Assorted Links, 6/14/21

  1. Rebecca Futo Kennedy has an open letter to the Society for Classical Studies, which helped me think about “classics programs that prepares students for graduate work & academia” as opposed to “classics programs that feed an interest in the ancient world, the Great Books, and the liberal arts more generally.” (The latter, of course, is what I’m doing with my own project.)
  2. Opinion piece on the Classics from The Eagle, American University’s undergrad student paper. Per my earlier post, I’m starting to get suspicious of people who talk about “cancelling” Classics, since I think it limits legitimate discussion of how best to teach the subject. As usual, reasonable people can disagree!
  3. And just to complete the Classics-watch, Calvin University is cutting their classical studies major and minor (among others).
  4. Interesting bit on reading The Chronicles of Narnia as an adult. If memory serves, I only read the first two (Magician’s Nephew and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe). I should probably include the series in the Great Books Project.
  5. A rundown of the words Chaucer introduced to the English language.
  6. Alex Tabarrok, quoting Voltaire, on how focussing on business smoothed over the rougher edges of religious difference in the London Stock Exchange: “Here Jew, Mohammedan and Christian deal with each other as though they were all of the same faith, and only apply the word infidel to people who go bankrupt.”

Ed. Note: Now that summer’s truly begun, it’s only a few weeks ’til the Fall semester at St. John’s begins!

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Assorted Links, 6/8/21

  1. Review of “The Book Smugglers.”
  2. The war on the Classics: a counterpunch, literally, to the recent Princeton news.
  3. “I suspect that Classics is a subject that over more than a millennium, or maybe over two, has actually thrived on the fear of its own demise (a lot of that self-confidence is a very thin veneer). Indeed, that’s partly what makes Classics feel so urgent, and new.” Thing I missed from when Antigone’s history: Mary Beard replied to Stephen Fry’s original post, “Ghost of Classics Yet To Come.”
  4. …and speaking of AntigoneLearning from the Master: Socrates’ examined life.
  5. A Literary Critic Criticizes Criticism and, Of Course, Amateur Reviews.”
  6. New, to me: The New York Review of Books has a Classics club.

Attn, Irish readers: New Seamus Heaney-themed walking tour in Ireland.

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Princeton Classics in The Atlantic

I recently added “amateur Classicist” to my Twitter bio, in the sense that I take a lot of interest in the classics and the Great Books, but have zero formal training. One of the big differentiators between me and an academic (apart from, well, actual academic training) is that I don’t speak Latin or Ancient Greek.

That tension (studying Classics but not knowing the languages) seems to be a flashpoint these days, since Princeton changed its requirements to no longer require intermediate proficiency in Greek or Latin as a prerequisite.

Here’s John McWhorter, writing for The Atlantic, that “Classics at Princeton Will Suffer Without Latin or Greek“:

When I asked [Josh Billings, a classics professor who is the department’s head of undergraduate studies] what that meant, he wrote back, “A student who has not studied Latin or Greek but is proficient in, say, Danish literature would, I think, both pose interesting questions to classical texts and be able to do interesting research on the ways that classical texts have been read and discussed in Denmark.” This is not entirely a stretch; I recently taught a class on African languages in which one student, as it happened, made useful contributions from his knowledge of ancient Greek. Yet there are reasons to suppose that something more specific is motivating the new direction at Princeton.

I continue to be somewhat slow to stake my claim too strongly on one side or the other. (I’m reminded of Montaigne, quoting Sextus, “I cannot say which of the things proposed I should find convincing and which I should not find convincing.”) A couple of things strike me:

  • It doesn’t sit right with me that we hear more from the likes of McWhorter than from the likes of Josh Billings, who is both closer to the changes and more impacted by them. There is things that don’t always translate from the university campus to the outside world, and “look what the college kids are doing!” is easy fodder that can sometimes miss important context. (I saw this first-hand with something that happened during my time as a student at NYU.)
  • As is often the case here, I think anyone predicting the overall impact one way or the other is likely to be overstating things. The downstream effects of the change aren’t going to be obvious at such an early stage.
  • It doesn’t strike me as outlandish, on its face, that one could be considered “classically educated” or “educated in the classics” without having studied ancient languages. It strikes me as a different education, or a different major, but not definitionally worse. Studying Italian is undoubtably different to reading the works of Elena Ferrante or Umberto Eco in translation, but not definitionally worse, to me.
  • The amount of change and experimentation in the Classics should not be zero.
  • I’m not saying that this is the case with McWhorter, but I’m starting to realize (in part thanks to the work of Donna Zuckerberg) that there is a class of writer who has an interest in the Classics less as pedagogy and more as a part of a larger argument.
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Assorted Links, 6/4/21

