Loud Latin Laughing

25 Words That Don't Exist in English

2012-05-17T18:47:35Z

Age-otori (Japanese): To look worse after a haircut

Arigata-meiwaku (Japanese): An act someone does for you that you didn't want to have them do and tried to avoid having them do, but they went ahead anyway, determined to do you a favor, and then things went wrong and caused you a lot of trouble, yet in the end social conventions required you to express gratitude

Backpfeifengesicht (German): A face badly in need of a fist

Bakku-shan (Japanese): A beautiful girl... as long as she's being viewed from behind

Desenrascanco (Portuguese): "to disentangle" yourself out of a bad situation (To MacGyver it)

Duende (Spanish): a climactic show of spirit in a performance or work of art, which might be fulfilled in flamenco dancing, or bull-fighting, etc.

Forelsket (Norwegian): The euphoria you experience when you are first falling in love

Gigil (pronounced Gheegle; Filipino): The urge to pinch or squeeze something that is unbearably cute

Guanxi (Mandarin): in traditional Chinese society, you would build up good guanxi by giving gifts to people, taking them to dinner, or doing them a favor, but you can also use up your gianxi by asking for a favor to be repaid

Ilunga (Tshiluba, Congo): A person who is ready to forgive any abuse for the first time, to tolerate it a second time, but never a third time

L'esprit de l'escalier (French): usually translated as "staircase wit," is the act of thinking of a clever comeback when it is too late to deliver it

Litost (Czech): a state of torment created by the sudden sight of one's own misery

Mamihlapinatapai (Yaghan): A look between two people that suggests an unspoken, shared desire

Manja (Malay): "to pamper", it describes gooey, childlike and coquettish behavior by women designed to elicit sympathy or pampering by men. "His girlfriend is a damn manja. Hearing her speak can cause diabetes."

Meraki (pronounced may-rah-kee; Greek): Doing something with soul, creativity, or love. It's when you put something of yourself into what you're doing

Nunchi (Korean): the subtle art of listening and gauging another's mood. In Western culture, nunchi could be described as the concept of emotional intelligence. Knowing what to say or do, or what not to say or do, in a given situation. A socially clumsy person can be described as 'nunchi eoptta', meaning "absent of nunchi"

Pena ajena (Mexican Spanish): The embarrassment you feel watching someone else's humiliation

Pochemuchka (Russian): a person who asks a lot of questions

Schadenfreude (German): the pleasure derived from someone else's pain

Sgriob (Gaelic): The itchiness that overcomes the upper lip just before taking a sip of whisky

Taarradhin (Arabic): implies a happy solution for everyone, or "I win. You win." It's a way of reconciling without anyone losing face. Arabic has no word for "compromise," in the sense of reaching an arrangement via struggle and disagreement

Tatemae and Honne (Japanese): What you pretend to believe and what you actually believe, respectively

Tingo (Pascuense language of Easter Island): to borrow objects one by one from a neighbor's house until there is nothing left

Waldeinsamkeit (German): The feeling of being alone in the woods

Yoko meshi (Japanese): literally 'a meal eaten sideways,' referring to the peculiar stress induced by speaking a foreign language

From sobadsogood

The Assistant

2012-05-13T03:36:29Z

I fell in love with Walser when I read The Tanners, a wonderfully dreamy work about siblings' trials and tribulations. I was happy to be reminded of him again at the bookstore when I saw The Assistant, which I gobbled up over the past week, again dog-earring pages that capture the moody tranquility of the Swiss/German landscape through the passing seasons.

Joseph Marti arrives in the lake-side villa as the assistant to the inventor/engineer Tobler, taking up residence in the house but not collecting a salary since money was tight. His understatedness, taut and poised like a panther ready to pounce, his questioning of own abilities, his delight in household chores and the physical movement of labor. Money continues to be a problem; he meets his predecessor Wirsich who was fired for continued drunkenness, he travels back to the city and is told by an old friend that he never changes. He is fearless in swimming out to the middle of the lake in the autumn and bouncing around placing the storm windows on, but desperately fears his boss' anger. The townspeople gradually realize Tobler will not repay his debts, stop visiting him and begin to openly harass him and his family. Tobler begs for money from family, taking journeys by train to pass the hat around. In the end, Joseph walks away arm-in-arm with Wirsich, looking for real employment.

"How strangely she laughs," the subordinate mused and went on thinking: "one might, if one was set on it, take this way of laughing as the basis for a geographical study. This laugh precisely designates the region from which this woman comes. It is a handicapped laugh, it comes out of her mouth in a slightly unnatural way, as if it had always been held a little in check in early years by an all-too-strict upbringing. But it is a lovely feminine laugh, even a tiny bit frivolous."

