On Distracted (I mean inspired) Reading

So it seems I’ve caught the latest fever, the Downton Abbey fever, that is.  If you’re like me and living under a rock apparently, it’s a period drama about an aristocratic family ( and their servants ) in early 20th century England.  And it’s so wildly popular that the show has already made it into the Guinness Book of World Records.   Now I’m not one to jump on the bandwagon of the latest popular preoccupation.   The last time I found myself in mania mode, I had just reached the double digits and their name was New Kids on the Block.  Perhaps that experience taught me early that what’s “all the rage” translates in a few years to “Who?”  or “What?”

I didn’t even realize that there was a Downton Abbey craze until after I’d started watching the first season early last week.  Here’s how it all came about.  Months ago, I made a note of the show after it was given a mention by another blogger, I can’t remember who (Thomas, perhaps? ).  Then the other night after finding nothing on

Maggie Smith as Violet

television, my husband and I commenced to scrolling through our instant Netflix queue in search of something to watch.  Both of us too exhausted for a full length film, we settled on episode one of Downton.  I’m not typically a fan of costume dramas and period pieces (I know, gasp, right? Don’t hate me, it’s just not usually my thing.  The books, yes.  The movies, not so much.)  but I was willing to give it a shot.  When Maggie Smith made an appearance, forget it, hooked from that moment on.  As my husband says, “Every time she shows up on the screen I just keep thinking how much I love her and I forget to listen to what she says.”      We did a lot of rewinding during those first few episodes.

I did a quick Google search to find out how many seasons there’d been and how much we’d missed, and that’s when I discovered the frenzy.  And that’s also when I discovered that I had just missed the premiere of season 2, which began airing in the U.S.  on PBS last Sunday.  To my relief, they are  showing that episode again before the current one, beginning at 7p.m. tomorrow night.  Whew!  This evening I’ll be taking in the remaining episodes of the first season in preparation.

All of this has put me in the mood for two things.  1) marmalade cake.  I have no idea why.  To my memory such a cake hasn’t been mentioned in any of the episodes I’ve seen so far.  It’s likely I would have wanted one anyway.  I tend to crave oranges in the winter.  But it also seems like something they might have eaten, possibly at tea?  So I made one . . .

Downton Abbey's Lady Mary Crawley

2) to read something Edwardian.  I ordered a copy of John Galsworthy’s The Forsyte Saga and while I’m waiting for that to arrive, I’ve picked up a copy of Henry James’ The Portrait of a Lady, not Edwardian of course, but there was something in the brief description I read of Isabel Archer which reminded me of Mary Crawley.  I could be totally wrong, but the accuracy of my assumption is not so important really.  It inspired me to take a first look at Henry James, and fifty pages in, I can say that I’m really enjoying it so far.

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I’ve learned that I’m a rather easily distracted reader.  I don’t mean that I get easily distracted while I’m reading (though that sometimes happens too), I mean that I bounce around from one author or time period to another like a kid in a candy store.  As soon as I land on something really good, wait, that over there looks really good too!  While I love the idea of immersing myself in Shakespeare until I’ve mastered him, I know I will never be that reader.  I make plans that I don’t stick to.  I compose lists that I don’t follow.  I join challenges that I don’t complete.  I helplessly throw up my hands in resignation.  Maybe I lack self-discipline, but I can’t manage to stay on one track when another calls to me.

Having said that, I am still continuing with my Shakespeare studies.  I recently finished A Midsummer Night’s Dream and I’m slowly working my way through Will in the World by Stephen Greenblatt.  While Greenblatt isn’t as fast-paced or witty as Bryson, he expounds on many things that Bryson touched on.      So one “track”  is never completely abandoned in favor of another.  If books were stepping stones, I certainly wouldn’t be taking the most direct path across the stream.   I hop upstream for a while and then back downstream and maybe I’ll never make it completely across.  But all in all, I think a chaotic, nonlinear approach works for me.  I might not become a master of Shakespeare reading this way, but following my inspiration keeps the passion alive.  And that’s the most important thing, right?

How about you?  What sort of things inspire your reading choices?  Are you linear and methodical?  Or do you bounce around too?  Do you believe that there’s a “best” way to approach reading through literature?

Classics Challenge Discussion : The Author

The Classics Challenge is a monthly meme hosted by November’s Autumn.  I love Katherine’s approach to this challenge, which will be to focus on a different topic for discussion each month.  This month’s focus is the author, and the author I will be highlighting is William Shakespeare.

I started reading Shakespeare again last year, for the first time since high school.  When I started my reading project, I had no intention really of reading Shakespeare again.  My reading project focused more on books from the 18th – 20th centuries and I was content to leave it at that.  But last February, I learned that the traveling troupe for the American Shakespeare Center would be coming to my town with a production of As You Like It.  My husband had raved about some Shakespeare performances that he’d seen in the past (from a now defunct troupe) so I arranged for us to go and since I knew that they would be staying true to the original Shakespearean English, I bought a copy of the play to give me a leg up during the performance.  That production was even better than I had anticipated!  I had no idea that Shakespeare could be so entertaining to my modern senses.  I was enthralled.  That night sealed my interest in Shakespeare.  I knew I wanted to read more of his works and definitely see more live performances.  In the following months of 2011, I read two more plays each followed by another live show put on by the ASC at their headquarters, Blackfriars Theater, in Staunton, VA.  I am lucky in that I live only a few hours from there so it’s a feasible weekend getaway.

Anyway, I digress . . .

What did the author look like? That’s the first question posed by Katherine for this discussion, which should be simple enough, right?  With Shakespeare, not so much.  One of the most recognizable images of Shakespeare is the Chandos portrait, dated sometime between 1600 – 1610 and believed to have been painted by a man named John Taylor but it has also been claimed to be the work of another, Richard Burbage.  In short, both the subject of the painting and it’s creator are matters of hearsay and speculation.

Chandos Portrait - most likely painted by John Taylor sometime between 1600 - 1610

An image with less speculation surrounding it is the Droeshout engraving, done by Martin Droeshout and attached to the cover of the First Folio upon its initial publication.

Droeshout Engraving - 1623

Where was Shakespeare born?

Stratford upon Avon in April of 1564

Shakespeare's birthplace in Stratford

Where did he live?

At some point, Shakespeare moved to London.  His plays were performed in the city as early as 1592, but exactly when and how Shakespeare came to London is another matter of speculation.

What did Shakespeare’s handwriting look like?