  1. High schooler’s essay on intellectual friendship. “…America’s Founding Fathers were, in a sense, a group of intellectual friends who acted on their shared intellectual ideals.”
  2. The best books on the industrial revolution.
  3. Interesting tidbit for yours truly in this FT article about Bloomsbury (the publisher) doing well: “Newton said that readers had turned to ‘established great books’, with interest in older titles helping boost margins as the cost of commissioning, editing and marketing them had fallen in previous years.”
  4. Frederick Douglass’ 1854 commencement address at Western Reserve College.
  5. Ancient Greeks would not recognise our ‘democracy’ – they’d see an ‘oligarchy’.
  6. Emma Treadway, Editor-in-Chief of The Daily Princetonian, has written of the changes to the language requirements of the Princeton classics degree:

“Perhaps most importantly, classics means understanding how the world of yesterday contributed to and reinforced today’s harsh realities of race and misogyny. And finally, classics means levity; it is a home for humor, for finding one’s identity, and for engaging with the past in a way that recognizes our common humanity.”

 

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Assorted Links 6/1/21

  1. Princeton released a statement about their new language requirements in the classics department (update to my original post).
  2. How I Taught The Iliad to Chinese Teenagers.
  3. Profiles of Mary Beard continue to be delightful. The New York Times Magazine profiled the “Cambridge classics professor, best-selling author, television documentary series host and feisty Twitter star[.]” (NYT Mag also published the much-talked about saving-the-classics-from-whiteness piece earlier this year.)
  4. Here is Mary Beard on the question of statues and who we decide to honor. (What even are statues for?)
  5. Twin review of Hitz’s “Lost in Thought” and Adler’s “The Battle of the Classics.”
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Early Impressions of The Prince, Machiavelli

The best parts of reading the Great Books is seeing the delta between what you think a book is about versus what the actual text says. I say “what the actual text says” because there really is no substitute to reading the original text (even in translation!). George Bull, in his introduction to The Prince, notes that the book is “more often cited than read,” an observation which feels true of all the books more generally.

My first impression finishing The Prince is surprise in two main areas.

First, I was familiar with the pejorative “machiavellian,” which Apple’s built-in dictionary defines in part as “unscrupulous, especially in politics.” But beyond House of Cards-ian political maneuvering, I was expecting also torture and general depravity for some reason. (As I write this, I realize I was confusing Machiavelli with the Marquis de Sade. Whoops.)

Second, I never knew how specific to a time and place it was. Whether he’s discussing contemporary political figures or exhorting for the freeing of Italy from the barbarians, he’s writing about Italy in the early 1500s, confronting problems specific to the region at the time, and drawing general inferences from there. It feels surprisingly specific: I’m not certain how much I could take generally from it, were I a Frank Underwood type. In fact, given how much he says is circumstantial (fortresses: sometimes good, sometimes bad) and how much vices and virtues have variable definitions based on the realities and specifics of your situation.

On the point of The Prince being a product of its author and his time, it’s also worth noting that Machiavelli was trying to regain favor with the Medici family in Florence at the time: I say this not to deny what he’s saying or to render it untrue, but just to point out that the agenda is there in the background.

I’m indebted to Charles Van Doren who, in The Joy of Reading, points out that Machiavelli’s worldview is predicated on his belief that people are ultimately selfish and fickle in their loyalties. This dim view of humanity is rejected by a lot of people, but we do have to acknowledge that this is the fundamental question that tends to drive most people: are they good and selfless, or are they, in Van Doren’s words, “as cruel as their circumstances allow them to be”?

Irrespective of your worldview, it makes for an interesting debate, then: is Machiavelli (or a Machiavellian outlook) overly cynical and negative, or merely pragmatic?

