Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Fortnightly Book, February 10
Yes, this is up late.
The 1950s saw a spate of 'gray flannel' novels, named after what was perhaps the most successful example, Sloan Wilson's The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit, which was made into a movie starring Gregory Peck and Jennifer Jones. These novels explored the harsh world of post-WWII business, with its sense of open horizons combined with bizarre and stunting impositions of conformity. It's probably the only period of time they could seriously have been written, at least for a while; if anybody tried to write about the period today, they would hardly be able to cut through the grease of nostalgia and distorted TV renderings to the way things actually were. It was the age of Organization Man, apparently capable of absolutely anything except human accountability, the age of Mass Society and Mass-Produced Humanity, the age of the paradoxes of cheap luxury and progress into self-destruction. There were a lot of worries in the 50s.
The next fortnightly book is one of these novels, The Big Company Look by J. Harvey Howells, published in 1958. I actually intended to do this one way back in October, but other books kept jumping ahead in the line. It has been very difficult to find information on either the book or its author. J. Harvey Howells seems to have worked in advertising in New Orleans, but was better known for his radio and TV scripts. He wrote several episodes for Robert Montgomery Presents, and seems to have received a Writers' Guild Award for one of them. He wrote this book. His name shows up here and there in some newspapers because of it. And then he seems to have dropped off the face of the planet. I can't find anything at all about him after 1959.
The book likewise gets considerable notice immediately after publishing and then, just as suddenly, nothing. It tells the story of a man in the cutthroat grocery business, pulling in grocery stores and supermarkets as clients for the United States Grocery Company. This man, Jackson Pollett, spends a life making the right business choices, ascending rapidly, stepping over friends, until finally he finds himself a little fish in a pond of Big Company Men whom he can't outmaneuver.
We'll see what it's like.
The 1950s saw a spate of 'gray flannel' novels, named after what was perhaps the most successful example, Sloan Wilson's The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit, which was made into a movie starring Gregory Peck and Jennifer Jones. These novels explored the harsh world of post-WWII business, with its sense of open horizons combined with bizarre and stunting impositions of conformity. It's probably the only period of time they could seriously have been written, at least for a while; if anybody tried to write about the period today, they would hardly be able to cut through the grease of nostalgia and distorted TV renderings to the way things actually were. It was the age of Organization Man, apparently capable of absolutely anything except human accountability, the age of Mass Society and Mass-Produced Humanity, the age of the paradoxes of cheap luxury and progress into self-destruction. There were a lot of worries in the 50s.
The next fortnightly book is one of these novels, The Big Company Look by J. Harvey Howells, published in 1958. I actually intended to do this one way back in October, but other books kept jumping ahead in the line. It has been very difficult to find information on either the book or its author. J. Harvey Howells seems to have worked in advertising in New Orleans, but was better known for his radio and TV scripts. He wrote several episodes for Robert Montgomery Presents, and seems to have received a Writers' Guild Award for one of them. He wrote this book. His name shows up here and there in some newspapers because of it. And then he seems to have dropped off the face of the planet. I can't find anything at all about him after 1959.
The book likewise gets considerable notice immediately after publishing and then, just as suddenly, nothing. It tells the story of a man in the cutthroat grocery business, pulling in grocery stores and supermarkets as clients for the United States Grocery Company. This man, Jackson Pollett, spends a life making the right business choices, ascending rapidly, stepping over friends, until finally he finds himself a little fish in a pond of Big Company Men whom he can't outmaneuver.
We'll see what it's like.
Card and Superman and Counterproductive Campaigns
I was somewhat amused to see that one of the big news items today is that DC Comics has hired Orson Scott Card as author for a new Superman series, and a campaign has begun to try to get him fired for being anti-gay:
There's no question that Card is a vehement opponent of gay marriage, although if anyone bothered to check facts, they would know that what Card called "the end of democracy in America" was not gay marriage but courts determining issues that should be left to legislatures; but I understand that this is the sort of issue on which people don't want to be bothered with nuances, because it interferes with simply treating their opponents as evil. The article continues:
Disappointing it may well be, especially given how uneven Card is as a writer, but it's obviously not very 'weird': Card is one of the best-selling science fiction authors of all time; he has had a recent resurgence, perhaps due to rumors of that the Ender's Game movie will come out this November, and Ender's Game, published in 1985, was the best-selling science fiction book of 2012, outselling the next two books combined. It is currently #23 on the New York Times Best-Sellers list for mass-market fiction. Card is the only author ever to have won both the Hugo and the Nebula two years in row. It honestly does not require any deep thinking to figure out what DC Comics was thinking in hiring him.