American Psycho

2012-05-05T00:10:37Z

Trash. I skimmed through this once I realized that BEE is not an amazing writer but had to figure out why people think he is. Christian Bale haunted me as I read, dapper psychotic dandy obsessed with details of men's fashion and killing people. It's what can happen to you when you are given everything, you must chase the dragon of edge over the top. Taking a job just to fit in, not because you need to. Doing minimal work at that job, but obsessing over certain accounts (the Fisher account holds a mysterious attraction for him). Not paying attention to his friends and their inattention to him as well, as he admits to wanting to smash people's faces with bricks, or decapitate things.

The Odyssey

2012-04-30T01:55:31Z

I was captivated by Fagles' translation of The Iliad, so I stuck with the master translator for the sequel, The Odyssey, which was an entirely different beast. The same rules apply of sacrificing to the gods = BBQ & drinking, but this story covers an immensely larger territory, dipping into the war over Troy (Trojan horse executed by Odysseus' cunning), covering O's journey back from Troy, blown off course, into the Lotus Eaters, Cyclops (O's trickery in naming himself "Nobody"), Aeolus master of the wind whose bag of winds is opened by O's crew when he is sleeping and blows them off course, cannibals of Laestrygonia destroy every ship but O's, Circe turns his crew into pigs and they stay for a year, then Calypso takes him husband/hostage for many years. Meanwhile, Penelope is guarding her marriage bed against the myriad of suitors who drink/eat O's food. Telemachus, son of O & P, goes on a brief journey to find word of his illustrious father. His return is after O has reached Ithaca safely, in the custody of the swineherd. O & T hatch a plan to sweep the suitors from his palace, which comes to fruition.

Notable:
* Telemachus' sneeze seals Penelope's prayer to the gods
* Bird signs are taken very seriously, winging to the right is good luck
* The swineherd's actions are introduced in a very loving second person, "You"

Short Cuts

2012-04-29T01:47:24Z

Raymond Carver is a master at telling creepy stories. This is the movie -> book collection, inspired by Altman's movie of the same name. Every collection of stories I've read by him includes a version of "Scotty", the story about the baker who crank-calls the couple who doesn't pick up their son's birthday cake because he's hit by a car, in the hospital, and dies. There's another disturbing story, So Much Water So Close to Home, where the husband is on a four day fishing/camping/drinking trip and they find a dead body on day 1 but choose to continue fishing/drinking/camping. The vitamin story shows up in this collection as well. And the dad who takes the family dog to get lost. Undercurrents of daily life held up for scrutiny and that make us all look strange, florescently- lit.

A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again: Essays and Arguments

2012-04-16T18:56:21Z

I was inducted into the cult this weekend, devouring this collection of essays, enjoying the tapdancing in my head, exhausting my dictionary. All those rabid fans are right-- Wallace is one of the greats. This collection includes extensions of work published in Harper's, Harvard Book Review, Premier, Esquire, and The Review of Contemporary Fiction. The topics cover: tennis in tornado conditions, the impact of television on culture, David Lynch, an Illinois state fair, deconstructionism, how pro tennis players differ from us, and a 7 day Caribbean cruise. It is hilarious, achingly well written, and mind-stretching. The work speaks for itself, I will not attempt my usual desultory summarization. Instead, I leave bread crumbs of words that I picked up from the 300+ pages. I am now interested in details like what Wallace circled in his dictionary. Rabbit hole, here I come.

A partial word list I learned or re-introduced myself to:

ectomorphic, melisma, strabismus, lacuna, senescence, thanatology, saprophytic, spume, gestalt, preterite, rictus, titivate, onanism, olla podrida, hermeneutic, ablate, crepuscular, anamorphic, pulchritude, weltschmerz, teleological, ad hominem, exergue, ostensive, otiose, commissure, promulgate, enfilade, plangent, soteriology, eidetic, solmization, coffle, solipsism, prurient, synecdoche, hebephrenia, saurian, glabrous, candent, miscegenation.

Some of my favorites from the above:

lacuna: blank space or missing part

spume: frothy matter on liquid (and called out as DFW's favorite word learned on the cruise)

rictus: a gaping grin

titivate: to spruce up

ablate: to remove by cutting/evaporating; to vaporize

weltschmerz: depression about state of world compared to ideal state

otiose: futile

plangent: having a loud reverberating sound

solipsism: extreme egoism

glabrous: smooth, hairless

When my dictionary failed me, I searched for definitions online (for plumeocide), which led me to other people's word-love with Wallace. I like this community.

Wallace seemed to prefer certain words, too. My unsophisticated noticing saw several uses of these in the book: miscegenation, plangent, sophist, instantiate, otiose, promulgate, weltschmerz.

On Life and Work

2012-04-15T02:20:14Z

My ratio of reading dead vs. living authors must be around 9:1. Why, then, do I have tears running down my face, why have I been sobbing, after reading the Kenyon College commencement speech DFW gave in 2005? Simply because the author committed suicide in 2008, during my own lifetime, cutting short his output of amazing work? I am confused by my own reaction to this death, four years after the fact. Before I read his work, I wasn't affected to the extent I am now. But today I am moping around, tragically struck as if one of my own family/friends were silenced. Perhaps if I had been extant in the 40s I would have had a similar reaction to VW's death? But perhaps it is the twice mentioned suicide within DFW's speech that sets a particular teary tone for me; he lays out his map (although in reality hanging vs. the mention of shooting) and then executes it three years later. Perhaps it is the reflection of his last line, knowing the context of his no longer being with us: "It is unimaginably hard to do this, to stay conscious and alive, day in and day out."