There are only 6 known signatures belonging to William Shakespeare, three of them from his will.  This one is taken from the third page of his will :

Shakespeare's signature from page 3 of his will

What works are credited to Shakespeare?

Since the works of Shakespeare are so familiar, rather than an exhaustive list, I’m going to list the works that I have read as well as those I wish to read.

Plays I have read : 

In high School:

• Julius Caesar
• Romeo and Juliet

(possibly others but those are the only two for which I have distinct memories)

In 2011 : 

• As You Like It
• The Tempest
• Henry V

Plays I plan to read in 2012 : 

• Much Ado About Nothing
• The Winter’s Tale
• (and at least 2 others, I haven’t decided which)

Currently Reading : 

• A Midsummer Night’s Dream

What is an interesting fact about Shakespeare’s life?  Well, as I noted in my previous post, an interesting fact about Shakespeare’s life is that we know so little about Shakespeare’s life.  Besides the bare bones, much of what is deduced about Shakespeare are things that have been assumed based on Shakespeare’s times and opportunities that were available to him, rather than any definitive proof.  For a more in depth response, see my previous post about Bill Bryson’s biography of Shakespeare.

What do you think of the author’s writing style?  Since, we’re talking about Shakespeare this is a difficult thing to comment on.  So I’ll just offer my experience reading Shakespeare thus far.  When I read As You Like It last February, I knew  that it was a comedy, but as I was reading it, I didn’t find it at all funny.  So I concluded that perhaps it was supposed to be funny as in  ironic funny and not “ha ha,” laugh out loud funny.  Boy was I wrong.  When I saw the play performed live, it was hilarious!   I nearly embarrassed myself with laughter.  Much of the comedy  was physical comedy so I don’t fault myself too much for not “getting” it.  However, I’m now reading A Midsummer Night’s Dream and there have been a number of things that have made me laugh out loud.  Without re-reading As You Like It, I can’t say for certain whether this is because the humor is easier to get in Midsummer, or if perhaps I’m becoming more accustomed to Shakespeare.

A quote from A Midsummer Night’s Dream (so far, I’ve only read through Act 3, Scene 1 – this quote is taken from Act 1, Scene 1 beginning on line 169)

From Hermia:

I swear to thee by Cupid’s bow,

By his best arrow with the golden head,

By the simplicity of Venus’ doves,

By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves,

An by that fire which burned the Carthage queen

When the false Troyan under sail was seen,

By all the vows that ever men have broke

(In number more than ever women spoke),

In that same place thou hast appointed me,

Tomorrow truly will I meet with thee.

Concluding thoughts:

I am so grateful to have rediscovered Shakespeare.  I definitely appreciate him more now than I did when I had to memorize Antony’s famous monologue from Act 3, Scene 2 of Julius Caesar in 11th grade.  I am as intrigued by Shakespeare’s times as much as Shakespeare himself and will be heading to the library this afternoon to see what else I can find about him, perhaps Will in the World by Stephen Greenblatt or Harold Bloom’s Shakespeare : The Invention of the Human.  

A Look at the Life and Times of William Shakespeare

An interesting fact about Shakespeare’s life is that we really don’t know much about Shakespeare’s life.  After reading Bill Bryson’s Shakespeare : the World as Stage, I find myself wondering just what kind of man Shakespeare was.  Did he have many friends?  Did he get along with his neighbors?  Was he jolly and jovial?  Or broodingly artistic?   Was he a good father? Was he deeply in love with Anne Hathaway?  But definite answers to these questions are not likely to ever be uncovered.  Bryson calls him the “best known and least known of figures.”

This leads to much inferring and conjecture.  Even what Shakespeare looked like is a matter of doubt.

most likely painted by John Taylor sometime between 1600 - 1610

Upon viewing the Chandos portrait, which only may be Shakespeare’s likeness, Bryson fancies that he was “confident, serenely rakish” and that the earring in his left ear reveals him to be “a bit bohemian,” which feels appropriate.  His black attire denotes a certain level of prosperity. Since it took a good amount of dye to produce deeply black clothing, the color wasn’t typically worn by the lower classes.  (Later in the book Bryson gives an interesting break down of what you could tell about a person from their clothing because there were laws in place which dictated who could wear what based on wealth and rank.)

Droeshout Engraving - 1623

Another possible likeness of Shakespeare comes in the form of the Droeshout engraving, which was attached to the cover of the First Folio.  Bryson notes this work as mediocre due to it’s disproportionate features and describes the subject as “diffident, apologetic, almost frightened.”  I’m not sure I completely agree with that assessment, diffident perhaps, but apologetic and frightening is a stretch for me.

The last image we have is the bust which stands in the Holy Trinity Church in Stradford.  Bryson characterized the subject here as “puffy – faced and self-satisfying” and Mark Twain said of it that he had the “deep, deep, subtle, subtle expression of a bladder.”

Stratford Bust - by Gheerart Janssen

Indeed, Shakespeare as a man is hard to figure.  And as many of us in the classic book blogging community like to uncover as much as possible about the lives of the authors we love, this can feel frustrating.  Bryson notes;

“It is because we have so much of Shakespeare’s work that we can appreciate how little we know of him as a person.  If we had only his comedies, we would think him a frothy soul.  If we had just the sonnets, he would be a man of darkest passions.  From a selection of his other works, we might think him variously courtly, cerebral, metaphysical, melancholic, Machiavellian, neurotic, lighthearted, loving, and much more.  Shakespeare was of course all these things–as  a writer.  We hardly know what he was as a person.”

Much of the first half of the book could aptly be titled, “Shakespeare’s Times” as Bryson paints a picture of the England of Shakespeare’s childhood which was marked by rampant plagues, a changing religious climate with the country shifting from Catholicism to Protestantism, and by the reign of Queen Elizabeth.  He comments on the multitude of ways in which government affected people’s everyday lives, even to the point of dictating how many courses a person could eat at a meal.  A cardinal, he explained, was allowed 9 courses, while a person earning less than 40 pounds per year was only permitted two courses.  As stringent as this sounds, it was a far cry less oppressive than the time of Henry VIII when eating meat on Friday was a grave offense, punishable by hanging!

Again, since there is so much that remains uncertain, Bryson uses the context of Shakespeare’s times combined with certain details  to point to experiences he may or may not have had.  For instance, noting that Shakespeare’s father, John, served as a bailiff in Stratford meant that he approved funds for traveling shows which might have given young Shakespeare an early exposure to the theater.  Likewise, since any boy could attend a nearby grammar school, it is assumed that Shakespeare did.  Bryson gives an account of the typical grammar school experience for boys in Elizabethan England and notes that Shakespeare’s time there would have given him a foundation in Latin and Greek as well as in the use of rhetorical devices.

