One does get furious with 'them' the supposedly educatated, a learned friend of mine complains to me that a Lecturer at his son's College
dismisses Blake as being 'quite mad'. I mean you want to go down there and bang his head against the wall, because of the lazy and frightening closure in such a statement. This kind of criticism was what might be called orthopedic shaping to disguise a club foot.
The young are usually good judges of the pedantry of their elders, what is called for a recognition that the lecturer speaks not with the voice of a single acknowledged authoritative reason, but as one committed to some particular partisan standpoint.
On Blake rather than lazy closure, 'he was clearly mad; what one wants is ‘limitless disagreement’
MacIntyre insists on the obligation to teach students ‘to read scrupulously and carefully in order to possess a text in a way which enables them to arrive at independent interpretative judgments, so that they can on occasion protect themselves against too facile an acceptance of – or indeed too facile a rejection of – their teachers’ interpretations’. Which they 'sometimes' display with all the glee of a child showing off a new toy. What we don't want from lecurers is a dismissive red pen scrawl of a close reading of a text by a student.
As if the student's opinion is anethema and a close reading is to be identified those who supposedly 'know 'as identifable to elelementary school or the police state. The sanctimonious sneers of the high priests and their pavloivan red pens should be curtailed.
But to return to my drive the fifth rung of Dante's hell.
I mean I defy anyone to go through Peckham (where Blake saw a vision of a host of angels in a tree) I drive through Peckham regulary it is a suburb of London and I defy anybody not to see visions, the area is so depressing, a dystopian future world of beer cans, rubbish and fast food outlets, and depressed tatooed people louning in doorways. Ok, I admit I am of the rentier class and they look to me like the san culottes of of the next uprising, As you drive through Peckham, you realise London is fucked well and truly by the politicians with their endess importation (good for the economy) of what some call 'slave labour': think Rome, its empire and its dependance on more and more slaves and its inevitable demise.
I am digressing, but it is my view that it is impossible to go through Peckham and not see visions.
More interestingly, Willaim Blake who saw a host of angels in a tree in Peckham
came from Clerkenwell in London which at the time was the centre of printing and as a child he was always screwing his eyes up to read typography - and this is a notorious area for visual disturbances.
As ever, all this stuff comes from somewhere and the somewhere for me at the moment is Mallarme and the Harvard critic Barbara Johnson
https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/The_Critical_Difference.html?id=0MSif1HaJYEC&redir_esc=y
email your thoughts:
dismisses Blake as being 'quite mad'. I mean you want to go down there and bang his head against the wall, because of the lazy and frightening closure in such a statement. This kind of criticism was what might be called orthopedic shaping to disguise a club foot.
The young are usually good judges of the pedantry of their elders, what is called for a recognition that the lecturer speaks not with the voice of a single acknowledged authoritative reason, but as one committed to some particular partisan standpoint.
On Blake rather than lazy closure, 'he was clearly mad; what one wants is ‘limitless disagreement’
MacIntyre insists on the obligation to teach students ‘to read scrupulously and carefully in order to possess a text in a way which enables them to arrive at independent interpretative judgments, so that they can on occasion protect themselves against too facile an acceptance of – or indeed too facile a rejection of – their teachers’ interpretations’. Which they 'sometimes' display with all the glee of a child showing off a new toy. What we don't want from lecurers is a dismissive red pen scrawl of a close reading of a text by a student.
As if the student's opinion is anethema and a close reading is to be identified those who supposedly 'know 'as identifable to elelementary school or the police state. The sanctimonious sneers of the high priests and their pavloivan red pens should be curtailed.
But to return to my drive the fifth rung of Dante's hell.
I mean I defy anyone to go through Peckham (where Blake saw a vision of a host of angels in a tree) I drive through Peckham regulary it is a suburb of London and I defy anybody not to see visions, the area is so depressing, a dystopian future world of beer cans, rubbish and fast food outlets, and depressed tatooed people louning in doorways. Ok, I admit I am of the rentier class and they look to me like the san culottes of of the next uprising, As you drive through Peckham, you realise London is fucked well and truly by the politicians with their endess importation (good for the economy) of what some call 'slave labour': think Rome, its empire and its dependance on more and more slaves and its inevitable demise.
I am digressing, but it is my view that it is impossible to go through Peckham and not see visions.
More interestingly, Willaim Blake who saw a host of angels in a tree in Peckham
came from Clerkenwell in London which at the time was the centre of printing and as a child he was always screwing his eyes up to read typography - and this is a notorious area for visual disturbances.
As ever, all this stuff comes from somewhere and the somewhere for me at the moment is Mallarme and the Harvard critic Barbara Johnson
https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/The_Critical_Difference.html?id=0MSif1HaJYEC&redir_esc=y
email your thoughts:
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