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Princeton drops Greek/Latin language requirement for Classics majors

A quick weekend edition of Literary Forge: in thinking about the ways that my Great Books Project differs from what you’d get at a traditional university. Learning ancient languages (specifically Greek & Latin, but probably also French) seems to be the biggest differentiator, in that I’m reading all of these works in translation and am at the mercy of the whims of the translator. (Thank goodness for the likes of Emily Wilson.)

And so I read with interest that Princeton is removing the requirement for Greek & Latin for classics majors.

In classics, two major changes were made. The “classics” track, which required an intermediate proficiency in Greek or Latin to enter the concentration, was eliminated, as was the requirement for students to take Greek or Latin. Students still are encouraged to take either language if it is relevant to their interests in the department. […] “Having people who come in who might not have studied classics in high school and might not have had a previous exposure to Greek and Latin, we think that having those students in the department will make it a more vibrant intellectual community.”

Zena Hitz, a tutor at St. John’s College, commented on the exact question of over-reliance on translators. She tweeted:

At @stjohnscollege, ancient Greek is required for all students. That isn’t because we expect proficiency (which you could better get elsewhere), but because we know that relying on translations without knowing what a translation is or how it works is deeply misleading. Regardless of the intention of the change, the effect will be to strengthen the authority of experts and to increase the distance between them and ordinary readers.

I am not smart enough to comment too directly on the importance of having ancient languages for studying the Classics. (It should be noted that –for now, at least– I’m not studying the Classics, I’m reading what’s usually termed “the Western Canon.”) Do people have strong thoughts? Drop ’em below.

Update, 06/01/2021: Princeton has released a statement on the changes. It reads, in part:

Our conversations with undergraduates have revealed that a minimum language requirement acts primarily as a deterrent to potential concentrators, and is not effective as a means of inducing students to embark on the study of Ancient Greek or Latin. We believe that an approach based on inclusion and persuasion will be more effective in encouraging language study than one based on compulsion. We are confident in the appeal and excitement that the study of Ancient Greek and Latin hold, and see our changes as a means of growing the field (including the study of languages) by removing barriers to entry.

It’s not crazy to me, as Kenneth Cameron pointed out on Twitter, to separate “Classic studies” and “Classics.” I’ve asked him to explain further, but the gist of it seems to be that one can be familiar with the works and the history of antiquity without being fluent in Latin and Ancient Greek. To the extent that my reading list gives me a sense of the history of the era, the “Classic studies” avenue seems similar to what I’m doing.

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A Quick Note About Talking About The Classics

Reading classic books is enjoyable in and of itself, but something that I’ve found surprisingly enjoyable is to take part in the conversations around these books. Much like the actual reading of books, “Discussions around the Classics” is a subset of “Discussions about literature generally.” it’s easy to find discussions about literature, and news of blogging’s demise has been, in this realm, greatly exaggerated. Even in 2021, there are prolific writers and robust discussions forums happening. One particular reason you know the blogs are good, apart from the fact that many of them have been publishing for over a decade, in that many of them are on default WordPress and Blogger (remember Blogger?) themes, and still writing today. The words and the ideas are center-stage.

Speaking of 2021, a material percentage of the conversations around the role of the Classics today are about what we might call “the culture war,” the arguments for and against The Western Canon as it relates to what people should learn and what constitutes a well-rounded education. It’s not that I’m uninterested in the debates, I’m just beginning to get tired of them as entry points: it’s very hard to actually talk about The Iliad or Inferno when the books themselves are pawns in an argument.

In the vein of not having all the answers, and in trying to do work in public — where does one find more of these sorts of conversations? As enjoyable as general literature discussions are, I’m also interested in zeroing in on Classics-specific conversations that are happening around the internet.

My hypothesis is that most of these discussions happen on college campuses, for obvious reasons. (It’s partly for this reason I applied to St. John’s.) Is the discussion limited to internal bulletin boards and email lists? Very possibly, but I’m wondering if there isn’t some corner of the blogosphere, some Twitter hashtag, that I’m missing.