Petitioning is itself reasonable behavior, and shouldn't be disparaged, but the problem with this sort of campaign is that it is necessarily generic. Privately owned businesses can be swayed on principle, but corporations only pay attention to petitions like this when they see clear warning signs of profit loss. Mere controversy will not suffice, for the obvious reason that controversy is good for business. Electronic Arts Games, the video game maker, was caught a couple years back faking protests against its Dante's Inferno game; they hired people to pretend to be Christians upset with the game, carrying around signs saying things like, "Hell is not a game". The whole point was to stir up controversy, so people would hear about the game and perhaps be curious enough to buy it. It's possible they were also calculating that there are potential customers who are more than happy to buy something just to stick it in the eye of Christian fundamentalists. And it seemed to be working quite well until reporters stumbled onto the fact that it was staged. A campaign like this is far more likely to increase DC's profits and Card's reputation than it is to threaten them in any way; more people have heard about Card writing Superman due to the campaign than due to DC hiring him. Merely by hiring him, for that matter, DC has, because of this campaign, guaranteed that more people will hear about its new digital Superman series than would ever have otherwise heard about it. Comic books are not a high-profit product; any increase in sales is a big win. And the only way this campaign can possibly not increase their sales is if it grows so big as to become a nationwide backlash, which it will not, because, quite frankly, the number of people who care about who writes Superman comics is very tiny, and the number of supporters of gay marriage who will think it productive to devote that much energy to a single person is also very tiny.
The news has sparked a furious backlash from Card's critics. Card is a long-time critic of homosexuality and has called gay marriage "the end of democracy in America". In 2009 he became a board member of the National Organization for Marriage, a group that campaigns against same-sex marriage.
There's no question that Card is a vehement opponent of gay marriage, although if anyone bothered to check facts, they would know that what Card called "the end of democracy in America" was not gay marriage but courts determining issues that should be left to legislatures; but I understand that this is the sort of issue on which people don't want to be bothered with nuances, because it interferes with simply treating their opponents as evil. The article continues:
"Superman stands for truth, justice and the American way. Orson Scott Card does not stand for any idea of truth, justice or the American way that I can subscribe to," said Jono Jarrett of Geeks Out, a gay fan group. "It's a deeply disappointing and frankly weird choice."
Disappointing it may well be, especially given how uneven Card is as a writer, but it's obviously not very 'weird': Card is one of the best-selling science fiction authors of all time; he has had a recent resurgence, perhaps due to rumors of that the Ender's Game movie will come out this November, and Ender's Game, published in 1985, was the best-selling science fiction book of 2012, outselling the next two books combined. It is currently #23 on the New York Times Best-Sellers list for mass-market fiction. Card is the only author ever to have won both the Hugo and the Nebula two years in row. It honestly does not require any deep thinking to figure out what DC Comics was thinking in hiring him.
Petitioning is itself reasonable behavior, and shouldn't be disparaged, but the problem with this sort of campaign is that it is necessarily generic. Privately owned businesses can be swayed on principle, but corporations only pay attention to petitions like this when they see clear warning signs of profit loss. Mere controversy will not suffice, for the obvious reason that controversy is good for business. Electronic Arts Games, the video game maker, was caught a couple years back faking protests against its Dante's Inferno game; they hired people to pretend to be Christians upset with the game, carrying around signs saying things like, "Hell is not a game". The whole point was to stir up controversy, so people would hear about the game and perhaps be curious enough to buy it. It's possible they were also calculating that there are potential customers who are more than happy to buy something just to stick it in the eye of Christian fundamentalists. And it seemed to be working quite well until reporters stumbled onto the fact that it was staged. A campaign like this is far more likely to increase DC's profits and Card's reputation than it is to threaten them in any way; more people have heard about Card writing Superman due to the campaign than due to DC hiring him. Merely by hiring him, for that matter, DC has, because of this campaign, guaranteed that more people will hear about its new digital Superman series than would ever have otherwise heard about it. Comic books are not a high-profit product; any increase in sales is a big win. And the only way this campaign can possibly not increase their sales is if it grows so big as to become a nationwide backlash, which it will not, because, quite frankly, the number of people who care about who writes Superman comics is very tiny, and the number of supporters of gay marriage who will think it productive to devote that much energy to a single person is also very tiny.
