Celebrating CONTRARIWISE from Afar

Vol 5 CoverIn honor of today’s CONTRARIWISE celebration at Book Culture in New York City, I thought I’d post a partial review of the fifth issue–partial in the double sense of “biased” and “fragmentary.” It’s biased because I served as faculty advisor for the first three issues; fragmentary because I will comment on only a fraction of it. What a beautiful, playful, inquisitive volume, and what a joy to see CONTRARIWISE continuing onward!

It has many traditional CONTRARIWISE features and touches: the cover art, a Cast and Crew section, the Infrequently Asked Questions, the contests, certain topics and forms, and the Index of Essentials, and others; each of these comes across in a fresh way. The pieces make you laugh, pause, read slowly, think, and return.

Jeanyna Garcia’s “Cooking à la Buber” relates cooking to Martin Buber’s idea of the I-Thou relation. “As weird as it may sound,” she writes, “if there isn’t a special attachment between you and the food, or if there isn’t diligence while you are preparing the food, then you might as well be cooking something inedible.”

In “The Story of Envy,” a dialogue that takes place over the years, Theo Frye Yanos (who has contributed to every issue of CONTRARIWISE) takes up tensions between parent and child, longing and limitation, consolation and truth. The piece begins, “Once there was a child. The child was named Envy, and all they wanted was to have a big, colorful house with lots of flowers.” Growing older, more mature (or immature?), and more stubborn, Envy longs to be understood rather than wished away.

Natalie Schmit’s “From Folly” not only made me roar but captured something of the texts in question. She wrote the piece for an assignment: students had to imagine a conversation between characters in writings they had read in philosophy class that year. The resulting epistolary exchange (between Desiderius Erasmus’s Folly and a character from Nikolai Gogol’s “The Nose”) includes this letter:

Dear Folly,

I asked you not to write to me again. But your thoughts are too serious to ignore. First, how dare you speak of my daughter like that!? She will have a proper marriage to a nice bureaucrat with a nose! I surely have no idea what this “joking” business is. I only have joked one singular time in my life. I do not have any more time for this nonsense. I have more important things to do. Additionally, I have come to suspect this may be sedition? I don’t know, but I want nothing to do with it!

Goodbye forever (for real this time),
Madam Alexandra Grigoryevna
P.S. Do NOT refer to me as Alex!

Speaking of Russian literature, another of my favorites is Melany Garcia’s essay “The Underground Man: Philosopher or Angry Middle-Aged Man?” She argues that Dostoevsky’s Underground Man is not a philosopher; unable to “move forward in understanding his opinions,” he “simply rants and rambles on about them.” That seems believable on the face–but what makes this piece stand out is its keenness. The author examines some of the passages where the Underground Man verges most closely on philosophy–and shows how he stops short or veers off.

I almost forgot! Another favorite is Mario Pereira’s “Logos at Thanatos,” where Aristotle enters a classroom in the Underworld and finds Socrates giving a lesson to a corpse. It begins:

Socrates: And so, only philosophers have the knowledge to divine the forms.

Corpse: Of course.

This reminds me of the old days of CONTRARIWISE, except that it’s different. Of course a corpse says “of course”–but no corpse has done so before, at least not here. There’s a verbal justice to it; the right thing gets said by the right character (to the right character–what do you say to Socrates but “of course”?) at the right time.

Speaking of justice, this year’s international contest, which involved imagining justice as a building, brought in a wealth of pieces. I have previously mentioned the winnersBarnabás Paksi, Hakan Urgancıoğlu, and Gábor Medvegy–but the editors chose to publish additional entries, and with good reason. They are fascinating and different from each other.

The journal takes immense work: planning the issue, announcing contests, inviting and collecting submissions (including art), reviewing them, choosing them, contacting the authors, editing the selected pieces, putting them in layout, designing the cover, proofreading, proofreading again, proofreading still again, sending everything off, waiting, receiving the copies, selling them, planning events, holding them, planning for the next year, and, in addition to all of this, sending out announcements, maintaining the website, updating the Facebook page, handling the finances, finding ways to sell more copies and raise money, updating the documentation, and, alongside everything, delving into topics and texts, thinking about the philosophical ideas themselves.  It “speaks volumes” (five, in fact!) that those now in charge of the journal have given it so much care and thought.

As I promised, I have covered just a fraction of the fifth issue. You can read the rest on your own; that’s better than reading about it! To all those involved in today’s event–which begins in about 20 minutes–I wish you a joyous occasion. Here are a few photos from CONTRARIWISE events of yore.

