This is the twenty-fourth in a series on The Harvard Classics; the rest of the posts are available here. Volume XXIV: On the Sublime, The French Revolution, Etc., Edmund Burke
One can imagine, hopefully without much effort, that some people actually read this blog. Of those people, there may be a subset who hold the author in such high regard (as regards his taste in suds) that they reckon that a well-reviewed beer on this site is worth a try. This is probably the chief value of reviews, be they reviews of books, theater, or restaurants: the opinions of others can help us choose.
Likewise the opinions of others about other people help us decide with whom to associate. The expression “any friend of Eddy is a friend of mine” exemplifies this notion; the speaker holds Eddy’s choice of company in such high regard that anybody worthy of his friendship is worthy also of the speaker’s. The reverse is also commonly true. Guilt by association is a real phenomenon; “any friend of Eddy must be avoided because Eddy is a bad guy with bad taste.”
Occasionally, however, negative reviews have the opposite of the expected effect. To be despised by certain people is often regarded as a sort of endorsement. Imagine, for example, a politician who is decried by the grand wizard (or whatever silly title he holds) of the KKK. At least some people would regard that as a glowing (if unintentional) endorsement.
When certain of Edmund Burke’s political adversaries attacked his government pension, he took the position that it was an honor to be reviled by such men. “I confess it does kindle, in my nearly extinguished feelings, a very vivid satisfaction to be so attacked and so commended.”
So whether you try the beers that I review positively because you trust my taste, or you try the beers that I hate because I must be wrong, cheers!
Beer of the week: Shiner Bock – This is a reliable go-to lager. It pours clear and orange-brown. It’s got bread notes throughout but not as much flavor or mouthfeel as may be expected from the look of it. It’s a solid porch beer, but nothing special.
Reading of the week: A Letter to a Noble Lord by Edmund Burke – Burke’s detractors gave him an excellent opportunity to both belittle them and to commend himself. And boy, he did not let that opportunity go to waste.
Question for the week: Is there anybody of whom you think so little that you reflexively adopt the opposite of all of his judgments?
This is the twenty-third in a series on The Harvard Classics; the rest of the posts are available here. Volume XXIII: Two Years Before the Mast, Dana
In the preface to Two Years Before the Mast, Richard Henry Dana, Jr. warns: “I have been obliged occasionally to use strong and coarse expressions, and in some instances to give scenes which may be painful to nice feelings; but I have very carefully avoided doing so, whenever I have not felt them essential to giving the true character of a scene.”
Perhaps the most extended example “strong and course” language Dana employed was in relating a telling-off that the crew of his ship received from their captain:
“Away with you! go forward every one of you! I’ll haze you! I’ll work you up! You don’t have enough to do! If you a’n’t careful I’ll make a hell of the ship!…. You’ve mistaken your man! I’m F—— T——, all the way from ‘down east.’ I’ve been through the mill, ground, and bolted, and come out a regular-built down-east johnny-cake, good when it’s hot, but when it’s cold, sour and indigestible;—and you’ll find me so!”
If that is what passed for strong language in 1840, then I’ll be d—d!
Beer of the week: Independence Harbor Amber Ale – This is an ALDI house brand. It had been known as Revolution Harbor, but the name has changed for some reason. Either name seems to allude to Boston Harbor (and perhaps hint at the beer being similar to Samuel Adams). Boston, of course, is where Dana’s life as a sailor began. Independence Harbor is a handsome amber beer with a decent tan head. The aroma is of biscuit. The flavor is the same, with just a bit of honey sweetness at the finish. For the price, this is a very solid beer.
Reading of the week: Two Years Before the Mast by Richard Henry Dana, Jr., Chapter VIII – I’ve really enjoyed this book. From his descriptions of life onboard a merchant ship in the middle of the 19th century, to his exploration of Californian culture in the days before the gold rush, Dana’s paints vivid scenes. This chapter includes discussion of sailors’ slang, duties onboard, and the ship’s arrival in California. If you enjoy this chapter, the rest of the book should be, in Dana’s language, “nuts to you.” (That’s a good thing.)
Question for the week: It is often said that profanity shows a lack of imagination, but can’t the stringing together of profanities be an art of its own?
This is the twenty-second in a series on The Harvard Classics; the rest of the posts are available here. Volume XXII: The Odyssey, Homer
Everyone has a memory or two that he’d rather not. But, as the saying goes, “some things cannot be unseen.” We are blessed and cursed with our powers of memory, but what would result from the ability to chose what memories we retain or erase?
On the tv show Arrested Development, there is a character who takes pills that he calls “forget-me-nows”. The pills are, in fact, Rohypnol: commonly known as roofies. He drugs himself to forget decisions that he regrets. Predictably, by wiping out his memories, he dooms himself to make the same mistakes again, unable to learn and grow from them.
In Homer’s Odyssey, Helen prepares a draught of nepenthe to help Menelaus and others forget their sorrow over comrades lost during and after the Trojan War, particularly the then-missing Odysseus. Nepenthe literally means “anti-sorrow”, but Homer tells us that it worked by bringing forgetfulness. The characters continue to reminisce, however, and ultimately resort to sleep to ease their sorrow. “But come,” says Telemachus, “bid us to bed, that forthwith we may take our joy of rest beneath the spell of sleep.” Perhaps the drug induced the sleep, and in sleep the heroes could forget their melancholy, but it is not clear at all that the nepenthe delivered on its promise of forgetfulness.