Monday, February 11, 2013
Logic Geometrically
(1) Let terms be represented by lines.
(2) Where two lines are parallel, the corresponding terms exclude each other. For two lines to be parallel is for no part of one to be part of the other.
(3) Where two lines intersect, the terms at least partly overlap. For two lines to intersect is for part of one to be part of the other.
(4) Part of part of a line is part of that line.
(5) Lines that intersect a line in whatever way are not thereby assumed to intersect its parallels at any point. We should think of the lines as finite line segments or arcs.
(6) We can then give geometrical representation to each of the four families of categorical propositions.
A (Every S is P): the whole line S is at least part of the line P
----(----)S----P
[There's no easy way to represent this in this post. I simply draw a line for P, and then put parentheses on the line, labeled S, to indicate that the whole line S is at least part of P
E (No S is P): the whole line S is parallel to the line P
----------------S
----------------P
I (Some S is P): the line S intersects the line P
\
\
\
------------P
\
\S
[This is obviously also difficult to represent simply by a keyboard, although it is easy to draw. One thing that we have to be careful about is that the geometrical representation of logic used here does not care about any angles beyond whether they are equal to 0. Thus an I proposition, despite its appearance in the above representation, is consistent with an A proposition: the A proposition is just the I proposition with a zero degree angle between the subject and the predicate, so that the subject line is at least part of the predicate line. As such it might be more convenient to represent an I proposition as being one of two possible diagrams, the one just given and the diagram for A propositions. If we do this, the above diagram is actual for the exclusive rather than the standard particular: it tells us not that Some S is P but that Only some S is P. I haven't decided which is the handier way of doing it.]
O (Some S is not P): the line S intersects a line parallel to P
------------P
\
\
\
------------nonP
\
\S
(7) Conversion is built into the representation, as are some of the other immediate inferences.
Obversion of A: If the whole line S is part of the line P, the whole line S is parallel to any line parallel to P.
Obversion of E: If line S is parallel to the line P, the whole line S is at least part of a nonP line.
Obversion of I: If the line S intersects line P, at least part of the line S intersects a line parallel to nonP.
Obversion of O: If the line S intersects a line parallel to P, at least part of the line S is at least part of a nonP line.
Contraposition of A: If the whole line S is part of the line P, the whole line nonS is part of a nonP line.
Contraposition of O: If the line S intersects a line parallel to P, the line S intersects a nonP line.
(8) The Barbara Syllogism (Every M is P, Every S is M; therefore Every S is P):
----(----(----)S----)M----P
The Celarent Syllogism (No M is P; Every S is M; Therefore No S is P)
----(----)S----M
------------P
The Ferio Syllogism (No M is P; Some S is M; therefore Some S is not P)
------------P
\
\
\
------------M=nonP
\
\S
The Darii Syllogism (All M is P; Some S is M; therefore Some S is P)
\
\
\
----(----)M----P
\
\S
(Also difficult to represent with the keyboard, although very easy to draw: just draw line P, then mark at least part of P M, and draw line S intersecting line M.)
All other syllogisms are reducible to these in the standard way; we could even draw out our diagrams of these other syllogisms and reason geometrically to the relevant First Figure syllogism.
(9) This is similar to a kind of diagramming developed by George Englebretsen (as he notes, we have reason to think that Aristotle actually used line diagrams at least occasionally in his work on logic, but we don't have a precise idea of how he used them); but he doesn't press the fact that you could reason like Euclid with them beyond some obvious ways, whereas I think the geometrical element can be taken quite far. The geometry wouldn't be Euclid's, but it would be a genuine geometry, and it would directly represent the entire syllogistic apparatus. We can then read categorical syllogisms as construction-instructions. For instance:
Given: Every dog is a mammal; some pets are dogs.
To Prove: Some pets are mammals.
Proof:
\
\
\
----(----)dog----mammal
\
\pet
Line dog is part of line mammal. Line pet intersects line dog. But part of part of a line is part of that line. Therefore line pet intersects line mammal.
