Lewis on Reading

After reading The Canterbury Tales a while back, I also read C.S. Lewis’ essay “On the Reading of Old Books”. Chaucer’s stories capture human emotions and the human predicament very well, all the highs and lows of human experience. Greed, lust, love, benevolence, hatred all get the chance to show their wares in the lives of the characters. It would benefit everyone, I think, to read as many old books as possible, if for no other reason than to understand that the problems people face and the desires that they have haven’t changed a bit over the course of human history (I suppose you could also get the same understanding by listening to operas but I don’t really enjoy operatic singing.)

Lewis wrote: “Naturally, since I myself am a writer, I do not wish the ordinary reader to read no modern books. But if he must read only the new or only the old, I would advise him to read the old. And I would give him this advice precisely because he is an amateur and therefore much less protected than the expert against the dangers of an exclusive contemporary diet. A new book is still on its trial and the amateur is not in a good position to judge it. It has to be tested against the great body of Christian thought down the ages, and all its hidden implications (often unsuspected by the author himself) have to be brought to light. Often it cannot be fully understood without the knowledge of other modern books. If you join at eleven o’clock a conversation which began at eight you will often not see the real bearing of what is said. Remarks which seem to you very ordinary will produce laughter or irritation and you will not see why – the reason, of course, being that the earlier stages of the conversation have given them a special point. In the same way sentences in a modern book which look quite ordinary may be directed ‘at’ some other book; in this way you may be led to accept what you would have indignantly rejected if you knew its real significance. The only safety is to have a standard of plain, central Christianity (‘mere Christianity’ as Baxter called it) which puts the controversies of the moment in their proper perspective. Such a standard can be acquired only from the old books. It is a good rule, after reading a new book, never to allow yourself another new one till you have read an old one in between. If that is too much for you, you should at least read one old one to every three new ones. Every age has its own outlook. It is specially good at seeing certain truths and specially liable to make certain mistakes. We all, therefore, need the books that will correct the characteristic mistakes of our own period. And that means the old books.” (from On the Reading of Old Books in God in the Dock).

It’s a bit tough trying to keep that advice, but in keeping with Lewis’ suggestion I’m attempting to read Plato’s Republic, one of the foundational documents of western civilization. There’s much to take in and digest from the discussions about the ideal state and the nature of reality; but a curious statement about a just man in Book II grabbed my attention:

“They will say that the just man, as we have pictured him, will be scourged, tortured, and imprisoned, his eyes will be put out, and after enduring every humiliation he will be crucified, and learn at last that one should want not to be, but to seem just.”

Now, does that sound familiar? It’s probably not wise to read too much into this passage. I just found it curious that this is exactly what happened to the one Just Man who ever lived (except for the eyes being put out).

I’m also reading the complete works of Shakespeare, using the Norton Shakespeare. I feel smarter just holding it. It might be because of the increased oxygen requirement for keeping it aloft. This sucker is heavy. Hardback with 3420 pages of sheer reading pleasure.

It has some of the best helps of any Shakespeare edition I’ve seen (which is good because I’m not a serious student of Shakespeare, just a very interested fan. I simply enjoy the aesthetic quality of that Elizabethan prose and poetry). The general introduction (by Stephen Greenblatt) and the individual introductions for each play are comprehensive and informative without assuming the reader already has a certain amount of background knowledge (in contrast to some Arden Shakespeares that I found more difficult). They are extremely helpful in guiding the reader to a better understanding of Shakespeare’s place in history and the plays and sonnets themselves.

The glosses are in the margin on the same line as the text instead of at the bottom of the page, making the eye-travel less jolting.
And the footnotes that are there provide a lot of helpful information.

For example, from Two Gentlemen of Verona:

What’s here?
‘Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee’?
‘Tis so, and here’s the ladder for the purpose.
Why, Phaeton (7), for thou art Merops’ son
Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car,
And with thy daring folly burn the world?
(3.1.150-155)

The note for Phaeton reads: “Famous in Greek myth for his reckless ambition, Phaeton set the world on fire when he tried to drive the chariot of his father, Helios, the sun god. Phaeton’s mother, Clymene, was married to Merops, not Helios, making Phaeton illegitimate. The rest of the line, naming Merops as Phaeton’s father, may question Phaeton’s status as the son of Helios (and so his ability to drive the sun god’s chariot) or may be an ironic means of calling attention to his illegitimacy.”

How many people know who Phaeton is? Now, I could have looked in my copy of Robert Graves’ The Greek Myths to see who Phaeton was but the footnote gives me the relevant information to grasp this passage (plus I’d have to get up and walk all five feet to my bookshelf.)

Another example from Antony and Cleopatra:

Nay, but this dotage of our General’s
O’erflows the measure (1). Those his goodly eyes,
That o’er the files and musters of the war
Have glowed like plated Mars, now bend, now turn
The office and devotion of their view
Upon a tawny front (2). His captain’s heart,
Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst
The buckles on his breast, reneges all temper (3),
And is become the bellows and the fan
To cool a gipsy’s lust.

Look where they come.
Take but good note, and you shall see in him
The triple pillar of the world (4) transformed
Into a strumpet’s fool. Behold and see.
(1.1.1-13)

Footnote (1): Goes beyond the suitable limit.
Footnote (2): A face or forehead of dark complexion (referring to Cleopatra…); military “front,” or battle line.
Footnote (3): Abandons all temperance (“temper” is also the hardness of tempered steel).
Footnote (4): Antony, Octavius Caesar, and Lepidus were the three triumvirs ruling the Roman Empire (most of the known world, for Romans)

Footnotes rule!

Though not an old book, Greenblatt’s book Will in the World is also one I’ve briefly and partly skimmed through. It’s written with a light touch and obviously intended for a general audience. His concern seems to be more for accessibility than for a show of unabashed erudition (erudite though his scholarship is). Some might be concerned that he manages to weave whole episodes of Shakespeare’s life out of the scantiest of evidence (the first chapter begins with “Let us imagine…”), such as the annotations in some unknown person’s notebook. But in the intro, he points out that nothing of Shakespeare’s life can be known with absolute certainty.

Based on what I saw his intent seems to be a fusing of commentary with biography, finding points of contact with Shakespeare’s life and his plays (or certain parts of his plays). One example is where Greenblatt attributes Will’s familiarity with leather, gloves and glove making (and the many references of such in the plays) to his exposure and probable work experience in his father’s glove making business. Another is where he makes comments on both Will’s apparently loveless and lifeless marriage to Anne Hathaway and some of Will’s different dramatic portrayals of married couples.

And in a bibliographical note, Greenblatt, in this book about my second favourite British writer, makes reference to my favourite British writer. He writes:

“On the whole scope of literary production in this period, C.S. Lewis’s brilliant and opinionated English Literature in the Sixteenth Century, Excluding Drama (Oxford: Clarendon, 1954) remains indispensable.”

So, it looks like an interesting book. (I might find it even more interesting if I ever get around to reading the whole thing).

In addition, I’m certain the Bible counts as one of the old books. According to this L.A. Times story educators in the U.S. are going to (or at least try to) introduce the Bible into public schools by emphasizing its role in influencing much of Western literature. One quote:

“An overwhelming majority of the nation's students are biblically illiterate, educators say. Yet, they add, knowledge of the Bible, its characters and references is essential in understanding Western literature, art, music and history even for students who come from other religious traditions, are agnostics or are atheists.”

So as Krusty says, Give a hoot. Read a book.