Voltaire. Hair. I'd rather talk about Voltaire.

So this weekend while browsing Half Priced Books (whose actual half price book section is great for satisfying my compulsion to buy books, but without spending much - up yours, Barnes and Noble!) I came upon a shocking discovery - Voltaire wrote fiction. Candide is a story! Who knew? I had always assumed Voltaire was a philosopher, and his writing was as convoluted as most philosophic writing of that time. Because yes, I am a product of the public school system.

So I dropped $1.50 for the chance to read this classic of French literature and the Western cannon.

It's a short book, clocking in at a fast 144 pages. I read it Sunday afternoon. The first thing I was happy to note was what an entertaining read it was. The writing is crystal clear, and you understand everything that's going on. Not bad for a book written almost 250 years ago.

So I'm entertained while being simultaneously horrified at all the terrible things happening to the characters of the books, and the miraculous way many of these characters manage to reappear after being left for dead. Murder, 'ravishing', the Spanish Inquisition, slavery - these people are hardcore survivors, however serially unlucky. Throughout all of this, the characters talk about why bad things happen to - good and bad - people, whether they had it coming or not.

Candide is supposed to be satire, and ridicules some of the optimistic philosophy of Voltaire's day. (Or so I've read.) Being the author, he sets up some of the representative characters as straw men, which he knocks down over and over. Which, to me, it's not that hard to have an argument with yourself, when you already know your conclusion. But this was probably the least resonant part of the book for me anyway, being the product of a different time.

Three elements did stand out to me: El Dorado, the pamphleteer and 'happy man' Candide dines with in Venice, and the conclusion. El Dorado is an isolated Shangri-la Candide comes upon accidentally, where the streets are literally paved with gold, which has no monetary value. There is no judicial system, but an enormous government-funded bureau for science. Dinner at the inn is free, and Candide stays at the king's palace for a month. Voltaire notes that Candide is happy there, but wants to leave. It's a little annoying that Voltaire doesn't bother to outline how it is these people pay for everything, or why everyone gets along so well they don't need a judicial system. But ultimately Candide is more interested in taking the gold and jewels of El Dorado back to the world with him where he might be ridiculously rich, rather than just another citizen as he would if he remained at El Dorado. On the other hand, El Dorado apparently has an abundance of every physical need a person might have, which is unrealistic to me when compared with the real world, where everyone is competing for limited (or at least what is assumed to be limited) resources. So I think that lessens the impact El Dorado might have had.

[New thought - perhaps Voltaire's point is that the cause of evil among people is the competition for limited resources. Evil in nature, like floods and earthquakes, are another story.]

Second was the pamphleteer and happy man of Venice, both of whom spend the majority of their time bitching about how every play, book, etc. ever created is total crap. Candide is impressed by their judgments which make them appear superior to the plebes who actually like, say, Homer. (Which I don't, by the way.) But Martin, Candide's mentor, notes that 'the best stomachs are not those that reject all food,' pardon the misquoting. I'm guilty of some of this elitist snobbery myself, so I thought that was pretty interesting. Also good to know that elitist snobbery is nothing new.

Finally, the conclusion, which closely mirrors a conclusion about life in general I've been finding is true a lot lately. The characters end up on a farm near Constantinople, with no more riches. Cunegarde, Candide's big 'prize' (nevermind the sexism, eh?) is now ugly and unpleasant. Everything sort of sucks, and basically that is where they end. But, everyone finds something they're really good at, and do it for the good of the rest of the people on the farm. When they go to a 'great' philosopher nearby, they are told to shut up and stop asking questions, because they're totally insignificant. And Candide finally ends the philosophic debate, saying 'it's time to work in the garden'. It reminds me of a line in the Tao Te Ching: "Do your work, then step back. The only path to serenity."

Franny and Zooey

A favorite quote, which is really a series of quotes, from the book Franny and Zooey. The following is written out on Buddy and Seymour's old bedroom door:

You have the right to work, but for work's sake only. You have no right to the fruits of your work. Desire for the fruits of your work must never be your motive in working. Never give way to laziness, either.

Perform every action with you heart fixed on the Supreme Lord. Renounce attachment to the fruits. Be even-tempered in success and failure; for it is the evenness in temper which is meant by yoga.

