Books and History
Books and History
Someone, was it Doctor Johnson, who said people either write books or read books?
Interesting statement. I used to think it was off the mark, but I don’t think I do anymore. Why?
Because reading books by people with great talent in writing them are intimidating. Besides, one
is so busy soaking up what they have to say and have discovered through the strength of their
research, whether they did it themselves or managed it, leaves little time to write, especially
when their information is so concise and knowledgeable, and mine is so limited. But even more
than that, the reading is so overwhelmingly informative.
Had I pursued a career other than the one I pursued it would have been in history, and
ultimately philosophy, and I likely would have become a professor, and ultimately a historian, for
that is the path I trod when I had finished doing the other things I was doing. And had I done so I
would have learned what I have learned much earlier. But I would have missed something too.
What I would have missed was working with people, hands on; something that absorbs time and
diverts focus. Professors and writers of history usually don’t have that luxury, for the most part,
and I am thankful for the experience.
On the other hand all professors and writers of history are not equal, and I seriously doubt that
even with additional time to absorb I could have done what many who I read have done. There
are some that have such great talent, deep patience and insight that they make it come alive, and
I shall be eternally in their debt, because they make a serious reader understand, and to
understand is to know, at least as much as it is possible to really know anything.
Tracing my own reading experience, and I suspect it would have been the trajectory I followed
whenever I started it, it began with historical novels, progressed through generalized history and
has now devolved into the particular. I would say biographies, but the genre has changed so
much in the past half century. What may have once been a biography has expanded; one can not
write about an individual in history without discussing the time within which he lived and the
people with whom he interacted. Truly it has always been so, and the difference may only be on
the emphasis. Today the emphasis is equally upon both – together – seamlessly, and those with
the talent, patience and insight to carry it off are really remarkable, and we are deeply indebted to
them.
Or should be. Unfortunately the books they write are beyond most, not because most cannot
understand them, but because most either don’t bother to try or don’t slosh through the broader
background they must assume before they can concentrate on the finer details. So often I have
heard people say they hated history in school and wished they had availed themselves of it
sooner. So, those who have not so metamorphed might say, who cares? Why bother? What use
to understand all that ancient history? Or as some might say, about dead white men. I shall not
preach, but only say that to understand the present and the future one must know the past, for
the past is culture, what we are and why. If any reader does not understand that, nothing I could
say would make any difference.
All treatment of history has changed, however. That is not to disparage what has come before
but to glorify what has followed. Nor can that which has followed have followed were it not for
that which came before, because what came before was the foundation for that which has
followed – that and the incredible amount of new information that has been mined through
incredible hours of research. Ironically the impetus to additional research has come to a great
extent because of the academic need to pursue something new and unique. Disparagers may
point to the sex life of the tsetse fly, but in doing so they miss the point when it comes to history;
history comes alive when the detail brings home what happened beneath the grand events of
broad description of major events – when we are dragged into it and made to understand it – to
feel it, emotionally as well as intellectually.
And philosophy? History is what man has done; philosophy is why he did it – or didn’t do it. A
doctor of philosophy degree is the capstone of education because it puts what has been learned
into perspective. At least that is what it originally was. Today the amount of knowledge – in all
fields – is so massive there is yet another level, perhaps an intermediate level, but in technology
a capstone of its own – ironically referred to as piled higher and deeper, but actually similar in
that it delves to a level of either broader perspective or greater and greater detail, much of which
is so technical it is beyond the understanding of most of us.
History and its study – at least at the broader level – has changed. Perspective? Whereas it
was once what man did it is now more likely to be why he did it and what forces led him in that
direction, his motivation, his experience – his very upbringing, thus saying as much about the
culture in which he lived as the way he lived within that culture. So at that level where today is
the line between history and philosophy? Has it disappeared? In many cases it has, and when
done properly provides us with as close to personal experience to accompany the facts as is
humanly possible.
The possibilities are truly, truly awesome for those who will avail themselves of them. And
that brings us back to the comment that one either reads or writes books. At some point the
gatherer of facts becomes enamored with his (or her) own mastery of them, and allows
preconceived positions to block further assimilation. In fact all historians will be so affected; it is
the way of man. The best, however, continue to assimilate, and even allow themselves to be
influenced to the point of modifying their opinions. That is learning; that is education.
It is, however, becoming more and more rare for most of us. Our lives are too busy; our focus
is elsewhere; our inclination more limited, more selfish. After all, such works of scholarship are
not accompanied by the degree of monetary reward that are more exciting novels that appeal to
emotions rather than intellect – and are more readily adaptable to the visual arts of moving
pictures and television. So be it; we are infinitely blessed to have those among us who still follow
such magnificent academic pursuits. Could we only wish that more would avail themselves of
the knowledge so wonderfully provided.