Top Picks of 2011

2012-04-11T03:08:43Z

Well into Spring of 2012, I've neglected my annual wrap-up. Here 'tis, in all its corroded memory glory. Lots of re-reads made the list, and I went deep into the classics this year.

Winners:

1. Ulysses by James Joyce
2. Moby Dick, or The Whale by Herman Melville
3. Remembrance of Things Past: Swann's Way by Marcel Proust
4. The Notebook by Agota Kristoff
5. Snow Leopard by Peter Matthiessen

Honorable Mentions:
1. You Can't Win by Jack Black
2. Moonwalking with Einstein by Joshua Foer
3. Cathedral by Raymond Carver
4. Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov
5. Status Anxiety by Alain de Botton

Worthy Contenders:
1. The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender
2. My Uncle Oswald by Roald Dahl
3. The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas
4. The Lotus Eaters by Tatjana Soli
5.1984 by George Orwell
6. The Lover's Dictionary by David Levithan

The Iliad

2012-04-07T00:34:46Z

A scrawled note in the margin of a much-read copy of Moby Dick screams, "What's so great about Homer, anyway?" as I vented my frustration with being inundated with Homer references throughout literature. Eventually, I caved into curiosity and picked up Robert Fagles translation, a wonderfully readable and poetic work. The fact that my high school mascot was the Trojan and I wasn't required to read this then is a glimpse into the priorities of public school.

Bernard Knox's introduction was helpful, setting the stage for the story, explaining the repetition of phrases, explaining the mixture of dialects through the work (oral poets chose the best word for the line, inserting new stuff when it fit better).

In a nutshell, the Iliad is a book packed with poetic descriptions of violent deaths during the war between the Acheans and Troy. Helen was an Achean woman stolen by Paris (Troy), and armies of men sail to Ilium to protest. At the beginning, we see Achilles' raging/pouting because he had a woman (Briseis) stolen from him by Agamemnon. War rages on and Achilles refuses to take part, hanging out in his ship while his allied armies battle to the death with Troy. The battle shifts back and forth, Hector (Troy) gaining glory through slaughter. The Olympian gods meddle with events, sometimes taking the battlefield against each other. Achilles finally sends his best friend Patroclus to fight in his stead, Patroclus dies, Achilles is beyond grief, rages against the Trojans, singles out Hector when the rest of the army has fled inside the city walls, and Achilles (what?) CHASES Hector around the city walls three times before Hector turns and fights, dies. Hector's body is dragged back to the ships, paraded around Patroclus' grave three times a day, and funeral games (think Olympics-- wrestling, running, chariot races) are held. Hector's dad Priam is granted safe passage into the enemy camp by the gods in order to save Hector's body. Achilles gives Priam twelve days to mourn Hector and then war begins again.

Random thoughts:
* Sacrificing to the gods was merely an excuse to have a BBQ and get drunk, sing songs.
* These guys were overly concerned with "proper" burial instead of being eaten by carrion or worms. The battle over Patroclus' body killed a bunch of folks on each side.
* Seemed like the only difference between this war and some of the more recent wars is the naming of every single person who dies. So and so, son of so and so.
* "Even a fool learns something once it hits him."

Die, Die, Diet

2012-04-02T04:18:00Z

Hilarious murder mystery solved with clever wordplay and double entendres. Diet pushers all over the country start winding up dead, the FBI is on the case with Agents Flaim and Stultz. Flaim is a strange character, a breathtaking beauty without the sense of smell and with a penchant for shopping. Stultz fumes about the Director's use of his nickname, Bearcat, until Flaim tells him to embrace it, to BE the bearcat. Stultz is also inexplicably a baker in his free time, and struggles with his weight. The victims are a bit cartoonish: Suzy Pop who explodes with Pineapple Cake Surprise... although the author wants to be sure you get the grenade/pineapple connection so he spells it out instead of hinting you that direction; Les Legume, the mayor with a free breakfast program pushing beans and killed by rictin (extract of bean); the nutty professor who wound up choked in his food lab on a nut concoction; the attempt at the end on the sauna-loving Youngbody.

The anagrams at the heart of solving this mystery were a bit much, and the ultimate "bad guy" behind all of it was eye-roll-inducing. Regardless, a quick and pleasurable read of first rate writing. You'll have some chortles along the way.

Thérèse Raquin

2012-03-31T15:07:06Z

My favorite part of the book might be Zola's preface to the second edition, where he berates his critics and relates what his friend tells him, "You have one huge failing which will close every door to you: you cannot talk for two minutes to a halfwit without letting him know that he is one." Overall, a good introduction to Zola's works, short chapters, good pacing, excellent translation by Robin Buss.

