Francis Berger's Blog, page 151
July 13, 2019
What's the Deal With Writers Rating Their Own Books?
Before I launch into this rather hushed rant, I would like to preface this post by stating that writers, as individuals, are free to make whatever choices and decisions they deem fit when it comes to the writing, promoting, or marketing of their own work. This is merely my opinion of a topic. What individual writers do with their work on their own time is their own business.
Having said that, I am amused by the sheer number of writers, of both the self-published and conventionally published variety, who five-star rate their own works on sites such as Goodreads and Library Thing. In all honesty, this practice makes no sense to me. What is a writer attempting to communicate to potential readers when they garland their own creation with a five-star rating?
In most cases, I feel it is probably nothing more than joyful affirmation of accomplishment or an innocent declaration of pride at having written and published - Hey, I have written this book, and I think it is just super!
Nothing inherently wrong with that, I suppose. Writing and publishing a book of any length is an accomplishment of which one should be proud, and one could argue writers have the right to declare their own high opinions of the books they have written.
There is also nothing inherently wrong with promoting one's book as something possessing merit, something that readers might find worthwhile and good. I imagine all writers, myself included, have engaged in this sort of thing in some form or other.
Nevertheless, in my more cynical moments I surmise that five-star self-ratings are little more than attempts to skew the overall rating of a book to the positive side. After all, a five-star rating can do wonders to the overall average of a book if it only has ten or fifteen ratings in total. Then again, perhaps self-rating writers are simply self-aggrandizing egoists. Who knows?
Though I do my best to be understanding and forgiving of five star self-ratings, I must admit they make me cringe, and I often wonder if others feel the same way. When I see a writer has given their own book the highest possible rating online, I can't help but see hubris. Five-star self ratings strike me as smug, arrogant, gauche, and pathetic all at once - akin to listing yourself as a reference on a resume.
I do not rate my own books, and I don't think any writer should. Yes, I think the novel I have written has some merit and is of acceptable quality, but I am unwilling to declare this in the form of five little yellow stars.
Firstly, no matter how good I think my novel may be, I know it is merely a transcription of an idea rather than the pure idea itself. The original vision for the book was five stars; hence, my transcription could never be that high. Readers may see it as five stars because, unlike me, they did not experience the vision and idea in its pure form. For them the book is the idea and the vision, so the chance exists that they might perceive it as something worthy of the highest praise. I, on the other hand, cannot.
Secondly, though I am proud of my achievement, a part of me always feels it could have been better, that I did not reach the objective I had set for myself.
Finally, I do not believe it is my place to rate the thing I have created. That is an activity best left to readers and critics. To put it another way, a chef's high opinion of his or her own dish is of little use if the food set before me is not to my taste. In fact, the chef’s high opinion puts me in awkward spot if I happen to find the food disagreeable. I will question either the chef’s taste or my own. In the end, my taste will win regardless.
Concerning my novel, I have received some positive ratings, but I have received a fair share of one and two-star ratings as well. And that's fine.
If I were forced to rate my own work, I would do it in the following manner: my book is all the stars in the known universe and no stars at all simultaneously.
In other words, my novel is good, and it is nothing. There is simply no other way I can look my own work, and that's why I have avoided self-rating on sites like Goodreads. It is also why I have such a difficult time wrapping my head around writers who five-star their own books.
Note added: This is a slightly edited version of a previous post published on January 28, 2018.
Having said that, I am amused by the sheer number of writers, of both the self-published and conventionally published variety, who five-star rate their own works on sites such as Goodreads and Library Thing. In all honesty, this practice makes no sense to me. What is a writer attempting to communicate to potential readers when they garland their own creation with a five-star rating?
In most cases, I feel it is probably nothing more than joyful affirmation of accomplishment or an innocent declaration of pride at having written and published - Hey, I have written this book, and I think it is just super!
Nothing inherently wrong with that, I suppose. Writing and publishing a book of any length is an accomplishment of which one should be proud, and one could argue writers have the right to declare their own high opinions of the books they have written.
There is also nothing inherently wrong with promoting one's book as something possessing merit, something that readers might find worthwhile and good. I imagine all writers, myself included, have engaged in this sort of thing in some form or other.
Nevertheless, in my more cynical moments I surmise that five-star self-ratings are little more than attempts to skew the overall rating of a book to the positive side. After all, a five-star rating can do wonders to the overall average of a book if it only has ten or fifteen ratings in total. Then again, perhaps self-rating writers are simply self-aggrandizing egoists. Who knows?
