Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

My new book (briefly) tops Ross Douthat’s latest – if you blinked, you missed it.

Sunday, February 16th, 2020
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My moment in the sun was brief, but at least one voter gave me a thumbs up over the New York Times‘s Ross Douthat, whose book The Decadent Society: How We Became the Victims of Our Own Success (Simon & Schuster), is currently making waves. (See tweets below.)

The triumph couldn’t be smaller, nevertheless … not bad, considering my book, Conversations with René Girard: Prophet of Envy (Bloomsbury) won’t be out till May 14. You can preorder at discount via the Bloomsbury website here.

From the flap:

French theorist René Girard was one of the major thinkers of the twentieth century. Read by international leaders, quoted by the French media, Girard influenced such writers as J.M. Coetzee and Milan Kundera. Dubbed “the new Darwin of the human sciences” and one of the most compelling thinkers of the age, Girard spent nearly four decades at Stanford exploring what it means to be human and making major contributions to philosophy, literary criticism, psychology and theology with his mimetic theory.

This is the first collection of interviews with Girard, one that brings together discussions on Cervantes, Dostoevsky, and Proust alongside the causes of conflict and violence and the role of imitation in human behavior. Granting important insights into Girard’s life and thought, these provocative and lively conversations underline Girard’s place as leading public intellectual and profound theorist.

And the blurbs:

“’A vital book. It gave me René Girard as I’ve never before encountered him in a text: like looking at a diamond from eighteen different sides. Each interview reveals the fecundity of his thought and the brilliance of a mind that was able to probe the human condition in a singular way. It’s full of fire.’” – Luke Burgis, author of Wanting: Our Secret Economy of Desire (St. Martin’s Press)

“Rene Girard was one of the most influential and important thinkers of the 20th century, much of his wisdom was dialogic in nature, and this volume brings together an excellent collection of conversations with him.” – Tyler Cowen, economist, blogs at Marginal Revolution.

““Covering the full scope of his thinking, from his reflections on desire and rivalry, right through to his final thoughts about modern warfare this really is a singularly valuable collection.”” – Chris Fleming, essayist and author of On Drugs 

“Conversations with René Girard is sure to become an indispensable reference for readers interested in Girard’s views on a wide range of topics, including such hot button issues as abortion, eugenics, same-sex marriage, anorexia, Islam, and Europe’s demographic crisis. Cynthia Haven deserves tremendous credit for bringing these interviews, some of them hard to find, together in one volume.” – George A. Dunn, Centre for Globalizing Civilization, Hangzhou, China

 

“We are the world’s rubbish, the scum of the earth”: A.E. Stallings’s “Letter from the Corinthians”

Wednesday, February 12th, 2020
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We’ve written about Athens-based poet A.E. Stallings and her community’s work with refugees here and here and here. She had been working with the squats in the Greek capital, until the refugees were transported en masse to a makeshift army camp in Corinth, about an hour outside Athens. “Isn’t a camp better than a squat? The government must have thought, out of sight, out of mind. Maybe there was, in the dismay of the eviction, a feeling even within myself that some part of my life was now over, that a responsibility had been lifted.” Time passed, however, and “the news from the families in Corinth was grim, about flimsy tents and inedible food. Families were supposed to be there only a few days before being sent to one of the properly organized camps, but days turned into weeks, and weeks would turn into months. There is a saying in Greek, ‘nothing is more permanent than the temporary.'”

She made the trip to Corinth, and reports back in “Letter from the Corinthians” in  The Times Literary Supplement:

I was surprised to see one Syrian family with several children (and now a new baby) that had long ago made it to Sweden. Deported back to their country of arrival, it turned out. I recognized one of the little boys, Malak, who has Down’s syndrome. I remembered his name because the father had once made a point of explaining his name to me: “Malak is Arabic for Angel”.

The children witness.

