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3.93 AVERAGE
3.93 AVERAGE
Fascinating book...It's kinda like Greil Marcus' "Lipstick Traces..." but with an all-star cast of European and American Intellegentsia, artists, and musicians. Mr. James gives a brief bio of a person (from A-Z, actually) then uses that person's information and anecdotes to go on a couple page digression. It's fascinating.
Wow,. RIP Clive, one of our great devotees to the arts and culture. A tour guide to the intellectual pathways that lie behind us, this is his epic collection of essays on individual people that he deems worth remembering.
Having said that, I was brought to the rude awakening that this version of mine was only the heavily abridged audiobook, whereas the original work is a tremendous 900+ pages. In this case though abridged simply means 'a selection of' as apposed to text being edited out. It's also read by the man himself, in his steadily charming Australian lilt. What a guy!
Having said that, I was brought to the rude awakening that this version of mine was only the heavily abridged audiobook, whereas the original work is a tremendous 900+ pages. In this case though abridged simply means 'a selection of' as apposed to text being edited out. It's also read by the man himself, in his steadily charming Australian lilt. What a guy!
This is all over the place but it's mostly ' the Vienna thing '. Another Sarte hater.
Absolutely magnificent. It has been a privilege to spend time with Clive James while reading this book and I cannot recommend the experience too highly.
He has the great skill of serious writing and thought, done lightly and with grace, and, where appropriate, with humour. I have given a few instances already as I worked my way through the book. A delight which appears on page 1000 is his description of the film "Where Eagles Dare":
"There is something precious about the intellectual squalor of "Where Eagles Dare": it is a swamp with a surface of green pulp squeezed from emeralds".
Sadly this brilliant and witty man is dreadfully ill: I saw just recently that he was too ill to be presented with a BAFTA award. If he loses his fight with leukaemia, as seems likely, I for one am immensely grateful that his brilliance will continue to shine because of his books.
He has the great skill of serious writing and thought, done lightly and with grace, and, where appropriate, with humour. I have given a few instances already as I worked my way through the book. A delight which appears on page 1000 is his description of the film "Where Eagles Dare":
"There is something precious about the intellectual squalor of "Where Eagles Dare": it is a swamp with a surface of green pulp squeezed from emeralds".
Sadly this brilliant and witty man is dreadfully ill: I saw just recently that he was too ill to be presented with a BAFTA award. If he loses his fight with leukaemia, as seems likely, I for one am immensely grateful that his brilliance will continue to shine because of his books.
I was expecting this to be a collection of biographies of important people but it turned out to be essays ruminating on some idea with a specific person as a jumping off point. I really liked his writing style, you get a great sense of tthe writer's voice, and the essays were interesting, but he included a lot of people I didn't know so there was some context missing and I tended to get bored. It was less biographical, more musing on history, and a lot of musical history (classic and jazz).
I read this book occasionally for over a year, nearly two. It feels as though I have been reading it for over a decade. Most often, the star ratings for these reviews are not fretted over much. The seven people who read them have their minds pretty made up about these books. They've already read them or they could give a fuck. But this is not merely a self reflexive exercise in throwing shade at Goodreads users who follow me. But to be clear, this is also not an attempt at writing an actual review of a book that more times then not merely served as a vehicle for wikipedia searches.
I deeply care for this book, though I doubt I'll read it again, or even seek out much more of James writing. He is a fascinating figure. I'm interested in his identity as Australian, a fact that gets brought up anecdotally often throughout these 850 pages, but is never dwelled on much. His ego plays a big role in the book. So casually talking about traveling the world, read five or six languages proficiently, listening to classical music for fun, having read everything. Much of this is tempered by a strain of self depreciating humor that also crops up regularly in the essays, but the author's voice sounds an awful lot like bragging sometimes. This issue is a petty complaint though. The book as a whole champions humanism, and specifically it focuses on the reaction of Europe to the totalitarian/fascist threats of the 20th century. Although he pulls in characters from the 18th century and early (some of who play a crucial role in the book through the concepts their essays introduce) stretching all the way back to the ancient world, but for the most part James is particularly focused on what happened in Germany and Russia during the first 50 years of the 20th century.