Though I do my best to be understanding and forgiving of five star self-ratings, I must admit they make me cringe, and I often wonder if others feel the same way. When I see a writer has given their own book the highest possible rating online, I can't help but see hubris. Five-star self ratings strike me as smug, arrogant, gauche, and pathetic all at once - akin to listing yourself as a reference on a resume.
I do not rate my own books, and I don't think any writer should. Yes, I think the novel I have written has some merit and is of acceptable quality, but I am unwilling to declare this in the form of five little yellow stars.
Firstly, no matter how good I think my novel may be, I know it is merely a transcription of an idea rather than the pure idea itself. The original vision for the book was five stars; hence, my transcription could never be that high. Readers may see it as five stars because, unlike me, they did not experience the vision and idea in its pure form. For them the book is the idea and the vision, so the chance exists that they might perceive it as something worthy of the highest praise. I, on the other hand, cannot.
Secondly, though I am proud of my achievement, a part of me always feels it could have been better, that I did not reach the objective I had set for myself.
Finally, I do not believe it is my place to rate the thing I have created. That is an activity best left to readers and critics. To put it another way, a chef's high opinion of his or her own dish is of little use if the food set before me is not to my taste. In fact, the chef’s high opinion puts me in awkward spot if I happen to find the food disagreeable. I will question either the chef’s taste or my own. In the end, my taste will win regardless.
Concerning my novel, I have received some positive ratings, but I have received a fair share of one and two-star ratings as well. And that's fine.
If I were forced to rate my own work, I would do it in the following manner: my book is all the stars in the known universe and no stars at all simultaneously.
In other words, my novel is good, and it is nothing. There is simply no other way I can look my own work, and that's why I have avoided self-rating on sites like Goodreads. It is also why I have such a difficult time wrapping my head around writers who five-star their own books.
Note added: This is a slightly edited version of a previous post published on January 28, 2018.
July 12, 2019
First Home Renovation Project For This Summer Nearly Done
I have spent the bulk of my summers completing home renovation projects since I purchased this old house in a small village in Hungary three years ago, and I am happy to report that my first planned project for this summer - repouring and re-tiling the terrace - is nearly done.
Though I have some experience laying ceramic tiles, I am by no means an expert in the field, and I was a little apprehensive before I began this project because I had never worked with exterior tiles before. The tiles I put down were rather thick and dense, which made for difficult cutting, especially along the edges, but I somehow managed to put all the puzzle pieces together in the end. My wife took this photo of me (without my knowledge) while I was still engaged in the easier task of putting down whole tiles.
I still need to complete the stairs and grout the whole thing, but for all intents and purposes, the project is nearly done. As I mentioned above, I am no expert when it comes to tiling floors, but I am satisfied with the end result I managed to achieve. Next week I plan to install the faux brick tiles on the terrace walls. Now that's where the real fun will be had! 
Though I have some experience laying ceramic tiles, I am by no means an expert in the field, and I was a little apprehensive before I began this project because I had never worked with exterior tiles before. The tiles I put down were rather thick and dense, which made for difficult cutting, especially along the edges, but I somehow managed to put all the puzzle pieces together in the end. My wife took this photo of me (without my knowledge) while I was still engaged in the easier task of putting down whole tiles.
I still need to complete the stairs and grout the whole thing, but for all intents and purposes, the project is nearly done. As I mentioned above, I am no expert when it comes to tiling floors, but I am satisfied with the end result I managed to achieve. Next week I plan to install the faux brick tiles on the terrace walls. Now that's where the real fun will be had!
July 11, 2019
Porn Consumers as Epstein-Lites
Though I have not bothered to examine the details, I am aware of the general story behind the Jeffrey Epstein sex scandal. Of course, it's hard not to be aware of sex scandals involving celebrities, politicians, and the elite. After all, barely a week goes by without some high profile player being exposed for some sort of debauchery or other.
I have noticed that the general public tends to love these sorts of stories. It gives them a chance to wag their fingers and scoff in disgust without having to reflect upon their own immodesties and indecencies. Better still, even if they do take a moment to examine their own sexual immoralities, they can easily view them as harmless and trivial when compared to the grand depravities committed by individuals like this Epstein character.
Take pornography for example. Avid porn consumers are likely to condemn Epstein's perversions as immoral, but are likely unwilling to accept that there is anything inherently wrong with their own chosen form of sexual hedonism. They could easily make a case built upon the basis of apples and oranges - that Epstein's crimes and viewing pornography are not even in the same league as far as sin or immorality go. And I suppose they would have a valid point. After all, what Epstein did is illegal and criminal, while viewing most forms of pornography is certainly not.