The place is at once devastatingly familiar in its squalor (bringing back memories of the tent city that sprang up in Piraeus in 2016), its impoverishment, the almost tangible miasma of waiting (like the invisible toxic chemicals in Elefsina), children in no shoes or ill-fitting ones, playing such games as can be contrived out of gravel and sticks – hopscotch is universal; we also witnessed a lively game of Afghan rock paper scissors – washing hung to dry on the wire fence, an oilcan being used as a stove in the corner. A quotation from Paul hovers at the edge of my consciousness: “Even unto this present hour we both hunger, and thirst, and are naked, and are buffeted, and have no certain dwelling-place … we are the world’s rubbish, the scum of the earth”.

On our way out, some of the families accompanied us, one teenaged girl on the point of tears (being a teenaged girl in such a place must indeed be terrifying), squeezing my hand. She pointed out the food delivery, as a Greek army jeep jolted up to the back entrance, and meals of rice and tomato sauce were delivered in black plastic. It did not look or smell appetizing: the same meal over and over again, and this the sixth week. There was also a piece of feta cheese and an apple. With nothing else to present to us, the families sent us off with the apples. Faith, hope and love abide. The greatest might be love, but hope is startlingly resilient.

Read the whole thing here. 

Take heart! Even Nobel prizewinners get rejection letters. The New Yorker to Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Monday, February 10th, 2020
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Okay, okay … it’s still a few months before he gets the Nobel, but still… it’s heartening to know that even world-famous writers get “no thanks” letters, and on New Yorker letterhead no less. Roger Angell‘s 1981 letter to Gabriel García Márquez comes to us courtesy the University of Texas’s Ransome Center and is making the rounds on Twitter.

Poet Robert Hass at Heyday – on his new book, ecology, lost friends, and Czesław Miłosz. It’s all on Soundcloud!

Friday, February 7th, 2020
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Lunchtime guest Bob Hass

One of the little-known pleasures of Bay Area life is the Heyday Books lunchtime conversations series in Berkeley. Great company, light lunch, and excellent speakers – Robert Alter, David Ulin, among them. Because of the series, I’m running up my mileage back and forth to Berkeley, which, apart from rising gas costs and wear-and-tear on my old Honda, is always a good thing.

And so I made the trek last month to hear Robert Hass, whose latest collection, Summer Snow, is getting a lot of attention. I wrote about that here.

I recognize that not everyone will be able to zap over to San Pablo Boulevard on a weekday. So I have coaxed publisher Steve Wasserman and his assistant, Emmerich Anklam, to provide an alternative, and they have. Lucky for all of us, the Hass event is the debut entry on the Heyday’s brand new Soundcloud page here. Steve moderates the discussion.

You never lose some friends.

Bob is always a fascinating speaker, and he spoke about the dangers to our environment, friends who have died, and the unusual process of putting together Summer Snow. One of his favorite topics is Czesław Miłosz, in fact, that’s how we met. I get plenty of opportunities to talk, so I generally like to be quietly inconspicuous at these events, but an hour into the talk about lost friends and the poems of Summer Snow, he asked for one last question and I couldn’t resist the chance.

My own trepidatious question around the 59 minute mark. Could he read one of his poems about Milosz? In particular, the one about the Miłosz’s tomb at Na Skałce? He hesitated. It was long, he said, counting the five pages. But then, with the encouragement of the crowd, he read the poem, “An Argument About Poetics Imagined at Squaw Valley After a Night Walk Under the Mountain.”

It was an astonishing, dare I say unforgettable, reading. Everyone was moved. One person was crying. Listen for yourself.

One hitch: the battery on the recording device died before the poem ends. So I include the final lines for you below:

One small fly in the ointment:
You described headlights sweeping a field
On a summer night, do you remember? I can quote to you
The lines. You said you could sense the heartbeat
Of the living and the dead. It was a night in July, he said,
In Pennsylvania – to me then an almost inconceivably romantic name –
And then the air was humid and smelled of wet earth after rain.
I remember this night very well. Those lines not so much.

 

“If I could not win fame by goodness, I was ready to do it by badness.” Mary McCarthy’s memoir comes to Stanford.

Monday, February 3rd, 2020
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In school, character is fate.” (Courtesy Vassar Archives)

You think the coronavirus is bad? Novelist Mary McCarthy will tell you about about one of the epic plagues of modern times.

Both her indulgent, fun-loving parents died during the 1918 Spanish flu pandemic. Then she and her three brothers were shuttled among relatives, some of them abusive. In her 1957 book, Memories of a Catholic Girlhood, she describes it all with merciless wit and frankness.

