The Birth of Tragedy - Friedrich Nietzsche

If "existence and the world appear justified only as an aesthetic phenomenon" (p. 128), then what is real is that which is created at the interstitial meeting point of the observer and the observed. The real is thus local and created; it is explicitly positional.

Nietzsche examines the dual-nature of the inherited western perspective, what he terms the Apollonian and Dionysian, and critiques the disappearance of the Dionysian perspective. The Apollonian, or the rational, the knowable, has subsumed the older, more primal Dionysian. Using the metaphor of Olympian Gods and Titans, Nietzsche believes the expulsion of the Titans, of a certain naturalness which prefigures the social, has left western thought and western society both impoverished and incoherent. How are we to know that, pace Socrates, 'knowledge is virtue'? The compulsion which drives the scientist or the philosopher, the spirit which animates the use of the rational approach and/or the dialectic, comes not from phenomena, but from that deeper, hidden aspect of the real. Nietzsche would echo - and somewhat alter - Schopenhauer,  in terming this hidden aspect the will.

It is a somewhat fine point to differentiate between that which underpins Nietzsche's world and that which Socrates/Plato would term the eternal and the changeless (often the Forms). Nietzsche's main complaint is that Socrates/Plato has taken one side of the Apollonian-Dionysian duality and subsumed all of reality to an Apollonian perspective. The triumph of reason is, and has been, for Nietzsche, groundless, somewhat ironic, and has contributed to a widespread cultural impoverishment that 19th century Germany suffered greatly from (the sympathetic reader might extend this assessment to our contemporary situation). Whether this was Plato's intent or not, is debatable (see Zuckert 1985, Nietzsche's Rereading of Plato). What is clear is that Nietzsche takes the philosopher, and his teacher, very seriously. The implications he draws from these Athenians' teachings suggest we should as well. They have crafted the position we inhabit and thus the real we embody.

The Story of Art - E.H. Gombrich

"There really is no such thing as Art. There are only artists."

Gombrich's history of western art, from the antecedents of the Greeks to the modern era, traces the developments of artistic style and expression. Gombrich's investigation is, by needs, somewhat bifurcated. Early art is examined for the developments of technique, while art following the achievements of the Greeks primarily emphasizes how different artists responded to the legacies of their forebears. Gombrich is quick to recognize, and eager to reiterate, that we cannot view post-Roman art as simply progress beyond the imperfect attempts of the earlier eras. Besides the exquisite form of Greek statuary (known primarily through Roman copies), fresco, relief, and architectural works sought to convey the natural world in a different manner than we might today.

The truth of perception, as it related to absolute perspective versus the perspective of the individual, is a matter of intellectual history, and has evolved greatly over time. The last two hundred or so years of western art history mirror much of the varying pendulum swings which encapsulate the broad array of perspectives on how the individual sees, ought to see, or might possibly see the world. And the extent to which this problem is worth pursuing. The shift to individual perspective (primarily expressed through painting), maps onto changes in the subject matter for art. As individual perspective replaced the divine or total viewpoint, the subjects of art evolved from the sacred, towards the actions of the royal and powerful, and finally towards the common or volk. Though Gombrich does not emphasize this aspect, the reader can project transformations in social and political arenas which would have accompanied, reacted too, and been anticipated by much of the art which has reflected and shaped the western world.

Gombrich's account stays close to the central question of humanity's relationship with a world not of our making. The man-nature relationship - as mediated by the social, the political, the religious, and the economic (among many other contemporary labels) - is, in Gombrich's estimation, the central concern of the artist. Within this arena we may recognize men's and women's relationships with themselves. We are each somewhat an unknown quantity; not of our own creation. If Gombrich has a criticism of modern art it is that this wrestling has become obscured - overshadowed by the purely personal and the need to express the novel. We might, similarly, read this into the modern condition: the question of what is good being replaced by what is new. Whether this reflects, anticipates, or is in response to the broader social prospect is the question of the artists' role in society. This too has changed, and will no doubt continue to evolve.

My First Summer in the Sierra - John Muir

Wonder is an emotion often left unshared, unstated. Perhaps wonder is principally born of novelty. Yet when novelty becomes almost de rigueur in our daily experience, might we then lose the capacity to wonder, to marvel at the unexpected and the unforeseen? Perhaps novelty which ensconces us can no longer deserve the name. Or, perhaps, wonder is indicative of the truly meaningful. John Muir speaks of, and revels within, a sense of wonder.

The mysteries of the universe are legion. Within his small corner of it John Muir sought to, step by step, trace these mysteries in the hopes that he might find them more easily understood. Muir found the nourishment of his wonder in the big outside beyond man's confining structures. My First Summer in the Sierra is primarily an account of discovery at the nexus of the self and the natural world. For Muir, the evocations which are drawn from him rely upon the experience of wonder at the natural - what he and his contemporaries would have called the sublime. It is marvelous to note that Muir's capacity for awe and wonder is undiminished. He seems nurtured by the natural which he inhabits. In its vastness and intricacies the world makes and remakes Muir anew each day. The sustaining power speaks to a spiritual fullness.

