time for personal issues and overly-sentimental endeavours.... Teddy Roosevelt would have kicked my ass a long, long time ago. So, as a result, I am returning to the "Inner-net" for the next two or three weeks. Wish me luck.

Umberto Eco's Cognitive Types and Bach's Suites for Cello Solo

Johann Sebastian Bach's Suites for Cello Solo have been a part of my life since I was 11 years old. These are essential pieces for every cellist. As a cellist, I have played them and enjoyed them over 2/3s of my life. They are never old or boring; I always find some thing new in them when I play them, and also when I listen to the numerous recordings I have by different cellists. So, imagine the surprise I received when upon turning a page in Umberto Eco's "Kant and the Platypus: Essays on Language and Cognition," I discovered that our good Italian semiotist included a chapter on Bach's Suite No. 2 as an example of cognitive types and nuclear content. The issue at stake here is as follows. The simplistic premise of the book itself is "when we say 'cat' how do we know that a 'cat' is a 'cat'." Basically, how does language transfers the meaning (or fails to do so) of 'cat' if we don't have a sample of a cat at hand? When applied to music, Eco makes a wonderful problematization of performance of a piece vs. the written work, and the potential variations within. In his example, Eco writes about a recording of the Suite No. 2 for Cello Solo performed on a recorder flute. The question related to the "difference between the physical phenomenon and its transcription on the stave, on the one hand, and between it and the 'musical idea' on the other. Transcription to the stave certainly represents a (highly conventional) way of rendering the musical idea public. That the procedure is conventional (highly codified) does not eliminate the fact that the sequence of the written notes is motivated by the sequence of the sounds imagined or tried out on an instrument by the composer." Add to this the idea of whether or not a piece that is not executed on an instrument, sang by a singer, etc. or even played in a record exists. That is to say, since the piece is transferred and made public by being printed (much as we print works of literature) it remain static and "dead" until someone picks it up and plays it. But imagine an orchestra conductor picking up an orchestral piece and seeing the entire piece (all instruments) in front of him, as he begins to read the score (much as you are reading this page... with the same facility) does that not constitute bringing the piece to "life?" I suppose that perhaps humming counts, no? At any rate, Eco then takes the argument to another level where he believes that "[i]t is clear that, if the relationship between the sound waves and the grooves of the disc is a case of primary iconism--and if the relation between [the performer's] execution and the notes of the score is already substantiated by multiple interpretative inferences, choices, and accentuations of pertinency--we have then arrived, with the physiognomic type, at an extremely complex process that seems very difficult to take account of." Looking at it from another angle, if a recording of the Bach Suites for Cello Solo performed by say, Mischa Maisky differs from that of Pablo Casals in the way each of them interprets them, then what we have is a version of the piece in execution that is much different from what the composer intended, if it was in fact that he intended anything at all but the phraseology and "message" behind it (which I admit is interpretable as well). I remember having a similar argument with a philosophy professor of mine when I was an undergraduate. I resorted back to my music training (which might have been unfair) and asked whether or not it was the same piece of hundreds of people played the same notes but with a different interpretation (his contention was that there was no variance). I can't remember how we resolved the matter, but he was a gracious old scholar and a lover of classical music. I do remember we ended up meeting at his house where his wife prepared elaborate dinners for three, and afterwards retiring to the salon to listen to his old LP recordings collection. The man had every one from Leonid Kogan to Gaspar Cassado, and numerous difficult to find recordings. Those were happy days, but I digress.

Eco posts another excellent problem. If the Bach Suite for Cello Solo No. 2 is an artistic endeavour that appears differently to everyone, could the Mona Lisa be appreciated similarly? Where do Da Vinci's brushstrokes end, and our appreciation begin? I'd be hard press to think that even a contemporary professional painter would stand in front of the Mona Lisa and say, "oh, sure... but I would have changed the light hits the side of her cheek here..."

I do, however, enjoy reading Eco very much. This is the kind of thing my students tell me to stop thinking about, just to "let it go," or the proverbial "you think too much." How little do they know of the pleasures of the life of the mind.