Now her book is coming to Stanford. It will be discussed at the Another Look winter event at 7:30 p.m. on Wednesday, February 19, at the Bechtel Conference Center in Encina Hall.

She was first sent to a Catholic convent school in Seattle, later to an Episcopalian seminary in Tacoma. While appreciating the classical foundation her Catholic education gave her, she defiantly and publicly lost her faith during those years – first as a stunt, then in earnest. She eventually graduated from Vassar.

Toby is leading the discussion.

“She never spares herself at all,” wrote Charles Poore in The New York Times. “The vanities and ambitions, the resentments and misunderstandings, the small triumphs and the scarring disasters that marked her early years are set forth with remarkable candor, so that her book is the most incisive contribution to the story of her development as an artist that we shall ever have.” She was “harshly given every opportunity to become one of the lost, and yet went on to create in modern idioms a style based on classic Latin satire.”

The conversation will be led by author Tobias Wolff, founding director of Another Look and a National Medal of Arts winner. Panelists include his wife, the author Catherine Wolff and Another Look regular Inga Pierson, a former Stanford fellow who brings some personal experience to bear on the subject: she is  an English teacher at Sacred Heart Preparatory in Menlo Park.

Inga’s coming, too.

The event is free and open to the public. Come early for best seats. And Stanford Bookstore on campus, Kepler’s in Menlo Park, and Bell’s Books in Palo Alto are carrying the books.

The Another Look book club focuses on short classics that have been forgotten, neglected, or overlooked—or may simply not have received the attention they merit. The selected works are short, in order to encourage the involvement of Bay Area readers whose time may be limited. Subscription at anotherlook.stanford.edu is encouraged for regular updates and details on the selected books and events.

Author Mary Pope Osborne talks about first books: “In high school, I wouldn’t have survived without reading.”

Wednesday, January 29th, 2020
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A new video from a powerful advocate for reading. We’ve written about the children’s author, Mary Pope Osborne, before here. She is the author of the Magic Tree House series, which has sold more than 100 million copies and been translated into 30 languages – success by any standards. The series has been awarded by the National Council of Teachers of English, the American Booksellers Association, and she also received the Ludington Memorial Award from the Educational Paperback Association and a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Random House Sales Force.

In the video, she’s discusses the first books that form a bridge into the rest of your life. “I feel like the first books are some of the most important things that fall into your lap in your life. And you have to treasure them for what they did for you. …They were eye-opening and stayed with me. To this day, I can recreate the thrill I had when I first heard them, when I was just three or four years old. In high school, I wouldn’t have survived without reading.”

Full video below. It’s short. Three minutes. (Hat tip to Paul Caringella)

The wild parrots Telegraph Hill are famous – but have you seen the parrots of Palo Alto?

Monday, January 27th, 2020
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At Waverley and Forest: “We were simply amazed to see so many parrots on one true, and more flying in the sky. The tree was full of them and they were eating berries,” says Melonie Chang Brophy, who took the photo.

One of my favorite memories in São Paulo was how the trees in the neighborhood were filled with brilliantly colored chattering parakeets. I didn’t think I’d see them this in North America, even on the warmer side of the continent. But here we are. You’ve heard of San Francisco’s The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill? Welcome to the parrots of Palo Alto!

There were several sightings this month. From NextDoor:

•  “They were on a tree on Middlefield and Channing this past Wednesday. My daughter was in awe in her walk to school! So fun to see!”

•  “They must have a thing about Waverley Street. I’ve seen (but mostly heard) them in Johnson Park, in a tree at the corner of Waverley and Everett. Persimmon tree.”

•  “We saw a flock of them in midtown a couple of weeks ago. They used to hang around the church on Colorado. It was great to see them back!”

San Francisco species (Photo: Dan_H/Flickr)

•  “I just saw a bunch at 4 p.m. today the corner of Lytton and Middlefield. It was pretty awesome to see it in person.”

• “I see (and hear) them on Cowper between Lytton and Everett at least once a week. They showed up around here about 2 years ago. They are so beautiful!”