The characters in the book are fascinating. I did in fact add a slew of books to my amazon wishlist during my reading, but more than any specific title I think this collection serves as an intellectual CV of sorts, a very particular, biased, and not altogether acceptable syllabus for understanding humanism in the modern world. And the way James has painted this broad picture, this very personal landscape encourages me to broaden my own vision, and has given me a point of departure to test some of my own big, foundational ideas against. I feel hesitation to recommend this book, or even pass a judgement on how good it was, I certainly feel more intelligent for read having reading it. I hope its influence extends to reading some of the works it talks so much about rather than seeking out more criticism. Regardless, I respect the aphorism as a genre infinitely more, and I am grateful for that.
I deeply care for this book, though I doubt I'll read it again, or even seek out much more of James writing. He is a fascinating figure. I'm interested in his identity as Australian, a fact that gets brought up anecdotally often throughout these 850 pages, but is never dwelled on much. His ego plays a big role in the book. So casually talking about traveling the world, read five or six languages proficiently, listening to classical music for fun, having read everything. Much of this is tempered by a strain of self depreciating humor that also crops up regularly in the essays, but the author's voice sounds an awful lot like bragging sometimes. This issue is a petty complaint though. The book as a whole champions humanism, and specifically it focuses on the reaction of Europe to the totalitarian/fascist threats of the 20th century. Although he pulls in characters from the 18th century and early (some of who play a crucial role in the book through the concepts their essays introduce) stretching all the way back to the ancient world, but for the most part James is particularly focused on what happened in Germany and Russia during the first 50 years of the 20th century.
The characters in the book are fascinating. I did in fact add a slew of books to my amazon wishlist during my reading, but more than any specific title I think this collection serves as an intellectual CV of sorts, a very particular, biased, and not altogether acceptable syllabus for understanding humanism in the modern world. And the way James has painted this broad picture, this very personal landscape encourages me to broaden my own vision, and has given me a point of departure to test some of my own big, foundational ideas against. I feel hesitation to recommend this book, or even pass a judgement on how good it was, I certainly feel more intelligent for read having reading it. I hope its influence extends to reading some of the works it talks so much about rather than seeking out more criticism. Regardless, I respect the aphorism as a genre infinitely more, and I am grateful for that.
花了接近两个月读完这本书，充分展现了作者的知识储备。读“二手知识”不可避免的就是“第三方”会表达对于原文的观点；有些我同意，有些不太接受。按照姓氏介绍了政治家、军事家、音乐家、哲学家、作者，文中提及的大部分名字都是第一次了解，尽管不能全盘接受作者的观点，但依然让我的书单加入了13本to read，希望早日啃完这些书，再回到文化失忆和作者来一番观点碰撞。
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So lately I’ve been perusing Clive James’s massive Cultural Amnesia, a browser’s guide to the major thinkers, writers, and cultural icons of the past several hundred years (back as far as Sir Thomas Browne), though most of the personages that fill these pages are from just the past century. At first glance, this book may appear to be friendly to your average reader, one of those books the average reader might pick up to gain a not-so-quick overview of Western thought, or even perhaps just some good talking points for the next cocktail party. Average reader, beware; this book is probably not for you. Even when discussing known figures (Coco Chanel, Jean-Paul Sartre, Michael Mann come to mind), James veers off in completely unexpected directions. Not that this is necessarily bad; Montaigne is famous for this. The difference between Montaigne and James, however, is that Montaigne has a wholly unique and essential way of bringing the reader full circle. James frequently leaves the reader far from where they started.
