15 Minute Classical Music

 We went to the symphony today. I'm not really sure what I planned for the blog with this...

Ummm, have some videos.

Casually Completing Classics Round 2: 1984 by George Orwell (1949)

 Shhhh, Canadians only.

I'm gonna tell my kids this was 1984

I'm going to start teaching 1984 in my class next week, so I figured I should give it a reread. I figured that was a good enough reason to brush of Casually Completing Classics.

It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. Winston Smith, his chin nuzzled into his breast in an effort to escape the vile wind, slipped quickly through the glass doors of Victory Mansions, though not quickly enough to prevent a swirl of gritty dust from entering along with him.

Something I notice right away is the contrast between Orwell's prose and the world he's describing. Winston doesn't just "tuck" his chin, he nuzzles. The wind is "vile." I think a lot of dystopian literature goes for a narrator voice that's relatively constrained to match the society (or goes way in the opposite direction to make them special). He strikes a good balance here. 

Meditations by Marcus Aurelius translated by George W. Chrystal (~180) Book 10 Part 2 (18-38)

Meditations by Marcus Aurelius translated by George W. Chrystal (~180) Book 10 Part 2 (18-38)

Bonus: 

10.33

Summary: They get shorter now! (Also, everyone dies)

Commentary: 

30. When you are offended at any one’s fault, turn at once to yourself and consider of what similar fault you yourself are guilty; such as esteeming for good things, money, pleasure, a little glory, or the like. By fixing your attention on this you will speedily forget your anger, especially if it occur to you that he acts under compulsion and cannot do otherwise; else, if it be in your power, relieve him from the compulsion.

This is pretty good advice. Glass houses without sin and all that.

 

"Good Readers and Good Writers" by Vladamir Nabakov (1948?)

 "Good Readers and Good Writers" by Vladamir Nabakov (1948?)

Bonus: 

Summary: You gotta be an art-scientist to be a good reader.

Commentary: 

I like that Nabakov translates his French. 

In reading, one should notice and fondle details. There is nothing wrong about the moonshine of generalization when it comes after the sunny trifles of the book have been lovingly collected. If one begins with a readymade generalization, one begins at the wrong end and travels away from the book before one has started to understand it. Nothing is more boring or more unfair to the author than starting to read, say, Madame Bovary, with the preconceived notion that it is a denunciation of the bourgeoisie. We should always remember that the work of art is invariably the creation of a new world, so that the first thing we should do is to study that new world as closely as possible, approaching it as something brand new, having no obvious connection with the worlds we already know. When this new world has been closely studied, then and only then let us examine its links with other worlds, other branches of knowledge.

I'm reminded of Adler's levels of reading (Analytical->Synoptical)

Also, of a discussion we had in one of my writing groups recently about "alternate Earth" vs "second world" (a term I've always hated) in fantasy. I lean towards alternate Earth, since we're sure to (consciously or subconsciously) wind up using Earth. Might as well lean into it, takes care of a lot of the worldbuilding for you. Nabakov disagrees:

Can we rely on Jane Austen’s picture of landowning England with baronets and landscaped grounds when all she knew was a clergyman’s parlor? And Bleak House, that fantastic romance within a fantastic London, can we call it a study of London a hundred years ago? Certainly not. And the same holds for other such novels in this series. The truth is that great novels are great fairy tales—and the novels in this series are supreme fairy tales.

[...]

To minor authors is left the ornamentation of the commonplace: these do not bother about any reinventing of the world; they merely try to squeeze the best they can out of a given order of things, out of traditional patterns of fiction.  

POP QUIZ! Which makes a good reader?

1. The reader should belong to a book club.

2. The reader should identify himself or herself with the hero or heroine.

3. The reader should concentrate on the social-economic angle.

4. The reader should prefer a story with action and dialogue to one with none.

5. The reader should have seen the book in a movie.

6. The reader should be a budding author.

7. The reader should have imagination.

8. The reader should have memory.

9. The reader should have a dictionary.

10. The reader should have some artistic sense 

(It's the last four. Which is questionable test design, but whatever.)

When we look at a painting we do not have to move our eyes in a special way even if, as in a book, the picture contains elements of depth and development.

I definitely like to look at little sections of a painting one at a time.

 Literature is invention. Fiction is fiction. To call a story a true story is an insult to both art and truth. Every great writer is a great deceiver, but so is that arch-cheat Nature.

 

Meditations by Marcus Aurelius translated by George W. Chrystal (~180) Book 10 Part 1 (1-17)

  Meditations by Marcus Aurelius translated by George W. Chrystal (~180) Book 10 Part 1 (1-17)

Bonus: 

I wonder how long it would take me to blog Homestuck

Summary: I literally don't know if I've read some of these before.

Commentary: 

1. Wilt thou ever, O my soul, be good and single, and one, and naked, more open to view than the body which surrounds thee? Wilt thou ever taste of the loving and satisfied temper? Wilt thou ever be full and without wants, setting thy heart on nothing, animate or inanimate, for the enjoyment of pleasure; not desiring time for longer enjoyment; nor place, nor country, nor fine climate, nor congenial company? Wilt thou be satisfied with thy present state, and well pleased with every present circumstance? Wilt thou persuade thyself that all things are thine; that all is well with thee; that all comes to thee from the Gods; and that what is best for thee is what they are pleased to give, now and henceforth, for the preservation of that perfected being, which is good, just, and beautiful; which generates, combines, embraces, and includes all fleeting things that dissolve to bring forth others like themselves? Wilt thou never be able to live a fellow citizen with Gods and men, approving them and by them approved?

Something I don't think is talked about enough in discussions of stoicism is how important the dichotomy between body and soul is. All of the, "NOTHING MATTERS! YOU'RE GONNA DIE!" comes from the fact that that stuff only affects the body. But I don't know that there's a lot about how to live up to what your soul wants. It's all just, "be good and honest and listen to your soul." A bit more about what that looks like might be nice.

9. Mimes, war, panic, sloth, servility, will wipe out the sacred maxims which you have gathered by observing Nature and stored in your mind.

Damn mimes! (Footnote in other editions translate this to theatres for shitty plays.) Very Homestuck.

16. Discourse no more of what a good man should be; but be one.

Shut up and do it! 

 

 

"The Feeling of Power" by Isaac Asimov (1958)

"The Feeling of Power" by Isaac Asimov (1958)

Bonus: 

Very dramatic

Summary: IN THE FUTURE, WE DISCOVER... MAAAATH

Commentary: 

Last one in this series of classic AI related stories that I previewed for my students:

1. I'm curious about what exact math has and hasn't been lost. They don't appear confused/impressed by the addition part of multiplication.

2. I'm surprised there's not some sort of elite math cabal.

3. The would definitely still be some kind of spectrumy math savants.

"There Will Come Soft Rains" by Ray Bradbury (1950)

"There Will Come Soft Rains"

Bonus: 

Yes, Soviet Animation!

Summary: Robot house burns down.

Commentary:

I think it's reasonably well established that I'm not a huge fan of overly flowery language, but:

The house shuddered, oak bone on bone, its bared skeleton cringing from the heat, its wire, its nerves revealed as if a surgeon had torn the skin off to let the red veins and capillaries quiver in the scalded air. Help, help! Fire! Run, run! Heat snapped mirrors like the first brittle winter ice. And the voices wailed. Fire, fire, run, run, like a tragic nursery rhyme, a dozen voices, high, low, like children dying in a forest, alone, alone. And the voices fading as the wires popped their sheathings like hot chestnuts. One, two, three, four, five voices died.

Is pretty much perfect.