What Shakespeare did in the years after his education would have ended is unclear, but he applied for a marriage license in 1582 and married Anne Hathaway, who gave birth to their first daughter Susanna in 1583 and then to twins, Hamnet and Judith in 1585.

At some point between 1585 – 1592, Shakespeare left his hometown of Stratford with his sights set on London, where he sealed his career as a poet and playwright.  These years are noted as “The Lost Years,” because how and why and through what connections Shakespeare managed this are unknown.  (“unknown” is a word I’m getting used to in regard to Shakespeare)

sketch of the Swan theater from 1596

Much of what is known about the theaters and performances in Shakespeare’s day are details that have been extracted and gathered from the diaries of tourists and sketch artists.  One such tourist, Johannes de Witt, made a sketch that has become known as “The Swan Sketch,” of the Swan Theater, which is the only known interior image of an Elizabethian playhouse (though there’s no known connection between Shakespeare and this theater, the rendering is likely similar to the original interior of the Globe).

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An early 1600s engraving by Claus Jan Visscher depicts the first Globe Theater (on the right – click for larger detail):

detail of the Visscher engraving

A panorama, called the Long View drawn by Wenceslas Hollar in the 1640s shows the second Globe which was built in 1614 after the first one burnt down the year prior:

detail of Wenceslas Hollar's drawing

At the Globe plays were performed at 2:00, the price to stand was a penny, two pennies to sit.  There was no stage set or curtains, but costumes were generally elaborate.  Though it was an era marked by poverty and plagues (which would temporarily shut down the playhouses in 1592), somehow the theater, and therefore Shakespeare, prospered.  He frequently performed for the queen and one of his performances was the last one that she would see before she died at the age of 69.

Queen Elizabeth was succeeded by King James, who Bryson described as “graceless” and owning a strange obsession with fondling his codpiece, making him sound a little less than kingly.  However, like Queen Elizabeth, King James too liked his entertainment and one of his first acts as king was to appoint Shakespeare and his troupe as King’s Men.

It was during the reign of King James that the the Blackfriars theater was finally opened.  It differed from the Globe in that the price of admission was a sixpence, performers utilized string instruments rather than brass, and there was also stage seating (for an additional cost), allowing for audience interaction.

That much of Shakespeare’s work is available to us today at all is thanks to Henry Condell and John Heminges who were responsible for putting together the First Folio which was not published until 1623, seven years after Shakespeare’s death.  None of Shakespeare’s works were officially published during his lifetime.

Bryson’s most witty and entertaining chapter is the final one, in which he examines the controversy surrounding the authenticity of Shakespeare’s authorship.  But since this posting is so long already and since I wouldn’t do it justice anyway, I’ll leave that for you to read for yourself.  :)

Bryson’s slim biography was well worth the short time that it took to read it.  I learned a great deal about Shakespeare’s life and times without feeling “stuffed” with information.  Yes, the last chapter is amusing but the entire book is peppered with wit and humor, which did much to keep my attention and focus.  This is precisely the kind of book that I would love to have about all my favorite authors.  Bryson’s style is accessible and entertaining and he imparts just enough to provide a framework and a springboard for more in depth exploration. He ignited my interest without overwhelming me.  I appreciated his brevity.  I’m stoked to read more about Shakespeare and feel like I now have a good foundation for doing so.

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A Late Welcoming of 2012

The last days of 2011 were lazy and lackluster.  I felt drained and uninspired and my motivation for anything was pretty much nonexistent.  This is not an unusual state of mind for the week between Christmas and New Year’s, I’m aware.  I picked up one book after another and put it back down again.  I read the first dozen or so pages of Earl Hamner’s Spencer’s Mountain but decided that my post-holiday self was no longer in the mood.  I read the first 100 pages of Alcott’s Long and Fatal Love Chase, which was not bad, but it too ended up back on the shelf (I never do that!).  I tried to get back into American Transcendentalism but no longer felt inspired to read it.  I finally resigned to the idea that I just needed a break and that the New Year would spark a New Beginning and with it, renewed vigor.  But the calendar flipped over to 2012 without any noticeable difference in my mood.  Still no energy.  Still no inspiration.  In truth, I’m fighting off a nasty sinus infection so that provides perhaps a reasonable explanation for my lethargy, but leave it to me to over-think it.  No matter how rational an explanation, when this happens, I fear that my reading passion is lost forever,  never to return.  So yeah, leave it to me to also be over-dramatic.

The weather said snow for Monday and I waited all day like a child in anticipation, glancing out the window now and again, squinting in an effort to catch the random flurry; if there was one, I didn’t want to miss it.  But the day passed, just bleak and cold and windy.  Very windy.  Once I heard shattering glass and there were the frequent rumbles of what sounded like trash cans overturning.  The evening hours found me in the kitchen warming up dinner.  It was well after dark and all the window coverings had been drawn for the night, when I noticed a strange fluorescent glow emanating through a gap in the blinds. When I peeked out I beheld what I had been so anxiously awaiting all day – snow!  Glorious snow!  It had come in stealth, leaving the streets, sidewalks, rooftops, everything blanketed in a coat of white. The neighborhood was glowing radiantly as the light from street lamps bounced off the snow.  Immediately I felt renewed.  Silly though it may sound, it was my metaphorical fresh start.

That night, I plunged into Edith Hamilton’s Mythology, eager to commence my exploration of the Greek Myths.  I had ordered a copy of Homer’s Iliad, and at last felt ready to kick off the new year with a hearty challenge.  Over the next two days, I absorbed Bill Bryson’s biography of Shakespeare and thoroughly enjoyed getting better acquainted with him in preparation for taking in more of his works this year.  This morning as I sipped my coffee I began Emerson in His Journals, kick starting my journaling project.

So finally, a warm welcome to 2012, and all that it has in store . . .

Capote’s “A Christmas Memory”

Just in case you need an extra warm fuzzy this holiday season, I’m offering one from Truman Capote in the form of an excerpt from his autobiographical short story, A Christmas Memory.  I will be carving out a little time myself on this eve of Christmas to take in this story of an unusual friendship between an eccentric older woman and a young boy in rural 1930s Alabama.  This marks my fourth annual reading of this volume of tales which also includes A Thanksgiving Visitor and One Christmas.  Somehow I don’t think I’m ever going to get tired of reading them.

