It's been a while since I've posted anything, but that doesn't mean I've been lax with my reading. I'm actually relatively happy with my progress thus far. Just about five minutes ago I finished Anthem by Ayn Rand, pushing my monthly total to, I believe, twelve. I'm not sure where my page count is at, but it has to be behind schedule. It will probably take me four months to read the 9,000 pages instead of the intended three, but overall I'm impressed with my fortitude.
Anthem explores the connection between the concept of "we" versus the concept of "I." Rand was a proponent of objectivism, or egoistical hedonism, which promoted the philosophy of putting the self first. This is not initially a very attractive approach, but once you read the book, you at least see where Rand is coming from. The "we" mentality is basically that of peer pressure. If humanity is taught that they are part of a collective, and the collective's will is best, it allows for gross conscious deadening. I think Rand was trying to say that if you lose sight of the fact you are an individual, and have an independent mind, that in of itself is holy, you become inhuman. Where I would depart from Rand is her (I'm saying this from an assumptive position) belief that man is essentially good, and it is his nurturing that makes him digress from such. I believe if objectivism ran rampant, it could not promote happiness.
East of Eden (EOE) was as life changing as a non-Biblical book can be. Steinbeck found and saw something in his mind's eye, pertaining to humanity, that truly makes sense. In man's battle with good and evil, there must be a choice, a determination that takes place, that directs how he evolve. Heritage may be a strong factor, but choice is still there. This thought is presented through a modern re-telling of the story of Cain and Abel (in EOE Caleb and Aron) and the Hebrew verb "Timshel," which is best translated as "Thou mayest." When God speaks to Cain regarding his attitude about his sacrifice being less than Abel's, he says "If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted? and if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door. And unto thee shall be his desire, and thou shalt rule over him" (Genesis 4:7). This "thou shalt" is better translated as "you are able to" or, "thou mayest" alluding to the fact that humanity, man, has the ability to combat, and defeat, sin.
In EOE, the various ways Timshel can be inserted into the human condition is explored. Forgiveness, greed, avarice, lust, depression, and any other vice that humanity struggles with can be faced and defeated.
I'll try to keep up with a weekly post, but that is all I can promise right now. Additionally, I've began a rating system for all of the books I've read, and hope to pass that on. It is on a 1-5 scale.
East of Eden 4.75
Anthem 4.00
Read on.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
The Gravity of the Situation.
Last week I took it pretty light. I had to graduate, clean my apartment, host a friend, and thus was only able to finish the two works, Cannery Row and The Procession. But this week I've hit the books with both barrels. I finished The End of the Affair (a lovely British pun) by Graham Greene Sunday night, This Way for the Gas, Ladies and Gentlemen by Tadeusz Borowski last night, and To Believe in God by Joseph Pintauro and Sister Corita today.
Prominently I have been wondering about Borowski's work. For in it he describes, from a non-Jewish perspective of Auschwitz and Birkenau, the millions of humans who willingly walked into gas chambers and crematoriums. Even those who knew what was to befall them went willingly. Why? How could so many allow themselves to be led silently to such a fate? According to the book, the gas chambers were some of the more merciful ways human life was taken, and yet it was all done without complaint.
It seems quite a few thoughts of mine have been given to this general slant: how would I behave if the most basic aspects of what I know as humanity are taken from me? I've decided that I don't. It would be unfair, and rather egotistical I believe, to deceive yourself with the notion that you are going to rise above the muddle, until you know what you are made out of. You can hope and pray that you would do the right thing, deny your bestial side for the sake of what Cormac McCarthy calls "the fire," but you will never truly know until the moment comes. Life is rife with braggarts who fell in their moment of trial.
A certain officer's story exemplified this utter confusion. His name was Schillinger. He bragged of personally killing over ten thousand individuals during the duration of Auschwitz, through "the fist, the club, or the revolver." The last day of his life, he went to take a woman from the gas chamber lines, apparently to use in his personal quarters. She refused, and threw gravel in his face, causing his revolver to drop from his hand. She "snatched it up, firing several shots into his abdomen," before being herded with the rest of the lines into the gas chamber. As Schillinger lay on the ground, his life expiring, he was heard to say "O God, my God, what have I done to deserve such suffering?" I just can't wrap my head around it.
Time advances along. Soon I will be headed into East of Eden, and in the meantime will try to land on some less weighty books. I'm doing well though, I actually am reading more than I'm buying for once, and if this trend continues for most of the summer, I'll be nigh finished with my pile. A rather hastily concocted estimate would probably put me at 500 pages thus far, but I'm reading About a Boy which is quite the page turner (as far as ease, not necessarily interest) and registers in at about 300 pages. Keep May 29th on your calendars, and good luck.
Prominently I have been wondering about Borowski's work. For in it he describes, from a non-Jewish perspective of Auschwitz and Birkenau, the millions of humans who willingly walked into gas chambers and crematoriums. Even those who knew what was to befall them went willingly. Why? How could so many allow themselves to be led silently to such a fate? According to the book, the gas chambers were some of the more merciful ways human life was taken, and yet it was all done without complaint.
