Podcasts about Middlemarch

Quando uma escritora que admiras escreve sobre o marido que também admiravas (Paul Auster), a conversa ganha outra profundidade. O seu novo livro de memórias, “Fantasmas”, fala sobre a história de amor de ambos, e muito mais. Queridos ouvintes, sejam bem‑vindos a este episódio em homenagem ao casal e aos livros que partilharam com o mundo.When a writer you admire writes about the husband you also admired (Paul Auster), the conversation gains a different depth. Her new memoir, Ghost Stories, revisits their love story, and much more. Dear listeners, welcome to this episode in honor of the couple and the books they shared with the world.Siri's books:The Blindfold (De Olhos Vendados);The Enchantment of Lily Dahl (Fantasias de Uma Mulher);What I Loved (Aquilo que Eu Amava);The Sorrows of an American (Elegia para um Americano);The Summer Without Men (Verão Sem Homens);The Blazing World (O Mundo Ardente);Memories of the Future (Recordações do Futuro);Ghost Stories (Fantasmas).Outros livros referidos (mentioned books):Paul Auster's:New York trilogy:City of Glass (Cidade de Vidro);Ghosts (Fantasmas);The Locked Room (O Quarto Fechado).Moon Palace;Brooklyn Follies (As Loucuras de Brooklyn);Oracle Night;4321;Winter Journal (Diário de Inverno);The Invention of Solitude (A Invenção da Solidão);Sunset Park;Oracle Night.The year of Magical Thinking (O Ano do Pensamento Mágico), Joan Didion;Middlemarch, George Eliot;To The Lighthouse, Virginia Woolf.O que ofereci (I gifted Siri with):This is a Love Story, Jessica Soffer.Os livros aqui:www.wook.pt

“To explain the lives of people living in this moment, to look at the historical forces that are shaping all of us, you have to look at business and technology. In our period, what is it that's shaping us? I would suggest it's the long fallout from the 2008 financial crisis and the technology revolution that's been happening in California.” — Alexander Starritt How to write a novel about our times? For Alexander Starritt, it means juxtaposing friendship and ambition alongside the grand historical forces of the age. Just as George Eliot did in Middlemarch. Whereas for Eliot, those forces were the 1832 Reform Acts and the industrial revolution, Starritt's forces are the 2008 financial crisis and the digital revolution. His novel, Drayton and Mackenzie, longlisted for the Financial Times Business Book of the Year, follows two ambitious Gen X'ers through the first two decades of the twenty-first century. The 2008 crash, Starritt says, ruined the lives of many of his generation. Rather than being in a Gramscian interregnum, our brave new 21st century world is already visible. But in contrast with many progressive critics of our neo-liberalism age, Starritt isn't apocalyptic about the future. Think of Drayton and Mackenzie as Middlemarch and McKinsey. Revolutions will come and go, but, for Alexander Starritt, friendship and ambition are unchanging. Five Takeaways •       The First Novel on the FT Business Book List in 15 Years: The Financial Times and Schroders Business Book of the Year longlist typically features books on China, AI, and tech giants. In 2025, for the first time in fifteen years, it included a novel. Starritt's reading of why: there's a gap. The literary and cultural worlds have become so estranged from the business world that very few writers are even attempting to write seriously about the forces that actually shape people's lives. That gap, he says, says as much about the cultural moment as any quality the book itself might have. •       George Eliot's Method: Historical Forces as the Engine of Fiction: When George Eliot wrote Middlemarch, the historical forces she was dramatising were the Reform Acts and the industrial revolution. Starritt's equivalent: the 2008 financial crisis and the California tech revolution. His method is Eliot's — use a closely observed relationship (in his case, a male friendship rather than a marriage) as the engine through which the reader experiences history. The friendship gives the historical canvas an emotional charge. The historical canvas gives the friendship its full weight. Neither works without the other. •       Male Friendship: The Most Important Relationship Nobody Writes About: We've all read too many books and seen too many films about romantic and sexual relationships. Starritt's observation: there is another type of relationship — friendship — that is incredibly important to almost all of us, and that gets almost no literary attention. Drayton and Mackenzie is his attempt to take it seriously. The friendship between James (straight-lined, disciplined, brilliant) and Roland (impulsive, self-sabotaging, charming) evolves from incomprehension to something described