A Sad Farewell to Academia... (Part 02)

(This piece of writing was inspired by ideas taken from Mark Edmundon's essays and the book "Why Read?" and also from Anthony T. Kronman "Education's End: How Our Colleges and Universities Have Given Up on the Meaning of Life." This piece of writing in no way represents personal sentiments or allegories to any story related to anyone alive, dead or yet to be born. This is a simple exercise problematizing the condition of the Humanities and the present world conditions of globalization and economic upheaval).

The teaching part of his obligations brought him the most pleasure. In the fall of 1956, finding himself in a world completely devoted to the humanities and to the exploration of the Great Ideas, he felt a little too lucky, guilty in some strange and disturbing way. Yes, most of the answers came to him as a student; now he must make sure to pass them along to the young, fresh minds entrusted to him. Within a few years he had moved along to teaching the upperclassmen courses. He convinced the department head and designed a course on Kant's "The Critique of Pure Reason," a book that represented to him the most pure conception of philosophy. And thus, he taught that course practically every year (with the exception of 1986, 1990-91) and found a footing in the peer-review publishing process with his expertise of Kant's masterpiece. Between the late 1950s and the early 1960s, he taught with his entire heart and soul into his endeavours. The beginning of each term was a magical time for him, and the restlessness each first day offered him was like a brand new ecstasy.... the new lists of students, the expectation of wanting to know how each of his lectures would be received. He worked hard at preparing the best materials for his lectures, and read and re-read the Great Classics in the hopes that every year there would be something new to offer to his students.

As for his time outside the classroom, he devoted his time to office hours and conferences with students (along with mentoring the college's debate team). His entire life was his work, but he never considered the work as work--there was a heightened and rapturous meaning to his life which he could never put down in writing, or express verbally. Year in and year out... all he did was live for the Great Ideas, for his students, and the College.

Of course there were many difficult times along the way. He saw how the country imploded within itself; how changes in morality influenced people's cynicism rather than help them think critically about their actions. For all of this, the late 1960s were a catastrophe as far as he was concerned. True, the Civil Rights Movement had made momentous advances towards the equal treatment of all people, but he also knew how politicians and activists alike also manipulated the language and meaning to fit their agendas. This he would think of not as a cynic, but as a rational and logical being. The late 1960s were also a time for him to go back to the basics. For as many illogical and borderline ridiculous there are in Plato's Dialogues concerning the State, he could pick accordingly those ideas that transcended time; ideas universal enough to help him make sense of the "Age of Aquarius." What he had to re-learn (and he did this the hard way) was the power of the people to speak, to voice opinions and dictate the course of government. He never had a problem with this in principle, but what he saw in the late 1960s was a revolution without an aim, a flautist without a flute. The public demonstrations did achieve much, but he felt that compared with what the students could achieve by other means, the chants and the rallies seem devoid of meaning. He lectured on the virtues of citizenship, and had to struggle against the student revolutionaries which constantly interrupted him accusing him of teaching only bourgeoisie studies rather than the proletariat ideas that were needed in the world. And he did try to engage those students revolutionaries in a healthy discussion, but logical reasoning and empiricism had no place in their argument. He was patient, kind, compassionate, but still he could not get through to them. Perhaps Bob Dylan said it best when he sang about the times changing. That much he had to admit to. The fact that his students had become so blind to their own interest and self-satisfaction in their activism to ignore how Plato and even Aristotle was applicable to what was going on in the nation as a whole cemented the idea for him that most students were doing what they were doing without fully understanding the meaning behind their actions. All the hedonism going around on campus also bothered him, but he truly felt helpless to influence his students toward a different direction.

Between the 1970s and 1980s, he dedicated himself to his teaching again without being too obsessed with the idea of what was going on in the world. Both Vietnam and Nixon were now part of the past, and what he most wanted was to look forward to every semester with the same love of learning that had carried him since coming back from the war. He did not differentiate between his personal life and his academic life, and, as a result, his emotional health suffered greatly. Without intending to, he had become the old bachelor scholar, set in his way, irreparable in some things, more than willing to adapt to others, etc. But his teaching continued to grow, as each generation brought into the classroom more and more demands for answers; answers that only true philosophy, in its most pure state, could bring to them. There was a thirst, he decided, for the Great Ideas, and generally students cooperated by bringing into the classroom a healthy dose of debate and even contradiction. His goal was more of facilitator rather than plain lecturer. What he wanted the most was to keep the students' interest alive, to contribute to their own thinking process. Most especially, the course on Immanuel Kant offered him the most material to work with in this respect. Kant's "Categorical Imperative" provided the best (in his opinion) base to depart from, a premise not unlike a first word, a given truth from which all other discoveries in the classroom could emerge. Of course, his long years of experience now could help him understand that the young mind is quickly given to generalities and relativist ideas, and his task was to show, not tell, how seeking a deeper understanding could transform the lives of his students. Glorious was a word he usually mused with in his mind after every single classroom discussion. But little did he know the world was about to change, and he would be out of place even in the place he loved the most: his classroom.