Therefore from Every dog is a mammal and some pets are dogs we have proven that some pets are mammals, QED.
(2) Where two lines are parallel, the corresponding terms exclude each other. For two lines to be parallel is for no part of one to be part of the other.
(3) Where two lines intersect, the terms at least partly overlap. For two lines to intersect is for part of one to be part of the other.
(4) Part of part of a line is part of that line.
(5) Lines that intersect a line in whatever way are not thereby assumed to intersect its parallels at any point. We should think of the lines as finite line segments or arcs.
(6) We can then give geometrical representation to each of the four families of categorical propositions.
A (Every S is P): the whole line S is at least part of the line P
----(----)S----P
[There's no easy way to represent this in this post. I simply draw a line for P, and then put parentheses on the line, labeled S, to indicate that the whole line S is at least part of P
E (No S is P): the whole line S is parallel to the line P
----------------S
----------------P
I (Some S is P): the line S intersects the line P
\
\
\
------------P
\
\S
[This is obviously also difficult to represent simply by a keyboard, although it is easy to draw. One thing that we have to be careful about is that the geometrical representation of logic used here does not care about any angles beyond whether they are equal to 0. Thus an I proposition, despite its appearance in the above representation, is consistent with an A proposition: the A proposition is just the I proposition with a zero degree angle between the subject and the predicate, so that the subject line is at least part of the predicate line. As such it might be more convenient to represent an I proposition as being one of two possible diagrams, the one just given and the diagram for A propositions. If we do this, the above diagram is actual for the exclusive rather than the standard particular: it tells us not that Some S is P but that Only some S is P. I haven't decided which is the handier way of doing it.]
O (Some S is not P): the line S intersects a line parallel to P
------------P
\
\
\
------------nonP
\
\S
(7) Conversion is built into the representation, as are some of the other immediate inferences.
Obversion of A: If the whole line S is part of the line P, the whole line S is parallel to any line parallel to P.
Obversion of E: If line S is parallel to the line P, the whole line S is at least part of a nonP line.
Obversion of I: If the line S intersects line P, at least part of the line S intersects a line parallel to nonP.
Obversion of O: If the line S intersects a line parallel to P, at least part of the line S is at least part of a nonP line.
Contraposition of A: If the whole line S is part of the line P, the whole line nonS is part of a nonP line.
Contraposition of O: If the line S intersects a line parallel to P, the line S intersects a nonP line.
(8) The Barbara Syllogism (Every M is P, Every S is M; therefore Every S is P):
----(----(----)S----)M----P
The Celarent Syllogism (No M is P; Every S is M; Therefore No S is P)
----(----)S----M
------------P
The Ferio Syllogism (No M is P; Some S is M; therefore Some S is not P)
------------P
\
\
\
------------M=nonP
\
\S
The Darii Syllogism (All M is P; Some S is M; therefore Some S is P)
\
\
\
----(----)M----P
\
\S
(Also difficult to represent with the keyboard, although very easy to draw: just draw line P, then mark at least part of P M, and draw line S intersecting line M.)
All other syllogisms are reducible to these in the standard way; we could even draw out our diagrams of these other syllogisms and reason geometrically to the relevant First Figure syllogism.
(9) This is similar to a kind of diagramming developed by George Englebretsen (as he notes, we have reason to think that Aristotle actually used line diagrams at least occasionally in his work on logic, but we don't have a precise idea of how he used them); but he doesn't press the fact that you could reason like Euclid with them beyond some obvious ways, whereas I think the geometrical element can be taken quite far. The geometry wouldn't be Euclid's, but it would be a genuine geometry, and it would directly represent the entire syllogistic apparatus. We can then read categorical syllogisms as construction-instructions. For instance:
Given: Every dog is a mammal; some pets are dogs.
To Prove: Some pets are mammals.
Proof:
\
\
\
----(----)dog----mammal
\
\pet
Line dog is part of line mammal. Line pet intersects line dog. But part of part of a line is part of that line. Therefore line pet intersects line mammal.
Therefore from Every dog is a mammal and some pets are dogs we have proven that some pets are mammals, QED.