A young Truman Capote with "Miss Sook"

Imagine a morning in late November.  A coming of winter morning more than twenty years ago.  Consider the kitchen of a spreading old house in a country town.  A great black stove is its main feature; but there is also a big round table and a fireplace with two rocking chairs placed in front of it.  Just today the fireplace commenced its seasonal roar.

A woman with shorn white hair is standing at the kitchen window.  She is wearing tennis shoes and a shapeless gray sweater over a summery calico dress.  She is small and sprightly, like a bantam hen; but, due to a long youthful illness, her shoulders are pitifully hunched.  Her face is remarkable–not unlike Lincoln’s, craggy like that, and tinted by sun and wind; but it is delicate too, finely boned, and her eyes are sherry-colored and timid.  ”Oh my,” she exclaims, her breath smoking the windowpane, “it’s fruitcake weather!”

The person to whom she is speaking is myself.  I am seven; she is sixty-something.  We are cousins, very distant ones, and we have lived together–well, as long as I can remember.  Other people inhabit the house, relatives; and though they have power over us, and frequently make us cry, we are not, on the whole, too much aware of them.  We are each other’s best friend.  She calls me Buddy, in memory of a boy who was formerly her best friend.  The other Buddy died in the 1880s, when she was still a child.  She is still a child.

“I knew it before I got out of bed,” she says, turning away from the window with a purposeful excitement in her eyes.  ”The courthouse bell sounded so cold and clear.  And there were no birds singing; they’ve gone to warmer country, yes indeed.  Oh, Buddy, stop stuffing biscuit and fetch our buggy.  Help me find my hat.  We’ve thirty cakes to bake.”

It’s always the same: a morning arrives in November, and my friend, as though officially inaugurating the Christmas time of year that exhilarates her imagination and fuels the blaze of her heart, announces: “It’s fruitcake weather!  Fetch our buggy.  Help me find my hat.”

 

So begins an adventure in friendship and fruitcake.

Have a warm and wonderful holiday!

A Homespun Holiday

A little peek at what Christmas looks like from here . . .

Putting together a holiday wreath is always my first act of decorating for the season.  This year’s wreath is comprised of a fuzzy garland wrapped around a grapevine frame, then ornaments attached with hot glue.  The grapevine base of this wreath has followed me everywhere since the days of my very first apartment.  It gets a fresh look several times per year.  Every season for just about a decade now, I’ve stripped it down and started anew.

My husband and I constructed this little village, which adorns our fireplace mantel, a couple of years ago while the first snow of the season blanketed the ground.  The houses were cut from balsa wood, assembled with wood glue, then painted and decorated.  Traditional filament lights under a sheet of white fabric give it the warm glow pictured here.

Crochet snowflake garland

The kitchen aglow with lights

Crochet stars in the window

Okay, so these aren’t the most refined of holiday pleasures.  However, I remember as a child that my grandmother always kept a box of this exact brand of chocolate cherries on her coffee-table all throughout the season.  They lurked haphazardly among her cluttered nest of dried ink-pens, crossword puzzles, embroidery thread, and trashy novels.  So every year I can’t resist buying at least one box in memory of her.

Cranberry Pistachio Biscotti

Cheers to a warm and wonderful holiday season.  A Merry Christmas to all!

Quarterly Retrospective : looking back, looking ahead

At first glance, I have to admit to a twinge of disappointment at my raw number of books read, but as I looked over my list, reread some of my posts, and reflected on my overall experience, I’ve discovered that I’m actually not disappointed at all with myself this year.  By year’s end, I will have read 38 books, down 4 from last year, but last year’s total included several graphic novels and books that were otherwise not particularly challenging.  That number also does not reflect the essays that I read from Emerson and Wordsworth, the few short stories that I took in, nor does it reflect my stroll into poetry.

So all in all, I can’t say that I’m disappointed.  I would love to be a faster reader, but I don’t see that happening.  I’ve become far more focused over the course of the past year.  In 2010, my reading was all over the place.  I read some classics, a few graphic novels, as well as a selection of modern literature.  I jumped from one genre to the next, trying to decide what felt right.  Looking back, I recognize that I was finding my footing as a reader.  I was searching for what what would really speak to me.  I was grappling for the books that would edify my soul and teach me something. By the end of 2010, I had found my footing with the classics.  In April of this year, I launched my Reading Through the Centuries Project, and though I’ve modified my approach to that list, I feel that I’m on the right path.  This is the reading journey that suits me.

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Looking Back at 2011

Top Five (in no particular order)

• Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert
• Lolita By Vladimir Nabokov
• Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy
• Thomas Hardy by Claire Tomalin (a biography)
• Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

Favorite Children’s Book

• The Witch of Blackbird Pond by George Elizabeth Speare

Favorite Poem

• Tintern Abbey by William Wordsworth

Least Favorite Book

• Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift (I was so done with this book, I didn’t even post about it)

Looking Ahead to 2012

I am really excited about my 2012 reading prospects.  In addition to the books mentioned in my 2012 challenges post, I’ve been mulling over a few other projects and points of focus and while I’m sure that I’ll fall short of all that I hope to accomplish, I can’t help but well up with excitement over my new little undertakings.

Poetry Peeks

For this project, I’m using Harold Bloom’s The Best Poems of the English Language to guide me through an exploration of poetry beginning with Wordsworth through Robert Frost.  I actually launched this idea last month with a series of posts about Wordsworth and though I’ve set no time frame for the project, I did mention in my initial post that I intended to post weekly; I’ve since learned that’s not going to happen.  Reading these poets takes time, at least for me.

Immediately following Wordsworth, I read three essays by Emerson for Jillian’s Transcendentalist Event.  Little did I know how well they would go together!  Wordsworth led (of course) to Coleridge, who I’ve seen referenced over and over as an inspiration for many Transcendentalist writers.  I am just on the cusp of my exploration of Coleridge and I also plan to read The Friendship : Wordsworth and Coleridge by Adam Sisman, recommended to me by Chris from ProSe, and perhaps Coleridge’s Aids to Reflection, which is the main work referenced by the Transcendentalists. So yes, I will certainly be taking my time.

The Ancients

I had hoped to at least begin an inquiry into ancient literature, philosophy, and mythology by the end of the year, but so far it hasn’t happened, and with only 10 days left, I’m not holding my breath.  I want to begin with a general introduction and I’ve heard that Edith Hamilton’s, Mythology, is a good source so I’m going to start there before embarking on a more in depth examination with the assistance of Robert Graves’ The Greek Myths, also recommended by Chris.  Incidentally, I found a copy of both of these books at an autumn book sale.

