Occasionally, upon witnessing some great athletic performance, hearing some beautiful music, or viewing some astounding work of art, I think to myself, “wouldn’t it be great to have some discernible talent?”
Of course pure, raw talent is exceptionally rare. For the most part, any remarkable performance is the culmination of an immense amount of work. Malcolm Gladwell popularized the the 10,000 Hour Rule, the idea that greatness (in performing arts, computer programming, or whatever) requires 10,000 of practice.
But 10,000 hours of practice is not simply 10,000 hours of practice. It is also 10,000 of not doing something else. Every hour in the gym, the library, or the studio is an hour not spent with family, or relaxing, or anything else. The sacrifices made to achieve greatness are more than the 10,000 hours of practice, they are also the 10,000 not not practicing. We can see the hours of training, but what we can’t see may be more important in the long run.
Beer of the week: Green – The brewers at Tree House Brewing Company must have put in their 10,000 hours because Tree House is one of the hottest names in beer. Green is one of their many renowned IPAs. Green is cloudy, practically muddy, and pours with a big, rocky head. The aroma is hop-forward with some tropical fruit notes. The beer is smooth and creamy with hints of citrus and pineapple and a lingering taste of orange. Green is an excellent IPA.
Reading of the week: First Sorrow by Franz Kafka – I almost wrote that this very short story is about a trapeze artist, but I am never sure what Kafka stories are really about. The main character of the story is a trapeze artist who “never came down from his trapeze by night or day . . . from a desire to perfect his skill.” That’s one way to rack up 10,000 hours quickly.
Question for the week: Can greatness coexist with balance? Or must the great (in any field) have some off-setting deficiency, such as in family life?
When I read that Dzhokhar Tsarnaev was to be executed for his role in the Boston Marathon bombing, I immediately scrolled down to the comments. I was not surprised at what I found, but a little dismayed.
The bulk of the comments were to the effect that death was too good for Tsarnaev. That he should be made to suffer the same physical injuries that his victims suffered. That the pain he inflicted upon others should be revisited upon his person several times over. No comments that I read advocated anything that resembled compassion, rehabilitation, or even a quick, clean removal of Tsarnaev from our mortal company.
The very beginning of Discipline and Punish by Michel Foucault illustrates the cultural shift from public executions and corporal punishment to “improved” and “humane” execution methods and rehabilitation. Brutal public executions used to be the norm for the administration of capital punishment. However the object of the penal system, Foucault observes, has shifted from the body of the condemned to the soul or the rights of the condemned. It is true, of course, that when a person locked in a cell, his body is necessarily involved. However, the purpose of locking up a convict is to take away his liberty, not to punish his body. The same is true of modern capital punishment. The purpose of execution is to take away the condemned’s right to live, not to destroy his body. Although the body is necessarily destroyed by execution, the intent of the act is simply to remove life, not to inflict pain.
This is why the guillotine was designed to instantly sever the head. This is why the hangman measured the rope so that the drop would break the convict’s neck. And this is why, when Tsarnaev is ultimately killed, it will be by injection with a series of chemicals, the first of which will put him to sleep. The separation of body and soul that happens literally with the stopping of Tsarnaev’s heart first happens figuratively when the executioner administers the first dose of chemicals. It is Tsarnaev’s right to live that is being taken by the state; the adverse effects on the body are collateral.
Beer of the week: Conduct of Life – The most innovative gifts that my bride and I received for our wedding was a cooler full of “Vermont beer rarities and esoterica.” Among these special brews was this hazy, unfiltered American pale ale from Hill Farmstead Brewery. The aroma has hints of lemon and pineapple. The beer is smooth and well balanced, though dominated by citrusy hops. It is quite a delicious beer.
Reading of the week: In the Penal Colony by Franz Kafka – By the time I was a few pages into Discipline and Punish, I could not stop thinking about this short story by Kafka. The question of what role the body of the condemned has in the penal system is central to this story, as is the shift away from corporal punishment toward… well… something else.
Question of the week: To what extent can capital punishment be divorced from corporal punishment? Would execution be more humane if the condemned never saw it coming?
My daily commute has recently increased from 5 minutes to 50 minutes. As a result, I have added a new category of reading to my routine: train reading.
The law library has some “popular reading”, but I have no interest in the works of John Grisham and the selection consists of little else. I was pleased to find, however, that there is also a complete set of the Harvard Classics. I picked up Volume 39, Prefaces and Prologues. The table of contents included a list of authors who all either are or ought to be among those I have written about on this blog: Calvin, Copernicus, Bacon, Newton, Goethe, and more. But it was after reading the introductory note by William Allan Neilson that I was totally set on making this volume my commute reading.
According to Neilson, a preface is where “the author descends from his platform, and speaks with his reader as man to man.” Whatever the character of his narrative voice in the final work, the preface is his own; “a personality which has been veiled by a formal method throughout many chapters, is suddenly seen face to face in the Preface.” In short, the preface is the closest thing to getting to chat with the author about his work, and that conversational aspect appeals to me greatly.
The very first reading on this blog was a preface: Wilde’s preface to The Picture of Dorian Gray. Since then, I have used prefaces from Bede, Kant, Descartes, Machiavelli, Huygens, and Rabelais. If the preface really is the way to interact with authors “man to man” as Neilson put it, I could hardly think of a group of men I would rather get to know.
So I attempted to check out Volume 39 and was informed that the library does not allow books that are part of a set to circulate. I suppose that the idea is that if I were to steal the book or lose it, it would ruin the set. There are plenty of copies of the Harvard Classics out there, but replacing a given volume from a specific printing might prove difficult or even impossible. Still, I would be willing to wager that I am the only patron who has picked up that particular book since it was placed on the shelf. I may even be the only person to have opened it since a rubber stamp was used to mark it as library property. Under these circumstances, it seems pretty stupid to keep the books from being checked-out by the one person with any interest in them.
Since unthinking bureaucracy crushed my reading plans, I checked out a book of Kafka short stories instead. It seemed only appropriate.
Beer of the Week: Hamm’s Premium – The can still says that Hamm’s is “from the land of sky blue waters,” but it is no longer brewed in Minnesota, but in Milwaukee by MillerCoors. (See also National Bohemian beer, from “the land of pleasant living” and also brewed under contract far from the original brewery.) Even after taxes, I paid less than 50¢ per can for this beer, so expectations were low. So low, in fact, that I was pleasantly surprised. Don’t get me wrong, it is not good; it is about as bland as mass produced beers get. It is, however, not bad. I could drink a lot of this stuff on a hot day and not complain.
Reading for the Week: Harvard Classics Vol. 39 by William Allan Neilson – When Charles W. Eliot, the president of Harvard, suggested that a liberal education could be obtained by reading 15 minutes daily from five feet of shelf space, publishers asked him to prove it. And so, the Harvard Classics “Five Foot Shelf” was born. Eliot selected the works to be included and enlisted William Neilson to choose the editions and write the introductions.
Question for the Week: What work would you most like to discuss with its author?