Muir's account occasionally overflows with details of plants and animals that the uninitiated may find distracting. Yet, we see that his careful attention to particularity, his learned knowledge of the world, helps to foster his feelings of connection and wonder. In this we can see that the world is also of our making. While the landscape may impose its grandeur upon Muir, he has also turned himself into a willing vessel for the message. By making his eyes that see, ears that hear, and feet that feel the compulsion to explore, Muir has also helped to create a world which is capable of imparting lessons, both quiet and thunderous. The world is both of his making and forever slightly beyond his reach. Thus the mystery remains and as knowledge deepens Muir's wonder grows apace.

The Lost Symbol - Dan Brown

Once again, Robert Langdon is on the run. Chasing truth; being chased by shadowy forces. This time the setting is Washington DC and the Masons are Langdon's historical interlocutor. Puzzles, twists, art, history, attractive and brilliant women in their thirties - The Lost Symbol is a Brown page turner much like any other.

There isn't much particularly novel to say about Brown's work, nor much that separates this one from any other. So I wanted to take a second to ponder the hidden reality that Brown evokes in this and the other adventures of Robert Langdon. Though each tale is clearly a work of fiction, the reality they inhabit/create is meant to serve as a referent for our own. The possibility of these stories is informed by a history we can imagine to exist below the one we have generally agreed upon. Brown almost seems to argue that, if we have eyes to look properly, we might view the lessons and passages of history very differently. That taking a different approach to what we understand about our common past can drastically reorient our shared present.

The loss of the modern - frequently espoused by Langdon - is that we have forgotten that the knowledge of the present has not necessarily superseded the wisdom of the ancients. Rather than pit modern ways of knowing against past understandings, Brown constructs a world in which the forgotten messages of the past are crucial to a deeper perspective on the present. To this end he may be one of History's (as a discipline) most notable contemporary proponents. However, we are mistaken if we assume that Brown is little more than a history geek and conspiracy buff. If we take his writing to be indicative of his ethics, Brown believes that the ultimate service of historical understanding is the formation of the complete person. The historical message we read in his work, time and again, is that of a divided society replicated in divided people. Both the world and the people who strive within it can only be healed by reconciling the shared reality of reason and faith.The whole person, like the whole society, must necessarily contain and be amenable to the teachings of both.

Surely the fast-paced action and twisting intrigue of Brown's stories are the method for keeping the reader enraptured within his shade of a fiction that we imagine as possible. The hook is the hope that secrets, which we can imagine could be true, are revealed. Yet the moral is that the past is a rich field of meaning; one which the present remains connected to. If it seems that our modern condition is that of floating in a space of uncertainty, Brown reminds us to pay attention to the pathways which lead us to the past - they might point us towards the future.

The Trojan War: A New History - Barry Strauss

That there was once a city, indeed many cities, named Troy is now largely a matter agreement among historians. Its position at the mouth of the Hellespont, as an important center of trade linking the Mediterranean world with Asia, placed Troy at the crossroads of civilizations. Prosperous and cosmopolitan, Troy would have been an enticing target for raiders looking to avail themselves of the riches within the cities walls. Homer's Illiad tells the story of the Trojan War from a decidedly Greek perspective. Strauss uses a Homer as a foundational text, yet takes a step backwards to imagine how such a possible conflict might have taken place.

While it is widely acknowledged that much of Homer's account is grounded in history, it is also recognized that The Illiad was committed to writing some two to three centuries after the 'real' Trojan War took place. As such, historians and archaeologists are at pains to reconstruct what a Trojan War would have been like. Written for readers with only a passing familiarity with the conflict and the history of the region, Strauss' The Trojan War moves through the war, primarily as set down by Homer, as an attempt to reconstruct the events and the historical actors as they might have been. Strauss is clear that much of this work is an exercise in historical imagination, though one that is based in the evidence as currently understood. The reader is presented with the characters of Hector and Helen, Agamemnon and Menelaus as they might have been. They would have been arrayed in the finery of their day, much, Strauss suggests, as Hittite or Egyptian chieftains and rulers would have been. Greek phalanxes and Trojan soldiers would have likely shared war tactics and practices with other armies of the day, and Strauss casts a wide net across the Mediterranean and west Asian world to make sense of Homer's account. That the Trojan War took place is Strauss' assertion; his project is to reconstruct the event as occurrence.

The work moves swiftly through the conflict and characters, perhaps too swiftly for some readers. As an introductory text it blends historical and narrative approaches to create a modern understanding of the history . Yet this thoroughly modern account leaves the reader wondering why the Trojan War would have been of such seminal importance - particularly for a Greek audience. That it was believed may have been entirely separate from what about the history rendered the telling of such crucial importance. In reconstructing a picture of the Trojan War with a minimal gloss of Homer's interpretation we are treated to a skirmish on the shores of a far land in a bygone time. The Trojan War loomed large in the minds of the Greeks (not to mention the Romans and other societies who have traced their roots to antiquity); we are left wondering why such is the case.

Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad

“I tried to break the spell—the heavy, mute spell of the wilderness—that seemed to draw him to its pitiless breast by the awakening of forgotten and brutal instincts, by the memory of gratified monstrous passions. This alone, I was convinced, had driven him out to the edge of the forest, to the bush, towards the gleam of fires, the throb of drums, the drone of weird incantations; this alone had beguiled his unlawful soul beyond the bounds of permitted aspirations… There was nothing either above or below him, and I knew it. He had kicked himself loose of the earth. Confound the man! he had kicked the very earth to pieces. He was alone, and I before him did not know whether I stood on the ground or floated in the air.” p. 82

Adrift beyond the bonds that tie men to their own world, Marlowe comes to the precipice of edge of the world, and of the known self. Each step along the path, each bend in that vast and winding river, separates him further from the life he understands; one that provides him reference. Cast-off from life's moorings, he comes face-to-face with the shadowy specter of Kurtz, The difference, we are told, is that Kurtz did not flinch to cross the precipice, to step beyond the world and allow himself to become enveloped by the darkness. This primeval, primordial darkness is both an external and an internal geography. Loosed from the bonds of things with which we fill our lives, the human soul is confronted by itself. The blank spaces of the map are places of creation and, potentially, of reinvention.

The difference between Marlowe and Kurtz is that Marlowe appears unable to sever the gauzy threads which connect him. Whether the knitting crones behind him, or the imagined voice of Kurtz compelling him forward, Marlowe draws the linkage between himself, his actions, and the world which he inhabits. He touches the precipice, only to return to his origins; to plant his feet once again in his former world. Yet, as the doctor noted at the outset: he has been irrevocably changed. Kurtz, however, endeavors to become one of the immortals; to exist out of time and space; defined only by himself and in reference to himself. Kurtz seeks to create his own world as he sees fit. He creates his small flickering flame within the darkness. Perhaps this is the answer to his final riddle.

Kurtz claims to have wanted justice - likely a justice of his own creation.Though Marlowe ends his tale with a lie, perhaps in this lie he has given Kurtz the justice he would have desired. Marlowe becomes the single gauzy thread tying Kurtz's last moments to a broader world of association. Rather than shackle Kurtz to this world, Marlowe cuts the cord and sets Kurtz free. Free to drift into the darkness and inhabit the world of his own creation.

Lawrence in Arabia - Scott Anderson

How to uncover the man behind the legend of TE Lawrence? Certainly Lawrence was one of his own most successful mythologists. Seven Pillars of Wisdom casts a critical eye not only upon the "revolt in the desert" but upon the man who would direct it, and who would eventually be undone by it. Scott Anderson's account strives to situate TE Lawrence within the broader theater of the Arab Revolt, which, by Lawrence's own account, was "a sideshow of a sideshow" to the calamitous war which divided the western world. Lawrence is both a man apart and of his time, thus Anderson's protagonist remains somewhat enigmatic to the reader, as he may be to both Anderson and himself. As a historical actor this is one of Lawrence's strengths: he remains a riddle; or even a canvas upon which we may cast the best, and perhaps the worst, of ourselves. His humanity speaks to the reader, urging us to wonder how our own actions and values compare; both as we idealize them and embody them.

Anderson reminds us that this hero, Lawrence of Arabia, for all his outsize accomplishment, was a major player in a relatively minor theater upon the global stage. As was captured at the end of David Lean's masterpiece, once the fighting was over, more seasoned, powerful, perhaps cynical and maybe less informed minds took to the task of carving up the Middle East. As a man of humane letters we are left wondering if more of Lawrence's insight and spirit might have put the region on a less destructive path. Anderson's work centers upon Lawrence and a handful of his contemporaries who sought to shape the region and were largely eclipsed by the political vagaries of powerful victorious nations following the conflict. We are left to believe that the last throes of imperialism remain evident across the Middle East, and that our world is still dealing with the consequences.

But, of course, Lawrence too was an imperial character. His was an imperialism fated to end. Lawrence could scarcely have existed outside of his British upbringing, or been given such a freehand with a region of people while still being largely supported by the vast British military were it not for the imperial world he inhabited. Lawrence's early travels in the regions left him well positioned to play his British and Arab fellows against one another. Though his motives may have seemed noble, we do well to recognize that Lawrence himself wondered whether this was the case. Just as the colonial and imperial system was crashing down in the ruin of World War I, a new world was being born in which the old modes of governance and international relations were being redefined. TE Lawrence was educated and dreamed in the manner of the disappearing world. Yet his time in the Middle East may have pulled him forward into a new world in which these old approaches no longer provided sufficient answers to life's contradictions. As Anderson tells it, Lawrence was unable to escape his years in the desert and was unable to move beyond the lived and dreamed conflicts he saw and experienced within himself. Lawrence's tragedy is the clash of times coming together, as well as those tearing him apart.