The story involves a sickly child, Camille, who is brought up with his orphan cousin Therese, and they then marry. Therese traps all emotion and interest under a hard shell of immobility, sitting for hours just staring out at the world, uncurious. They take possession of a haberdashery in a dingy Parisian alley, Camille's mother churning out work while Therese waits dutifully on her. Camille brings home a friend from the office, Laurent, who captivates Therese, the first "real man" she has ever lain eyes on, pulsing with energy and strength. Laurent paints Camille's portrait, decides to take Therese as his lover.

As soon as Laurent kisses Therese, it unleashes a wild passion in her, transforming her cold, immobile state into a frenzied being. They meet upstairs from the haberdashery every day, indulging in their adultery. Laurent soon comes to appreciate the house as his own family; he is doted on by the mother, ravished by the wife, and cheered as a good friend by the husband. But eventually Laurent wants to take Camille's place, to be able to wake up with Therese one morning. Thus hatches the murder plot which pushes Camille into the lake they are boating around one evening, Camille unable to swim but biting Laurent's neck as he struggles.

The couple then pretend not to be involved with each other for a few years, and are eventually persuaded to marry by the dead son's mother. Once married, they are haunted by Camille, and hate each other with an equal passion that they loved each other. The mother suffers a paralyzing stroke, they forget she is around and confess their crime within her earshot, shattering her. Eventually she sees them poison themselves, and is able to die peacefully.

The Guns of August

2012-03-17T19:00:38Z

Great look at the first 30-ish days of World War I and the events leading up to it. Tuchman assumes a baseline of historical knowledge which challenged me in a good way-- I had to refresh my memory on the Dreyfus Affair, Rasputin, etc. She drops references in along the way that are a pleasure to recognize ( calling one officer from Gascon another "D'Artagnan"), or to look up (thinking I found a typo, I found that "Casabianca" refers to a poem where a boy stands on the burning deck). Thoroughly researched, written in an engaging style with great use of quotes sprinkled in from people who were there. It draws a clear picture of German militarism, their "right" to rule the world because they're the most efficient and smartest, their battle plan perfected, but then human nature cracking perfectly laid plans. Fear crumbling the iron will of Headquarters when on the battlefield. Germany invades the neutral state of Belgium, which brings England into the war in name only. Four battalions are sent over to help France, but under the bumbling leadership of Sir John French, they hang back for the most part, until the end. Galleini's defense of Paris, sending taxis with soldiers from the train station to the front. The Russian army providing a diversion for two critical German divisions that otherwise would have crushed the Western Front in the initial month. At the end, they settle down for a 4 year slog, but it is the critical push on the Marne that saves France from German rule.

The Marriage Plot

2012-03-09T03:09:31Z

Disgusting, maudlin, ridiculous novel I should never have given into the myriad of "great book!"s to procure from the library. Strike 1: the title. Why do I even bother with books that I want to hide the title of? Strike 2: more egregious, the ending. Awful. Wretch-inducing. If I wanted my books tied with a dandy pink bow, I will ask for that up front. Strike 3: it was almost good at the beginning. What's not to like about a lit nerd gorgeous girl whose love affair with a manic depressive turns bad? Name dropping authors like nobody's business, I felt all warm and tingly. And then the grind that the entire book put you through, worthless.

Avoid at all costs.

Selected Dialogues

2012-03-06T04:20:57Z

These five works are a great intro to Plato, showing off his more literary side. Through Plato we learn of Socrates (469BC- 399BC) and the modes of philosophical inquiry Plato experimented with.

Ion - Ion is a performer of epic poetry who insists he is the expert on Homer, Plato goes to show him as stupid, which proves that memorizing Homer does not create wisdom. So then, what is the source of poetic wisdom or knowledge?

Protagoras - Protagoras bills himself as a teacher for hire. Teacher of what? Virtue. But can this be taught? Socrates proves it cannot. How is knowledge gained and imparted? Socrates drags a reluctant Protagoras into a dialectical back and forth.

Surely knowledge is the food of the soul; and we must take care that the sophist does not cheat us when he praises the goods he is hawking, like the wholesalers and retailers who sell the food for the body... Those traveling salesmen of knowledge praises them all alike; though I wouldn't be surprised if some were really unaware which articles of their merchandise are good for the soul, and which bad.

Phaedrus- inquiry into rhetoric, is it possible for truth to exist in a speech or writing meant to persuade? The three speeches are regarding the act of a lover with his beloved; is it better to love a lover than a non-lover? Socrates hears Lysias' speech (by way of Phaedrus), then covers his head and mockingly makes another more eloquent speech, then atones to the gods by making a proper speech wherein love is adored as Eros and Aphrodite. The art of a speech is to know the truth, start at the beginning, define each truth, divide the truth until it cannot be divided any more, then recap the speech saying what was said.