During the 1990s, he contemplated retirement but held fast to the idea that retirement was an alien word to him, not a possibility but a redundant proposition. He had no idea of what to do other than teach--he was a teacher, and the classroom was the only place for him. Despite his age he was still very energetic and active. For the most part, students' evaluations were generous and full of praise, but the negative ones were increasing year by year. What touched him the most was the students' who went out of their way to explain that it was not him personally, but that the ideas and the core of the courses was too dated, not applicable anymore, not useful outside the classroom, or even in daily life. The progress of the decade began to take shape and technology's relentless race had led the entire world to the "Information Super-Highway." To him this was a ridiculous proposition. We have had "information super-highways" since antiquity... they are called libraries. He never considered himself a Luddite, proposing that education was best done only with books and notebooks, but the over technologization of the world in such a short period of time worried him greatly. This was not because he was beginning to see how "dated" his work was, but because no one (it appeared to him) was studying or taking account of how technology was changing every one's behavior and interests. This worried him the most because he considered it too close to indoctrination.

He faced the fact with dignity and even alacrity. Change was happening too fast for him to understand it, but it seemed his students did, and that's all that mattered to him. Teaching changed over the last few years faster than it ever had before. Long gone were the days of full or even over-flowing classes. Nowadays, students in courses highly technologized could listen or even few their courses online from their dorm rooms. There were always, of course, hard working and dedicated students, idealists in the best definition of the word, that loved philosophy, literature, art and the Great Ideas with a purity he remembered from his own early days. With those students he was generous beyond compare, but even that could not stop the course of events, events that happened now at the speed of light. More and more, his courses were cancelled due to lack of enrollment. The few students who continued a set interest in philosophy began to visit him first in his office, and then later at his own home. They were still in love with the Great Ideas. They still wanted to explore their own minds in a way technology could not satisfy. And so he began to welcome students into his home, where between pastries and tea, and Beethoven playing smoothly in the background, the best philosophy teaching he had ever done took place.

Adios, Luis Figo... FIFA Player of the Year 2001

I have only written about sports twice here. The reason is obvious to those who know me well (I hate all professional sports equally). The only exception I have made is for Luis Figo. When Luis Figo retired from international competition (Portugal's national team) I wrote an entry about how sad it was to see this knight of the soccer field fade away into retirement. Needless to say, my expectations of his retirement from professional competition had to wait an enjoyable stretch of four years that saw Figo leave Real Madrid for Inter Milan. Of course it was sad to see him leave Madrid, but the fact that he won 4 consecutive Italian league championships rather made up for it quite nicely. The Real Madrid Luis Figo left was an organization that had more interest in selling shirts and other merchandise than playing soccer; it all became a matter of globalization and merchandising for Real Madrid. All of this led, of course, to many other stars leaving Madrid eventually. For those of you who may only think of David Beckham when you hear the word "soccer" (or futbol), let me say here that in 2001 FIFA selected Figo as the Player of the Year, Beckham coming in a distant third (Raul Gonzales was second). David Beckham will never reach the levels of playing commitment Figo had for years before Beckham became a start. Let's face it, the numbers do not lie: Luis Figo was a better player in his prime (and even now). If Beckham wasn't so busy modeling, perhaps he could some day become FIFA Player of the Year.

At any rate, this is not about the British star, this entry is a tribute to the best soccer player of our generation! Luis Figo... the best, most courageous, determined, trust-worthy right fielder the game ever saw! Adios, Senor Figo... thanks for what are now the sweetest memories of your game!

