HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY WITHOUT ANY GAPS

Buster Keaton fan folks.

For a while now I've been enjoying the incredible podcast made available by Peter Adamson at The History of Philosophy Without Any Gaps.

It's thorough, well-narrated, replete with corny jokes, and the creator is a die-hard Buster Keaton fan. What's not to like? I'm on episode 134 right now, going through Islamic philosophy (about which I know nothing). Think the podcast itself is around the 237-episode mark. He's also apparently launched a side project on Indian philosophy. So check it out pronto.

CHEESE

Fernand Braudel's The Mediterranean and the Mediterranean World in the Age of Philip II ushered in the era of Annales school longue durée historical writing. It essentially tries to encompass the geological, historical, demographic, sociological, political and biological entirety of the Mediterranean in the 16th century by referring to then current resources as well as others across time. It's awesome.

In a book of such infamously biblical scope, it is fitting that it would house some biblically bizarre anecdotes. Braudel supposedly quotes the "Bishop of Catanzaro in June, 1549":

 On the morning of Easter Day, some priests would go to the sea front, where there were many flocks, and were in the habit of celebrating mass on an altar made up of formes of cheese, afterwards blessing the cheese and the flocks and giving communion to the shepherds. The priest was then given all the cheese used to make the altar.

Unfortunately I haven't been able to locate any additional information or even confirmation of this Monty Python-esque episode (Braudel's only note is "Buschbell, (article: reference mislaid) p. 7, note 1," which doesn't help much.

THAT NIGHTEE TEEM BEGIN CHOP CHOP

Jonathan Spence's The Chan's Great Continent: China in Western Minds explores different Western literary perspectives on China from Marco Polo to Italo Calvino. The initial chapters especially merit reading — those from the perspective of missionary wives provide a fascinating glimpse into isolated communities — but the latter half of the book strikes one as a rushed job. 

The final chapter (handicapped by the sheer number of possible sources in the 20th century?) almost seems to devolve into a "merely" literary consideration of Borges, Kafka and Calvino, which compares unfavorably to the examination of Western perspectives on China developed in earlier chapters. 

But none of that matters if one looks at page 133, in the middle of a discussion on U.S. perspectives/portrayals of nineteenth century Chinese immigration. Spence refers to an anonymous piece "published in Harper's in 1869" which deftly translates Longfellow's Excelsior into Pidgin English.

Longfellow's first hackneyed stanza:

The shades of night were falling fast,
As through an Alpine village passed
A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice,
A banner with the strange device
     Excelsior!

Then cf.:

That nightee teem he come chop-chop
One young man walkee, no can stop;
Colo maskee, icee maskee;
He got flag; chop b'long welly culio, see — 
     Topside Galah!

This improves on the original so much you can almost forgive Longfellow for penning the original which inspired it. The Harper's piece (in Volume 39) is up on the Internet Archive. Here's the piece, though (click to embiggen):

AMERICAN GEEZER

Prominent men have prominent corncobs.

I recently finished William Manchester's euripidean biography of Douglas MacArthur, American Caesar. At times Manchester seems to suffer from MacArthur's own predilection for over-purple prose (the description of the reclusive, musically-inclined Arthur MacArthur IV as a "fugitive from his father's relentless love" elicited some giggles from this reader),  but it's still a ripping good yarn for all that.

Manchester's succinct synopsis of the "Orwellian" Korean War is particularly fun:

A former ally of the United States, the Soviet Union, was championing a captive state, North Korea, in a conflict in which the South Korean foe was being supported by the United Nations, to which the Russians belonged, while the Soviets, meanwhile, were demanding the right to participate in treaty negotiations with a former enemy of the Americans and the Russians — Japan — which would bring peace between Japan, which was becoming the base for anti-Pyongyang forces, and the United States, now the Soviets' archenemy. To crown is all, the grand alliance fighting the puny North Koreans seemed to face imminent defeat.

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I'd also like to give my sincerest apologies to the cybervoid for my extended hiatus from the blog. I know you've missed me. Regular updates should come.

SHANGRI-LA ILLUSTRATED, AND RILKE

Great things are done when men and mountains meet. (Wm Blake)

I've taken to flickr to get a visual angle on Matthiessen's The Snow Leopard, searching for the various locales and mountain names he drops throughout the book. I must say, there are some rather fine ones out there. God bless the internetz. Still plotting the trek on Google maps, too. Once the map's done I'll post it up here.

Much like Matthiessen and the boldest explorers of past ages I myself have been delving into the terrifying wilds of self-help literature, only taking a break occasionally to read an odd smattering of Rainer Maria Rilke's lyrical Teutonic extravaganzas. Going to start methodically going thru Die Sonette an Orpheus before too long.

ANNAPURNABELLE

Annapurna massif.

Reading Peter Matthiessen's The Snow Leopard, which has already obliged with several items of Choplogical interest. I'm following the route via Google Maps and various satellite imagery, if that ain't pretty neat.

1.) An etymology I should probably know already: Himalaya = Sanskrit hima 'snow' + alaya 'dwelling," i.e. 'abode of snow.'

2.) Annapurna is one goshdarn massive massif.

FLOWING WITH MILK AND HONEY

Reading Henri J.M. Nouwen's wonderfully candid Genesee Diary. Passage below speaks for itself:

I spent the afternoon with Brother Henry at his beehives. This was my first encounter with the bees. Although I was well protected, one bee found its way into one of the legs of my pants. Well, he stung and died as a hero. A remarkable world. Now I am reading up on bees: Murray Hoyt's book, The World of Bees. There I found an example of American pragmatism that makes you cry. Based on the biblical expression of Israel as the "land flowing with milk and honey," Profesor Mykola H. Haydak wanted to test whether this were the perfect diet combination. After two months on a diet of milk and honey, "his skin became dry, pimples marred his face and whitish round spots appeared on his tongue" -- the obvious result of lack of vitamin C. "He added ten ounces of orange juice a day and all these symptoms disappeared." Hoyt remarks after describing the experiment: "So perhaps the 'land flowing with milk and honey' should be changed to 'a land flowing with milk and honey and ten ounces of range juice.' "