I also have plans for Homer’s The Iliad and The Odyssey, in addition to taking in some Plato, maybe The Symposium and/or The Republic.

Shakespeare

This year I had the good fortune of attending three productions of Shakespeare’s plays, all from the American Shakespeare Center; one from the traveling troupe (As You Like It) and two at their Blackfriars Theater (The Tempest and Henry V), which is a recreation of Shakespeare’s original indoor theater.  I read each play before the performance and though I still count Shakespeare as a challenge, I found the reading more enjoyable and rewarding than I had anticipated.  And the performances were superb!!

Serendipitously, Risa of Breadcrumb Reads is hosting a Shakespeare read-along next year and plans to begin with A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which is currently on tour by the ASC!  If I can’t catch them while they’re on tour, they usually do in house performances at some point during the season, so hopefully I can plan a trip to one of those.

My goal is also to read through all of Shakespeare’s sonnets over the course of 2012, but I don’t really have anything mapped out for how I intend to go about that.

Journaling

This year I’ve kept up fairly well with a “Line a Day” journal, however, lately I’ve been hungering for something more.  So a few weeks back I put out a request via this post, for some ideas regarding literary journals which might spark some inspiration, and my dear readers imparted some wonderful suggestions!  I’ve been toying with how I might explore some of these and I think I’ve settled on an approach.  At first I thought I might devote one quarter to a different volume of journals, but I didn’t like the idea of leaving some to the end of the year.  So as an alternative I’ve decided to explore several different volumes at once, on a rotating basis – perhaps transitioning weekly, monthly, or based on inspiration.  I will be rotating through the following volumes :

• Selected Journals of Ralph Waldo Emerson (recommended by Tom of Wuthering Expectations)
• The Diary of Virginia Woolf Vol. 1 (recommended by Chris of ProSe)
• Journal of a Solitude by May Sarton (recommended by Thomas of My Porch)
• Essays of Michel de Montaigne (recommended by Jillian of A Room of One’s Own)

Throughout 2011, I woke up with Walt as I read through his Leaves of Grass.  This will likely serve as my morning reading for 2012.

Other highly anticipated books of 2012

• Willa Cather : After reading the first three books of the Little House series as well as (currently reading) Letters of a Woman Homesteader by Elinore Pruitt, I have this idea that I will love Willa Cather, and I already fancy the notion of reading through her entire oeuvre in 2012.
• The many other authors I didn’t get to this year : Dostoevsky, Balzac, Trollope, Maugham, I could go on . . . and on . . .and on . . .

But I’ll leave it at that for now.  As I look back over this post, it seems like . . . a lot.  So I’ll probably be needing copious reminders to be patient with myself.  :)

Thoughts on Walden

1861

In the summer of 1845 Henry David Thoreau embarked on a two year experiment to “live deliberately” in the woods of Concord, Massachusetts.  Walden is what resulted from that experiment of spiritual and individual discovery.   He sought to escape a society which he viewed as “over-civilized” and full of people he felt were leading “lives of quiet desperation.”  He saw the pursuits of those around him as vain and empty, spiritually vacant, and therefore unfulfilled.  So off Thoreau went into the woods to reflect “on both what ails men and women in their contemporary condition and what might provide relief.”

I hesitate to accept the notion, however,  that Thoreau intended Walden to be a definitive guide or a manifesto on how to live.  Rather than a model for others to follow, I think that Walden is perhaps best looked upon as a highly individualized work of art, the interpretation of which is subjective and personal, allowing each reader to glean from it what they will.

Walden is regarded as a Transcendentalist work and from the little reading that I’ve done over the past few days, I’ve learned that rather than a definitive movement based on a collection of solid ideas and guiding principles, Transcendentalism was a broad concept with lots of individual manifestations.  Before I read Walden, I picked up  Emerson’s essay, The Transcendentalist, and mistakenly approached it with the intention of coming away being able to say, “This is what Transcendentalism is . . . ” I nitpicked at what I’d hoped were loose threads that I could unravel. But there never was anything to unravel, no framework to break down and examine the smaller pieces.  Nothing about Transcendentalism was ever meant to be absolute or definitive.  Emerson offered his vision, Thoreau his experience, and others did the same, in the same way that painters and artists offer up their unique interpretations of life and nature.  To try to define and nitpick at these works would be like trying to compare Van Gogh’s Starry Night to an actual night sky.  Pointless, really.  These writers gave their words as their own individual expressions.  Like any work of art, they are for us to examine and gain from them what we will, but not to copy or define.  As Thoreau sought his own spiritual truth, each person too must seek their own.

“I would not have any one adopt my mode of living on any account; for, beside that before he has fairly learned it I may have found out another for myself; I desire that there may be as many different persons in the world as possible, but I would have each one be very careful to find out and pursue his own way, and not his father’s or his mother’s or his neighbor’s instead.”

Thoreau puts the word “my” in italics, and when I read it I got the distinct impression that he might actually have been offended by others trying to adopt his lifestyle, as though they were trying to steal something that was his unique possession.  He further puts forth the admonition not to simply accept ideas passed along from others, but discover your own meaning in life.  Don’t be bound by society’s conceptions of what makes a good life, but actively seek and find what makes a good life for you.  He says, “Wherever I sat, there I might live,” which I understood to mean that each person must likewise find meaning in his or her existence from their own vantage point, not someone else’s.  From Thoreau’s vantage point, he saw a society enmeshed in consumerism and more bent on destroying nature than communing with it.  He saw people who followed fashion as though it were a religion and were enslaved by gossip.  He saw people “laying up treasures which moth and rust will corrupt and thieves break through and steal.  It’s a fool’s life,” he says, “as they will find when they get to the end of it, if not before.”  His preference:

“I would rather sit in the open air for no dust gathers on the grass unless where man has broken ground . . . a taste for the beautiful is most cultivated out of doors, where there is no house and no housekeeper.”

He felt that society would do well to shed its trivialities and focus on what’s truly meaningful.

