Andy's recent posts

Recent public posts (showing 141-160 of 281).

Hey Candy,
This all sounds very exciting. Let me know if you do need a hand with anything, I have some free time during the weekdays. I like to volunteer, too. It sounds like a really neat program. How did you find out about it?

Meaningless similes:

January is a business tycoon in coat tails and a top hat. A robber baron. He blows into an office of sticks and throws his cane and demands satisfaction.

Feeling threatened when your friend is banished by someone close to you is like an empty parking space waiting for a large truck to roll over it.

Thinking of the free clinic is like imagining a curtain that holds the light in a room at night.

Putting your faith in the promise of an afterlife is like buying a whole cow. You know you will be able to freeze most of it and enjoy it later, but in the meantime, the other person who wanted to eat a cow can't get to it because it's locked in the freezer in your garage.

Dear Mr. Fish,

When you say at the end of your blog post that you were born in the correct era, you were wrong. You should have been born into the Italian Renaissance. The Renaissance was a time when money and attention and regard and space and resources were freely given to artists and to the practitioners of liberal arts study.

At every other time in the modern western world, artists, and, by extension, liberal arts academicians, have had to bust their collective ass in order to make themselves relevant.

In your blog post, you paint a romantic picture of the healthy humanities department: “populated by tenure-track professors who discuss books with adoring students in a cloistered setting.” This image of students making love to your giant brain makes me sick. If you are interested in justifying your existence--which you should be--this approach, this image of academia, is not what you want to present in order to win over the hearts and minds of the world at large.

Love, respect, regard, I believe these are important values that you have brought up. I would add to that list face, support, empathy, humanistic understanding, historical understanding, appreciation for illogic. These are some of the values that you should be trumpeting as counter forces to the power of money.

You are wrong, also, Mr. Fish, when you say understanding is at its most ideal only if “it is not performed with the purpose of intervening in the social and political crises of the moment, as long, that is, as the activity is not regarded as instrumental – valued for its contribution to something more important than itself.”

This statement is ridiculous. First of all, learning and understanding are physical processes that exist in the same space as social and political crises. You can not physically separate the two, no matter how high you climb in the ivory tower. Secondly, because of our current social milieu, it has become a silly anachronism to believe that humanistic study is ideally removed from pragmatic concerns. Believe this, Mr. Fish, use your considerable powers of persuasion to convince your peers and students that this dangerous idea is true, and maybe we will see the demise of liberal arts.

Now is the time to let go of your little romantic ideas. Now is the time to stop bemoaning the loss of your little class-room love scene. Now is the time to get your hands dirty, to advocate for your position in the larger world, to JUSTIFY YOUR EXISTENCE.

Love, respect, regard, face, support, empathy, understanding—these are physical processes that can be leveraged with great effect in the battle of winning attention, resources, time, and space for the cause of further humanistic understanding.

The world imagination is always up for grabs. It is imperative that people with liberal arts understanding do their part in winning the public imagination away from the destructive value systems of the profit-driven corporate monster that threatens to swallow everything in our world in the name of positive percentages on our IRA statements. It is a PR battle. Your desire to put your head in the sand is dangerous and irresponsible.

You cannot fight the for-profit university business model, Mr. Fish, without fighting the for-profit business model of every other industry.

Hand wringing, blog posting, book writing, forum posting, book reading, conversating are as good a place as any to start the project of making the liberal arts relevant. I hope a new, strong leader will emerge soon who can lead the charge in restructuring the global value system. But since we’re not living in the Renaissance, Mr. Fish, can we agree to work together to make it happen?

Sincerely,

Andy Belmas

Thanks for the suggestions, all. I'm trying to imagine what WOULD set the world on fire.

I'll run these past my partner in crime and see what she thinks. Others?

I'm looking for a play for two actors (preferably one male, one female). Either a good comedy or a bad tragedy. Any suggestions?

Drop personal internet?! I'm shuddering at the mere suggestion. Not a chance. No way, no how.

Candy, this passage you quoted makes me think that the theology of the book can be partly explained as "everything happens for a reason." Does anybody else have the feeling that Ames is getting at some kind of God-inspired fate or destiny?