Nepenthe is also mentioned Poe’s The Raven. The narrator exhorts himself, “Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget the lost Lenore.” The raven predictably replies, “nevermore.” The narrator has no literal nepenthe, and, as is clear from the raven’s reply, none exists. He is doomed to remember his lost love. There is no nepenthe to forget sorrow and no balm in Gilead to cure a broken heart.
Whether we learn from our memories as GOB fails to in Arrested Development, or we put our memory aside only while we sleep as the characters of The Odyssey do, or whether our memories drive us mad as in The Raven, we cannot really cannot chose to forget. Our only real option is to turn our memories to our advantage, lest they destroy us.
Beer of the week: Tell Tale Heart IPA – Happy Friday the 13th! By all rights, this beer should be paired with Poe’s story The Tell Tale Heart. But that Poe is not included in the Harvard Classics, and I had no interest in sitting on this review for a year until I am through with this Harvard series. So here it is. RavenBeer makes a whole line of Poe-themed brews. This is an orangish IPA with a nice, creamy head. There are nice floral hops in the aroma and a well-balanced combo of malt and hops. Tell Tale Heart is a good East Coast IPA.
Reading of the week: The Odyssey by Homer, Book IV, lines 184 – 314 – After Helen has poured the nepenthe, she tells the company how Odysseus, disguised as a beggar, once sneaked into the besieged city of Troy.
Question for the week: What would you forget if you could?
This is the twenty-first in a series on The Harvard Classics; the rest of the posts are available here. Volume XXI: I Promessi Sposi, Manzoni
Positions in civil government, from national presidency to homeowners’ association board seats, can be magnets for those who would take advantage of their neighbors. An excellent example of this corruption can be found in I Promessi Sposi, (most often translated as The Betrothed,) by Alessandro Manzoni. When the plague struck Milan in 1629, vicious and rapacious men saw an opportunity. The tumult caused by the plague made it easy for these bad actors to operate without consequence. Indeed, many of them found it expedient to take official government posts, the better to steal and blackmail. “The villains, whom the pestilence spared and did not terrify, found in the common confusion, and in the relaxation of all public authority, a new opportunity of activity, together with new assurances of impunity; nay, the administration of public authority itself came, in a great measure, to be lodged in the hands of the worst among them. Generally speaking, none devoted themselves to the offices of monatti and apparitori but men over whom the attractions of rapine and license had more influence than the terror of contagion, or any natural object of horror.” And once it was clear how much profit was to be made as a government-employed extortionist and robber, these men worked to perpetuate the plague, and thereby perpetuate their power. They would “purposely let fall from their carts infected clothes, in order to propagate and keep up the pestilence, which had become to them a means of living, a kingdom, a festival.” It is remarkable what those in power are capable of doing to maintain their position.
But, as rare as they may be, there actually are examples of political leaders who come into power for noble reasons and maintain their virtue despite that power. Manzoni relates the story of Father Felice Casati, a Capuchin friar who became a sort of minor autocrat during the plague. As the pestilence spread through Milan and the surrounding area, the population of the Lazaretto of Milan swelled. The Lazaretto was a huge quarantine building that became a city unto itself. Although people were dying at a prodigious rate, the population of the Lazaretto exploded as more and more people contracted the plague. At one point, as many as 16,000 people filled the Lazaretto. With so many sick and desperate people, good governance was needed to keep the Lazaretto from becoming pandemonium. The Board of Health decided to install Father Felice as governor of the Lazaretto. Although not a glamorous appointment, the governor was granted “primary and ultimate authority” within the Lazaretto. With this power Father Felice “animated and regulated every duty, pacified tumults, settled disputes, threatened, punished, reproved, comforted, dried and shed tears.” He was absolute dictator within the confines of his quarantine kingdom, but neither that power nor the plague corrupted him.
In at least this once instance, there was an exception to Lord Acton’s axiom that “power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” But to rely on every (or virtually any) politician being another Father Felice is probably a mistake. To paraphrase H. L. Mencken: cleaning up politics by electing righteous people makes no more sense than cleaning up a brothel by filling it with virgins; they either lose their virtue or jump out the window.
Beer of the week: 98 Problems IPA – This hazy orange India Pale Ale is a product of Michigan’s Perrin Brewing Company. The aroma is dominated by pineappley and floral hops. The hops also dominate the flavor, with crisp bitterness both up front and lingering in the aftertaste. Despite the name, there’s not much wrong with 98 Problems.
Reading of the week: I Promessi Sposi by Alessandro Manzoni – Although I Promessi Sposi is a work of fiction, the author tells us that his account of the plague is historically accurate. This excerpt tells how members of the Milanese public attacked doctors, accusing them of fabricating the claims about the plague for personal gain. It is an excellent study in how people will reject the truth and accuse its bearers of evil motivations if the truth is adverse enough to their interests.
Question for the week: What is the best mechanism for curbing political corruption?