Finished reading: Middlemarch by George Eliot — for maybe the twelfth time. As I grow older and older, it grows greater and greater. 📚
Ring Rhyme in Latin - by Adam Roberts: “In terra Mordoris tenebrosissima” is especially fine.
Finished reading: The Wilderness Warrior: Theodore Roosevelt and the Crusade for America by Douglas Brinkley. One-third of this massive book concerns the personal and political life of TR; one-third concerns his astonishing achievements in the conservation of the American landscape and its creatures; and one-third describes his killing of animals, thousands of animals. It often seems that TR wanted to protect the wildlife of American from everyone except him and his friends, who would be free to slaughter indiscriminately. His bloodlust was a kind of mania, and Brinkley can do nothing (who could?) to explain how it co-existed with his lifelong commitment to protect wild animals and their environments. 📚
Birds should be saved because of utilitarian reasons; and, moreover, they should be saved because of reasons unconnected with any return in dollars and cents. A grove of giant redwoods or sequoias should be kept just as we keep a great and beautiful cathedral. The extermination of the passenger-pigeon meant that mankind was just so much poorer; exactly as in the case of the destruction of the cathedral at Rheims. And to lose the chance to see frigate-birds soaring in circles above the storm, or a file of pelicans winging their way homeward across the crimson afterglow of the sunset, or a myriad terns flashing in the bright light of midday as they hover in a shifting maze above the beach — why, the loss is like the loss of a gallery of the masterpieces of the artists of old time.
Roosevelt’s love of birds led him to create the first national wildlife refuge at Florida’s Pelican Island.
I have mixed feelings about the last decade of Beatles remixes, but this new version of Rubber Soul is AMAZING, especially on a good pair of headphones. 🎵
[Sarah L.] Kaufman has a favorite sentence that serves as a touchstone. It’s the last sentence of “The Great Gatsby,” and I bet you do know this one: “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” She grows eloquent on the magic of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s diction. “You might feel his verbs in your body, so delicately you’re not quite aware of it,” she says. “The repeated B sound — beat, boats, borne back — is percussive. The physical resonance of the verb beat may echo internally in many ways, as you feel a soft drumbeat, as your heart beats. Reading ‘borne back’ may light a brief, indistinct flickering inside, a sense of how your own consciousness can whoosh backward in time.”
Apart from the fact that I have never understood what Fitzgerald is trying to say here — isn’t the whole point of the book not that Gatsby is doomed to return to the past but that he can’t? — I think that “beat” and “borne” lack visual concreteness. Shouldn’t it be “paddle”?
What a peculiar response. Isn’t it the case that a person paddling vigorously, the person working desperately against a strong current, is fairly beating the water with his oars? And such a person is Nick Carraway, the character who utters these words. The sentence isn’t about Gatsby at all — Gatsby is dead — but about Nick, who very badly wants to put the whole Gatsby-and-Daisy era of his life safely into history, but no matter how energetically he beats the waters, he cannot; he is ever borne back into his painful past.
A mini-manifesto from my Anarchist Notebook:
I am temperamentally and morally a conservative, which is to say: I believe that I am charged with preserving my inheritance, nurturing it, and passing it along to the next generation. That inheritance is spiritual, cultural, natural, and political. (It may or may not be financial; that matters little.) Our largest social problems stem from the fact that our political economy promotes the concentration of power and money, and the concentration of power and money militates against the preservation of any spiritual, cultural, and natural inheritance. That is how we get an unprecedentedly rich and theoretically free society that also features corrupt religious institutions, insipid art, and dying rivers. I will continue to do my best to conserve and promote my Christian faith, my convictions about art, and my natural environment, but I must do so in unpropitious conditions. We need an alternative political economy that encourages rather than inhibits the work of conservation, and I think anarchism, properly understood, is that alternative.
My new post at the Dispatch moves along these lines.
Ordinary photos of ordinary things on an ordinary Sunday morning.
Defenders of the short-sighted men who in their greed and selfishness will, if permitted, rob our country of half its charm by their reckless extermination of all useful and beautiful wild things sometimes seek to champion them by saying that “the game belongs to the people.” So it does; and not merely to the people now alive, but to the unborn people. The “greatest good of the greatest number” applies to the number within the womb of time, compared to which those now alive form but an insignificant fraction. Our duty to the whole, including the unborn generations, bids us restrain an unprincipled present-day minority from wasting the heritage of these unborn generations. The movement for the conservation of wild life, and the larger movement for the conservation of all our natural resources, are essentially democratic in spirit, purpose, and method.
All genuine conservatism is based on an awareness of the debts the generations owe to one another: compare Chesterton’s “democracy of the dead,” articulated a decade before Teddy wrote his version of the idea.
You park your car at the top of a hill. You leave a note on the dashboard that says “please be good” and then you pull the parking brake. The car careens down the hill, smashes everything up, and you put out a press release saying “My car ignored my instructions! It hallucinated! It went rogue!” Your insurance company not only believes you, but invests $100 million in your company.
Via kfitz. One mild improvement in the recent discourse: the widespread scoffing at the “going rogue” explanation. The bots are behaving as designed and instructed.