And, if everyone is an emissary from god, doesn't that suggest a lack of free will? Hey, I'm a very leniant person, I tend to not hold people responsible for their actions, I can usually think of a million hidden reasons for peoples' actions and excuse just about any kind of behavior (which does make somewhat of a sucker at times). I don't think we'll ever get to the bottom of this free will business, but this might be another aspect of the book that turns some people off?

Also, regarding the god-as-audience metaphor, it's interesting to combine that with the Jesus-as-healer idea. Jesus as another actor who is put on stage to create healing within the other characters. In this way, I feel like Jack Ames has a sort of healer role, also.

I'll join you, Ed. No need for a reminder, I don't have a tv.

Good luck. Are you a person who keeps to-do lists? I know I am, but I rarely put reading on a list nor do I put social time on a list. I generally read before bed or in the morning, and I think it just feels weird to put a person's name on a to-do list.

Ooh, that IS a nice image, Candy.

Trouble and grace and distance and metaphor all at the same time.

It's interesting, too, that light represents trouble in this passage, where normally light represents the opposite of trouble I suppose.

I've lost posts before, too. It's the worst.

I'm not familiar with the Mary story Dottie refers to. But I do know that Ames compares his wife to Mary Magdalene. I don't know why.

You're right that Ames is very sensitive in a meditative way to what is happening around him and within him. I think western religions and eastern religions do have more things in common than is generally acknowledged. Prayers and chants, prayer beads, etc.

Ames does sit and pray, like sitting meditation, he even mentions that "doctrine is not belief, it is only one way of talking about belief" as if the physical process of belief is what is important. Like a buddhist might believe sitting and meditating is a more fruiftul exercise than talking about meditating (talking about it obviously has its place in both traditions).

I was interested to read that the Greek word for "saved" can be translated to "healed or restored" (p239). To be saved and to be healed are very different in some ways. The latter, for me, has a much more eastern connotation. That part in the book is really very informative to me, it changes the way I think of christianity.

I've been living without a tv since September. I like it. Every once in a while I'll watch The Office or Boston Legal or Picket Fences on-line.

Like others have mentioned, the time I normally would spend watching television I now spend on the Internet. I have a lot of little hobbies and activities to pursue on a daily basis, it's nice that I don't have the option to get lazy and cuddle up to the tube. Now I avoid other things by writing long messages on forums. At least it exercises the old noggin' a little more than tv.

There is some good television out there. I think David E. Kelly is one of my favorite writers, even though he only writes for television.

There sure is a lot of lousy television. There can be a bit of romance to just vegging out with the remote control and flipping around and landing on some crappy show that is weirdly entertaining, that's one thing I miss every once in a while.

Candy, I think another reason television is getting better lately is because of the challenge of the Internet. High quality digital filming equipment and editing software makes it less expensive to produce a quality program; I'm hoping the process will extend to mainstream tv, maybe it will become more democratic. HBO is demonstrating a different sponsorship model, and delivery methods continue to change; DVR and Netflix and downloads will continue to change the industry. Ultimately, I would like to see televion decentralized; it would be cool to see more productions coming out of cities besides LA and NY.

Even with a few quality shows, television is still kind of sad. It seems to me the economics of the television industry inevitably trickles back to people who invest in companies that sponsor the crap we feed to each other. I'm hoping the Sara Palin thing together with the economic downturn results in a movement to try to make America smarter by outlawing terrible tv and using the public airwaves to actually inform people. TV seems like a medium that could be used for good that is instead generally used for evil.

I wonder if we met Ames in real life would we consider him one of those people of a higher level of goodness? He seems like a pretty good guy.

I was thinking of that part where he baptises the kittens. I really do enjoy how he seems to see the spirit of people (and creatures). I think that drew me into the book also. I wonder if everybody liked those parts where's he seeing the wonder of it all? Was that more satisfying than the part of the story about Ames and Jack?