Pope to Resign
Pope Benedict XVI will soon be resigning as pope, due to reasons of age and ill health:
So in March there will be a new pope. It's difficult to think of who would be his likely replacement. Scola is a possibility, but I'm inclined to think that the cardinals will still be reluctant to pick an Italian. Dolan is a possibility, but I think the cardinals will also be reluctant to pick an American. Ouellet, being Canadian, might be possible, but popes tend not to be like their predecessors, and Ouellet is nicknamed the Second Ratzinger. Scherer is another might-be-considered, but he might not be regarded as strong or forceful enough. The two most likely Africans, Turkson and Sarah, are in the same boat. Lots of other candidates are likely too young to be seriously considered: cardinals are generally cautious about anyone who might end up being pope for a long time. Of course, any baptized male in principle can be made pope, but only cardinals have since the fourteenth century.
My bet, if it were admissible to bet on such things, would be on Ouellet, thus giving us the first North American pope, but you can never tell.
After having repeatedly examined my conscience before God, I have come to the certainty that my strengths, due to an advanced age, are no longer suited to an adequate exercise of the Petrine ministry. I am well aware that this ministry, due to its essential spiritual nature, must be carried out not only with words and deeds, but no less with prayer and suffering. However, in today’s world, subject to so many rapid changes and shaken by questions of deep relevance for the life of faith, in order to govern the bark of Saint Peter and proclaim the Gospel, both strength of mind and body are necessary, strength which in the last few months, has deteriorated in me to the extent that I have had to recognize my incapacity to adequately fulfill the ministry entrusted to me.
For this reason, and well aware of the seriousness of this act, with full freedom I declare that I renounce the ministry of Bishop of Rome, Successor of Saint Peter, entrusted to me by the Cardinals on 19 April 2005, in such a way, that as from 28 February 2013, at 20:00 hours, the See of Rome, the See of Saint Peter, will be vacant and a Conclave to elect the new Supreme Pontiff will have to be convoked by those whose competence it is.
So in March there will be a new pope. It's difficult to think of who would be his likely replacement. Scola is a possibility, but I'm inclined to think that the cardinals will still be reluctant to pick an Italian. Dolan is a possibility, but I think the cardinals will also be reluctant to pick an American. Ouellet, being Canadian, might be possible, but popes tend not to be like their predecessors, and Ouellet is nicknamed the Second Ratzinger. Scherer is another might-be-considered, but he might not be regarded as strong or forceful enough. The two most likely Africans, Turkson and Sarah, are in the same boat. Lots of other candidates are likely too young to be seriously considered: cardinals are generally cautious about anyone who might end up being pope for a long time. Of course, any baptized male in principle can be made pope, but only cardinals have since the fourteenth century.
My bet, if it were admissible to bet on such things, would be on Ouellet, thus giving us the first North American pope, but you can never tell.
Victor Hugo, Les Miserables
Introduction
Opening Passage:
Summary: There is a lot of book between the covers of Les Misérables, and it is therefore not surprising that the novel manages to be more than one thing at the same time. Perhaps the most complete account of the book would be to call it a prose poem whose theme is God and Progress (both are repeatedly highlighted as themes) in the lives of the Wretched, the people who, however guilty, are unfortunate in a greater measure than they are culpable; it is these who give the book its name. In this sense it has no digressions from one end to the other, not even the one in which he spends almost an entire book of Volume IV reflecting on the moral significance of sewers. Poetry has no digressions, even when written in prose, if the digressions contribute to its theme. And none of the apparent digressions, especially the most digressive of them, ever stray from the theme.
It is also, of course, the tale of an ensemble of characters, the most notable of whom is Jean Valjean, an escaped convict whose fortunes make up much of the book. When people speak of the story of the book, in fact, it is almost always in terms of Valjean and his interactions with Inspector Javert. In a sense this is curious, since the interactions do not form a large part of the book and, contrary to the way many people speak, while Valjean affects Javert's life considerably, Javert affects Valjean's life very little. Javert is not the major antagonist; he is hardly an antagonist at all. Javert is not Valjean's nemesis. Valjean has no nemesis in the story, but if he did, it would be Thénardier, not Javert. Nor is he even the person whose life is most affected by Valjean.