Symposium- everyone makes speeches in honor of Love at Agathon's dinner party. At the beginning, they decide to abstain from alcohol since some of them were still feeling the effects of the prior night's festivities. ("It was agreed that drinking was not to dominate the evening's activities, but that they were all to drink only so much as they pleased.") Coercive toasting was banned, as was the flute-girl. Phaedrus's speech names Love as the oldest of the gods, points out that dying for one's beloved was the highest of honors and the gods reward such sacrifice with rebirth. Pausanias's speech distinguishes heavenly love from lustful common love. "Those inspired by this (heavenly) Love turn to the male, delighting in the more valiant and intelligent nature." (Bullshit sexism from the Greeks should be expected.) This type of love strives toward betterment of individuals and cities. Eryximachus takes Aristophanes' place due to hiccups, giving him a recommendation to hold his breath, if that fails then gargle with water, then force a sneeze. (The sneeze finally cures them). Aristophanes claims we used to be two halves, male/male, male/female, female/female, and were split apart in punishment for insolence to the gods, forever seeking to heal ourselves by coupling with others. Agathon says Love is the youngest of the gods, and tender, living in soft places in the body, the most beautiful and best in himself and causing that in others. Socrates puts the smackdown, proving that Love cannot be a god (you desire what you lack, and the gods are beautiful thus they don't lack beauty, Love is beauty); Love is a demigod, intermediate between the divine and mortal. Socrates' wisdom is derived from Diotima, an instructress in Love (e.g. prostitute). Love is love of the everlasting possession of the good. The life one should live is in contemplation of absolute beauty. After the speeches, a very drunk Alcibiades crashes the party and exposes information about Socrates, how Alcibiades tried to seduce the older man and failed, how that is the reverse of how things should be, how Socrates always manages to lure people into seducing him, how he values no possessions, is able to drink and eat as little or much as he wants, his valor in battle, the day (and night) he stood in one spot thinking about something for 24 hours.

Apology- Socrates' defense in his trial accused of corrupting youth. He shows the invalidity of the argument (how can he be both atheist and teaching the wrong gods?) and the apathy of the prosecutor for the sacredness of youths' minds. He explains that he's been trying to prove that he isn't the wisest man in the world by questioning others in an attempt to find someone wiser, but that most people pretend wisdom. "A life without examination is no life for a human being." Once convicted, he pleads against the death penalty but rather for 30 lbs of silver as a fine that his friends will pay. Upon getting the death sentence, he praises it, saying death is welcome either as a pleasant night's dream or a reunion with great past heroes he can question.

The Three Musketeers

2012-02-29T04:01:21Z

The comic-book-style cover might have been the greatest thing about this book. Apparently this is the best translation, Pevear's, but my god (mondieu!) what a ghastly affair. Somewhere midships I was about to jump overboard as Dumas got carried away having D'Artagnan fall in love with Milady and completely forget about his apparent true love, Ms. Bonacieux, who was locked up in a convent for her protection by the queen. Somehow I have missed all the Disneyfied retellings of this story, so it was with fresh ears that the tale of D'Artagnan and his three musketeer friends (Athos = great lord presumed dead, Porthos = boisterous and pretending to be in love with a rich married woman, Aramis = always yearning for the church). Swordfights, gentlemen of honor, handkerchiefs dropped. Tiny chapters that belie the serialized nature of the story parceled out in spoonfuls to the Parisian illiterate. A bland basic story muddled with miles of dialogue that go nowhere. Spoiled by the Count of Monte Christo, I am.

Bossypants

2012-02-27T20:05:11Z

A quick and sometimes funny read, picked up in the airport and devoured on the flight home. The origin of Tina's scar, what she can tell about you depending on how quickly you ask about the scar, the scar's impact on making her feel special. The impressiveness of father Don. A crappy job at a YMCA in Chicago, then improv classes then Second City then SNL then 30 Rock. Having a kid and running the show, debating having another.

Sometimes a Great Notion

2012-02-14T04:06:24Z

It was a great notion to pick this one up for a re-read almost 15 years since I last read it. My vague memories of rain and river were confirmed, but I had forgotten about the lyrical prose, the beat, the cadence of the language, the way the story gripped you until the bitter end. The Stamper family has carved a place for themselves on the riverbank in Oregon, daily battling to keep the bank from crumbling into the river. The story drops you in the middle of the union dispute that Hank Stamper is thumbing his nose up at (his family business un-unionized), with an arm left dangling with the middle finger from a hook above the house, taunting onlookers. We shuffle into the Snag, a local bar filled with neon signs that act as trophies for the other bars Teddy has put out of business, we find Hank's wife Viv crumpled damp in the corner, leafing through a family album. She takes us on the tale of what led up to all of this.

"Never give an inch!" plaque on the wall above Hank's bed growing up, old Henry inflexible and full of tales of logging in yesteryear. The family logging business, Joe Ben staying at the house while his own is built in town, perpetual enthusiasm up until the minute of his drowning as the river rises to catch him but not float the log he is pinned underneath. Half brother Lee, out of his gourd back East, comes to help out and harbors a revenge fantasy to free himself from his childhood demons of spying on his mother and brother Hank.