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”

For Thoreau, getting to the “marrow of life” meant not accumulating possessions and property, but paring life down to the mere essentials.  The first few chapters of Walden relate the logistics of those essentials, such as where and with what Thoreau constructed his house, stocked his pantry, and clothed himself.

a recreation of the interior of Thoreau's cabin

Though Thoreau didn’t advise mimicking the past, he did value the reading of classic literature and devoted a short chapter to the writers he felt worthy of attention.  He quickly reminds, however, that more valuable even than literature is direct experience in nature.  Thoreau felt that nature was best experienced in solitude as “society is commonly too cheap.”  He admires the existence of a wood-chopper who was so synonymous with nature that birds would perch on his shoulder.  But with the wood-chopper’s example, Thoreau demonstrates that more is required than mere simplicity and harmony; to truly transcend, one must possess thought and intellect, which the wood-chopper lacked.  Contemplation, he believed, was an essential component.  Thoreau perhaps offers himself as an example of what he means with the chapter named, The Bean-Field, in which cultivating beans becomes a metaphor for his own self-cultivation, and not sustenance only.

Thoreau is sometimes criticized for not being charitable in the traditional sense, but this might be because he himself didn’t want charity, which he said would send him running for his life if he thought a visitor was coming with the intent of doing him good.  ”As for Doing-good, . . . I have tried it fairly, and, strange as it may seem, am satisfied that it does not agree with my constitution.”  At first look, it seems a harsh and callous statement to make, but isn’t he just saying with words what many of us say with our actions?  Don’t we essentially say the same thing when we choose to devote our free hours to reading a book rather than volunteering at a soup kitchen?  With such choices we are investing in the betterment of ourselves over “Doing-good” for others.  Thoreau just had the guts to speak it plainly.  Charity was not his calling.  He should be no more criticized for it than someone who chooses to be an artist instead of a social worker.  After all, isn’t a happy artist better for society than a disgruntled social worker?

Personally, I don’t think it’s selfish to be true to yourself.  Nor do I think it’s selfish to carve your own path in life, to seek and fulfill your passions whatever they may be.  I don’t agree with all of Thoreau’s ideas, but I don’t have to, they were his ideas and perhaps it was better for him to live them truly than to live someone else’s begrudgingly.       I still have a lot to learn, but thus far (after reading three essays from Emerson, Walden, and beginning American Transcendentalism), I don’t see Transcendentalism as a movement of self-indulgent people who cast off others.  On the contrary, some Transcendentalists were huge activists.  Rather, I see them as people who strived for self-awareness and who weren’t afraid to live outside of the boxes that were being imposed on them.    They weren’t willing to just accept and be fed everything that society proposed.  They weren’t crowd followers.

~

In essence, Thoreau wrote his own means of transcendence.  He spoke his truth as he lived it.  But I don’t believe that he intended for his truth to become anyone else’s truth. I think he was merely offering himself as an example for acting on the freedom that we all possess, to seek and speak our own truths, no matter how different they are from those espoused by our communities, families, churches, or leaders.

Not all of Walden was riveting to me; I was sometimes bored, I admit; but to criticize it would be like criticizing someone else’s essential self.  Walden is, I think, Thoreau’s essential self, as he lived and defined it.

~

What I took away from reading Walden:

It’s better to live openly as the person that you are than to live as you feel obliged to with a secret heartache.

Seek your truth from the depths of your existence and from the abundance of the universe.  Speak it as you live it.  No amount of possessions or titles can bring it to you, but neither can destitution take it away.  It is yours, you own it as you own your own soul.

Walden Pond - Concord, Massachusetts

Why I Blog : a survey

Over at Jillian’s blog, I found out about a survey on “Why we blog” that’s been revived by Trish, who originally found it at State of Denmark.  (Just making sure I give credit to everyone.)    I have chimed in on similar questionnaires in the past, but it’s been a while and I enjoy reassessing my blogging practice from time to time.

So here we go . . .

1.  How long have you been blogging?

For several years I had a very bad track record with blogging.  I tried craft blogging, food blogging, and film blogging, all of which faded after about three months tops.  My craft blog was just pictures of things that I’d made as I found that I couldn’t think of interesting things to say about them.  My film blog consisted of reviews of classic and foreign films, but I soon discovered that while I was passionate about watching great films, I found writing in depth reviews about them a bit of a chore.  At the start of 2010 I revived a food blog and started this one.  My first post here came with the warning, “this might not last.”  I kept up both blogs for 6 months and then I realized that both of them were suffering and I was going to have to make a choice.  Books or food?  I love to cook and bake but I have very few recipes that are entirely my own invention.  So rather than devote my time to posting recreations and adaptations of other people’s recipes, I chose this blog. And I determined that I could always post the occasional recipe to keep alive my passion for sharing food.  I think I made the right choice.  On January 26, Every Book and Cranny will be two years old.

2.  Why did you start blogging?

For a couple of years I exchanged books with a couple of lovely ladies that I worked with, but when some of those books pointed me to classic literature, they weren’t so interested in following along.  I had two stints with in-person book clubs but soon found that it was harder than I thought it would be to find people with similar reading tastes.  Around that time, through online searching I stumbled on Goodreads, which I joined in 2008.  For two years I wrote at least a few snippets about nearly every book that I read.  I would peruse the profiles of people who had similar tastes to find books that I might want to read too.  Eventually I started to notice that some of those people linked to blogs in their profiles and that’s how I discovered the book blogging community.  It didn’t take long for me to decide that I wanted to start my own.

3.  What have you found to be the benefits of blogging?

The main benefit of blogging, for me, is motivation.  Blogging propels me to take the time to think and write about what I’ve read in a way that I’m not sure I would do otherwise.  Blogging is helping me evolve into the kind of reader that I want to be.   At first, I acted under the notion that my posts should be general impressions meant to entice other readers and not give anything away.  I still hope to entice prospective readers, but I don’t worry so much about the “shoulds” anymore.  Sometimes my posts are short and to the point, at other times they ramble on endlessly.  And they’re definitely not spoiler-free (though I do try to remember to include warnings).  Now I see my blog as more of a reading journal rather than a review site.  I write about things that were meaningful to me.  I sometimes do research about the context of the times, or the writer’s life, or their technique.  The process of writing out my thoughts in this way, I hope, is making me a more astute and observant reader.  The main goal of my blogging project has become just that – to be a better reader.

The wonderful community of book bloggers is definitely a bonus.  Reading the classics outside of an academic setting can be alienating.  But book blogging opens up pathways for connection with like-minded readers and those who can offer valuable insights and perspectives from their own experience.  I’m truly grateful for that.

4.  How many times a week do you post an entry?

I don’t have a blogging schedule.  I average about 1-2 posts per week.  I try to get a post in at least once per week but I will admit that there are weeks that pass by without any contributions from me.  I am a slow reader and a slow writer and if I try to rush the process I will only find myself starting all over again.  So I’ve learned to be at peace with this.  I can’t change it.  I can either let myself be frustrated or I can just go with it.