For many years I had a fairly laissez-faire attitude about pornography. I considered porn to be a private matter - something an adult had the right to indulge in if they chose to do so. In fact, I regarded pornography in the same way I regard alcohol. Something to be consumed in moderation. Something that might even be beneficial if consumed in moderation. In the grand scheme of things, I did not consider pornography to be a big deal. It was, at best, a peccadillo. A minor, trifling fault.
And in the grand scheme of things pornography probably is a peccadillo, but here's the catch - the lust that drives men like Epstein to commit their corruptions and the lust that drives people to sit down before a computer screen and view online porn essentially stem from the same source.
Thus, in the ultra-grand scheme of things, the difference between perverts like Epstein and online porn perverts is only a matter of degree.
And the problem with lust is its fiery nature. The spark in fantasy has a way of escaping and igniting reality. Seen this way, characters like Epstein are nothing more than pornography consumers acting out their fantasies in reality. And isn't that the secret wish of every person who watches porn? The wish that what watch online would somehow play out in reality? That they could find themselves in such circumstances in the real world? Those who claim porn is merely entertainment are deluding themselves. Porn is essentially wish fulfillment. All that separates Epstein from the average mild-mannered porn watcher is the amount of effort exerted to see the lust-fueled wish fulfilled in the real world.
Seen this way, porn consumers are actually little more than Epstein-Lites. Same perverted motivations. One-tenth of the manifestation in physical reality.
And of course there are spiritual aspects to consider, but I won't wade into all of that now.
I have noticed that the general public tends to love these sorts of stories. It gives them a chance to wag their fingers and scoff in disgust without having to reflect upon their own immodesties and indecencies. Better still, even if they do take a moment to examine their own sexual immoralities, they can easily view them as harmless and trivial when compared to the grand depravities committed by individuals like this Epstein character.
Take pornography for example. Avid porn consumers are likely to condemn Epstein's perversions as immoral, but are likely unwilling to accept that there is anything inherently wrong with their own chosen form of sexual hedonism. They could easily make a case built upon the basis of apples and oranges - that Epstein's crimes and viewing pornography are not even in the same league as far as sin or immorality go. And I suppose they would have a valid point. After all, what Epstein did is illegal and criminal, while viewing most forms of pornography is certainly not.
For many years I had a fairly laissez-faire attitude about pornography. I considered porn to be a private matter - something an adult had the right to indulge in if they chose to do so. In fact, I regarded pornography in the same way I regard alcohol. Something to be consumed in moderation. Something that might even be beneficial if consumed in moderation. In the grand scheme of things, I did not consider pornography to be a big deal. It was, at best, a peccadillo. A minor, trifling fault.
And in the grand scheme of things pornography probably is a peccadillo, but here's the catch - the lust that drives men like Epstein to commit their corruptions and the lust that drives people to sit down before a computer screen and view online porn essentially stem from the same source.
Thus, in the ultra-grand scheme of things, the difference between perverts like Epstein and online porn perverts is only a matter of degree.
And the problem with lust is its fiery nature. The spark in fantasy has a way of escaping and igniting reality. Seen this way, characters like Epstein are nothing more than pornography consumers acting out their fantasies in reality. And isn't that the secret wish of every person who watches porn? The wish that what watch online would somehow play out in reality? That they could find themselves in such circumstances in the real world? Those who claim porn is merely entertainment are deluding themselves. Porn is essentially wish fulfillment. All that separates Epstein from the average mild-mannered porn watcher is the amount of effort exerted to see the lust-fueled wish fulfilled in the real world.
Seen this way, porn consumers are actually little more than Epstein-Lites. Same perverted motivations. One-tenth of the manifestation in physical reality.
And of course there are spiritual aspects to consider, but I won't wade into all of that now.
July 10, 2019
Blind Milton Dictating Paradise Lost
Fellow blogger William Wildblood from Meeting the Masters has been reading Paradise Lost for the first time and has written a couple of engaging reflections upon the experience here and here.
I read Paradise Lost about twenty-five years ago. Though I remember the overall narrative of the poem, the major themes, and, of course, most of the characters (or rather how Milton depicted them), the passage of time has washed away the subtler aspects of the work from my memory. I suppose this accounts for my interest in William's posts on John Milton's magnum opus; they have served to remind me that Paradise Lost truly is epic work, in every sense of the word.