•  “Thank you for the parrot report! For many years, up until maybe 2016, we had a huge green parrot flock living in the trees next to the Church at Colorado and Cowper. And then they disappeared. So glad to learn they have migrated.”

• “That’s so beautiful. I wish I had my phone with me last year when I saw them at El dorado and Waverley going from tree to tree a whole flock. It was so beautiful!!! I had never seen anything like that before. I had never seen a wild parrot before, I thought maybe I was wrong about it. But I guess I was right about what I saw.”

• “They come to my backyard all the time. I have not paid attention this year though. They are really noisy (but so pretty) and they like the plum tree in my backyard.”

(Photo: Melonie Chang Brophy)

Sunnyvale apparently has some birds just like these, too. … But parrots? Not so fast. According to one comment, “These are mitred parakeets [i.e., Psittacara mitratus – ED] a different species from the ones in San Francisco. Probably spread up the peninsula from Sunnyvale. Very cool!”

But … but… but… the mitred parakeets look just like the mitred conures to me. And both, apparently, are famous for screeching. Could these birds be both? Could we be developing whole North American subspecies?

Here’s what KQED has to say about San Francisco’s birds: “The wild parrots in and around San Francisco are called cherry-headed conures. At one point, a mitred conure joined the flock and bred with the cherry heads. Now the flock is dotted with hybrids.  There are a couple ways to differentiate the breeds. Cherry heads have slightly smaller bodies and a red helmet pattern on their heads, whereas mitred conures have a more blotchy pattern of red and feet that are a slightly darker hue.”

More from KQED:

Where Are They From?
The cherry-headed conures come from a small territory spanning Ecuador and Peru. The mitred conures originated from a large territory ranging from Peru through Bolivia down to northern Argentina.

Wild for Palo Alto persimmons. (Photo: Maureen Bard)

How Did They Get Here?
They were brought here to be sold as pets in the exotic pet trade. The U.S. was the largest importer of birds in the world before the government banned the trade of wild exotic birds in 1992.

How Did They Get Out?
The founders of the wild flock of conures either escaped or were released.

***

So what about the Palo Alto birds? They are said to be escapees from Monette’s Pet Shop on California Avenue. I remember it well from years ago. According to one post, a few took shelter in trees just on the south side of Oregon Expressway. Could these be these rugged birds?

Beware! Beware! They are not as innocuous as they might seem:

“Years ago there was a flock of about a dozen who were all over the place in our city. Two local churches had to have work done on their roofs to evict the parrot flock from carving out little caves in the eaves.”

And this: “Many years ago we heard the sound of ripping wood in our attic. I thought it was some aggressive rodent, but when I took a look a saw… a conure I guess making a nest !?!?”

Alfred Hayes’s “My Face for the World to See” at Stanford – a tough look at Hollywood, with a surprise guest, too.

Thursday, January 23rd, 2020
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On October 30, Stanford’s Another Look book club took on Alfred Hayes‘s My Face for the World to See, a tough look at Hollywood by a film industry insider.

Author Alfred Hayes with friend

Photographer David Schwartz preserved the a terrific night for us – with four panelists, including David Thomson, the film critic and author who wrote the introduction to the NYRB Classics edition we were reading.

We had another surprise guest that evening, the author’s daughter, Josephine Hayes Dean, flew out to join us for the evening. David took a photo of that, too.

From left to right above: Another Look director Robert Harrison; the author’s daughter, Josephine Dean; novelist Terry Gamble; National Medal of Arts winner Tobias Wolff, and film critic David Thomson.

If you missed the stellar event, you can join us after-the-fact with the podcast here. It really was a lively and incisive discussion about a world where talent is chewed up and discarded, where thousands come to follow a dream that so rarely and randomly gets fulfilled.

Panelists in discussion below, from left to right: Robert Harrison, Tobias Wolff, Terry Gamble, and David Thomson.