5.  How many different blogs do you read on a regular basis?

I am subscribed to 79 blogs through Google Reader.  I scan through all the posts, skim many, but I don’t read every post on every blog. If I can’t read the posts that interest me immediately, then I will star them so I can easily get back to them later.

6.  Do you comment on other people’s blogs?

I’m trying to get better at this.  There are a handful of blogs that I comment on regularly, but there are a number of others where I remain a lurker.    I’m not sure that I’ve struck the right balance yet with reading and writing on my own blog and reading and commenting on other’s blogs.  But I’m working on it.

7.  Do you keep track of how many visitors you have?  Is so, are you satisfied with your numbers?

I try not to think too much about numbers.  I realize that now that my blog has taken on more of  a journal style, this might contribute to a less broad appeal.  Just because I try not to obsess over it doesn’t mean that I don’t notice.  I glance over my stats every time I log in.  I enjoy seeing how many people have visited my blog.   I’m elated when I gain new followers and subscribers, and I love reading comments; I strive to respond to as many of them as I can.

My most viewed post continues to be The Woodlanders by Thomas Hardy.  Based on the search terms, however, I think this is mostly due to the Bob Ross painting that I used to illustrate a point.  Bob Ross?  Really?  My recipe posts also get many views, particularly my Rustic Apple Galette post as well as a recipe for “Stupid Stupid Rat Creature Quiche” that I posted to accompany the graphic novel series, Bone by Jeff Smith. Occasionally, I get notes from people saying that they’ve made my recipe with their kids who love the series.  This makes me happy.

8.  Do you ever regret a post that you wrote?

There are posts that I wish I could have taken more time with.  There are posts that I’m not sure make any sense.  But I’ve never regretted posting anything.  I don’t tend to be very controversial in my writing so I’ve never said anything that I later wished I could take back.

I also recognize that this is a journey, so I don’t expect my posts to be expert level. I’m a casual reader offering up my casual thoughts, explorations, and reflections.

9.  Do you think your audience has a true sense of who you are based on your blog?

Honestly, probably not.  That’s also something I’m working on.  I am very guarded with my words in “real life” and that characteristic spills over here too.  I’m a quiet person with quiet passions.  They’re there, but I’m not particularly loud about expressing them. In the company of others I observe and listen more than I speak.  If I let myself, I could easily become a hermit.  I am completely comfortable with solitude.  Most of my jobs have been contrary to my solitary nature.  The bulk of my career has been spent in the human services / non-profit sector, in positions requiring constant or near constant human interaction.  Therefore, I’ve become adept at stepping outside of my comfort zone.  Some are even surprised when they learn that I am an introvert, as I’m perfectly capable of extraverted behaviors.

Jillian mentioned in her post that she can tell a joke without cracking a smile, which made me smile, because I am the exact opposite.  I can’t avoid even starting a joke without a ridiculous grin plastered across my face. I can be very gullible when it comes to pranks and teasing.  My husband and I are always trying to trick each other into believing little absurdities and things that aren’t so and he’s gotten me way more than I’ve gotten him.  I can’t seem to keep up the act for more than 30 seconds.

I smile a lot.  I like to smile at strangers and watch their expressions change.  I believe in small acts of kindness. Not long ago, a post was featured on WordPress in which the author expressed annoyance at feeling obligated to perform little social niceties, like smiling at people they didn’t know.  An unsettling number of people responded in agreement.     I don’t believe people should be disingenuous, but I can’t imagine feeling so put out by merely acknowledging the existence of other human beings with a simple smile.

I am hopelessly homespun. Though it might sound un-feminist, I like being domestic. I bake and cook all my meals from scratch.  I make my own curtains, and paint furniture, and embroider dishcloths.  My house and my wardrobe are filled with my own crochet adornments.  I give handmade gifts.  My home is a reflection of the seasons.   I enjoy keeping it tidy, cozy, and inviting.  Clutter makes me slightly anxious.   I sleep under decades old quilts, each stitch once graced by the fingertips of my two late grandmothers.  I listen to old records.  I prefer a used book to a new one and I love it when I find names, addresses, and inscriptions in books.  I recently found a book of Shakespeare’s sonnets and folded inside was a sonnet written by a woman in 1938, which she entitled, “To Shakespeare for his sonnets.”  I love that.  To think that a woman in 1938 was so affected by what she read that she was moved to compose her own sonnet in thanks, even perhaps knowing that no one might ever read it.

A friend once told me that I have an “elegant simplicity,”  and I can hardly imagine a greater compliment.

10.  Do you blog under your real name?

My name is not mentioned directly on my blog, but my regular readers know it.  It’s Nicki.

11.  Are there topics that you would never blog about?

There aren’t any topics which I consider off limits but there are things I don’t tend to blog about.  That has more to do with relevance than anything else.  For instance, you won’t find anything on my blog about politics or social issues, but that’s because those things don’t usually pop up in a discussion of centuries old literature.  People often say that two topics that should be avoided are politics and religion and while I do steer clear of the former, the latter does crop up now and again.  My life has been profoundly affected by the policies of a certain religious organization and it would be difficult to maintain a personal vibe on this blog without bumping into that now and again.  When I am compelled to speak of it, I endeavor to keep my remarks personal and refrain from making blanket statements, recognizing that my experience has not been everyone’s experience.

12.  What is the theme/topic of your blog?

Books.  More specifically, classic literature.

In the early months of my blog I still read a lot of modern fiction and graphic novels, but over time I’ve morphed into a classics reader almost exclusively.

13. Do you have more than one blog?

Not anymore.

~

Why do you blog?

If you answer the questions in this survey on your own blog (or have already) let me know.  I’d love to read your responses!

The Transcendentalist : thoughts and questions about Emerson’s essay

Before it was an essay, “The Transcendentalist” was a lecture given by Emerson in 1842.  With both, he attempted to shed light on the movement, its foundation, and offer a picture of the Transcendentalist.

He began by reminding the reader / listener that these ideas are not new, but “the very oldest of thoughts cast into the mold of these new times.”  He illustrates that point with the following example:

“The light is always identical in its composition, but it falls on a great variety of objects, and by so falling is first revealed to us, not in its own form, for it is formless, but in theirs; in like manner, thought only appears in the objects it classifies.”

In essence, I understand this to mean that the same object, or the same basic idea will manifest itself differently depending on the context of the times.  In the essay, Emerson also explains the origin of the term which sheds further light on the movement.  The term “transcendental” was originally used by German philosopher Immanuel Kant, in his response to the philosophy of John Locke.  Locke advocated that one gained knowledge of the world through the direct experience of the senses.  Kant disagreed, arguing that there were “intuitions of the mind itself,”  which I suppose implies there there are things that just are; that exist independently of experience.

