There is a new “meme” running through the lit blog community (see here and here) that involves revealing how many literary “classics” you have read. I did this awhile back with the Modern Library’s top 100 English language novels. To further reveal my lack of culture I will use the list provided this time. The ones in bold are the ones I have read:
Things I should have learned in college
One of things I became aware of as I got older was a melancholy nature, a sort of soft under-current of regret, about opportunities I passed up when I was younger. Some are rather trivial: why didn’t I learn golf when I could have more easily grooved my swing, or why didn’t I learn to play a musical instrument? Others are more serious: why didn’t I get to know my extended family more, why didn’t I take my education seriously, or why didn’t I participate in more activities where I could build up experiences and contacts that would help me later in life? For much of my life, and even today, I seemed to float through time and space oblivious to anything larger than my immediate surroundings. Looking back I wonder why I didn’t think about some of this a little sooner.
In college, this pattern continued. I managed to graduate from a liberal arts college with a degree in history and yet lacking a strong foundation in much of the cultural inheritance of Western Civilization or even modern American art and culture. Let me give you two examples:
– Poetry. I seem terribly ignorant of the history and practice of poetry. Oh sure I am familiar with the names of some poets and have even read a smattering of it. But I couldn’t really tell you why one poet is seen as better than another or how they relate to the history of the subject. I can enjoy poems when they speak to me intellectually or emotionally but I couldn’t offer much beyond that very subjective criteria.
– Classical music. Again, I really have no appreciation for or knowledge of this subject. I know a few composers and have some vague recollection of a few tunes but beyond that I am woefully undereducated. Who did what, when, and why is largely lost on me. In fact, I find most classical music annoying and unenjoyable. My ears haven’t been trained to understand and appreciate classical music.
I am not arguing that I should be an expert on these topics just that I have a passing understanding of their history and significance. Perhaps I am being elitist but shouldn’t a liberal arts education include this? Of course much of the responsibility falls to me for failing to take any courses beyond what was necessary to graduate. I wonder if this appreciation for “high” culture is dying because so few people are exposed to it, and given an appreciation of it, in high school and college?
Things I should have learned in college
One of things I became aware of as I got older was a melancholy nature, a sort of soft under-current of regret, about opportunities I passed up when I was younger. Some are rather trivial: why didn’t I learn golf when I could have more easily grooved my swing, or why didn’t I learn to play a musical instrument? Others are more serious: why didn’t I get to know my extended family more, why didn’t I take my education seriously, or why didn’t I participate in more activities where I could build up experiences and contacts that would help me later in life? For much of my life, and even today, I seemed to float through time and space oblivious to anything larger than my immediate surroundings. Looking back I wonder why I didn’t think about some of this a little sooner.
In college, this pattern continued. I managed to graduate from a liberal arts college with a degree in history and yet lacking a strong foundation in much of the cultural inheritance of Western Civilization or even modern American art and culture. Let me give you two examples:
– Poetry. I seem terribly ignorant of the history and practice of poetry. Oh sure I am familiar with the names of some poets and have even read a smattering of it. But I couldn’t really tell you why one poet is seen as better than another or how they relate to the history of the subject. I can enjoy poems when they speak to me intellectually or emotionally but I couldn’t offer much beyond that very subjective criteria.
– Classical music. Again, I really have no appreciation for or knowledge of this subject. I know a few composers and have some vague recollection of a few tunes but beyond that I am woefully undereducated. Who did what, when, and why is largely lost on me. In fact, I find most classical music annoying and unenjoyable. My ears haven’t been trained to understand and appreciate classical music.
I am not arguing that I should be an expert on these topics just that I have a passing understanding of their history and significance. Perhaps I am being elitist but shouldn’t a liberal arts education include this? Of course much of the responsibility falls to me for failing to take any courses beyond what was necessary to graduate. I wonder if this appreciation for “high” culture is dying because so few people are exposed to it, and given an appreciation of it, in high school and college?
Quote/Thought of the Day
[I]t is childish to identify with a cause. To advance a cause is fine (depending on the cause); it’s when you weave it into your own self-image that it’s dangerous, because then you can no longer think of it objectively.
True or not? Discuss . . .
Talking To Richard by Gary Sherbell
The back cover of Gary Sherbell’s novel Talking To Richard offers the following:
A conservative NYC judge wakes up to discover that he’s been cursed by a voodoo priestess: his penis has metamorphosed into the talking head of a famous radical lawyer who dies during the night (a personage who will remind many of the late William Kunstler.) The two members of this involuntary odd coupling are poles apart on almost every issue, but they have one thing in common: as typical males they are determined to make maximum heterosexual use of the member they share . . .
This summation captures the novel’s promise and it’s underlying weakness. With its unique perspective and its connection to issues like sex, politics, race, and family it has the potential to offer insights into modern life. But with a focus almost entirely on the shallow process of thinking with one’s sex drive, the book offers very little in the way of ideas. What you are left with is a satirical romp about the male obsession with sex, with a syrupy happy ending tacked on the end.
Thoughts on amateur book reviewing
Recently I have been thinking about what it means to review books in a format such as this. I am not a professional book reviewer by any means but I am cognizant of the pressures such a job entails. For one, reading a book for a review is a different undertaking than simply reading it for enjoyment. Another issue is what to do with books you don’t like? Reactions vary: some simply ignore them, others feel free to savage a book in print or pixels, while some try to find a balance.
I feel a responsibility to offer my opinions on books that have been sent to me. After all, why would people continue to send me books if I failed to review them? The point of sending someone a book is to get feedback, right? But as anyone who has tried his hand at book reviewing will tell you, sometimes you just aren’t sure what to say. You finish the book but you just can’t seem to find a hook on which to hang a coherent review. It may be it just didn’t strike you one way or the other or maybe you just can’t bring your thoughts together to make a point. Regardless, you don’t feel you have something to say.