Cognition and Language: Eco Still Echoes of Nishida

I am still a long way from finishing "Kant and the Platypus" by Umberto Eco, and the reason behind it is my perverse habit of linking everything Eco writes about to Kitaro Nishida's study of "Pure Experience" in "An Inquiry into the Good." Their theories are linked by the idea that to experience something, whether or not for the first time, one must make sense of language first. At first this seems like a basic idea, until Eco explains the paradox of present tense and all the other goodies of how we construct meaning (cognition) from language. For example, if you've never seen a mouse, and you look up the definition in a dictionary, will you get an accurate appreciation of what a mouse is? The limitations of language notwithstanding, still with the pictures and not a language communicated categorical imperative, you might still be off target. The delicious "chicken-before-the-egg" equation of the entire book convinces me of 1) the importance of this reading, and 2) how enjoyable is to read Umberto Eco's non-fiction. Despite this I have had no time to devote to my reading because my teaching obligations. I will try to make up between June 9th and June 14th all of the time I haven't devoted to my reading list. At any rate, where these two excellent thinkers (Nishida and Eco) meet is where experience links us to the objects around us and how we make sense (cognition) of them. Eco explains the idea of Categorical Types and links everything quite nicely to Kant. Where things get really complicated is Eco's "diagnosis" of Categorical Types and schema. For example, a cat is a cat and that is one category. To the "untrained" eye, the fact that the cat is a Persian, or a Siamese, or a Tabby is irrelevant to how we communicate the idea of what type of cat is is. What Eco explains is how we make sense of language/cognition when talking about Categorical Types and experience. I am going to make a list of Eco's main points and tie them to Nishida (whose book I have been carrying around for this purpose for the last three weeks). I love making these connections.

A Sad Farewell to Academia... (Part 01)

He came of age during the Great Depression, a mere "child" of 17. The following decade, he fought in Patton's 3rd Army and crossed the Rhine river under intense small fire arms and a barrage of heavy artillery that would make Hercules run away. Yes, this is the story of one of those many men who courageously saved this country from fascism and God knows what other evils the rhetoric of politics (now and then) wishes to ascribe to amazing feat of arms. He was an ordinary soldier of low rank. He blended in with the rest of the thousands of men. Of course, he knew his Chain of Command well, and respected it to his utmost sense of duty. He stood by General Patton during the controversy that threatened to undo the great General's accomplishments. Suddenly, and in what appeared a flash of destiny, the war in Europe was over. He hadn't expected it, really, after that treacherous hike up the boot of Italy and the disastrous mistakes of the Allies in Sicily. But by then he had lost track of time, and, when peace finally came in Europe, and like so many other soldiers in his unit, he felt lost, disoriented, useless and tired.


The Japanese surrendered as well, and it seemed to him at the time (1945) that the world had perhaps learned its lesson. He made good use of his G.I. Bill and enrolled in NYU in 1946. His mind was an open receptacle--all of the questions the war seemed to have ingrained in his mind were now finding--one by one--the answers he so desperately sought. From an Introduction to Philosophy he learned the various definitions of Justice. From "Meno" whether it was possible or not to teach virtue. This appeared as the most interesting of arguments to him. He thought of the Germans and Italians soldiers whom he had fought against, "Were they virtuous men?" He assumed that they had mothers and fathers, and that the family values of the German, Italian, and Japanese traditions were no better or worst than those of Americans. What he discovered in that first semester of school was the beauty of philosophy, its adaptability to life and its timeless message. Literature and writing, of course, also caught his attention. He read voraciously and scored high marks on his compositions. During the course of the summers and seasons that followed he did nothing but read--Classics, contemporary novels, poetry, philosophy. He grew and grew humanistically, spiritually and, more importantly, as a human being. All of his "wounds" from a war that now appeared so far away in the timeline of his young life began to heal. He was a new man. He was happy. He was full of purpose and his mind was lit with the lamp of knowledge. What better career path than to become a teacher, a professor... to help contribute to young people what was given to him by his own professors, and to them by their ancestors, and in the great line of scholarship and humanity where we are all the same... yes, he wanted to be a part of that greatest endeavour.


Graduate school was a delightful time. The more he studied, the more he fell in love with life. His mind had never known more peace, more love and faith, more passion. The months passed in such a pleasurable way that it was difficult to measure time in terms of hours and minutes and days or even months. The days of his life were a straight line of ideas, writings, inspirations, music, art, museums, preparation for the life of a teacher/philosopher. He graduated from Princeton University with a Ph.D. in Philosophy in 1956 and was immediately hired to teach at R..... College, dead-smack center of the American Midwest.