He also frequently leaves the reader with his abhorrence of totalitarianism. This, no matter the subject, inevitably makes its way into almost all of the essays, even the one on Coco Chanel, who he pinions for accepting the protection of a German officer during WWII before hiding out in Switzerland until France saw fit to recognize her as a national treasure. In fact, the essay on Chanel becomes more of an essay about materialism and the economics of war-time Berlin. This is precisely what makes James’s book so fascinating. If you don’t mind getting lost in ideas, following tangents that leave you sometimes far from the place of origin, then this book is a treasure of information: historical, cultural, theoretical. I was so overwhelmed by what I was reading, I started to take notes on some of the essays and created a general reading list of interesting books mentioned in the various essays. These essays are not a starting point for the reader, but rather a focal point. James distills decades of hindsight and perspective through his unique lens and sets the reader on a quest for primary sources, the best thing that can happen for someone like me who loves nothing better than a fat bibliography at the end of an academic article.
However, this book is not scholarly in the sense that it’s an academic treatise or historical account: there isn’t even a bibliography at the end (only an index!). Yet reading even one page makes you feel as if you’ve learned something, and usually you have. These essays are the opinions of someone dedicated to exposing the faults of some of the West’s most revered thinkers and icons–but not out of malice. As the title suggests, James wants us to remember the multi-faceted aspects of history and to reject the often easy and convenient narrative of our past, especially when it comes to totalitarianism, fascism, communism, and the ideologies that fueled them.
So lately I’ve been perusing Clive James’s massive Cultural Amnesia, a browser’s guide to the major thinkers, writers, and cultural icons of the past several hundred years (back as far as Sir Thomas Browne), though most of the personages that fill these pages are from just the past century. At first glance, this book may appear to be friendly to your average reader, one of those books the average reader might pick up to gain a not-so-quick overview of Western thought, or even perhaps just some good talking points for the next cocktail party. Average reader, beware; this book is probably not for you. Even when discussing known figures (Coco Chanel, Jean-Paul Sartre, Michael Mann come to mind), James veers off in completely unexpected directions. Not that this is necessarily bad; Montaigne is famous for this. The difference between Montaigne and James, however, is that Montaigne has a wholly unique and essential way of bringing the reader full circle. James frequently leaves the reader far from where they started.
He also frequently leaves the reader with his abhorrence of totalitarianism. This, no matter the subject, inevitably makes its way into almost all of the essays, even the one on Coco Chanel, who he pinions for accepting the protection of a German officer during WWII before hiding out in Switzerland until France saw fit to recognize her as a national treasure. In fact, the essay on Chanel becomes more of an essay about materialism and the economics of war-time Berlin. This is precisely what makes James’s book so fascinating. If you don’t mind getting lost in ideas, following tangents that leave you sometimes far from the place of origin, then this book is a treasure of information: historical, cultural, theoretical. I was so overwhelmed by what I was reading, I started to take notes on some of the essays and created a general reading list of interesting books mentioned in the various essays. These essays are not a starting point for the reader, but rather a focal point. James distills decades of hindsight and perspective through his unique lens and sets the reader on a quest for primary sources, the best thing that can happen for someone like me who loves nothing better than a fat bibliography at the end of an academic article.
However, this book is not scholarly in the sense that it’s an academic treatise or historical account: there isn’t even a bibliography at the end (only an index!). Yet reading even one page makes you feel as if you’ve learned something, and usually you have. These essays are the opinions of someone dedicated to exposing the faults of some of the West’s most revered thinkers and icons–but not out of malice. As the title suggests, James wants us to remember the multi-faceted aspects of history and to reject the often easy and convenient narrative of our past, especially when it comes to totalitarianism, fascism, communism, and the ideologies that fueled them.
A Critic For All Ages
I once met Clive James, on the raised pavement of the Barbican in London. We both had weekday flats there and I had seen him before in his daily pedestrian commute. Encountering him one day, I stopped abruptly and greeted him effusively as if an old friend. I probably had interrupted a reverie, so looking up and seeing a face that might have been vaguely familiar, he stopped to chat - about the weather, and the state of the Barbican landscaping as I recall. We parted with neighborly regards. Despite the brevity of our contact, given the range of figures he has included in this book, I’m a bit surprised that I didn’t make it into one of his vignettes.