From The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot

Let us go then, you and I
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table

I agree, Mary Ellen, I don't think Ames is trying to write the letter as a kind of therapy for himself. But I do think that Robinson presents us with his problems in a very subtle way. I think his problems are the hook that kept me interested in the story. (And I think that the subtleness of his contradictions are what turn some people off of the book, for some, I bet the book was like sitting through a long church service that never comes close to addressing their specific problems or doubts)

And Dottie, I know exactly what you're getting at with the big C and little c. I grew up in a big C church, it was all Jesus all the time. No discussion of anything else, no current events, no philosophy, no morality, no discussion of the actual problems people might have, no theological debate, doubt was just not allowed, no discussion of the spiritual dimensions of art or daily life. In fact, I thought about giving this book to my dad to read, but at some points in the past, I know he'd have rejected it for not being Christ-centered. He'd see the imagery of light and the discussions of "visionary aspects" as blasphemy. Actually, this view in my dad may have softened a bit these days, I don't know. In some ways, it reminds me of the impossible dogmatism of the grandfather. The grandfather begat two ministers, for crying out loud, but neither of those ministers could come close to the grandfather's perfectly dogmatic faith. Ouch. What a terribly devisive thing. That rock of salvation can also be a rock that breaks families apart, it seems.

And Philip, regarding gender, it's interesting that most, well all, of the central characters are men. Ames' mother gets a few funny one-liners in there, but his second wife is very reticent. The first wife we meet when she is a child. I thought it was odd when he compared the second wife to Mary Magdalene. Magdalene was not a major figure in my own religious education, so I'm not sure of what implications it might have.

It's probably going down an ENTIRELY wrong path to suggest that Ames is a rather de-sexualized old fellow, so perhaps less of a stretch for Robinson to imagine; though the same can't be said about Jack and he's certainly very well rendered. I think Jack is a terrific, complicated character.

Joy, I agree that "visionary aspects" is ambiguous. I think MR tries to lead up to it with all the discussion of baptizing kitties and children, etc. It seems to have something to do with seeing the bit of god that is in everybody and every creature? But it is even more ambiguous than that, which to me is just an invitation to sit and start pounding away on the keyboard to try to come up with some more specific understanding. I think also, since he's describing "the embracing, incomprehensible reality", whatever it is is by definition ambiguous, no? I think I'll take another stab at a definition later...

What would say is your favorite writing style? (Or what is a writing style that will hook you in?)

Yes, Wilhelmina, that bit about different paths seems right. It seems the grandfather's mysticism skipped a generation. Ames seems interested in mystical experiences of god, but it doesn't seem like his father was very interested in those experiences. Even though Ames and his grandfather had very different experiences, I think Ames still honored his grandfather's experience in a way the father did not:

I believe that the old man did indeed have far too narrow an idea of what a vision might be. He may, so to speak, have been too dazzled by the great light of his experience to realize that an impressive sun shines on us all. Perhaps that is the one thing I wish to tell you. Sometimes the visionary aspect of any particular day comes to you in the memory of it, or it opens to you over time

I think that's an important part of Ames' theology, and an important part of the way he seeks spiritual meaning in his past. It's like he's setting himself up to forgive Jack and find the blessings in the problems that exist between them.

And the thread of the current times in contrast to the good old days seems to be addressed by Ames also:

When I spoke to my father about the vision... my father just nodded and said, "It was the times."
* * *
I'm saying you must be sure that the doubts and questions are your own, not, so to speak, the mustache and walking stick that happen to be the fashion of any particular moment.

It's funny to me that the grandfather's extreme positions and visions are associated with a fashion while at the same time the arguments for atheism are associated with a fashion. It seems to be a commonality between the two extremes of the religion continuum. I wonder though, if it is possible to escape "the fashion of the times" even if one has more moderate views?

Also, this business of time The visionary aspect... opens to you over time makes me think of why Ames has trouble developing a more soothing perspective of his conflicts. He quotes the Isaac Watts poem:

A thousand ages in Thy sight
Are like an evening gone ...

It seems to me part of the comfort of god is the belief that god has been around forever and any human problems are short-term from god's perspective. Even though he's had half a lifetime to figure out his problems, maybe that wasn't enough time for Ames?