An Unnecessary Rant about Education

My mood today is that of despair. Of course, I am not talking about despair generated by my students--those little lamps of bright light at the end of what is presently a very dark tunnel. What I am referring to is the generally accepted assumption that education reform works. Educators in general are simply telling each other what they want to hear. Educational reform has become a business and nothing more. Politicians call on privately owned companies to develop highly complex theories as to why children are not achieving standards. And that is precisely the problem. What does it mean to achieve a standard? It simply means that you can perform a task; simply put, it is little more than what trained monkeys do. SAT? ACT? Get on a cram program and you'll score higher/achieve more. The question being ignored, of course, is "Do you remember anything a week later?" "Did any of the material you studied touched you so deeply at a humanistic level that it literally transformed your life?" I don't have the answers to those questions, and I don't pretend to be the classroom cure for all the ills that plague the American education system. I am simply proposing that we need (and I mean desperately need) more people like Mark Edmundson and Anthony T. Kronman. Schools should be in the business of teaching virtue. If we can't teach to how become a better human being, how in God's name do we propose to teach better doctors, lawyers, engineers, entrepreneurs, librarian, teachers, bankers, or real estate agents?

If you believe we fight wars in order to bring freedom and democracy to other countries, I've got a bridge to sell you. American domination (and here I don't mean to go off on a political critique of the former or present American governmental administration) around the world is designed for the purposes of spreading capitalism. How was the first crack on the Iron Curtain measured? A McDonald's in the middle of Moscow! How will we measure success in Iraq or Afghanistan? Perhaps a Walmart, K-Mart or Target department store could be used as a strong indicator of where our efforts have taken us in that part of the world. We have taught the rest of the world the worship of success and the lack of virtue that is necessary to flaunt "your goods." So, turning the argument back to education... how do you secure that you will dominate the capitalist sphere of influence? You turn educational institutions into vocational schools. Never mind that the Great Ideas have been taught throughout millennia, if they don't yield capitalistic results, they are not necessary in a curriculum designed to produce sharper, quicker, hungrier, and perhaps even more criminally-minded business people. Shakespeare has nothing to teach Bernard Madoff; he probably never learned a single lesson from Plato's "Meno" dialogue. Again, those are not "the things that are necessary right now." Don't teach Jane Austen, Charles Dickens or Ernest Hemingway because the students can't identify with those novels. I am, however, appalled at how fast we give in to any book recommendation the head of Harpo Productions (Ms. Oprah, if you are not familiar) makes in her show. The publishers adore her taste in literature; authors jockey and elbow to have their books read by her. What people do not realize is that it is all a business, and those books being sold at alarming rates, and rocketed to the top of (yet another capitalist term) bestselling lists are not there because of the humanistic value of their content, but rather because some celebrity said "this book is very good." Again, I am not trying to convert anyone into socialism or, heaven forbid, communist ideas, but rather I am asking everyone to please examine if what is talking place today is not the triumph of capitalism/consumerism over academia and the great virtues of a humanistic education.

As an educator, I see every day how students devour any humanistic topic I bring up in class discussion. They really are "hungry" for the Big Questions. During a reading of "Crime and Punishment" this year, students did not want to move on to the next novel, they wanted to continue the discussion of Ubermensch and Will to Power and the Napoleonic ideas they so insightfully connected to present-day political and diplomatic issues plaguing the world. But "we don't need those..." what we need is more drill, drill, drill... better scores on standardized tests that will help the student get into a better university so she can "earn" a better degree and make a contribution to some large capitalist endeavour, without wasting a second to reflect on her value as a human being, a spiritually-driven individual whose concern should be to do good toward others. I believe that capitalism has finally triumphed over the last great stronghold that kept it at bay: the Academy.

I do have to apologize for some of my ideas. I didn't set out to write a scalding indictment against who (and what) we are as a country. I am, nevertheless, concerned, very concerned, mainly because I live this every day, and, little by little, I see how the small piece of influence I have over the young minds entrusted to me vanishes before my eyes. I am not saying that I want them to learn solely what I want to teach them. On the contrary, I want them to learn those things that transformed my life and the life of so many others before the world got too commercialized, technorized, capitalized, politicized. God help us all.