I think it is because Javert is, if anything, Valjean's alter ego, and because his death scene is the second best in the book (after Maboeuf's). Inspector Javert is a man of order, of law; he serves the law of man with an intensity and passion that is unmatched by anything else in the book except Valjean's attempts to do good to others. In Valjean he finds himself baffled, because Valjean is a living refutation of all his assumptions. He eventually comes to regard himself as caught in a dilemma from which he cannot escape. The law of man requires that Valjean be caught and punished. But Javert comes to think that to catch and punish Valjean would violate another law, the law of God. It is an intolerable dilemma for a man like Javert. If he arrests Valjean, he commits a crime; if he lets him go free, he commits a crime; the demand of duty in both cases is severe. Even recognizing the dilemma is progress for Javert, and his suicide is itself a sign of how much. He chooses rightly: he will not commit a crime against the God. By not sinning against God, he sins against the human law. But the law is not merely something Javert defends; it is the essential part of who he is. Justice must be done, and violations of law must be punished. So he punishes himself and commits suicide. In a few scenes we see an extraordinary depth in a man who had before mostly been seen only in half-glimpses.
It is also the most interesting interaction. Cosette and Marius, who occupy a much larger part of the book, are relatively bland. Many of the characters are hardly more than caricatures. The narrator does not merely tell the story; he as much as disavows the intent just to tell the story. He is preaching at us on the subject of progress and does not shy away from admitting it. The digressions from the story itself are extensive and filled with what must be every genre of moralizing. This is didactic sermon writ large, very large and very didactic. In introducing the book I talked about how its closest cousin is Atlas Shrugged, and despite one being avowedly altruistic and the other avowedly egoistic, they share a great deal, even to the extent of all the criticisms of Rand's book having almost exact parallels in early criticism of Les Misérables. And, in a sense, all the criticisms obviously have merit.
Yet the book has a power that is somehow not captured by any of the criticisms, however just, as seen by its enduring popularity and the enthusiastic readers it has collected in every generation since it was published. Hugo is a writer of power, able to tug at the heartstrings and to depict struggles of the heart with great facility. He will return from a long non-story discussion and, using the endless discussion of the Infinite, or of sewers, or of Napoleon as background, quickly in a single short scene, sometimes even just a few lines, perfectly capture some fundamental feature of human life. It is sermon, but it is sermon accompanied by exquisite tableaux. And we should not disparage sermon; contrary to common wisdom, everyone loves a good sermon. We are moralizing creatures, sermonizers by nature. Indeed, this is why moralizing in literature is dangerous, because human beings are so naturally inclined to sermon that we only love those that are far better than we ourselves could deliver. It is not that readers dislike sermonizing in their books; it is that good sermons are very difficult to find. But Hugo preaches a good sermon.
Favorite Passage:
Recommendation: Definitely the sort of book you should read at least once in your life. But prepare for a long haul.
Opening Passage:
In 1815, M. Charles-Francois-Bienvenu Myriel was Bishop of D.... He was an man of about seventy-five years of age, and had held the see of D.... since 1806. Although the following details in now way affect our narrative, it mau not be useless to quote the rumors that were current about him at the moment when he came to the diocese, for what is said of men,w ehther it be true or false, often occupies as much space in their life, and especially in their destiny, as what they do. M. Myriel was the son fo a councilor of hte Parliament of Aix. It was said that his father, who intended that he should be his successor, married him at a very early age, eighteen or twenty, according to a not uncommon custom in parliamentary families. Charles Myriel, in spite of this marriage (so people said), had been the cause of much tattle. He was well built, though f short stature, elegant graceful, and witty; and the earlier par to fhis life was devoted to the world and to gallantry.
Summary: There is a lot of book between the covers of Les Misérables, and it is therefore not surprising that the novel manages to be more than one thing at the same time. Perhaps the most complete account of the book would be to call it a prose poem whose theme is God and Progress (both are repeatedly highlighted as themes) in the lives of the Wretched, the people who, however guilty, are unfortunate in a greater measure than they are culpable; it is these who give the book its name. In this sense it has no digressions from one end to the other, not even the one in which he spends almost an entire book of Volume IV reflecting on the moral significance of sewers. Poetry has no digressions, even when written in prose, if the digressions contribute to its theme. And none of the apparent digressions, especially the most digressive of them, ever stray from the theme.