Though it is common knowledge, not everyone who reads Paradise Lost for the first time is aware that John Milton was blind when he "wrote" it, and that writing for Milton essentially boiled down to dictating the poem to various amanuenses, a group that apparently included his own daughters. Whether or not Milton actually dictated the poem to his daughters is debatable, but the notion captured the attention of the public and many painters made the scene a subject for painting all the same.
The first artist to depict the scene (as far as I can tell) was the Swiss born English painter Henry Fuseli.
Henry Fuseli - Milton Dictating to His Daughter - 1794 I respect Fuseli's overall romantic vision and there is much to be said for the masterful way he uses light and shadow to convey mood, but I find his depiction of Milton to be a little bizarre. The blank eyes were surely Fuseli's way of conveying Milton's blindness to the viewer, but it was a poor choice in my estimation. Milton's eyes glow in the painting, giving him the ghostly air of a possessed man. Sure, one could argue the haunting depiction is a masterstroke because it captures the otherworldly quality of Milton's genius, but for me Fuseli pushes this aspect too hard, to the point that he succeeds in making Milton look like Jacob Marley from Dickens' A Christmas Carol (yes, I know Jacob Marley came much later, but you get the idea). Milton's ghostly presence appears even more ghostly when contrasted to the other two figures in the painting. Nevertheless, I still like the painting very much 
Eugene Delacroix - Milton Dictating Paradise Lost to His Daughters - 1826 Best known for his painting Liberty Leading the People, Delacroix was a master of creating scenes saturated with romantic energy, but his depiction of Milton speaking out Paradise Lost while one of his daughters records his works seems to contain everything but romantic energy. Don't get me wrong, I admire the painting and recognize the beauty Delacroix presents here, but the scene is rather flat (even with the image of Adam and Eve being expelled from Paradise in the background). The daughter doing the writing wears an intense expression as she listens to her father, but Milton himself appears somewhat listless. For all I know, he could be dictating his shopping list rather than his magnum opus. Having said that, the portrayal is probably realistic - this is probably what Milton actually looked like when he dictated the poem, but romantic painting is not about depicting everything realistically, so in this sense I humbly feel Delacroix comes up short. 
Mihály Munkácsy - Blind Milton Dictating Paradise Lost to his Daughters - 1878 In my opinion, Mihály Munkácsy's Blind Milton Dictating Paradise Lost to His Daughters is the best depiction of the scene, and no, I don't think so simply because Munkácsy was Hungarian! To begin with, Munkácsy chooses to depict Milton's blindness in a subtle way - the eyes are not glowing, nor are they simply closed, but rather obscured by shadow as he broodingly "focuses" on the space before him as he dictates. Milton's posture is one of intense concentration, the tension apparent in the clenched right hand he holds before his chest.
When I look at Munkácsy's Milton I get the sense the figure in the painting really is dictating something epic. This is mirrored by the postures and expressions of the three daughters all three of whom appear to be completely engrossed by what their father is speaking to them. Look at the way the one recording the words leans forward in her chair, indicating complete dedication and interest. She is quite literally hanging on every word Milton utters. Now in all fairness, Munkacsy had the benefit of seeing the other two works before he composed his own rendition of the scene, and I imagine he studied both to some extent before he began his own composition.
What do you think? Is Munkácsy's scene the best, or are you more partial to either Fuseli's version or Delacroix's depiction?
Well, examining these three paintings inspired by William Wildblood's posts only serves to remind me I must reread Paradise Lost soon. Unfortunately, my to-read stack of books already touches the ceiling, so I am not sure when I will get to Milton's massive epic again.
I read Paradise Lost about twenty-five years ago. Though I remember the overall narrative of the poem, the major themes, and, of course, most of the characters (or rather how Milton depicted them), the passage of time has washed away the subtler aspects of the work from my memory. I suppose this accounts for my interest in William's posts on John Milton's magnum opus; they have served to remind me that Paradise Lost truly is epic work, in every sense of the word.
Though it is common knowledge, not everyone who reads Paradise Lost for the first time is aware that John Milton was blind when he "wrote" it, and that writing for Milton essentially boiled down to dictating the poem to various amanuenses, a group that apparently included his own daughters. Whether or not Milton actually dictated the poem to his daughters is debatable, but the notion captured the attention of the public and many painters made the scene a subject for painting all the same.
The first artist to depict the scene (as far as I can tell) was the Swiss born English painter Henry Fuseli.