(Ps. My apologies for the earlier version... when I "said" rant, I meant it, and didn't stop to revise the many mistakes herein. Again, my apologies).

Umberto Eco and Kitaro Nishida "On Being"

The interesting aspect of the first 100 pages of Umberto Eco's book "Kant and the Platypus: Essays on Language and Cognition" is the fact that it connects to Japan's only rational philosophy (at least historically) on the topic of "Pure Experience" and on "Being." Eco conventionally cites much Heidegger simply because one cannot write about Being without considering the great German. Having said that, Kitaro Nishida appears ignorant of Heidegger on theory and method, perhaps because he was writing before Heidegger became known, or even developed his ideas. This relates to that most obscure topic of serendipity, etc. I studied Nishida in 1994 while I lived and studied in Hikone, Japan. I came across his book "An Inquiry into the Good" by chance at the Michigan State University Center for Japan Studies right there in Hikone. Right away I knew I had to read this book. The introduction by Masao Abe alone is worth the price of admission. This introduction is brilliantly written; clear enough for a lay reader of philosophy like myself to be able to follow it and understand it on the first reading. Nishida, however, is a bit more complex and it took me several readings to understand at least half of what I read. While for the most part I am citing Umberto Eco's work, I am actually PDFing my notes on Nishida on this LINK. These are my original, handwritten notes from 1994.

Eco's first section of the book, entitled "On Being," covers for the most part the basic definitions of self-recognition and being that most people associate with Heidegger. However, Eco presents a clear and expertly shorten chronology on the ideas of self/being and recognition from Aristotle and Aquinas, to Descartes and Kant, and, as the expert semiotologist that he is, he refers to the process of how we recognize self/being and how symbols help us do so. Here's an example: "The problem with Aristotelian being lay not in the pollachos but in the leghetai [these are terms Aristotle uses to define the self/being from a substantial or transcendental or spiritual self/being]. Whether it is said in one or many ways, being is something that is said. It may well be the horizon of every other evidence, but it becomes a philosophical problem only when we begin to talk about it, and it is precisely our talking about it that makes it ambiguous and polyvocal." This is precisely what Kitaro Nishida problematizes when he creates the polemic of "Pure Experience" and "Reality" where he explores the phenomena of consciousness as the sole basis of reality. Because Eco is dedicated to the way we symbolize or recognize being (ourselves and others) he seems as disparate from Nishida, but a closer look reveals a distinct connection: both philosophers see language as a symbol used to recognized our own being. For that reason, symbols are primary as they appear in language and secondarily as material being. Eco continues "Being is that which enables all subsequent definitions to be made. But all definitions are the effect of the logical and therefore semiosical organization of the world.... if being is the horizon of departure, saying that something 'is' adds nothing to what was already self-evident by the very fact of naming that something as the object of our discourse." And here's a major clash with defining being/self as it appears to the cognition, especially as it refers to Heidegger. Heidegger's Dasein, and the problematic question he posted as "What is 'is?'" Eco explores that idea that since Heidegger begins and ends with language, he continues to be enslaved to language for a definition. To post it in an easier way... Could we recognize (cognition) the self and being without the intrusion of language? Do we need language in order to define our self/being? If language had never developed, would we be reasonable/logic-driven humans who recognize we exist and are substantially a being?

I am also reading a book on fiction writing theory where the author asks the reader/writer to create an emotional map of his/her history and try to sketch it in a way that is not biographically inspired. I find this exercise fascinating and very difficult to do, which is the reason why I am so engaged with it. I'll possibly be writing about this next here in the blog before continuing with Eco/Nishida.

