BW24: Philosophical rabbit trails

Courtesy of Josephine Wall - The Water Jug

Happy Sunday!  I followed a few philosophical trails today and in my meandering discovered 

Revising Aristotle's Noun.  

Philosophy Now's The Wood that Finds itself a Violin as well as the Philosophy of Poetry which lead to Philosophical Society's article on Philosophical Poems and T.S. Eliot's Burnt Norton.  

This week is also the anniversary of William Butler Yeats, Pearl S. Buck and Dorothy Sayer's birthdays.

Stumbled upon Rebecca Goldstein's Plato at the Googleplex and her interview with the Atlantic - Why Study Philosophy: to challenge your own point of view.

And surprisingly Existential Comics How to Study Philosophy as an amateur. 

Don't miss the donut by looking through the hole. ~Author Unknown

Have fun following rabbit trails! 

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BW23: think about it fiction

“Rabbit's clever," said Pooh thoughtfully. 

"Yes," said Piglet, "Rabbit's clever." 

"And he has Brain." 

"Yes," said Piglet, "Rabbit has Brain." 

There was a long silence. 

"I suppose," said Pooh, "that that's why he never understands anything.” 

― Benjamin Hoff, The Tao of Pooh

Do you like reading philosophical fiction?  I've unintentionally read philosophical style stories in many science fiction books, as well as intentionally in utopian, dystopian or Bildungsroman type stories over the years.  Never did I expect to run across philosophy in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, Philip Dick's When Androids Dream of Electric Sheep or Leo Toystoy's War and Peace.  I sort of expected it with Thomas Mann's The Magic Mountain, Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness and Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451.  I didn't appreciate Gaarder's Sophie's World, nor Sartre's Nausea, or Atwood's Handmaid's Tale, reading them far too quickly to absorb.  Looking back on the books I've read over years, some deserve a second, slower read, time to ponder and discuss.  Now that we are through with lessons for the summer, it would be good time to pull out one or two or three old reads and give it the attention deserved.  

Shall we have a reread summer and visit old friends or maybe those that weren't so friendly the first time and give them a second chance?  Time to contemplate our packed reading shelves again.  *grin*

For ideas and to contribute to the delinquency of your pocketbooks, check out Goodreads  Popular Philosophical Fiction,  Philosophical Science Fiction,  as well as 25 Works of Fiction every philosophy student should read and The Splintered Mind's discussion with 4 philosophy professors and their choices for best philosophical speculative fiction

Happy reading! 

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BW22: Philosophical June

Raphael's School of Athens

Welcome to Philosophical June and our author of the month - Dante Alighieri.  As you probably have noticed, there aren't any women philosophers included in Raphael's painting, The School of Athens.  There are many women:  from the ancients -  Hypatia -  to the present - Vandana Shiva - too numerous to mention and impossible to highlight just one.  So I'll leave you with a few links to explore for yourself: Reviving the female canon,  Ten great female philosophers and Society of the study of women philosophers 

Everything you wanted to know about philosophy broken down into manageable chunks, history brought to you without any gaps by Kings College, and everything you ever wanted to know (or not) about philosophers around the world, plus 10 easy philosophy books you have to read.

Are you back?  Did you have fun following rabbit trails?  Now that I've overwhelmed your brains and probably pushed your tbr stacks over in a scattered heap, it's time to return to Dante.  I'm currently reading Rod Dreher's How Dante Can Save Your Life which has renewed my desire for completing the Divina Commedia (The Divine Comedy) which includes Inferno, Purgatorio and Paradiso.   I made it through Inferno a couple years ago, meant to read Purgatorio last year, and read Paradiso this year. However I stalled at Purgatorio, so will be diving into it this month.  

Join me in reading The Divine Comedy or delving into the many branches of philosophy.

 “How can you get very far,

If you don't know who you are?

How can you do what you ought,

If you don't know what you've got?

And if you don't know which to do

Of all the things in front of you,

Then what you'll have when you are through

Is just a mess without a clue

Of all the best that can come true

If you know What and Which and Who.” 