Henry Fuseli - Milton Dictating to His Daughter - 1794 I respect Fuseli's overall romantic vision and there is much to be said for the masterful way he uses light and shadow to convey mood, but I find his depiction of Milton to be a little bizarre. The blank eyes were surely Fuseli's way of conveying Milton's blindness to the viewer, but it was a poor choice in my estimation. Milton's eyes glow in the painting, giving him the ghostly air of a possessed man. Sure, one could argue the haunting depiction is a masterstroke because it captures the otherworldly quality of Milton's genius, but for me Fuseli pushes this aspect too hard, to the point that he succeeds in making Milton look like Jacob Marley from Dickens' A Christmas Carol (yes, I know Jacob Marley came much later, but you get the idea). Milton's ghostly presence appears even more ghostly when contrasted to the other two figures in the painting. Nevertheless, I still like the painting very much Eugene Delacroix - Milton Dictating Paradise Lost to His Daughters - 1826 Best known for his painting Liberty Leading the People, Delacroix was a master of creating scenes saturated with romantic energy, but his depiction of Milton speaking out Paradise Lost while one of his daughters records his works seems to contain everything but romantic energy. Don't get me wrong, I admire the painting and recognize the beauty Delacroix presents here, but the scene is rather flat (even with the image of Adam and Eve being expelled from Paradise in the background). The daughter doing the writing wears an intense expression as she listens to her father, but Milton himself appears somewhat listless. For all I know, he could be dictating his shopping list rather than his magnum opus. Having said that, the portrayal is probably realistic - this is probably what Milton actually looked like when he dictated the poem, but romantic painting is not about depicting everything realistically, so in this sense I humbly feel Delacroix comes up short. Mihály Munkácsy - Blind Milton Dictating Paradise Lost to his Daughters - 1878 In my opinion, Mihály Munkácsy's Blind Milton Dictating Paradise Lost to His Daughters is the best depiction of the scene, and no, I don't think so simply because Munkácsy was Hungarian! To begin with, Munkácsy chooses to depict Milton's blindness in a subtle way - the eyes are not glowing, nor are they simply closed, but rather obscured by shadow as he broodingly "focuses" on the space before him as he dictates. Milton's posture is one of intense concentration, the tension apparent in the clenched right hand he holds before his chest. When I look at Munkácsy's Milton I get the sense the figure in the painting really is dictating something epic. This is mirrored by the postures and expressions of the three daughters all three of whom appear to be completely engrossed by what their father is speaking to them. Look at the way the one recording the words leans forward in her chair, indicating complete dedication and interest. She is quite literally hanging on every word Milton utters. Now in all fairness, Munkacsy had the benefit of seeing the other two works before he composed his own rendition of the scene, and I imagine he studied both to some extent before he began his own composition.
What do you think? Is Munkácsy's scene the best, or are you more partial to either Fuseli's version or Delacroix's depiction?
Well, examining these three paintings inspired by William Wildblood's posts only serves to remind me I must reread Paradise Lost soon. Unfortunately, my to-read stack of books already touches the ceiling, so I am not sure when I will get to Milton's massive epic again.
July 8, 2019
Someone is Having a Good Summer
Well, my son is certainly having a good summer so far. That's him doing a ninja jump at the local pool.Watching him play around in the water takes me back to my own childhood in Canada where I was fortunate enough to grow up right next to a small lake. This meant the neighborhood kids and I were in the water non-stop from mid-June until the end of August. Those certainly were the days. Of course, I didn't have cool lime green swimming goggles like my kid does, but hey.
July 7, 2019
A Beautiful Dawn
I snapped this photo outside my home on June 22, but forgot about taking it until now. It was just before five in the morning and the intense colors in the clouds lasted less than ten minutes before they faded to white.When people discover I usually wake up at around four in the morning, they tend to look at me with a blend of pity and confusion, but being an early riser has its advantages. Beautiful sights like this being foremost among them.
July 5, 2019
Perched On Nothing's Branch - The Tragic and Mostly Forgotten Fate of My Ancestors, The Danube Swabians
Expulsion of Danube Swabians in the Banat (Yugoslavia) - Artist and date unknown The average person in the West, the Anglo West especially, has no idea what a Danube Swabian is, or more correctly, what a Danube Swabian was. Right away a dilemma emerges. Can Danube Swabians still be referred to in the present tense, or do they exist only in the thickening shadows of the past?That most people in the West do not know who Danube Swabians are or were is not surprising. Much of the general ignorance about Danube Swabians stems from the paradox of past and present I touched upon above. On the one hand, descendants of Danube Swabians - like me - still exist. On the other hand, the culture from which we originated is essentially dead in Europe, destroyed by waves of ethnic cleansing and the consequent communist frost that settled over Eastern and Central Europe at the end of the Second World War.