One of the best books I've been carried away by in recent times.

Letters from a Stoic

2012-02-03T04:38:50Z

Campbell curates the collection of 124 letters to Lucilius into 40 relevant ones which include nuggets of wisdom both from Seneca and from readings he consumes (Hecato, Epicurus, Pomponius). His nuggets are referred to as "deposits to his account", as if he owes them to Lucilius.

Letter II:
Getting to know each other, instructing him to remain steady in his reading habits, not wandering about. Advice to pick one thought to be digested thoroughly that day.

Be careful, however, that there is no element of discursiveness and desultoriness about this reading you refer to, this reading of many different authors and books of every description. You should be extending your stay among writers whose genius is unquestionable, deriving constant nourishment from them if you wish to gain anything from your reading that will find a lasting place in your mind. To be everywhere is to be nowhere. People who spend their whole life traveling abroad end up having plenty of places where they can find hospitality but no real friendships. The same must needs be the case with people who never set about acquiring an intimate acquaintanceship with any one great writer, but skip from one to another, paying flying visits to them all. Food that is vomited up as soon as it is eaten is not assimilated into the body and does not do one any good; nothing hinders a cure so much as frequent changes of treatment; a wound will not heal over if it is being made the subject of experiments with different ointments; a plant which is frequently moved never grows strong. Nothing is so useful that it can be of any service in the mere passing. A multitude of books only gets in one's way. So if you are unable to read all the books in your possession, you have enough when you have all the books you are able to read.

Letter III:
On the nature of friendship and being true to one's self. Judging people carefully before becoming friends, behaving as if you are by yourself when with a friend.

Letter V:
on the proper conduct and manners of a Stoic; inwardly different from the crowd but outwardly conforming. Living in harmony with nature, simple living. Cease to hope so that you cease to fear.

Letter VI:
Part of the joy of learning is that it enables him to teach. Sharing knowledge instead of greedily lapping it up to store away for one's self.
Hecato's wisdom, "What progress have I made? I am beginning to be my own friend."

]]> Letter VII:
Avoiding the mass crowd since sensitive people are susceptible to becoming hardened by the vices they are exposed to en masse. Surround yourself with people who are good influences.

Democritus says, "A single man is a crowd, and a crowd is a single man."
Someone's answer to why he took so much trouble over a piece of craftsmanship that would only reach a few people, "A few is enough for me; so is one; so is none."

When a mind is impressionable and has none too firm a hold on what is right, it must be rescued from the crowd: it is so easy for it to go over to the majority. A single example of extravagance or greed does a lot of harm - an intimate who leads a pampered life gradually makes one soft and flabby; a wealthy neighbor provokes cravings in one; a companion with a malicious nature tends to rub off some of his rust even on someone of an innocent and open-hearted nature - what then do you imagine the effect on a person's character is when the assault comes from the word at large? You must inevitably either hate or imitate the world.... Retire into yourself as much as you can. Associate with people who are likely to improve you. Welcome those whom you are capable of improving. The process is a mutual one: men learn as they teach.

Letter VIII:
Seneca pats himself on the back a bit, says he's studied all this so that he can tell future generations how to live. His writing might be seen as a bit of "inactivity" or withdrawal from public life, but it's more productive than the daily duties of court. He defends himself for quoting the rival school of thought, saying a well turned phrase belongs to everyone.
Epicurus: "To win true freedom you must be a slave to philosophy"

Letter IX:
On the difficulty of translating the Greek apatheia to Roman impatientia (mind devoid of feeling)... invulnerable, above all suffering. On the pleasure of making friends and keeping them. Does a wise man need a friend? Don't enter into a friendship with an eye on profiting from it. You can't be happy if you think you're not happy.
Hecato: if you wish to be loved, love.

Letter XI:
On meeting a mutual acquaintance who blushes, the honesty of a blush, nature's anti-lying device. Set a standard for yourself to be measured against, pick a mentor whom you imagine is always around and who can see your every action.

Letter XII:
On aging, seeing himself crumble as the buildings crumble, cherishing old age, appreciating being beyond desires.
Epicurus: To live under constraint is a misfortune, but there is no constraint to live under constraint.

Letter XV:
On the pursuit of wisdom being better for you than working out with weights, Seneca bashes people who exercise and eat a lot to gain mass, instead counseling some short and simple exercises that save time: running, swinging weights about, and jumping. Exercise your brain night and day. "Cultivate an asset (your brain) which the passive of time itself improves."

Letter XVI:
Exhortation to live a life in pursuit of wisdom, to cautiously examine yourself to ensure you are staying true to the path. Don't let your spiritual enthusiasm cool off, but keep hold of it, put it on firm footing so that it may turn into a settled spiritual disposition. Keep your eye on the prize. Live simply, naturally, and you will be rich for lack of wants.