by the Financial Times as “unbreakable” — and the reviewer admitted that by the end, their vision wasn't the clearest. •       The Post-Liberal World Is Already Here: Everyone quotes Gramsci's interregnum — the old world is dying, the new one hasn't been born yet. Starritt's counter: the new world has already been born. You can see it everywhere across the Western world. British jobs for British workers. Reshoring manufacturing. Keeping out undesirable foreigners. There is, he notes, quite a lot of consensus about these things, even if the discourse around them is contested. The post-liberal world is already here. The question is not whether it will arrive but what we do with it. •       European Optimism: The Separation From America May Be for Europe's Own Good: Starritt's closing optimism, which he acknowledges may not be welcome news for American listeners: the painful separation from America that America is forcing upon Europe is probably, in the long run, for Europe's own good. Rather than relying on the White House, Europeans can take responsibility for themselves. David Runciman's idea: democracy needs to be renewed every generation. The external pressure of China, Russia, and an America that no longer wants to help may be the forcing function that produces that renewal. Maybe we can get some agency back. About the Guest Alexander Starritt is a Scottish novelist and entrepreneur. He was born in 1985 and is the author of Drayton and Mackenzie (Atlantic Monthly Press, June 2, 2026), We Germans (winner of the Dayton Literary Peace Prize), and The Beast (a 2017 Spectator book of the year). He was a founding team member of the policy platform Apolitical. He lives in London. References: •       Drayton and Mackenzie by Alexander Starritt (Atlantic Monthly Press, June 2, 2026). •       George Eliot, Middlemarch — Starritt's primary literary model, referenced explicitly. •       Adrian Wooldridge, “Bring Back the Big Business Novel,” Bloomberg — the piece referenced at the opening. •       David Runciman — referenced for his argument about democratic renewal. •       Michael Chabon, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay — the Financial Times comparison. About Keen On America Nobody asks more awkward questions than the Anglo-American writer and filmmaker Andrew Keen. In Keen On America, Andrew brings his pointed Transatlantic wit to making sense of the United States — hosting daily interviews about the history and future of this now venerable Republic. With nearly 2,900 episodes since the show launched on TechCrunch in 2010, Keen On America is the most prolific intellectual interview show in the history of podcasting. WebsiteSubstackYouTubeApple PodcastsSpotify Chapters: (00:31) - Introduction: the FT Business Book longlist and the first novel in 15 years (02:03) - The gap in culture: literary and business worlds estranged (02:50) - Adrian Wooldridge: bring back the big business no...

What do we mean by a “good book”? Some people choose a holiday read that demands time and attention. Others pick rip-roaring novels that require little thought. Our bookworms discuss whether art has to be improving to be praiseworthy, and give genre fiction some much-needed air time. This is a full list of the books mentioned in the show:“Pride and Prejudice” by Jane Austen“Red Rising” by Pierce BrownJack Reacher series by Lee Child“The Hunt for Red October” by Tom Clancy“Riders” and the other Rutshire chronicles by Jilly CooperDungeon Crawler Carl series by Matt Dinniman“Middlemarch” by George Eliot“Ulysses” by James Joyce“Wolf Hall” by Hilary Mantel“The Diamond Age” by Neal StephensonThe Murderbot series by Martha Wells “The Martian” by Andy Weir“American Wife” by Curtis SittenfeldGuests and host:Catherine Nixey, culture and Britain correspondentTom Standage, Economist deputy editorAlexandra Suich Bass, culture editorAlex Hern, AI writerRosie Blau, host of “The Intelligence”Topics covered: Fiction, romance, sci-fi, crime, thrillers, fantasy, romantasyJane Austen, Jilly Cooper, Curtis Sittenfeld, Lee ChildMatt Dinniman, Pierce Brown, Neal StephensonListen to what matters most, from global politics and business to science and technology—Subscribe to Economist Podcasts+For more information about how to access Economist Podcasts+, please visit our FAQs page or watch our video explaining how to link your account. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