I bear no grudge against the Anglo West for not knowing much about us Danube Swabians. After all, nearly seventy years have passed since the unique, hybrid German culture that had existed primarily in pockets of Hungary and the former Yugoslavia was extinguished. Seventy years is a long time. Even descendents of Danube Swabians, yours truly among them, struggle to understand who they are, or rather, who they were and where they came from.
"Perched on Nothing's Branch" is the translated title of a book of poems by Hungarian poet Attila József. Though József wrote no poems about Danube Swabians, the title is a perfect way to describe the reality in which Danube Swabians like me exist. We are essentially suspended in the air, perched on a branch of a tree that has long been cut down. And it is only a matter of time before gravity pulls us down as well. When it does, it will pull down memory as well, after which we will exist as little more than curious, obscure footnotes in the books of forgotten history.
I call myself Hungarian, and I am culturally Hungarian, but from an ethnic perspective, there is nothing Hungarian about me. Not a single drop of Magyar blood courses through my veins. Yet I speak almost no German, and I struggle to remember even the most basic customs and beliefs of my "real" people. My ancestors on both sides were ethnic German migrants who settled in Hungary in the late seventeenth century to fill the gaping wounds the Ottoman Empire had left in its wake after it withdrew its forces from Hungary after nearly two centuries of occupation. These ancestors of mine integrated themselves into Hungarian society to a certain extent, but maintained their language and unique traditions right up until the middle of the twentieth century, when the cold gears of diplomacy and history ground the unique culture and traditions they had developed and maintained over the course of three or four centuries into dust.
I have always been intrigued by my people's history, so much so that I made the protagonist of my novel The City of Earthly Desire, a Danube Swabian. In fact, in the first part of the novel I present a fictionalized account of what happened to most Danube Swabians living in Baranya County in southern Hungary following the conclusion of the Second World War. I personally believe that part to be the best part of the book, and I am proud to have written it. Including some Danube Swabian history into the narrative was my way of dealing with my own lost culture; my way of trying to preserve the memory and traditions of my people; my way of attempting to replace a part of the tree that had been cut out from underneath us.
I felt inspired to jot down some thoughts about Danube Swabians after reading this short article that appeared in the online magazine Emerging Europe, of all places. The journalist who wrote the article is of the typical, modern, progressive variety, but the approach she uses in this article is surprisingly neutral. It is worth a read, if for no other reason than to provide a basic overview of what Danube Swabians are, or rather what they were. The journalist claims Danube Swabian culture is experiencing a sort of revival, but I find this to be outrageously optimistic. But this is perfectly understandable. After all, it's difficult not to be pessimistic when you have spent your whole life perched on nothing's branch.
Because Beamers and Benzes Don't Pay For Themselves
I have read and continue to read many speculations and opinions as to why people so easily succumb to and allow themselves to be manipulated by evil, but I find the most obvious reasons as to why so many willingly serve dark forces are often callously disregarded, severely underestimated, or outright neglected. Case in point - personal debt.
I worked in various school systems under a variety of supervisors, principals, and "executive directors" (yes, the position actually exists in some secondary schools) in the West for over a decade, and the one thing these school management types had in common was a penchant for luxury automobiles. Every single school leader I worked for drove either a Mercedes-Benz, a BMW, or a Jaguar. And I am not talking about low end models - I am talking about top of the line vehicles with price tags approaching or, in some cases, surpassing six digits.
Of course, luxury cars were often just the tip of the iceberg. There were also nice houses in Westchester County, expensive annual vacations to exotic destinations, fancy brand name clothing, and all the rest of it. Now to be fair, these principals and supervisors made handsome salaries. Annual pay for school leaders in the districts in which I worked in the United States and Canada exceeded 100,000 dollars. The executive director in England did even better, raking in excess of 150,000 pounds a year. But no matter how much money they made, these school leaders inevitably lived lifestyles that were considerably larger than their take home pay. One does not need to hold degrees in economics nor psychology to understand how and why people in such positions become easily pliable.
Now some school leaders I knew were bonafide kool-aid drinkers completely on board with whatever pernicious idiocy the departments of education happened to be promulgating. I remember one or two principals who would have been more than happy to gas the students en masse in the gym showers were such orders ever given, but these true believers were the exception rather than the rule. In fact, most of the school leaders I knew were generally decent, ambitious people. They were drawn to school leadership for the money, but also for the chance to do something positive in their careers.