My point is you never do know the actual nature even of your own experience

I'm inclined to think that it's not really Ames' fault that he hasn't resolved his problems by the time he starts writing the letter. I think it's more or less just what happens to people?

There's some interesting things about "nursing a grudge" and the preposterous disguises of crouch and squint and limp and lour that we all do put on. I like that part, he's talking about Boughton's parents, but again it seems like he's referring to himself as well. Do you think he's talking about emotional grudges and limps and lours that we develop over time? Maybe this is why he doesn't move to the Gulf Coast, maybe he prefers the company of his grudges and his limps and his lours (many people are tender of their resentments, as of the thing nearest their hearts)? It seems like a pretty natural thing to happen, and even holy in Ames' view...

Wilhelmina, I see your point. I think I was trying to get my mind around why some people have a hard time connecting to the story, so the comments about problems were more or less directed at people who were having trouble. Bridge building, that's me (right). But I put the whole thing in rather insensitive terms, for which I apologize. I should have mentioned that those very same problems (the problems for which faith and prayer can seem irrelevant to some), are seen in a completely different way by people with strong faith.

I may have made too great a leap, also, to equate faith (I guess I can use the word faith if "pious" gives offense) with a method of self-protection (or a balm). But Ames has no problem looking at other people's words and actions and interpreting them as strategies, so I have no problem doing the same thing to him. I've listened to baseball games on the radio, too, I can sure come up with my own little ideas about Ames' motives.

But my comments on what his strategies are are just interpretations, I may be wrong about them. I just want to try to find out what makes the characters and the story dynamic.

In the case of this novel, I think the dynamic interest comes from the play between the known and the unknown. Ames, the character, has things he knows about himself and things that he doesn't want to talk about. The plot holds interest in a similar way, it holds out a bunch of information until the very end. The theme of known versus unknown in character and plot are symbolized very nicely in the theological interplay between humdrum daily life and moments of "embracing, incomprehensible reality"--another example of known and unknown. Ames' shows us his anger, guilt, pain, in little moments the same he shows us grace and love in little moments. But I don't think he tries as hard to understand his anger.

In other words, I get the impression that some people don't like the novel for the same reason some people don't like church, it can all seem a bit overly holy. I don't think that's the case with this novel (or with all churches). But I think the problems of the characters, the very things that keep the plot moving, are subtle because part of the theme is that some problems ARE subtle and difficult to see and understand. Either that or I just have a fondness for dwelling on characters' problems.

Ames does dwell on misery quite a lot, but mostly it's the pain of being alone. He doesn't want to get into the anger he feels toward his father or the anger he feels toward God.

And then there's Jack, who is a manifestation of pain and failings. Jack seems to take the unknown and make it physically observable. "Blessed are the cracked, for it is they who let in the light." (Not in the book, but fruitful for me never-the-less.) Does Ames have to access some of his own anger and failings in order to muster up the empathy he needs to put things right with young Boughton?

Maybe Ames was mad at everybody, because they didn't understand his pain. Old Boughton could never forgive Jack if he understood Ames' pain. His father and mother wouldn't leave him if they understood his pain. Etc?

The book did flow very easily for me, and I agree that Ames account is honest and sincere. But maybe it would be even more sincere if he would tell us what the heck his problem with his father is?

***spoiler***
I really liked this book. I agree there were a couple parts where Ames belabors his points, but on the whole, I think Marilynne Robinson does a pretty good job of keeping the mystery of the plots alive until the very end.

Something that is a bit trying is Ames' tendency to see every darn thing in the world as delightful, amazing, remarkable, astonishing, etc. To me, it seems like his version of the piousness that a lot of people find frustrating about very religious people. Plenty of people have problems that probably aren't solved by faith and prayer, so the ear and council of a man like Ames may not do the trick. And reading a whole book of it can seem tedious.

I think deep down, though, Ames recognizes that his tendency toward piousness is at least partly a strategy of self-protection. I think it's his way of dealing with his central problem, whatever that may be (I vote for abandonment issues).