What do we mean by a “good book”? Some people choose a holiday read that demands time and attention. Others pick rip-roaring novels that require little thought. Our bookworms discuss whether art has to be improving to be praiseworthy, and give genre fiction some much-needed air time. This is a full list of the books mentioned in the show:“Pride and Prejudice” by Jane Austen“Red Rising” by Pierce BrownJack Reacher series by Lee Child“The Hunt for Red October” by Tom Clancy“Riders” and the other Rutshire chronicles by Jilly CooperDungeon Crawler Carl series by Matt Dinniman“Middlemarch” by George Eliot“Ulysses” by James Joyce“Wolf Hall” by Hilary Mantel“The Diamond Age” by Neal StephensonThe Murderbot series by Martha Wells “The Martian” by Andy Weir“American Wife” by Curtis SittenfeldGuests and host:Catherine Nixey, culture and Britain correspondentTom Standage, Economist deputy editorAlexandra Suich Bass, culture editorAlex Hern, AI writerRosie Blau, host of “The Intelligence”Topics covered: Fiction, romance, sci-fi, crime, thrillers, fantasy, romantasyJane Austen, Jilly Cooper, Curtis Sittenfeld, Lee ChildMatt Dinniman, Pierce Brown, Neal StephensonListen to what matters most, from global politics and business to science and technology—Subscribe to Economist Podcasts+For more information about how to access Economist Podcasts+, please visit our FAQs page or watch our video explaining how to link your account. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

A large poll carried out by the Guardian has resulted in ‘Middlemarch' being voted the greatest novel ever published in the English language. But, why is it so influential, and how do you go about reading a book that is almost 1,000 pages long?Joining Seán to discuss is novelist Edel Coffey, whose latest novel is entitled ‘In Glass Houses'...

A large poll carried out by the Guardian has resulted in ‘Middlemarch' being voted the greatest novel ever published in the English language. But, why is it so influential, and how do you go about reading a book that is almost 1,000 pages long?Joining Seán to discuss is novelist Edel Coffey, whose latest novel is entitled ‘In Glass Houses'...

My colleague Oliver Traldi recently published an essay called ‘Jane Austen's Virtuous Liberalism'. It's a very nice discussion of the ways in which Austen understand the challenges of character formation.Virtue, as Austen sees it, faces two tough challenges. First, people whose characters are not yet formed must see how to be virtuous rather than vicious. Then, the virtuous must somehow find a way to succeed in their struggles against the vicious without adopting vicious means.In this episode, Oliver and I discussed Austen's ideas of virtue, what that has to do with liberalism, the relationship between philosophy and literature more broadly, as well as poetry and ideas about the Great Books. We also talked about the Keira Knightly Pride and Prejudice. Yes, we both liked it. Here is why Oliver thinks Jane Austen is so popular among philosophers.TRALDI: And so I do think that even though she's not making arguments, she's not laying out philosophical theories, there is a level of precision in her thinking about virtue, which I do think is something that it took me a little aback.And I think it's part of why—one person who quote-tweeted my article was Daniel Kodsi, who's a friend of our colleague John Maier and his coauthor often. And he runs this magazine called The Philosophers' Magazine, which I had written before. And Daniel quote-tweeted my article with something like, “Add Oliver to the list of all the philosophers who love Austen.”OLIVER: And it's a long list.TRALDI: And I think it's a long list. And I do think this precision is part of it that she does, that it is—again, it's not like a philosophy journal article, but it is an intellectual sophistication that is often not present in novelists that we really appreciate.And here is an extract about Austen, Smith, and the wonderfully fertile period at the end of the eighteen century.TRALDI: But yes, I think it's obvious—without knowing the background, I'm sure there are scholarly questions about, how much Smith did Austen read? And they're both 250th—a lot was happening in 1775 and 1776.OLIVER: Those were great years. Those were the good old days.TRALDI: They were great years. In the great books syllabus, you get to the end of the 1700s and suddenly there's this—you have Smith, you have Kant, you have the American Revolution, you have the French Revolution, you have Burke. Rousseau is right before, Montesquieu is right before. I mean, it was a real—OLIVER: It's a great time.TRALDI: It was a great time. A lot was being done. And obviously, you know, I love the 1800s. I love the Romantics. But you could teach a whole great books course from 1750 to 1800, probably.OLIVER: You've also got all the dictionaries and all that kind of work going on as well. It's a very, very fertile—explorations.TRALDI: Yes, yes. There's all sorts of—yes, it was an amazing time.OLIVER: So did you, having read these