As mentioned above, the kool-aid drinkers were always willing accomplices - true-believing yes men and women who tended to question nothing and never experienced pangs of conscience. These types knew exactly what they had signed up for and would gladly do just about anything to maintain their status and keep their unpaid for beamer safely on the driveway of their gated-community house in Connecticut. The decent, ambitious folk, on the other hand, lived within the confines of an entirely different reality.
The decent, ambitious types loved status and success as much as the kool-aid drinkers did, but they often found themselves in positions were their love of status and success conflicted with what they were being asked to do. Most simply put their heads down and internalized these conflicts as they reluctantly went on to do whatever they were being asked to do. The more courageous types put up fights or bent the rules, but as the pressure mounted, they too relented. Why? Simple. Because beamers and benzes don't pay for themselves.
The late George Carlin criticized the average contemporary person's approach to personal finance by quipping it essentially amounted to nothing more than "buying things you don't need with money you don't have." This describes all the school leaders I worked for to a tee. They all bought things they did not really need with money they did not have. As a result, they made themselves financially vulnerable and surrendered themselves to the forces of manipulation.
Now, before anyone harangues me for being some kind of socialist, let me just quickly state that I have nothing against beamers and benzes per se. I have nothing against anyone purchasing a luxury car if they have the money to do so. I also have nothing against anyone purchasing a luxury car if they do not have the money to do so, but people who fall into the latter category need to become acutely aware of the bargain they are making. Essentially, they are selling a piece of their freedom, agency, and spirit in exchange for a material/hedonic thing. Instead of possessing, they become possessed, and once possessed, they become easier to control.
And that is my overall view of personal debt in the end. It is probably the primary source of control and manipulation in the lives of average contemporary people (yet I find fewer and fewer people addressing this on blogs and elsewhere). It is the reason why even the best among us readily or reluctantly succumb to evil. The reason why we nod our heads in agreement when we don't agree at all. The reason why we are afraid to challenge anything at work. The reason why we cower in corners and work hard to stay under the radar. The reason why we begin speaking the language they want us to speak, thinking the kinds of things they want us to think, and doing the sorts of deeds they want done. The reason why we find it hard to fall asleep at night and even harder to wake up in the morning.
It's a shame beamers and benzes don't pay for themselves. Imagine how much better people might be if they did. Yet again, imagine how much better people might be if they didn't waste their life energy purchasing things like beamers and benzes with money they didn't have. Why, they could actually experience a real taste of freedom then, and perhaps begin focusing less on worldly things and start concentrating on more important matters . . . but I am prone to babbling, so I think I'll end there.
I worked in various school systems under a variety of supervisors, principals, and "executive directors" (yes, the position actually exists in some secondary schools) in the West for over a decade, and the one thing these school management types had in common was a penchant for luxury automobiles. Every single school leader I worked for drove either a Mercedes-Benz, a BMW, or a Jaguar. And I am not talking about low end models - I am talking about top of the line vehicles with price tags approaching or, in some cases, surpassing six digits.
Of course, luxury cars were often just the tip of the iceberg. There were also nice houses in Westchester County, expensive annual vacations to exotic destinations, fancy brand name clothing, and all the rest of it. Now to be fair, these principals and supervisors made handsome salaries. Annual pay for school leaders in the districts in which I worked in the United States and Canada exceeded 100,000 dollars. The executive director in England did even better, raking in excess of 150,000 pounds a year. But no matter how much money they made, these school leaders inevitably lived lifestyles that were considerably larger than their take home pay. One does not need to hold degrees in economics nor psychology to understand how and why people in such positions become easily pliable.
Now some school leaders I knew were bonafide kool-aid drinkers completely on board with whatever pernicious idiocy the departments of education happened to be promulgating. I remember one or two principals who would have been more than happy to gas the students en masse in the gym showers were such orders ever given, but these true believers were the exception rather than the rule. In fact, most of the school leaders I knew were generally decent, ambitious people. They were drawn to school leadership for the money, but also for the chance to do something positive in their careers.
As mentioned above, the kool-aid drinkers were always willing accomplices - true-believing yes men and women who tended to question nothing and never experienced pangs of conscience. These types knew exactly what they had signed up for and would gladly do just about anything to maintain their status and keep their unpaid for beamer safely on the driveway of their gated-community house in Connecticut. The decent, ambitious folk, on the other hand, lived within the confines of an entirely different reality.