 

 

 

“Lights, lights, lights”

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The Shakespeare event took place yesterday: beautiful performances, a full house, a feeling of excitement and pride. I am still gathering my thoughts–and hope to gather some more photos and videos, since I was too focused on the performance to take very many, and most of the ones I did take were from the back of the room.

Just minutes before the performance, we faced a big technical problem: whoever had shut down the Technika Háza earlier in the day had also shut off all the lights. To turn the lights on, you need not only access to a special room but knowledge of its location. This, apparently, is a carefully guarded secret. At last one student–the one who had helped me ask the drama teacher for additional props–managed not only to get on the phone with someone who had the information, but to persuade this person to disclose the information to him. Ten minutes before our show, we had lights, and everything went gloriously from there. Fittingly, the last words of the performance were “Lights, lights, lights” (from Hamlet).

Congratulations and thanks to everyone–including the audience–who made this a gracious and moving occasion. I will say more later.

Speaking of events, this Sunday in New York City there will be a CONTRARIWISE celebration at Book Culture! If there were any way for me to attend, I would, but given that I teach on Monday, it’s too far away. It will be in my thoughts, and I will take part of that day to write and post a little review of the fifth issue.

Update: I added a video and two photos to this piece after posting it.

Birches and Books

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William Blake got something right in his ruminative “Auguries of Innocence“:

The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags
Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags
A Truth thats told with bad intent
Beats all the Lies you can invent
It is right it should be so
Man was made for Joy & Woe
And when this we rightly know<
Thro the World we safely go

What a strange and persistent poem; it seems like a long procession of lanterns. I think of it in light of the sad international news of the past few weeks, the joys in my life, the mixture of meanings everywhere.

Today many students were out of the classroom, attending a special event, so I took my eleventh-grade classes to the park, where we went in different directions, looked at something for five minutes, and then converged again to show each other what we had seen. In one session I found roses blooming upward; in another, a weeping birch in the wind.

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During this time, things have been coming along with the book, which now has a jacket design:

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To top it all off, or to lift it up from the foundation, the CONTRARIWISE copies arrived here in Szolnok today! A copy goes to each of the contest winners from my school, another one to the school, and one to me. CONTRARIWISE prevails. I will say more soon.

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Happy Volume 5, CONTRARIWISE!

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Last Thursday I received word that the fifth issue of CONTRARIWISE had just arrived at Columbia Secondary School! Soon we will receive copies here in Szolnok. At that point I will have more to say; for now, congratulations to the writers, editors, faculty advisor, and everyone who brought this about. The journal thrives.

As many readers know, Barnabás Paksi  (Varga Katalin Gimnázium, Szolnok, Hungary) won first place in this year’s CONTRARIWISE International Contest; Gábor Medvegy (also from Varga Katalin) shares the second place with Hakan Urgancıoğlu (Sainte Pulchérie Lisesi, Istanbul, Turkey). Their pieces appear in this issue.

There will be a CONTRARIWISE event at Book Culture (536 112th St., New York City) on Sunday, June 3, at 3 p.m. If you are in the vicinity, go! It’s an incomparable experience. Here are photos from the 2014, 2015, and 2016 events (at Word Up, Bowery Poetry, and Book Culture).

Springtime in the Mind

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When you’re surrounded with a language that you’re learning, there comes a “springtime” when it starts opening up all over the place–where everything around you starts to make sense in greenings and unfurlings. So  yesterday, at the store, when the grocer asked me “még valamit?” I didn’t just figure out his meaning from context, as I have done so many times; I understood the words themselves. (“Anything else?–or, more literally, “More something?”) This is happening not just once in a while, but all over the place, throughout the day; while I still understand less than half of what I hear (maybe a fifth to a fourth), the amount increases by the minute.

Spring is here in more ways than one. Over the past two days I have seen kids kayaking on the Zagyva (alongside a coach in a quiet motorboat).

Also, spring can lead to springs. One challenge in a new country is figuring out where to get specific things you need, such as nails, which I needed to mount my Chas. Fischer Spring Co. hat rack on the wall. But in springtime, you find yourself ambling around instead of just heading straight home; and so, biking this way and that, I found a little gardening store with hardware supplies. Delighted, I bought some nails. Here is the hat rack (with one of the springs showing).

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And Pesach is just two days away… I will get to celebrate it at Szim Salom in Budapest–such a happy and profound holiday, and such a great way to celebrate it here.

Speaking of the near future, the forthcoming issue of CONTRARIWISE will come forth in four weeks or so; according to inklings and industry rumors, it will be gorgeous. More about it when it appears.