Letter XVIII:
The December festival of Saturnalia has the whole town reeling in drunkenness, so Seneca asks whether to join them or to hold himself aloof? He decides to be among the crowd, but not participate in the drunkenness. He urges Lucilius to set aside a few days a month to prepare for poverty, to act as if he has nothing, to eat a few crumbs and appreciate them all the more. Convince yourself that you can live a happy life without your riches. This letter's nugget of wisdom is "Anger carried to excess begets madness."

Letter XXVI:
More on aging and dying, how moving gently towards dissolve is a good way to leave life. Rehearse death, so that when you do it once, you know what you're doing.

Letter XXVII:
Make sure your faults die before you do. "A good character is the only guarantee of everlasting, carefree happiness." The story of Calvisius Sabinus, who has a bad memory and hires slaves to memorize Homer and the nine lyric poets, having them quote from those epics to guests that he then repeats.

Letter XXVIII:
In response to Lucilius's complaint that he was unable to shake melancholy after a trip abroad, Seneca instructs that you can't escape because you are traveling with yourself. A change of character, not a change of scenery, is what is required. It doesn't matter where you arrive, but what sort of person you are when you arrive there. You are rambling and drifting, but the good life is available everywhere.
Nugget of wisdom is Epicurus: "A consciousness of wrongdoing is the first step to salvation." Be harsh with yourself, evaluate your sins, pass judgement.

Letter XXXIII:
Apparently Lucilius has been begging for more scraps of sayings to be fed him. Seneca points out that things look sparkling and stand out when the stuff they were amidst wasn't very good. Then he demands that we not merely consume but create:

In the case of a grown man who has made incontestable progress it is disgraceful to go hunting after gems of wisdom, and prop himself up with a minute number of the best-known sayings, and be dependent on his memory as well; it is time he was standing on his own feet. He should be delivering himself of such sayings, not memorizing them. It is disgraceful that a man who is old or in sight of old age should have a wisdom deriving solely from his notebook. 'Zeno said this.' And what have you said? 'Cleanthes said that.' What have you said? How much longer are you going to serve under others' orders? Assume authority yourself and utter something that may be handed down to posterity. Produce something from your own resources.

Letter XXXVIII:
On the power of words and conversation instead of lectures and harangues. Words are seeds, our thoughts germinate and grow into a wholly separate thing.

Letter XL:
On the benefits of letters, even more than pictures of absent friends because the handwriting provides more personal touch. How philosophers should be gently eloquent, not speaking too quickly. Popular talk being about swaying a mass audience, much like current political talk it "carries away unpracticed ears by the force of its onslaught. It never submits itself to detailed discussion, is just wafted away." There is no pleasure in a "noisy promiscuous torrent of words." Be a slow speaking person.

Letter XLI:
On elevating the soul, each of us containing a divine spirit inside. To be a person who fears nothing and affected by no external circumstance.

Letter XLVI:
Seneca reviews Lucilius' book, gushing over the writing quality, emphasizing that the book subject was well chosen to fertilize the mind.

It was so enjoyable, though, that I found myself held and drawn on until I ended up having read it right through to the end without a break. All the time the sunshine was inviting me out, hunger prompting me to eat, the weather threatening to break, but I gulped it down in one sitting.

Letter XLVII:
On treating everyone, including slaves, as equals.

Letter XLVIII:
On the follies of philosophical thought wrapped in logic puzzles (mouse is a syllable, and a mouse nibbles cheese; therefore a syllable nibbles cheese.) Learn only the essential things.

Letter LIII:
Seneca takes a trip by boat, gets freaked out and has the boatman take him close to shore where he jumps out. Acknowledge your failings as the first step to gaining health.

Away with every obstacle and leave yourself free to acquire a sound mind - no one ever attains this if he's busy with other things. Philosophy wields an authority of her own; she doesn't just accept time, she grants one it. She's not something one takes up in odd moments.

Letter LIV:
Seneca's asthma attack which is referred to as rehearsing for death, despite this he never ceased to have cheerful and courageous reflections. Do not be reluctant to die.

Letter LV:
Seneca's sedan chair ride. Soft living makes us feeble. His ride takes his past Vatia's house where Vatia retired out of public eye, Seneca accuses him of hiding.

Letter LVI:
(Weird font at the beginning of this letter.) You don't need to go into seclusion to study if you are Seneca, noises do not bother him, he can sit at the foot of the tower of Babel and focus, by becoming self-absorbed in his thoughts. Rest is sometimes far from restful if your emotions are in turmoil. At the end, Seneca admits that he is moving elsewhere to a quieter spot, he just wanted to test himself.

Letter LXIII:
Don't mourn for your dead friend, celebrate his life. Tears but no lamentation. We grieve openly for the show of it. Time softens grief, make new friends to replace the old.

Letter LXV:
Philosophy debate: all things are derived from cause and matter. What about time, place, motion, ideas. The soul is in captivity unless philosophy comes to the rescue.

Letter LXXVII:
How to die nobly, leave life in the right way. Marcellinus's 3 day fast then lying in a steam bath until he faded away. Don't cry about death, it's a certainty. The Spartan who was taken prisoner and refused to be a slave, cracking his own skull open on the wall. Just as a play, what matters about life is how good it is, not how long the acting lasts.