Being Good: An Introduction to Ethics

Being Good by Simon Blackburn is a re-read for me. Why now? Why re-read this book after re-reading Will Durant's "The Story of Philosophy" during my Year of Living Philosophically reading list? Because there's so much to this very slim and wonderful book and I want to share it in my blog. I am also teaching a World Literature advanced course (seniors only), and the main connecting theme is virtue/ethics. As a result, we've read a wide variety of entries on that topic, including "Meno," and a lot of Voltaire, Kant, Shopenhauer, and even Nietzsche. Blackburn's little book (like Durant's excellent volume) is a clear and concise summary of what it constitutes to live ethically. But the book is much more. Instead of beginning with a dull history, Prof. Blackburn starts with "The Seven Threats to Ethics." He actually doesn't get to the history or chronology until the last chapter, which deals primarily with the foundations of ethics. And even then the book doesn't turn into a chronology, but continues to relate ethics to different polemics and scenarios that make the reader think rather than read passively. This is a must for any student of ethics, or for anyone seeking a strong foundation of the study of right and wrong. Some of the examples Blackburn uses include (but are not limited to) abortion, summus bonus, etc. You can't go wrong with this quick and accessible read.

Against Happiness (an author with a massive case of egocentrism)

Against Happiness: In Defense of Melancholy argues an interesting premise. The argument's main premise is that in some fashion we should all stop running away from "the blues" and embrace melancholy's awesome power to make us live a fuller life. I first saw a review of this book in the spring of last year, and was deeply attracted to it. I had the opportunity to purchase a copy in Washington, D.C. in late summer, but was unable to get to it until now. I should say here that I am usually conciliatory even in my harsh criticism of books I don't particularly enjoy. This is one of those cases, but it has proven difficult to be in the slightest conciliatory and positive about a book gone so wrong. Of course, I DO have respect for Dr. Eric G. Wilson's many accomplishments. As an academic, I don't think I am in the position of criticizing his work since he certainly out ranks me by many, many titles and "miles." He is (as the back cover and inside flap of the dust jacket explains) "the Thomas H. Prichard Professor of English at Wake Forest University and the author of five books on the relationship between psychology and literature." I am a lowly member of the English department at a college prep, all-girls academy and the author of two unpublished novels and numerous (or should I say countless) Moleskine notebooks that will never see the light of public print. Having said that, I caution the reader/write of any level or caliber to read this book and not identify all that is wrong with it; most strikingly, its author sense of ego and "self-centeredness."

Any voracious reader/writer (even at the amateur level) understands that the writer, by definition and craft, must make appeals to his/her readers. The writer needs the reader to understand his words and one way of doing this is to cater to some of the reader's ideas, interests, and opinions. Nevertheless, when this is done too much, the book loses focus and the reader finds herself/himself in the midst of a personal confession of biblical proportions (to borrow a Dr. Kissinger line). Again, I think even the most experienced and published and successful authors/writers have difficulty with this from time to time. They tend to have a bit too much passion for their topic, and, when this takes place, the text becomes pedantic and boring. I was at first afraid of writing such a scalding entry on this book, and even now feel hesitant about my own personal/academic qualifications to do so at the level that I am going to do. I fear that if Dr. Wilson reads this he might say something like "who the hell does this punk think he is?" Fortunately, we live in America, the greatest and most free democracy in God's green earth, and if a writer can't stand any form of criticism on his work, he/she should remain in his secure hole away from prying eyes and "wanna-be" scholars like myself.