But back to springtime in the mind–there are times when one finds oneself in intense mental activity, thinking about all kinds of things, working on big and small projects, and listening to music, literature, and everyday speech.  This is usually true for me, but lately especially so. I like this way of life, especially when I can also take off on the bike. But the mind needs its other seasons too; each one brings something that the others cannot.

I thought the phrase “the mind has its seasons” might be a cliché; but then I couldn’t remember hearing it before. Looking it up, I found few occurrences: one in an interesting passage in Sarah Ellis’s Temper and Temperament (1846). I won’t quote it here; the quote would need to be too long.

But why would such an expression not be a cliché? People think in terms of moods, it seems, but not mental seasons; there’s little acceptance of the idea that the mind might need something other than constant, untrammeled growth and productivity. The thoughts grow even when they do not–but growth is not the only good of life. If all we could do was grow, we would become impossible monsters–where even our little toe would crush our best-laid plans. No, the mind needs not only growth; it needs “that other fall we name the fall.” It needs, moreover, something beyond its needs.

 

Ellenkezőleg

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Life here in Szolnok gives me lots to ponder. For example, I pass by the word gépkölcsönző and ask myself, what could that mean? I look it up and find out that it means “tool rental shop”–a place to remember, as I might need a drill one day.

I learned today that a possible Hungarian word for “contrariwise” (congratulations again to the international contest winners!) is ellenkezőleg. This came from a visit to the bookstore, where I found and purchased a Hungarian translation of Through the Looking-Glass. This means a translation not only of “contrariwise,” but of “Jabberwocky“!

Nézsonra járt, nyalkás brigyók,
Turboltak, purrtak a zepén,
Nyamlongott mind a pirityók,
Bröftyent a mamsi plény….

I started reading and could not resist skipping ahead to Tweedledum and Tweedledee (Subidam és Subidu), the White Knight (a Fehér Huszár), and other favorite characters and parts. I look forward to reading it in and out of sequence.

I started writing an quasi-absurdist mini-play in faltering Hungarian (something to do when you don’t know much of the language), but haven’t gotten too far yet, since I have so much else to do. Here’s the opening dialogue. The characters’ names,  inspired by various travels, are Vasútállomás and Pályaudvar (Train Station and Railway Station).

Vasútállomás: Tovább?
Pályaudvar: Tovább.
Vasútállomás: Kártya van?
Pályaudvar: Van.
Vasútállomás: Egy ember azt mondta, hogy…
Pályaudvar: Mit?
Vasútállomás: Valami csengő. Nem tudok semmit.
Pályaudvar: Győződjön meg arról.

Vasútállomás: Természetesen. De nincs időm.
Pályaudvar: Vár a buszra?
Vasútállomás: A busz gyakran megáll itt. De ez nem bizonyít semmit.
Pályaudvar: Miért ne?
Vasútállomás: A bizonytalanság kissé boldoggá tesz.
Pályaudvar: A boldogság néha kissé boldoggá tesz.
Vasútállomás: Az igaz. Viszontlátásra!
Pályaudvar: Miért viszlát?
Vasútállomás: Nem tudok annyit magyarul folytatni ezen a ponton.
Pályaudvar: Ó, már értem. Viszontlátásra.
Vasútállomás: Úgy beszélsz, mint egy igazi pályaudvar.
Folytatjuk.

 

CONTRARIWISE Congratulations

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The CONTRARIWISE editors-in-chief have announced the results of the 2017–2018 international and national contests! The winning pieces will be published in the fifth issue of CONTRARIWISE, to be released this spring. Congratulations to all.

International Contest

First Place: Barnabás Paksi (Varga Katalin Gimnázium, Szolnok, Hungary), Bug in the System

Second Place (tied): Hakan Urgancıoğlu (Sainte Pulchérie Lisesi, Istanbul, Turkey), White on the Outside; and Gábor Medvegy (Varga Katalin Gimnázium, Szolnok, Hungary), My Journey in the Justice Institute

National Contest

First Place: Amogh Dimri (Columbia Secondary School, New York, United States), The Trial of Sibling Envy

The Millefoglie of Success

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Yesterday the fourth graduating class of Columbia Secondary School did what a graduating class is supposed to do: graduate. Heralded with cheers, a mini-orchestra, thoughtful speeches, and a gathering on the steps of the Low Library, the students passed from one stage of life to the next. Yet I sensed that many of them had already done this internally; while relieved to graduate, they had already entered college in their minds and plans. For others, the ceremony may have held some sadness; maybe they had no family there, or they knew they would miss their friends. Still others went into the ceremony with great pride. Most of them, I imagine, had layers and mixtures of these and other emotions.