It seems quite a few thoughts of mine have been given to this general slant: how would I behave if the most basic aspects of what I know as humanity are taken from me? I've decided that I don't. It would be unfair, and rather egotistical I believe, to deceive yourself with the notion that you are going to rise above the muddle, until you know what you are made out of. You can hope and pray that you would do the right thing, deny your bestial side for the sake of what Cormac McCarthy calls "the fire," but you will never truly know until the moment comes. Life is rife with braggarts who fell in their moment of trial.
A certain officer's story exemplified this utter confusion. His name was Schillinger. He bragged of personally killing over ten thousand individuals during the duration of Auschwitz, through "the fist, the club, or the revolver." The last day of his life, he went to take a woman from the gas chamber lines, apparently to use in his personal quarters. She refused, and threw gravel in his face, causing his revolver to drop from his hand. She "snatched it up, firing several shots into his abdomen," before being herded with the rest of the lines into the gas chamber. As Schillinger lay on the ground, his life expiring, he was heard to say "O God, my God, what have I done to deserve such suffering?" I just can't wrap my head around it.
Time advances along. Soon I will be headed into East of Eden, and in the meantime will try to land on some less weighty books. I'm doing well though, I actually am reading more than I'm buying for once, and if this trend continues for most of the summer, I'll be nigh finished with my pile. A rather hastily concocted estimate would probably put me at 500 pages thus far, but I'm reading About a Boy which is quite the page turner (as far as ease, not necessarily interest) and registers in at about 300 pages. Keep May 29th on your calendars, and good luck.
Monday, May 3, 2010
And Thus it Begins
I've officially started. To the right of my bed is the traditional smattering of folded shirts, discarded clothes once worn, but not dirty enough to advance to the laundry bin, a set of cones used in ultimate frisbee, and, oh what is that? Is that Cannery Row by John Steinbeck? Why it is. How quaint. Cannery Rom is the story of a group of vagabonds and the daily events and people that surround them in their quest for comradary, (along with the occasional free meal and drink). It is very similar, thus far, to Tortilla Flat, another Steinbeck work, but with a little more wisdom and darkness.
But that's not what I really wanted to bring up. Over the weekend, I finished a book of poetry by, and brief biography of, Khalil Gibran. It is titled "The Procession," which refers to the movement one's mind takes as they mature. It went hand-in-hand with a topic that came up in my Thursday night Bible study, regarding dreams and hopes. For in "The Procession" there are two voices, that of the sage, and that of the youth, that bring up their viewpoints regarding different topics such as: The Illusory World, Life and Sorrow, Religion, etc. Here's a sample entry:
Of Life and Sorrow
Sage:
Life is but a sleep disturbed
By dreaming, prompted by the will;
The saddened soul with sadness hides
Its secrets, and the gay, with thrill.
Youth:
In the forest no one sorrows,
Nor is one downcast by grief.
Zephyrs carry but compassion
When they whisper to the leaf
Give to me the reed and sing thou!
Let the song erase the sorrow,
For the plaint of reed remaineth,
When the past rejoins the morrow.
There is an argument going on between the Youth's opinion of nature being the preeminent educator of life's potential, and the Sage's stance that life itself is the greatest teacher. Here we seem to have the Youth arguing that there is no reason to be sad: in nature you just live. While the sage is saying emotions are a masque for the heart's true feelings.
I don't want to get too far into the interpretation of this work, and I thought this section was one of the weaker ones (or I understood it the least), but I hope it gives a brief overview of the book's setup, which I found thought-provoking and intriguing. I would give it probably a three and a half out of five. It is a great conversation starter, and challenges the mind. But I'm excited to add the first piece of this summer's reading to my bookshelf: it is a rather cathartic experience for me.
Back to Steinbeck. I bought East of Eden today. Until then, read. And share.
But that's not what I really wanted to bring up. Over the weekend, I finished a book of poetry by, and brief biography of, Khalil Gibran. It is titled "The Procession," which refers to the movement one's mind takes as they mature. It went hand-in-hand with a topic that came up in my Thursday night Bible study, regarding dreams and hopes. For in "The Procession" there are two voices, that of the sage, and that of the youth, that bring up their viewpoints regarding different topics such as: The Illusory World, Life and Sorrow, Religion, etc. Here's a sample entry:
Of Life and Sorrow
Sage:
Life is but a sleep disturbed
By dreaming, prompted by the will;
The saddened soul with sadness hides
Its secrets, and the gay, with thrill.
Youth:
In the forest no one sorrows,
Nor is one downcast by grief.
Zephyrs carry but compassion
When they whisper to the leaf
Give to me the reed and sing thou!
Let the song erase the sorrow,
For the plaint of reed remaineth,
When the past rejoins the morrow.
There is an argument going on between the Youth's opinion of nature being the preeminent educator of life's potential, and the Sage's stance that life itself is the greatest teacher. Here we seem to have the Youth arguing that there is no reason to be sad: in nature you just live. While the sage is saying emotions are a masque for the heart's true feelings.
I don't want to get too far into the interpretation of this work, and I thought this section was one of the weaker ones (or I understood it the least), but I hope it gives a brief overview of the book's setup, which I found thought-provoking and intriguing. I would give it probably a three and a half out of five. It is a great conversation starter, and challenges the mind. But I'm excited to add the first piece of this summer's reading to my bookshelf: it is a rather cathartic experience for me.
Back to Steinbeck. I bought East of Eden today. Until then, read. And share.
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