The decent, ambitious types loved status and success as much as the kool-aid drinkers did, but they often found themselves in positions were their love of status and success conflicted with what they were being asked to do. Most simply put their heads down and internalized these conflicts as they reluctantly went on to do whatever they were being asked to do. The more courageous types put up fights or bent the rules, but as the pressure mounted, they too relented. Why? Simple. Because beamers and benzes don't pay for themselves.
The late George Carlin criticized the average contemporary person's approach to personal finance by quipping it essentially amounted to nothing more than "buying things you don't need with money you don't have." This describes all the school leaders I worked for to a tee. They all bought things they did not really need with money they did not have. As a result, they made themselves financially vulnerable and surrendered themselves to the forces of manipulation.
Now, before anyone harangues me for being some kind of socialist, let me just quickly state that I have nothing against beamers and benzes per se. I have nothing against anyone purchasing a luxury car if they have the money to do so. I also have nothing against anyone purchasing a luxury car if they do not have the money to do so, but people who fall into the latter category need to become acutely aware of the bargain they are making. Essentially, they are selling a piece of their freedom, agency, and spirit in exchange for a material/hedonic thing. Instead of possessing, they become possessed, and once possessed, they become easier to control.
And that is my overall view of personal debt in the end. It is probably the primary source of control and manipulation in the lives of average contemporary people (yet I find fewer and fewer people addressing this on blogs and elsewhere). It is the reason why even the best among us readily or reluctantly succumb to evil. The reason why we nod our heads in agreement when we don't agree at all. The reason why we are afraid to challenge anything at work. The reason why we cower in corners and work hard to stay under the radar. The reason why we begin speaking the language they want us to speak, thinking the kinds of things they want us to think, and doing the sorts of deeds they want done. The reason why we find it hard to fall asleep at night and even harder to wake up in the morning.
It's a shame beamers and benzes don't pay for themselves. Imagine how much better people might be if they did. Yet again, imagine how much better people might be if they didn't waste their life energy purchasing things like beamers and benzes with money they didn't have. Why, they could actually experience a real taste of freedom then, and perhaps begin focusing less on worldly things and start concentrating on more important matters . . . but I am prone to babbling, so I think I'll end there.
July 4, 2019
An Excellent Site Dedicated to Nikolai Berdyaev
Over the past few months I have been revisiting Nikolai Berdyaev whose works I first read a little over a decade ago after a serendipitous discovery in a New York City library. I am currently making my way through the four Berdyaev books I own and have been fleshing out this reading by dipping into some articles and lectures from this superb Nikolai Berdyaev site.
The bulk of the articles (perhaps all) have been translated by Father Stephen Janos, who was kind enough to contact me personally after stumbling across one of my blog posts on Berdyaev a few months ago. Father Janos is an excellent and astute translator, and his work on Berdyaev's essays is truly remarkable. This essay is one of my personal favorites. If you have an interest in Berdyaev or are looking for a good place to encounter some of his ideas, the linked site above is the place to go.
Note added: Father Stephen, please accept my heartfelt apologies if you happen to read this. I am terribly behind in my correspondence, but my reply is coming shortly!
The bulk of the articles (perhaps all) have been translated by Father Stephen Janos, who was kind enough to contact me personally after stumbling across one of my blog posts on Berdyaev a few months ago. Father Janos is an excellent and astute translator, and his work on Berdyaev's essays is truly remarkable. This essay is one of my personal favorites. If you have an interest in Berdyaev or are looking for a good place to encounter some of his ideas, the linked site above is the place to go.
Note added: Father Stephen, please accept my heartfelt apologies if you happen to read this. I am terribly behind in my correspondence, but my reply is coming shortly!
July 3, 2019
New Site for This Blog?
I have been contemplating moving this blog to another blog hosting platform. I am more or less satisfied with this blog, but it does have some major drawbacks such as not being able to categorize posts in certain ways. I also recently learned that I cannot back up anything I write here. Nor can I transfer it wholesale to another blog hosting site. I don't hold any delusions of grandeur concerning this blog, but I do find it rather alarming that I could essentially lose everything I have written here due to some technical glitch or other.
In light of these considerations, I am pondering other options. I thought about Wordpress, but they seem to be getting a kick out of deplatforming people lately. Many bloggers I follow use Blogspot. Is this is a good option? Any suggestions or advice would be more than welcome.
In light of these considerations, I am pondering other options. I thought about Wordpress, but they seem to be getting a kick out of deplatforming people lately. Many bloggers I follow use Blogspot. Is this is a good option? Any suggestions or advice would be more than welcome.