Success is not understood simply; maybe it is like a millefoglie in motion, with the “thousand” layers sometimes coming together in elegant pastry, sometimes flying past each other, sometimes jumbling in a heap. Any given moment holds more possibilities than can be grasped. Even out on the steps, congratulating and saying goodbye to students, I felt and sensed changing mixtures of elation, pride, affection, melancholy, distance, memory, dignity, hilarity, impatience, restfulness, and more, inside and outside myself. Yet all together they made up something beautiful.

It is a CONTRARIWISE piece from two years ago that brings the millefoglie to mind: “Carpe Diem” by Andrea Sarro, Margherita Pelliconi, Giulia Dall’Olio, Maria Sole Venturi, and Giovanni Mastropasqua. They write that “the millefoglie for dessert is the future, because we have different paths to take as the different pastry layers.” I would add that within each of us there are many simultaneous paths, making for a complex pastry indeed, hard to imagine in time, even less on a plate.

Yesterday, to my great honor, I found that a Rabbi Howard Jacoby Ruben, head of the Jewish Community High School of the Bay, had referred to my article “The Cult of Success” in his moving summer sendoff piece “The Summer Ahead: Looking for Wonder,” which explores the nature of success and wonder through the examples of a mathematician (Grigori Perelman), two musicians (Joshua Bell and Chance the Rapper), and a rabbi (Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel). The piece is rich with references; at one point Rabbi Ruben paraphrases Pirkei Avot 4.1, which “urges us to identify wisdom in those who learn from everyone, wealth in those who appreciate their own unique portion, and honor in those who honor others.”

I found myself thinking about the Pirkei Avot passage long afterward. We often juxtapose external and internal success; external success, we realize, often distracts us from what matters. But the passage reminds me that it is we who define external success. We decide whom we will call wise, wealthy, and honorable; those definitions and designations affect those around us. “Societal views” are not just handed to us; we shape them through our thoughts, words, and actions.

As I remember members of this graduating class–whom I taught for two years, and for whom I wrote many college recommendations–I think of their kind and appreciative words for others, spoken many times over time. Seeing the good in others is no meager act or capacity; it influences everything. To see the good, you must also acknowledge that you do not see everything, that what you see and know literally is only a glimpse. The good, after all, comes in glimmers; the cynical dismiss it as illusion, but the courageous see through to its form.

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Images: I took the first photo yesterday (June 22) after the Columbia Secondary School graduation ceremony and the second photo on May 30 on Eurovelo 11.

Ateliers philosophiques et artistiques

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On the website of the Sainte Pulchérie Fransız Lisesi, there is a lovely article about my two weeks of teaching at the school. Besides describing my classes, it mentions some of the school events during my stay, some student honors and accomplishments (including publication in CONTRARIWISE), and more. My gratitude goes to everyone at the school–Dr. Nimet Küçük, M. Alexandre Abellan, students, teachers, and staff–and to everyone involved with CONTRARIWISE.

“And so it begins, again.”

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The above title quotes the “Five Word” (as opposed to last year’s “Four Word”) of the fourth issue of CONTRARIWISE. You can see all four issues side by side on the table. Today I went in to meet with the current and future editors-in-chief (two current, two future) and the faculty advisor–to discuss carrying CONTRARIWISE into the future. The new editors seemed eager to take on their new roles; the outgoing two, Kelly and Alan (who graduate in just over a week), regaled them with good advice.

It is not easy to give up the journal. I handed it over a year ago and stayed out of the production except when someone had a question for me or when I had a specific role to play (such as facilitating an Istanbul/NYC Skype conversation) or contributing to today’s meeting. All the same, I awaited the fourth issue eagerly and often opened up the earlier ones for browsing and reading. I remembered meetings, hours of editing and layout, deliberations, dilemmas, jokes, mishaps, sudden ideas, and uproarious yet serious celebrations.

But in giving it up, each person (the editors-in-chief or I) gave something to it. Others could now take charge of it and carry it onward, and the journal could strengthen its spine. No one left it abruptly; each person gave thought to its editorship and future. Those who took it over–editors and faculty advisor–did a terrific job. At this rate, there will be a fifth issue in 2018, a sixth issue in 2019, and onward, into the unknown. Or maybe the unknown will come first; who knows.

So as far as lettings-go go, this one went pretty well.