Emerson divides people into two distinct categories on one side being the “Materialists” and on the other the “Idealists.”  Naturally the Transcendentalist falls into the latter category.  To outline and contrast the defining characteristics of each, he offers this:

“…the first class {meaning Materialists} founding on experience, the second on consciousness; the first class beginning to think from the data of the senses, the second class perceive that the senses are not final . . . The Materialist insists on facts, on history, on the force of circumstances and the animal wants of man; the idealist on the power of Thought and Will, on inspiration, on miracle, on individual culture.”

So in short, the Transcendentalist values faith more than facts, intuition above irrefutable proof.

The idea that mankind can be classified into two distinct categories feels presumptuous.  I don’t find that people so easily fit into such compartments.  Personally, I think I fall somewhere between what he describes as the Materialist and the Idealist.  On one hand, I do tend to insist on facts.  Because of past experience I can be distrustful of exclamations of certainty for which there is not adequate proof.  Emotions are easy to exploit and  I have learned to be wary of expressly emotional appeals and elusive arguments. I don’t wish to let myself become so enraptured that I let go of reason.  Yet, I am also intrigued by the more illusory aspects of humanity and existence, including the “power of Thought and Will.”  Having said that, it’s possible that I’m injecting too much of my own bias and experience into Emerson’s words, or that I’m looking at them too simplistically.  Perhaps it’s better to stick to the context of Emerson’s times.  When considered alongside the principles of Puritanism, it’s quite the leap.

Emerson seemed to acknowledge that some of his transcendental ideas were an unattainable ideal.    While he relates that the Transcendentalist believes in the power of the human mind, of inspiration, of ecstasy, he admits that “there is no pure Transcendentalist.”  He seems to acknowledge that humans cannot possibly adhere fully to the principles that he’s put forth.  It’s an admission that the pure transcendentalist is an unattainable ideal.  Puritanism was also an unattainable ideal, but with Emerson there doesn’t seem to be that aspect of self-depravity.

In further explaining the precepts of transcendentalism, Emerson offers this:

“The Transcendentalist adopts the whole connection of spiritual doctrine.  He believes in miracle, in the perpetual openness of the human mind to new influx of light and power; he believes in inspiration, and in ecstasy.”

Okay, that sounds clear enough, but just when I think I’m following his line of thought, he follows it up with something like this:

“He wishes that the spiritual principle should be suffered to demonstrate itself to the end, in all possible applications to  the state of man, without the admission of anything unspiritual; that is anything positive, dogmatic, personal.”

Is he trying to say that the transcendentalist rejects materialism entirely, to believe that everything is wholly spiritual?  How do you not admit anything “positive, dogmatic, personal?”  By laying out the principles of transcendentalism, by attempting to define what a transcendentalist is, isn’t that being, in a way, dogmatic?  I would argue to say that no defined movement can be completely free of dogma.  Anything that one might commit to embodies guiding principles of some sort.

Emerson later says that “they repel influences,”  but isn’t that exactly what he hoped to do with his lectures and essays – influence people to adopt his ideas instead of mainstream ideas?

He goes so far as to offer really in depth descriptions of the personality and characteristics of the Transcendentalist but at the same time says to beat off influence.  That in itself seems contradictory.  By way of summary,  he uses the following adjectives and phrases to describe the transcendentalist : lonely, joyous, susceptible, affectionate, preferring the country to the town, finding amusement in solitude.  He speaks of the lonely, secluded life of the transcendentalist, yet that doesn’t seem to describe his own as a busy, traveling lecturer.  Far from seclusion, he was somewhat of an American celebrity.

He says that transcendentalists “are not good citizens,” that they do not willingly participate in charities.  ”They do not even like to vote,” he says.  This also seems like a contradiction as Emerson supported the anti-slavery movement as well as the northern cause in the Civil War.  I think the clarification, however, appears in the word “willing.”  Parts of his essay indicate that the transcendentalist will get involved in social causes only if he feels that his action will truly do some good, otherwise he would prefer not to participate.  He says that most charities have “a certain air of quackery” as they seemed to be more focused on promotion than on fulfillment of their cause.

He also makes more than a few hefty assertions such as “they have even more than others a great wish to be loved.”  {emphasis mine} I’m pretty sure that if I had made such a statement in writing, that my college English professors would have written something tantamount to “grandiose assumption” in the margins.

It might sound as though I’m being critical but in truth, I’m fascinated by Emerson and this idea of transcendentalism.  I have enjoyed reading his essays immensely.  I merely struggle with trying to make sense of his ideas and seeming contradictions.  In the back of my mind something tells me that rereading is what truly illuminates Emerson, and that I will have to visit him again.

On this first examination, I find some of his thoughts highly resonant, others not so much.  And yes, reading Emerson is a challenge for me.  His meanings are not easily summed up in a nutshell and I certainly don’t profess to understand everything that I’ve read from him.  Both his writing and his ideas can be complex and convoluted.

Just as I start to feel frustrated by his contradictions I laugh as I remember  a few lines and quotes from the next essay of his that I will discuss here, Self-Reliance, in which he says,

“Suppose you should contradict yourself, what then?  A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds . . . With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. . . speak what you think today in words as hard as cannon balls, and tomorrow speak what tomorrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict everything you said today.“

I don’t know Emerson well enough to judge but part of me wonders if he made this statement to ward off criticism, realizing that he was fraught with contradicting notions.  In any case, though I question his variance, I do find this thought appealing.  I often hold back from fully expressing my thoughts because I fear that tomorrow I might realize that I’m mistaken or that I might change my mind.  I see Emerson’s thought here as permission to express myself anyway.  So what if I change my mind tomorrow or think differently or add new thoughts and ideas to my old assumptions.  That’s growth, right?  Better to expound on old thoughts and ideas than to cling to them for the sake of consistency.  Rigid adherence to anything, one’s own thoughts or an outside creed, gives the mind nothing new to play with.

While I am not yet convinced that the movement was completely dogma-free as I’ve seen it described, it does appear that it was more of a broad outlook on life with a heavy emphasis on individual intuition, rather than a carefully defined creed on how to live.

~

Click the image to see what others are reading and saying about Transcendentalism.  ”Tea with Transcendentalists,” hosted by Jillian at A Room of One’s Own will run until December 15th.