Novelist Tobias Wolff’s school of hard knocks

Monday, January 20th, 2020
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Toby @Stanford

Tobias Wolff is one of Stanford’s treasures. The National Medal of Arts winner and professor emeritus of English is one of the nation’s leading writers. He didn’t have it easy, though, and recounts the story in This Boy’s Life. His mother was was the daughter of a naval officer who lost all of his money in the 1929 crash when she was 13. When Wolff was 4, she left her husband and drove with her two sons to Sarasota, Florida. After the divorce, his father married money and took his older brother Geoffrey, while Tobias stayed with his mom. “He sent my mother nothing, not even the small amount a judge had ordered,” he recalls.

He also tells the story in “Tobias Wolff’s Rough Ride,” in the Wall Street Journal here. (And thanks to Liddie Conquest for the heads-up!) Two excerpts:

My mother didn’t scare easily. She had been through a lot after we left my father in 1950. When she remarried in 1957, we lived in Newhalem, Wash., a hamlet of 200.

My stepfather was a drinker. He liked to stop at a tavern 15 miles downriver. He often returned to the car drunk and sped home with my mother, stepsister and me. He took pleasure in frightening us.

The road to Newhalem climbed high above the river on the right. Despite Mom’s pleas to slow down, he took hairpin turns too fast, nearly sending us tumbling down to the river.

My mother’s face would be frozen in terror, but she never said another word. She probably just added the near-death experiences to a long list of reasons to leave him, which eventually she did.

Mother, son, and dog, Sheppy, in Florida, 1950. (Wolff family)

I was born in Birmingham, Ala., where my father, Arthur, was a project manager at Bechtel Corp. He converted civilian planes into military aircraft. My family moved to Atlanta and then to Old Lyme, Conn. My father didn’t belittle my mother, Rosemary, or lay a hand on her. His abuse was extreme irresponsibility and infidelity.

***

In Sarasota, my mother met a man, and we lived with him for a couple of years. He was a good-looking guy, a former cop, who had been living in a trailer off his disability checks. He was physically abusive.

When she left him, my mother drove us to Utah. She was convinced we could become rich by prospecting for uranium deposits there. I was going into the fifth grade.

I loved the drive, staying in motels and crossing the Rockies. I imagined myself a character in a Western. In Salt Lake City, we lived in a one-bedroom apartment in a Victorian house.

Then the man we’d left in Sarasota tracked us down. We took a bus to Seattle in the middle of the night. We lived in a boardinghouse in West Seattle for a year.

Read the rest here.

Remembering Roger Scruton: “how malleable human nature is, and how unlikely it is that truth will prevail.”

Saturday, January 18th, 2020
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Timothy Garton Ash  (Photo:Christine Baker-Parrish)

Over at The Spectatora lifelong liberal mourns a cheerfully pessimistic conservative. (We’ve written about Stanford’s (and Oxford’s) Timothy Garton Ash here and here and here.)  His remarks are one of a dozen recollections of the late Roger Scruton, who died last week:

“There’s this very interesting Hungarian called, er, I think, Soros,” said Roger, sitting in the bohemian book- and music-strewn thicket of his Notting Hill flat. This was sometime in the mid-1980s, and our shared desire to support dissidents in Czechoslovakia, Poland and Hungary had brought us together. Incredible though it may sound, no one had then heard of George Soros.

Cheerful pessimist

Our conspiratorial missions behind the Iron Curtain were, let’s be honest, also huge fun, but what needs to be remembered is the amount of hard, thankless charitable administration that Roger undertook, between writing his 50 or so books. Yet the boring agenda of those charitable trusts would be enlivened by Roger’s outrageous overstatements about the western intellectual and political establishment, slipping from his lips with a kind of silent chuckle.

The last time we sat down together at any length was when he invited me to talk about free speech at the Inner Temple, an ur-Burkean institution he visibly adored. Afterwards he wrote an email commenting on how one rather forceful, blind Iraqi refugee questioner “had mastered the snobbery of disadvantage so effectively and so much to his own advantage” — characteristically provocative, probably unfair, and yet what a thought-provoking phrase “the snobbery of disadvantage” is. He went on “we are beginning to learn, what of course we should have known from our experience with totalitarian communism, just how malleable human nature is, and how unlikely it is that truth will prevail. But after discussions such as yesterday’s one always feels a little more cheerful.” As a lifelong liberal I shall miss this cheerfully pessimistic conservative.

Read the rest of the recollections here.