Lakewood the Thinking City
COLLEGE AND BEYOND
The Republic of Plato, translated with introduction and notes by Francis Macdonald Cornford, Oxford University Press (PB). Like it or not, at some point you’re going to have to read Plato’s Republic. Cornford’s extensive notes take the guesswork out of trying to understand what Plato had to say.
Why read Plato? You’ll find that you disagree with about 95% of what Plato said (his espousal of feminism being a possible exception). Yet he knew why he believed what he believed. He supported his conclusions with a coherent set of fundamental premises. Can you say the same? His reasoning provides a test of yours.
If you’re assigned a different edition of Plato and still want to use the Cornford, you will be helped by what is called “Stephens pagination,” which appears in most editions. (In the Cornford it is at the top at the inner side of the page.) This is a standard page-numbering based on the original of the Republic (and of Plato’s other works.) If you find a passage in the other edition and you want to find the same passage in Cornford, all you need to do is look for the Stephens page for that passage in the other edition and find that same Stephens page in the Cornford.
War and Peace, by Leo Tolstoy. Take off a couple of weeks and let yourself be transported to the entirely different world of Russia at the time of Napoleon’s invasion. Tolstoy will make that world more real, and probably more interesting, than the world you’re actually living in. If you’re like me, you’ll categorize every person (or at least every male) as a Pierre or an Andrey, and you’ll keep asking yourself, “How does Tolstoy do it?”
Interspersed within the novel are non-fictional discussions on history. These are usually considered to be a bore, but you might find them interesting as a way of getting into the question as to what does or does not cause historical change.
The Brothers Karamazov, by Fyodor Dostoevsky. A good murder mystery, but the most interesting and important parts, to my mind, are The Legend of the Grand Inquisitor and the anguished outcries of Ivan over the problem of evil.
Hamlet, by William Shakespeare. What can I say about this unsurpassed mirror on (human) nature? Choose a different passage to read each morning and contemplate it during the day. Enjoy the puns, the ironies, everything about the language. This is one dramatic work that surpasses any performance of it. (Yes, that includes Olivier’s. To say that Hamlet is about a man who couldn’t make up his mind is incredibly superficial.)
Enemy of the People, by Henrik Ibsen. Potential environmental catastrophe; cover-up; a whistle-blower destroyed for his conscientious honesty – this play could have been written yesterday, instead of in 1882.
On Liberty, by John Stuart Mill. The basic and essential primer on the arguments for freedom of expression and action, with some brilliant one-liners. What Mill says may all seem so obvious that the most fruitful way to approach the work might be to look for the ways in which he is wrong. Incidentally, you might contrast Mill’s view with that of the Grand Inquisitor in The Brothers K.
Existentialism from Dostoevsky to Sartre, ed. Walter Kaufmann. A selection of writings, some of course more interesting than others. (Heidegger, for example, seems to me to be saying much about nothing. Others do not share this view.) My favorite from among the authors is Sartre. Don’t pay much attention to his essay “Existentialism is a Humanism,” which is said to have been written for public consumption and which plays fast and loose with the term “freedom.” The kernel of his philosophy, as I see it, is in the selection called “Self-Deception,” more specifically in the brilliant passage about the café waiter. (It might be easier to understand Sartre’ s whole viewpoint if you read that passage first.) A waiter is not a waiter in the sense that an inkwell is an inkwell.
The Age of Analysis, ed. Morton White, Mentor Books (PB). I’m a little dubious about this one. Many of the selections are not very interesting. I thought of it mainly because of Santayana’s compelling account of religion. However, it covers much of 20th-century philosophy. In addition you might find Russell’s theory of descriptions to be clever and intriguing.
The Age of Reason, ed. Stuart Hampshire, Mentor Books (PB). The authors included in this volume were all geniuses, and some of them played a major role in the formation of Western thought. Nevertheless, my sole reason for including the book is the stunning half-page passage by Pascal.
The Metamorphosis, by Franz Kafka. I include this short story because it offers the one instance in which a book discussion group really worked for me. At the end, I suddenly said to myself, “The real metamorphosis is…!”
The Birth of Tragedy, by Friedrich Nietzsche. I almost forgot about this one. Most of the book is of little interest, but the first 50 pages or so explain Nietzsche’s distinction between the Apollonian and the Dionysian, which may appeal to those interested in understanding the arts or what human life is all about.
I believe these books will prove to be valuable and entertaining. Remember, however, that the most important book you will encounter, if you will pardon the corny analogy, is the book of your life, and you are the sole author of that.
-- G. B.