Work done with anxiety about results is far inferior to work done without such anxiety, in the calm of self-surrender. Seek refuge in the knowledge of Brahman. They who work selfishly for results are miserable.

-"Bhagavad Gita."

It loved to happen.

- Marcus Aurelius.

O snail
Climb Mount Fuji,
But slowly, slowly!

- Issa.

Concerning the Gods, there are those who deny the very existence of the Godhead; others say that it exists, but neither bestirs nor concerns itself nor has forethought for anything. A third party attribute to it existence and forethought, but only for great and heavenly matters, not for anything that is on earth. A fourth party admit things on earth as well as in heaven, but only in general, and not with respect to each individual. A fifth, of whom were Ulysses and Socrates, are those that cry: -
"I move not without Thy knowledge!"

- Epictetus.

The love interest and climax would come when a man and a lady, both strangers, got to talking together om the train going back east.

"Well," said Mrs. Croot, for it was she, "what did you think of the Canyon?"

"Some cave," replied her escort.

"What a funny way to put it!" replied Mrs. Croot. "And now play me something."

- Ring Lardner, ("How to Write Short Stories").

God instructs the heart, not by ideas but by pains and contradictions.

- De Caussade.

"Papa!" shrieked Kitty, and shut his mouth with her hands.

"Well, I won't..." he said. "I'm very, very pleased...Oh, what a fool I am..."

He embraced Kitty, kissed her face, her hand, her face again, and made the sign of the cross over her.

And then there came over Levin a new feeling of love for this man, till then so little known to him, when he saw how slowly and tenderly Kitty kissed his muscular hand.

- "Anna Karenina."

"Sir, we ought to teach the people that they are doing wrong in worshiping the images and pictures in the temple."

Ramakrishna: "That's the way with you Calcutta people: you want to teach and preach. You ant to give millions when you are beggars yourselves...Do you think God does not know that he is being worshiped in the images and pictures? If a worshipper should make a mistake, do you think God will know his intent?"

- "The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna."

"Don't you want to join us?" I was recently asked by an acquaintance when he ran across me alone after midnight in a coffeehouse that was already almost deserted. "No, I don't," I said.

- Kafka.

The happiness of being with people.

- Kafka.

St. Francis de Sales' prayer: "Yes, Father! Yes, and always, Yes!"

Zui-Gan called out to himself every day, "Master."
Then he answered himself, "Yes, sir."
And then he added, "Become sober."
Again he answered, "Yes, sir."
"And after that," he continued, "do not be deceived by others."
"Yes sir; yes, sir," he replied.

- Mu-Mon-Kwan

Nerds

OK, so I sort of forgot about this thing. Then I remembered and googled it, too lazy to actually, you know, type in the web address. And I found a Bronte blog, linking to the previous post. I should know better, but it never fails to creep me out that this stuff is all...public. Duh.

Anyway, a couple weeks back a friend of mine introduced me to the greatness of "Flight of the Conchords," leading to pathological obsession for both me and my sister. Who wouldn't love funny Kiwis with guitars? Said obsession led us to "Eagle Vs. Shark," a New Zealand comedy that came out last year and features Jemaine Clement. Jemaine is officially my boy, so it jumped to the top of my Netflix queue.

Comparisons to Napoleon Dynamite are inevitable, and apt. The main characters are full-on geeks, though this time their social ineptness has gone on for years after graduation. For the record, I hated Napoleon Dynamite. The whole movie struck me as mean-spirited, the characters unrecognizable, the portrayal of 'flyover country' vapid. (Being from Utah, the writers must have known this, but seem to have exaggerated the 'backwardness' of the non-Coast setting to appeal to the smug self-righteousness of Coasties.) The theme, of artistic expression being the great communicator when all else might fail, is lost to a bunch of idiotic one-liners about a llama.

Eagle Vs. Shark took the geek concept and gave it some heart. Jemaine's character constantly reminded me of some of the people I went to school with - the desperation for acceptance, the failure to recognize real friends, the explosive anger and fixation on their oppressors. I could empathize with these characters. The emotions felt real, the awkward moments all the more excruciating. Not really laugh-out-loud hilarious, but it made me smile.

So sure, it was somewhat derivative, but it managed to one-up what it was stealing from. And it had a happy ending. Plus, another excuse to watch Jemaine for an extra hour and a half. What more could a girl want?