two, Austen and Smith, close together—TRALDI: Yes, and I should say that my reading of Austen was much more careful than my reading of Smith.OLIVER: Sure, but you wrote this before you read Smith.TRALDI: Yes, absolutely.OLIVER: Or at least you fully conceived it. Do you see a lot of Smith in Austen?TRALDI: “A lot” might be—This was my favourite bit.TRALDI: Yes. But this is one of the great—I know we talked about this, but it's one of the great—you see this in Smith, you see this in Austen—commerce has its own virtues, and they are very traditional virtues. You have to be trustworthy. You have to be pleasant. You can't really be wholly self-interested in every moment because people have to be willing to deal with you given your—I mean, think about Yelp reviews or even just word of mouth. “Oh, that person screwed me over.”OLIVER: There's a discussion in one of Hayek's papers, which is—it's a very Smithian point he makes about, the nature of the knowledge problem means that it's not so much that I'm trying to get information about the thing you're trying to sell me, but I'm really trying to get information about you and whether you are someone I should be buying from. Which is exactly the project that the novelists and Smith—there's a sort of period between Smith and the early novelists, running through Austen to George Eliot, when they're all working on that problem together.TRALDI: Yes. I do think in Austen, it's often—the real puzzle is, how do you make out somebody else's character?OLIVER: Exactly.TRALDI: This is a phrase that Lizzy Bennet does use with regard to Darcy. And how do we actually figure out who the trustworthy and untrustworthy people are?OLIVER: And if you're too philosophical about that, in the sort of analytic sense, I think you can end up not paying enough attention to the particulars of that question.TRALDI: Yes.OLIVER: Because when you actually try and do it, it's really, really hard.TRALDI: Yes. And I think this is the sort of—reading Austen, you get a sense of—and there are very few philosophy papers on things like this. Reading Austen, you get a sense of, what sorts of details in a normal life are the ones that I can extract information from to make out somebody else's character?Oliver is an analytical, political philosopher. You can find out more about his work here. Here he is on Twitter. His Substack is orting. You can watch the episode on YouTube here.TranscriptHENRY OLIVER: Today I am talking to Oliver Traldi. Oliver is an assistant professor of philosophy at the University of Toledo in Ohio. He is my colleague on the Emerging Scholars Program at the Mercatus Center, and he's written a book about political beliefs as well as many other articles for magazines, online.He's got a Substack. He's maybe the most prominent political and epistemological young philosopher of his generation. [laughter] But most importantly for us, he is interested in Jane Austen and the idea of virtue. Oliver, welcome.OLIVER TRALDI: Thank you so much for having me.Reading Austen as a PhilosopherOLIVER: Let's just start—before we get to this article you've written, tell me about being a philosopher but reading Jane Austen, because she's often read and commented on by people who are not philosophers or who are only philosophers by acquaintance or whatever.TRALDI: Right.OLIVER: Is it different reading as a philosopher, do you think?TRALDI: I think yes and no. One thing as a philosopher, there are—contemporary philosophy, we have very exacting standards of rigor and clarity. And when we look for a theory, we want something that's been improved by hundreds of people and thousands of journal articles.And so, if you were to simply extract a theory of virtue from a novel and say, “Does this—is this the end-all, be-all of moral thinking?” obviously you're going to be disappointed. So I think as a philosopher, you have to look for other types of things, other types of sensitivities rather than logical sensitivity.You have to say, how sensitive is the author to the different types of situations where people's virtue can be exhibited or challenged? Or how sensitive is the author to the different types of pressures that a character's convictions can be put under, or the different sorts of compromises that they might have to make, or the different sorts of people who might not be virtuous who they might have to interact with and sort of, you know, contract with or avoid? And what are going to be the impacts of different kinds of choices in those situations?So the novelists, I think, tend—if they do it well, a novelist who's interested in morality will understand living morally probably better than a philosopher, while maybe not understanding, say, arguments about whether morality