Letter LXXVIII:
Seneca's history of sickness, how philosophy saved him along with his friends, his stopping himself from suicide on behalf of his father's grief. Don't be afraid of death. The miracle of pain, how when it becomes intolerable, the body ceases to feel it. Forever quoting Virgil, "There may be pleasure in the memory of even these events one day."

Letter LXXXIII:
Seneca's daily routine: going for a run, then a cold plunge then hot bath, breakfast of dry bread, then a nap. Examples of leaders who kept secrets even though they were drunks: Lucius Piso, Cossus. Pleasures beyond a certain level become punishments (drinking too much).

Letter LXXXVI:
Seneca staying in Scipio's old house, the bath hidden away in the corner, a fortress. Not needing to bathe every day in the olden days, now people stink like scent. How to transport olive vines.

Letter LXXXVIII:
Seneca's rousing support of liberal arts (Well, some of them). Language, history, poetry are all well and good but don't point the way to virtue. Philosophy leads toward virtue except when it doesn't. Look for the best and expect the worst. "To want to know more than is sufficient is a form of intemperance." (oops, guilty of that)

Why 'liberal studies' are so called is obvious: it is because they are the ones considered worthy of a free man. But there is really only one liberal study that deserves the name - because it makes a person free - and that is the pursuit of wisdom.

Letter XC:
He lost me on this one, a kind of diatribe on how Posidonius grants everyday creations to the philosophers when in fact they were invented by slaves (shorthand, bread making, windows in buildings, sailing ships). Hammering home how we were born in innocence but didn't realize how lucky we were to be in tune with nature.

Letter XCI:
The town of Lyons has burned to the ground, but our grief is only because it was unexpected.

Letter XCIV:
Repeated wisdom from Letter XXVIII about how travel doesn't help you because you're carrying your unresolved mind around with you. There is no art that can be picked up by simply being in one place vs. another. How easy it is to see the change in other people but not notice it in ourselves, "While other people are snatched away from us, we are being filched away surreptitiously from ourselves."

Letter XCV:
Rues to live safely; things that goad men into killing others: hope (to battle this, own nothing), envy (show no ostentation), hatred (don't give offense), fear (to be feared is to fear), contempt. In essence, keep to yourself, talk to others as little as possible and with yourself as much as possible.

Letter XCVII:
Seneca tells Lucilius to stop bemoaning his runaway slaves, life is tough, expect the worst.

Letter CVIII:
Keep your appetite for food/drink in check, sleep on a hard bed, prepare the mind. Pythagoras was a vegetarian (Seneca too, until his father asked him to stop). How various people focus on the same thing in different ways.

Letter CXIV:
The corruption of styles of writing and speaking, imitators.

Letter CXXII:
People who flip day and night and party all night only to sleep all day are unnatural, avoid them.

Letter CXXIII:
Don't wish for what you don't have and make the most of what comes your way.

Sailing Alone Around the World

2012-01-31T00:24:09Z

I'm stunned at not knowing about this book's existence, what with my obsession with the sea and salty tales. Slocum was the first to sail a boat alone around the world beginning in 1895, back in 1898. His book is both technical and readable, interjecting humor and poetry among the waves in a sparse writing style. He revels in his solitude but also delights in putting into port and meeting the locals. Days upon days are spent reading while the boat sails itself in good weather. His first attempt around Cape Horn fails, so he painstakingly returns through the Straits of Magellan for another crack at it. One helpful friend gives him a bucket of tacks to sprinkle on his deck at night which deters the natives from creeping on to steal from him. At one point he is pursued by natives, so he goes into the cabin and changes clothes, looking like 2 men are on board, then rigs up some sort of cardboard contraption to make it look like 3 men were on board. He spends a length of time in Australia, giving lectures about his trip, and again in South Africa. A great adventure story for the ages.

The Emigrants

2012-01-29T20:44:49Z

Memory and loss, the German way. Four stories of German emigrants to various spots around the world (London, Manchester, New Jersey, Long Island, France), dispersed to the winds by the evil storm clouds of mid-20th century Germany. The narrator's tale interweaves with his subjects so that "I" refers to several different characters along the way. The common theme is his seeking out background information to plump up the memories or stories he has of these tangential figures in his life. So he goes seeking, deciphering tiny handwritten journals, gathering old photo albums, visiting hospital rooms and old folks' homes, climbing over locked gates to enter an old Jewish cemetery.

"I felt increasingly that the mental impoverishment and lack of memory that marked the Germans, and the efficiency with which they had cleaned everything up, were beginning to affect my head and my nerves."

Terrific, moody writing, the kind that guts you and wrenches out your insides without you noticing. The ghost of a butterfly man haunts each tale, or boy with butterfly net, or Nabokov.

I stumbled onto this book by way of reading something online about a memoir Sigrid Nunez just published about Susan Sontag; The Emigrants had been recommended by Sontag to the Nunez as one of her favorites.

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Translated by Michael Hulse