It is also, of course, the tale of an ensemble of characters, the most notable of whom is Jean Valjean, an escaped convict whose fortunes make up much of the book. When people speak of the story of the book, in fact, it is almost always in terms of Valjean and his interactions with Inspector Javert. In a sense this is curious, since the interactions do not form a large part of the book and, contrary to the way many people speak, while Valjean affects Javert's life considerably, Javert affects Valjean's life very little. Javert is not the major antagonist; he is hardly an antagonist at all. Javert is not Valjean's nemesis. Valjean has no nemesis in the story, but if he did, it would be Thénardier, not Javert. Nor is he even the person whose life is most affected by Valjean.
I think it is because Javert is, if anything, Valjean's alter ego, and because his death scene is the second best in the book (after Maboeuf's). Inspector Javert is a man of order, of law; he serves the law of man with an intensity and passion that is unmatched by anything else in the book except Valjean's attempts to do good to others. In Valjean he finds himself baffled, because Valjean is a living refutation of all his assumptions. He eventually comes to regard himself as caught in a dilemma from which he cannot escape. The law of man requires that Valjean be caught and punished. But Javert comes to think that to catch and punish Valjean would violate another law, the law of God. It is an intolerable dilemma for a man like Javert. If he arrests Valjean, he commits a crime; if he lets him go free, he commits a crime; the demand of duty in both cases is severe. Even recognizing the dilemma is progress for Javert, and his suicide is itself a sign of how much. He chooses rightly: he will not commit a crime against the God. By not sinning against God, he sins against the human law. But the law is not merely something Javert defends; it is the essential part of who he is. Justice must be done, and violations of law must be punished. So he punishes himself and commits suicide. In a few scenes we see an extraordinary depth in a man who had before mostly been seen only in half-glimpses.
It is also the most interesting interaction. Cosette and Marius, who occupy a much larger part of the book, are relatively bland. Many of the characters are hardly more than caricatures. The narrator does not merely tell the story; he as much as disavows the intent just to tell the story. He is preaching at us on the subject of progress and does not shy away from admitting it. The digressions from the story itself are extensive and filled with what must be every genre of moralizing. This is didactic sermon writ large, very large and very didactic. In introducing the book I talked about how its closest cousin is Atlas Shrugged, and despite one being avowedly altruistic and the other avowedly egoistic, they share a great deal, even to the extent of all the criticisms of Rand's book having almost exact parallels in early criticism of Les Misérables. And, in a sense, all the criticisms obviously have merit.
Yet the book has a power that is somehow not captured by any of the criticisms, however just, as seen by its enduring popularity and the enthusiastic readers it has collected in every generation since it was published. Hugo is a writer of power, able to tug at the heartstrings and to depict struggles of the heart with great facility. He will return from a long non-story discussion and, using the endless discussion of the Infinite, or of sewers, or of Napoleon as background, quickly in a single short scene, sometimes even just a few lines, perfectly capture some fundamental feature of human life. It is sermon, but it is sermon accompanied by exquisite tableaux. And we should not disparage sermon; contrary to common wisdom, everyone loves a good sermon. We are moralizing creatures, sermonizers by nature. Indeed, this is why moralizing in literature is dangerous, because human beings are so naturally inclined to sermon that we only love those that are far better than we ourselves could deliver. It is not that readers dislike sermonizing in their books; it is that good sermons are very difficult to find. But Hugo preaches a good sermon.
Favorite Passage:
Progress! this cry, which we raise so frequently, is our entire thought, and at the point of our drama which we have reached, as the idea which it contains has still more than one trial to undergo, we may be permitted, even if we do nto raise the veil, to let its gleams pierce through clearly. The which the reader has before him at this moment is, from one end to the other, in its entirety and its details, whatever its intermissions, exceptions, and short-comings may be, the progress from evil to good, from injustice to justice, from falsehood to truth, from night to day, from appetite to conscience, from corruption to life, from bestiality to duty, from hell to heaven, and from nothingness to God. the starting-point is matter, the terminus the soul; the hydra at the commencement, the angel at the end.
Recommendation: Definitely the sort of book you should read at least once in your life. But prepare for a long haul.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Admin Note
I do intend to post something on Victor Hugo's Les Miserables, but some friends unexpectedly came into town this weekend, so I will not have a chance to post it prior to Sunday evening, perhaps Monday morning at the latest.
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