supervenes on reality or vice versa, or what grounds morality, or different theories of meta-ethics or whatever.OLIVER: I mean, there are obviously some novelists who do have a better appreciation of those things than others, we should say.TRALDI: Yes, I think that's absolutely true. And as I wrote in my article, I do think Austen in particular had an appreciation for this issue that you might call moral disarming or unilateral disarming. You know, does the moral person put themselves at a disadvantage relative to the immoral person? And then how do we actually help—how does morality survive?So that's a kind of philosophical question, but I tend to think—I taught last year—I think we've talked about this a bit. I taught in a great books program at Tulsa.OLIVER: This is the Jennifer Frey program.TRALDI: This is the ill-fated Jennifer Frey program. Jennifer—I don't know if you've met her, but she's an incredibly charismatic person. But somehow the program, despite being enormously successful, did not survive. You know, I was there for a year, and they decided that was long enough.OLIVER: [laughs] You don't think your arrival was the—TRALDI: No, no. I hope not. I most certainly hope not.OLIVER: No. General problems of higher education prevailed. Yes.TRALDI: Yes, many, many problems of higher education these days. But yes, so I think—what was I saying?OLIVER: Well, I think we're getting to this question of, you are not just a philosopher; you teach the great books.TRALDI: Right, exactly. The great books. That's where I was. Yes.Philosophy and the Great BooksOLIVER: So, one thing I'm interested in is that, you know, reading as a philosopher, you get a slightly different perspective on Austen. When you read other fiction, poetry, whatever, is there a benefit to you as a philosopher? Does it broaden you in some way?TRALDI: Yes. I think absolutely, it's broadening, but it's also focusing in a different way. You know, contemporary philosophy is often described or captured with the word epicycles. So what we mean when we say epicycles is, you have some major theory, which is supposed to answer some big question. And then your career as a philosopher—you're like three layers deep in the theory, in some sub-debate, and you're making some really fine-grained distinctions.And if you can make those distinctions successfully, you've had a really great career. But I think it's easy to forget, why are we doing—you know, what attracted us to philosophy? Why are we doing this to begin with?And the great novels, great books in general—one example I always use is the Book of Job. It doesn't really—it's not doing clear philosophy on the question of why do bad things happen to good people. But when you read it, you feel the question, why do bad things happen to good people? You get it, you know? You get why this is a question that people have worried about for thousands of years. You get why it calls out for an answer.You know, there's a lot of truth out there. I'm looking at a set of coat hangers, and I could count the coat hangers. But if you were given the decision, would I rather have an answer to how many coat hangers are across the room from me, or why do bad things happen to good people? You'd probably go with the latter one. There's somehow some kind of depth or importance to that question, right?And I think there's—a great novelist can often generate some vividity to these questions. They can show how these questions are part of a good life, asking these questions, trying to have these questions answered—or a not-so-good life.Certainly in Austen there are a lot of characters who learn to be more virtuous. Probably Emma is the clearest example. But you might also think of Marianne Dashwood. Really—OLIVER: Lizzy Bennet.TRALDI: Lizzy Bennet really learns to be a better person. I actually think her character is rather close to Emma in a lot of ways.OLIVER: Yes, I think Emma's sort of a clear rewrite of Lizzy in some—yes, yes.TRALDI: Yes, and in some ways more evocative, actually. Yes. I mean, we can talk about all these books. But yes, I think there's these things, even—obviously qua literature, they have other virtues, right? Which much philosophy doesn't have; very little philosophy has the literary virtues.But the philosophical virtue that a lot of literature does have is you see, okay, these are the—this is what a life is like. This is what making choices is like. These are the big questions when you decide how to live your life and what kinds of choices to make.And I think Austen—these questions are all through Austen, even though nobody has to murder anybody in Austen. Nobody has to make decisions about war and peace or about, you know, civilizational decline or civilizational