― Benjamin Hoff, The Tao of Pooh

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BW47: Candide by Voltaire

Francois Marie Arouet aka Voltaire

I happen to share my birthday with the philosopher Voltaire so highlighting his book Candide which can be read online here.

Chapter I.

How Candide was brought up in a magnificent castle and how he was driven thence.

In the country of Westphalia, in the castle of the most noble baron of Thunder-ten-tronckh, lived a youth whom nature had endowed with a most sweet disposition. His face was the true index of his mind. He had a solid judgment joined to the most unaffected simplicity; and hence, I presume, he had his name of Candide. The old servants of the house suspected him to have been the son of the baron’s sister, by a very good sort of a gentleman of the neighborhood, whom that young lady refused to marry, because he could produce no more than threescore and eleven quarterings in his arms; the rest of the genealogical tree belonging to the family having been lost through the injuries of time.


The baron was one of the most powerful lords in Westphalia; for his castle had not only a gate, but even windows; and his great hall was hung with tapestry. He used to hunt with his mastiffs and spaniels instead of greyhounds; his groom served him for huntsman; and the parson of the parish officiated as his grand almoner. He was called My Lord by all his people, and he never told a story but every one laughed at it.

My lady baroness weighed three hundred and fifty pounds, consequently was a person of no small consideration; and then she did the honors of the house with a dignity that commanded universal respect. Her daughter was about seventeen years of age, fresh colored, comely, plump, and desirable. The baron’s son seemed to be a youth in every respect worthy of the father he sprung from. Pangloss, the preceptor, was the oracle of the family, and little Candide listened to his instructions with all the simplicity natural to his age and disposition.

Master Pangloss taught the metaphysico-theologo-cosmolo-nigology. He could prove to admiration that there is no effect without a cause; and, that in this best of all possible worlds, the baron’s castle was the most magnificent of all castles, and my lady the best of all possible baronesses.

It is demonstrable, said he, that things cannot be otherwise than as they are; for as all things have been created for some end, they must necessarily be created for the best end. Observe, for instance, the nose is formed for spectacles, therefore we wear spectacles. The legs are visibly designed for stockings, accordingly we wear stockings. Stones were made to be hewn, and to construct castles, therefore My Lord has a magnificent castle; for the greatest baron in the province ought to be the best lodged. Swine were intended to be eaten, therefore we eat pork all the year round: and they, who assert that everything is right, do not express themselves correctly; they should say that everything is best.

Candide listened attentively, and believed implicitly; for he thought Miss Cunegund excessively handsome, though he never had the courage to tell her so. He concluded that next to the happiness of being baron of Thunder-ten-tronckh, the next was that of being Miss Cunegund, the next that of seeing her every day, and the last that of hearing the doctrine of Master Pangloss, the greatest philosopher of the whole province, and consequently of the whole world.

One day when Miss Cunegund went to take a walk in a little neighboring wood which was called a park, she saw, through the bushes, the sage Doctor Pangloss giving a lecture in experimental philosophy to her mother’s chambermaid, a little brown wench, very pretty, and very tractable. As Miss Cunegund had a great disposition for the sciences, she observed with the utmost attention the experiments, which were repeated before her eyes; she perfectly well understood the force of the doctor’s reasoning upon causes and effects. She retired greatly flurried, quite pensive and filled with the desire of knowledge, imagining that she might be a sufficing reason for young Candide, and he for her.

On her way back she happened to meet the young man; she blushed, he blushed also; she wished him a good morning in a flattering tone, he returned the salute without knowing what he said. The next day, as they were rising from dinner, Cunegund and Candide slipped behind the screen. The miss dropped her handkerchief, the young man picked it up. She innocently took hold of his hand, and he as innocently kissed hers with a warmth, a sensibility, a grace — all very particular; their lips met; their eyes sparkled; their knees trembled; their hands strayed. The baron chanced to come by; he beheld the cause and effect, and, without hesitation, saluted Candide with some notable kicks on the breech, and drove him out of doors. The lovely Miss Cunegund fainted away, and, as soon as she came to herself, the baroness boxed her ears. Thus a general consternation was spread over this most magnificent and most agreeable of all possible castles.

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