On page 95 (soft cover Picador) there is this part that I really liked:

A great part of my work has been listening to people, in that particular intense privacy of confession... Not that I thought of these conversations as if they were a contest... But as you might look at a game more abstractly--where is the strength, what is the strategy? As if you had no interest in it except in seeing how well the two sides bring each other along... how the life that is the real subject of it all is manifest in it. By "life" I mean something like "energy"... When people come to speak to me... I am struck by ... the "I" whose predicate can be "love" or "fear" or "want" ... the loveliness is just in that presence, shaped around "I" like a flame on a wick, emanating itseld in grief and guilt and joy and whatever else... But quick, and avid, and resourceful...

I think Ames is trying to see himself as one of his parishioners. He has a problem that he can't quite get a right perspective on, it bubbles up in anger here and there, but especially when young Boughton is around, and his strategy to protect himself is his piousness, and his piousness is certainly quick and avid and resourceful (he's worked pretty hard reading books to see to that).

On either side of this passage, Ames says these things:

A good sermon is one side of a passionate conversation.

and

I listened to thousands of baseball games... Sometimes I could just make out half a play, and then static, and then a crowd roaring, a flat little sound, almost static itself, like that empty sound in a seashell. It felt good to me to imagine it, like working out some intricate riddle in my mind, planetary motion.

All this business of one sided conversations, holes in baseball narratives, I think he's talking about the holes in his own self understanding.

It's interesting to me that the events between young Bought and Ames are so carefully detailed and recorded in the book, but the events between Ames and his own father (with the exception of the trip to Kansas) are left very cloudy. And for all the good Ames sees in pain and suffering (another major theme, I think), I'm not sure that he mentions good that comes from the passing of his first wife and child. The loneliness that followed he seems to have accepted. But does he mention a blessing in their dying? I don't know, I wasn't really looking for that.

I can't quite figure out what went on between Ames and his father. It think that's done on purpose by Robinson. I think Ames is not capable of really confronting (understanding) whatever it is that exists between himself and his father. I was wondering toward the end what happened to his father, then come to find out in the very end that the father takes off to live with Edward in the gulf coast? (And didn't the passage where Ames shares that tid bit seem uncharacteristically bitter? That page or two seemed like a little burst of anger, and I thought Ames got over that anger by resolving his anger at young Boughton?) And the father had been reading those books on atheism over Ames' shoulder leading up to that? What the heck happened between Ames and his father?

This is a very nice discussion. All this business of fathers and sons makes me think of the parallel stories and how they work together.

I like this quote from page 194:

And the fact is, it is seldom indeed that any wrong one suffers is not thoroughly foreshadowed by wrongs one has done. That said, it has never been clear to me how much this realization helps when it comes to the practical difficulty of controlling anger. Nor have I found any way to apply it to present circumstances, though I have not yet abandoned the effort

He seems to be saying that his taking offence to JA Boughton's actions is a result of some offence he (John Ames) delivered in the past (presumably involving his own family).

I can't quite puzzle out how that the tension between JA Boughton and John Ames relates to John Ames' relationship to his own father (brother, grandfather?) What was the wrong that John Ames did earlier that foreshadowed the wrong JA Boughton did to him?

Aside from that, all these father-son relationships in the novel are--to put it as John Ames might--remarkable. John Ames to his grandfather, John Ames to his father, John Ames to his son, John Ames to JA Boughton, Old Boughton to Young Boughton, the one-eyed grandfather to the father, the father to Eward, etc. It's interesting to me that John Ames, in telling the stories he tells, seems to see a part of himself in all these different characters. Or he has an interesting grasp of how all these other people have shaped him? It's almost like he IS these other characters somehow, that's the impression I get. Maybe it's because everybody has the same name.

Chicago. SNOWING! Yesterday was COLD! I walked to the grocery store, then decided to walk to the library for some quiet study time. Turns out they closed the library early due to a power outage (all the lights looked like they were working fine to me). So I walked home and my cheeks felt like they were going to fall off. I have not been outside yet today. But I can see that it is SNOWING!