What I’ve got so far:

  • NetNewsWire allows me to subscribe to a few dozen lit blogs, including everyone who has put their hand up to be part of the Classics Club.
  • I’ve also subscribed to a couple of more general sources, including Amazon’s book review site and the Paris Review.
  • I have Google Alerts set up for most of the common terms in the discussions and most of the principals.
  • More generally, I’m lucky that people have been kind enough to email me their thoughts, syllabi, and recommendations on both my main list and secondary reading materials.

My alternate hypothesis, which I think has slightly more chance of being true, is that these conversations don’t happen in public. Whether because of a dearth of interested interlocutors or for some other reason to keep them to gated communities (behind a university login screen, I’m guessing), these conversations are happening, just not currently accessible to me or the wider public.

I’ll, er, keep this blog posted with what I find out.

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Assorted Links, 5/25/21

  1. New (to me): The bookstore at St. John’s College has a category for faculty-written books.
  2. Nonfiction you may have missed because #GlobalPandemic.
  3. Muhua Yang ’21 says [Ovid’s] work resonates in an era of global displacement — and COVID.” (I think the same of The Odyssey — only gaining in relevance.)
  4. Interview with Andy Weir, who wrote The Martian and whose new book, Project Hail Mary, is out now.
  5. Thoughts on Faulkner’s Absalom! Absalom!
  6. WSJ on the Mike Pence/Simon & Schuster brouhaha.
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(Hopefully) Less inchoate thoughts on Dante’s Inferno

“There Minos stands.” Gustave Doré.

Continued from here.

Intellectuals say that Paradiso is for pious theologians, Purgatorio is for brilliant, exacting scholars of Medieval cosmology, but Inferno, Inferno is for filthy casuals.
Books in 150 Words.

I finished Inferno over the weekend, and there’s something about the book that comes together at the end. I don’t just mean that the plot comes full circle — he goes into Hell, he comes out — but the symbolism of the descent into Hell helps you understand and contextualize the book better than just reading selections.

I also have a couple of reference books that are following me through this project: Charles Van Doren’s “The Joy of Reading,” Clifton Fadiman and John S. Major’s “The New Lifetime Reading Plan,” and Harold Bloom’s “The Western Canon.” All of these shed light on just why Inferno is so unusual.

Part of it is that, for a book ostensibly about good and evil, it’s sort of… all about Dante. He’s very sure of himself, both in the religious sense (the schismatics) but also in the sense that he is undeniably the central character. More than Virgil, more than anyone he meets, more than Satan, this is a book about what Dante does, thinks, and cares about. (I love how everyone he meets gets asked specifically if there are any Italians/Florentines in their circle of Hell: Inferno is at once cosmic and parochial.)

There’s never a hint of doubt that Dante is your tour guide through Hell, and what he’s seeing is The Truth, in caps: he goes to great lengths to contextualize what he’s seeing, not just witness it.

In all, Inferno is an enjoyable read both because it contains so many references one would recognize in the 21st century (the Seven Deadly Sins, the circles of Hell, “abandon all hope, ye who enter here”) and because it’s a rewarding tale. It’s not — as I thought before I started it — a book about Hell: it’s a book about this world. Dante explicitly wants us to think and to act in certain ways, and Inferno is one big allegory, a vehicle for that desire.

One question I get every so often is how much of a given Classic I’m “getting.” The suggestion, I think, is that these books are only comprehendible to scholars and academics, and the question of whether it’s worthwhile even trying to understand a book if you’re not going to get everything out it. Here’s Fadiman again:

“Most editions contain notes explaining the major references. A good way of trying Dante is to read a canto without paying attention to the notes. Then, reread it, using the notes. Do not expect to understand everything — eminent scholars are still quarreling over Dante’s meaning. You will understand enough to make your reading worth the effort.”

I agree with Fadiman in that my goal isn’t to understand 100% of Dante — I understood very few of the references he makes, and certainly I was unfamiliar with essentially all of Dante’s contemporaries. I think it’s a mistake to worry too much about not understanding the Great Books: they’re enduring in part because they’re excellent stories that have been copied and referenced time and again. When you let go of perfect understanding as an aim, you enjoy the stories themselves much more.

P.S. Everyone who’s anyone says you have to read the entire Comedy and not just Inferno, and I will! Just not right now — next up for the discussion series is Machiavelli’s The Prince. Translation/edition recs welcome!

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