Everyone who is anyone in the world of literature is there in Cultural Amnesia. The most amazing thing is that James appreciates them all, even when he criticizes their mistakes and excesses. He starts from a position of their purpose, their intention and works back to his own criteria of the aesthetic, which he then frequently modifies based on his quite remarkable empathy. For me this is precisely the job of a critic - not to praise or condemn but to refine his own sensibilities by understanding those of others.
James’s philosophy of criticism is marvelously summarized in his intention about the book, which is to demonstrate the truth of his belief that our literary inheritance “is our real and inextinguishable fortune.” This inheritance is something which can be ignored from time to time, or only partially appreciated, but it cannot be lost as long as it is talked about. And I take it that this is what he wants us to do with the contents of Cultural Amnesia - talk exuberantly about the wealth which is there for the taking.
It probably is neither necessary nor healthy to take on the 800 pages of Cultural Amnesia in a single go. There’s just too much material to comprehend, too many insights to absorb, too many witticisms, anecdotes, and aphorisms to appreciate. The book is an hundred course meal which shouldn’t be wolfed down like lunch at a hot dog stand. I find myself starting with those figures I feel I know best (which is never as well as James) and drifting onto the (for me) relatively obscure names. It is mostly among these that I appreciate my own lack of education as well as James’s superb erudition and taste.
There is no doubt - for anyone contemplating an extended stay on a desert island, Cultural Amnesia is really the only luxury one need have to be perfectly content.
I once met Clive James, on the raised pavement of the Barbican in London. We both had weekday flats there and I had seen him before in his daily pedestrian commute. Encountering him one day, I stopped abruptly and greeted him effusively as if an old friend. I probably had interrupted a reverie, so looking up and seeing a face that might have been vaguely familiar, he stopped to chat - about the weather, and the state of the Barbican landscaping as I recall. We parted with neighborly regards. Despite the brevity of our contact, given the range of figures he has included in this book, I’m a bit surprised that I didn’t make it into one of his vignettes.
Everyone who is anyone in the world of literature is there in Cultural Amnesia. The most amazing thing is that James appreciates them all, even when he criticizes their mistakes and excesses. He starts from a position of their purpose, their intention and works back to his own criteria of the aesthetic, which he then frequently modifies based on his quite remarkable empathy. For me this is precisely the job of a critic - not to praise or condemn but to refine his own sensibilities by understanding those of others.
James’s philosophy of criticism is marvelously summarized in his intention about the book, which is to demonstrate the truth of his belief that our literary inheritance “is our real and inextinguishable fortune.” This inheritance is something which can be ignored from time to time, or only partially appreciated, but it cannot be lost as long as it is talked about. And I take it that this is what he wants us to do with the contents of Cultural Amnesia - talk exuberantly about the wealth which is there for the taking.
It probably is neither necessary nor healthy to take on the 800 pages of Cultural Amnesia in a single go. There’s just too much material to comprehend, too many insights to absorb, too many witticisms, anecdotes, and aphorisms to appreciate. The book is an hundred course meal which shouldn’t be wolfed down like lunch at a hot dog stand. I find myself starting with those figures I feel I know best (which is never as well as James) and drifting onto the (for me) relatively obscure names. It is mostly among these that I appreciate my own lack of education as well as James’s superb erudition and taste.
There is no doubt - for anyone contemplating an extended stay on a desert island, Cultural Amnesia is really the only luxury one need have to be perfectly content.
If James' commitment to the conditions that have made him possible perhaps blinds him to the past, present and futur suffering that makes that life possible, we may at least attenpt to challenge his position with the bludgeoning wit and nimble erudition he brings to bear on 20th century totalitarianism.
Somewhat amusingly, the final effect of this book is most like the one you get from reading a Soviet literary theorist - in an era of glib corporate boosterism, it's gratifying to be asked to take culture seriously, to pay attention to its origins and consequences.
Somewhat amusingly, the final effect of this book is most like the one you get from reading a Soviet literary theorist - in an era of glib corporate boosterism, it's gratifying to be asked to take culture seriously, to pay attention to its origins and consequences.