Someone, was it Doctor Johnson, who said people either write books or read books?
Interesting statement. I used to think it was off the mark, but I don’t think I do anymore. Why?
Because reading books by people with great talent in writing them are intimidating. Besides, one
is so busy soaking up what they have to say and have discovered through the strength of their
research, whether they did it themselves or managed it, leaves little time to write, especially
when their information is so concise and knowledgeable, and mine is so limited. But even more
than that, the reading is so overwhelmingly informative.
Had I pursued a career other than the one I pursued it would have been in history, and
ultimately philosophy, and I likely would have become a professor, and ultimately a historian, for
that is the path I trod when I had finished doing the other things I was doing. And had I done so I
would have learned what I have learned much earlier. But I would have missed something too.
What I would have missed was working with people, hands on; something that absorbs time and
diverts focus. Professors and writers of history usually don’t have that luxury, for the most part,
and I am thankful for the experience.
On the other hand all professors and writers of history are not equal, and I seriously doubt that
even with additional time to absorb I could have done what many who I read have done. There
are some that have such great talent, deep patience and insight that they make it come alive, and
I shall be eternally in their debt, because they make a serious reader understand, and to
understand is to know, at least as much as it is possible to really know anything.
Tracing my own reading experience, and I suspect it would have been the trajectory I followed
whenever I started it, it began with historical novels, progressed through generalized history and
has now devolved into the particular. I would say biographies, but the genre has changed so
much in the past half century. What may have once been a biography has expanded; one can not
write about an individual in history without discussing the time within which he lived and the
people with whom he interacted. Truly it has always been so, and the difference may only be on
the emphasis. Today the emphasis is equally upon both – together – seamlessly, and those with
the talent, patience and insight to carry it off are really remarkable, and we are deeply indebted to
them.
Or should be. Unfortunately the books they write are beyond most, not because most cannot
understand them, but because most either don’t bother to try or don’t slosh through the broader
background they must assume before they can concentrate on the finer details. So often I have
heard people say they hated history in school and wished they had availed themselves of it
sooner. So, those who have not so metamorphed might say, who cares? Why bother? What use
to understand all that ancient history? Or as some might say, about dead white men. I shall not
preach, but only say that to understand the present and the future one must know the past, for
the past is culture, what we are and why. If any reader does not understand that, nothing I could
say would make any difference.
All treatment of history has changed, however. That is not to disparage what has come before
but to glorify what has followed. Nor can that which has followed have followed were it not for
that which came before, because what came before was the foundation for that which has
followed – that and the incredible amount of new information that has been mined through
incredible hours of research. Ironically the impetus to additional research has come to a great
extent because of the academic need to pursue something new and unique. Disparagers may
point to the sex life of the tsetse fly, but in doing so they miss the point when it comes to history;
history comes alive when the detail brings home what happened beneath the grand events of
broad description of major events – when we are dragged into it and made to understand it – to
feel it, emotionally as well as intellectually.
And philosophy? History is what man has done; philosophy is why he did it – or didn’t do it. A
doctor of philosophy degree is the capstone of education because it puts what has been learned
into perspective. At least that is what it originally was. Today the amount of knowledge – in all
fields – is so massive there is yet another level, perhaps an intermediate level, but in technology
a capstone of its own – ironically referred to as piled higher and deeper, but actually similar in
that it delves to a level of either broader perspective or greater and greater detail, much of which
is so technical it is beyond the understanding of most of us.
History and its study – at least at the broader level – has changed. Perspective? Whereas it
was once what man did it is now more likely to be why he did it and what forces led him in that
direction, his motivation, his experience – his very upbringing, thus saying as much about the
culture in which he lived as the way he lived within that culture. So at that level where today is
the line between history and philosophy? Has it disappeared? In many cases it has, and when
done properly provides us with as close to personal experience to accompany the facts as is
humanly possible.
The possibilities are truly, truly awesome for those who will avail themselves of them. And
that brings us back to the comment that one either reads or writes books. At some point the
gatherer of facts becomes enamored with his (or her) own mastery of them, and allows
preconceived positions to block further assimilation. In fact all historians will be so affected; it is
the way of man. The best, however, continue to assimilate, and even allow themselves to be
influenced to the point of modifying their opinions. That is learning; that is education.
It is, however, becoming more and more rare for most of us. Our lives are too busy; our focus
is elsewhere; our inclination more limited, more selfish. After all, such works of scholarship are
not accompanied by the degree of monetary reward that are more exciting novels that appeal to
emotions rather than intellect – and are more readily adaptable to the visual arts of moving
pictures and television. So be it; we are infinitely blessed to have those among us who still follow
such magnificent academic pursuits. Could we only wish that more would avail themselves of
the knowledge so wonderfully provided.