Dr. Wilson begins well enough in the introduction by stating the difference between "specific American type of happiness" and by "not questioning joy in general." He does not romanticize clinical depression making a clear distinction between this terrible illness and the melancholy that he is writing about. I think this is a good start, and certainly a safe one that puts the reader at ease. He clearly states that he is "not willing to argue against medications that simply make existence bearable for so many with biochemical disorders." It is around page 20 where things take a turn for the centric. The statement "My sense of politics is the same [to the idea previously presented relating to the 'stay happy until the next time we meet']. Formerly an area in which the difficult principles of democracy were debated and validated, politics has now become entertainment." I couldn't agree more. The statement and the prose that follows is valid in content, especially since it is so intricately link to the premise of the book. It is, however, that "My sense of..." that shifts the book into a "confession/look-at-me" narrative rather than the objective examination of melancholy it so eloquently promised at the start. Dr. Wilson begins using the pronouns that one usually associates with a writer trying to gain the acceptance and the sensitivities of his readers; this is, however, so overdone as to render most of the rest of the book useless. I suspect the reader doesn't really want to know that much about Dr. Wilson's melancholy. He harnesses "I" and "we" and "us" and then pins himself and the sympathetic reader to "them" as in "the others," or "happy types," as he calls them. So the argument of the book becomes a "us versus them" type of narrative. "All of us, of course, no matter how melancholy or not, are controlled by our preconceptions, by the abstractions that rule our minds...." is not as bad, certainly as "Unmoored from these familiar things, I am forced to look within myself, into my most mysterious interiors. Gazing within, I realize that I am ultimately alone in the world, that one one can live my life for me; not my wife, not my parents, not my culture...." and then "Why on earth do we do the exact opposite of what we should be doing? We are in love not with the actual atmospheres but with abstract predictabilities.... We melancholy souls no doubt keenly feel the loss of our great old cityscapes and our forests and marshes. We love the beautiful ruins of aged buildings. We love the intricate architectural designs, the carvings and the mosaics and the rough stones. We love high ceilings and crown moldings. We love worn-down hardwood floors...." I appreciate the turn for the poetic (and this passage goes on for a few more sentences), but I don't think it adds anything to defining the "melancholic" soul concretely. Again, the use of the "we" turns it into an appeal to sympathy from the reader that does not work at all in what this book promised in the introduction: a clear examination between melancholy and the artificial American happiness. It goes on in the remaining chapters as well: "We've had enough of sanders and shiners, of those who would make our ragged, rough world smooth all over. We want to lose ourselves in the mottled mixes of the botched cosmos. We want for hours to gaze at an old face in a black-and-white photo, one of those ancient pictures found in an attic and stained with rain...." Dr. Wilson then turns his sharp melancholy eye on those "fake melancholy" people, the ones who play a role and dramatize their melancholy for the world to see: "But those who have committed their lives to dejection are no different [than the 'Happy types']. These sad types--those black-clad posers who identify only with the darkness--choose sullenness as one picks a religion or a haircut. Like their brighter opponents, these self-consciously depressed denizens cut half of life away.... These petulant performers gall us as much as do the happy types." I am not particularly sure that one can generalize the fact that changing religion is a simple act of suddenly realizing one has different "taste" for something, including a haircut. At the risk of really sounding like an old school teacher scolding a student, I have to say that religion and haircut (when based on the hasty generalization I point out before) appear as a false analogy, an unforgivable logical fallacy in any argument. And calling these "goth" types "posers" rings of intolerance... isn't that what inclusive, liberal, well-educated, college professors should be arguing against?

Again, to engage in appealing to the reader to the level that Dr. Wilson does ruin the objectivity of the topic and argument. It is no surprise or secret that America has "gone liberal." There's absolutely nothing wrong with it; the political pendulum swings one of two ways as a result of the two party system. Eight years of George W. Bush was enough to turn the most deep-rooted conservative into a half-open minded agent of inclusion rather than exclusion. I am convinced that Dr. Wilson's views are liberal in essence and there's nothing wrong with that fact. Where polemic ignites is in what I consider the worst of all the offenses in this book. I should indicate here that I am neither conservative or liberal, but I see myself as a follower of reason and logic (defunct elements in the political world today). Again, appealing to the reader, Dr. Wilson states: "[H]appy types ultimately don't live their own lives at all. They follow some prefabricated script, some ten-step plan for bliss or some stairway to heaven. Doing so, they separate themselves from the present moment, immediate and unrepeatable and pressing. They live in the past, holding sentimentality to the affirmations handed down by their parents or priests or self-help gurus, or they live in the future, hoping for the perfection they deserve, that they've been living all of their days to realize.... Does this blindness partially account for a recent study, reported in 'Psychological Science,' that found that happy people are more likely to be bigots than sad people? Does this inability to see clearly further accounts for the fact, revealed in the 2006 Pew Report on Social Trends, that Republicans, who can be a somewhat warlike bunch, are happier than Democrats? Is our nation's happiness, its crass self-satisfaction, its wretched contentment, partially responsible for its getting behind a recent war that never should have occurred?" I find this passage disturbingly biased and unfair. Again, I don't say this to defend the Republican ideology that drove us to the present conflicts (I think that for the most part that position is indefensible), but I do have to call out bias where I see it. It is this sort of "not-well-thought-out" appeal to the reader that ruined this book for me. Yes, I do remain a sort of melancholic type, and I purchased the book mainly on the basis of that self-recognition, but if you ask me, I will tell you to get the book from your local library. Don't spend the $20.00, it's really not worth it. Sorry, Dr. Wilson, sir... good luck on your next effort!