progress or anything like that. These people making these small choices in a lot of ways. But those are the lives that most of us lead. And when you read Austen, you think, “Oh, okay, there's a virtuous and a vicious way to lead this kind of rather normal life.”The Good LifeOLIVER: The question of what is a good life, or what is a good life in a commercial society, maybe, is the sort of bedrock of what she's doing.TRALDI: Yes, I think so. And that's why I think Austen—you know, Austen wasn't on our syllabus at Tulsa, but she was certainly discussed. And the “what is a good life” question—to me, it's the big question that a great books program for college students should always come back to.If I didn't know what else to talk about, I would just say, “Well, we just read this book.” You know, we read these old biographies of Charlemagne from, like, Einhard—Notker the Stammerer and Einhard, his adopted son or whatever. I don't remember. But this is like 800s. I'm sure you know more about this stuff than I do.And I wasn't quite sure what to do with them because what do I know about Charlemagne? So I just said, “Does it seem like Charlemagne lived a good life?” And you know, you're off to the races. And I think that's important at that age, because that's the age at which—OLIVER: For the undergraduates?TRALDI: Yes. I think that's the age at which you're starting to make your own big decisions about what sort of life to lead. And I think for me, looking back to myself at that age, I think one thing I did wrong—at Tulsa I was in some ways as much a student as a teacher. I was rereading a lot of this stuff for the first time in decades. And some of it I was reading for the first time. As I told you, I was reading a lot of Austen for the first time for this essay.OLIVER: Right, right.TRALDI: And yes, it was stuff that I had thought about at a theoretical level, you know, like what are the ins and outs of this theory or this philosophical move or something like that. But you feel the question a bit differently when you're like, “Okay, I'm an adult. I have to decide whether to live in this way or that way.”The world is open to you. You could convert to Thomism [laughter] like so many have tried to have me do, or you could become a merchant after reading The Wealth of Nations. Or you could become a revolutionary after reading Marx, or you could become a Nietzschean. You know, there are all these choices open to you.OLIVER: Please don't become a Nietzchean.TRALDI: No, no. That is, I'm a—OLIVER: Keep your children out of school if that's going to be the result. [laughs]TRALDI: Yes. I'm a committed moralist, so I cannot, but he is—he made a comeback, that's for sure.Philosophy and PoetryOLIVER: Now, there's this obviously sort of long-running question in philosophy about, what is the relationship between philosophy and poetry? Are they antagonists, or are they in some way, you know, twins, and each provides one half of what is needed for a complete way of understanding the world? Do you have a position on this?TRALDI: Yes, I mean, I think they're what the kids call twinning.OLIVER: Twinning? [laughs]TRALDI: I think they're twinning. No, no, I think that means something different. I think that means when you're wearing the same outfit or something like that.OLIVER: So we're almost twinning with our stripes—yes, I see.TRALDI: We're almost. We actually—we are stripes and blue. Yes, we're closer than I would've expected.I would say closer to twins. There are a lot of claims that philosophy is at odds somehow with this or that. There's also this—certain people will say, “Well, ever since Socrates, philosophy has been at odds with politics.” And a big part of philosophy is, how do you survive? Well, I don't know. Nobody's trying to kill me. I think of myself as a decently committed philosopher.OLIVER: It seems to me this changed fundamentally in the Enlightenment and with the Romantics, and they see it all much more joined up. It's a sort of ancient-and-modern dynamic.TRALDI: Yes, there may be an ancient-and-modern distinction there. But yes, for me I don't see any kind of contradiction. Now, there are—and I think this comes out of what I said before—philosophical attempts to understand poetry. And certain kinds of literary and aesthetic devices do sometimes fall a little flat.The philosophical literature on metaphor, for instance—I think some theories of metaphor really don't get why people use metaphors. [laughter] So one of the most important theories of metaphor is that they're all just false, that it's like everybody who uses a metaphor is lying. This isn't the full theory. There are bells and whistles added.OLIVER: Sure, sure.TRALDI: But yes, so I think there's no contradiction. But at the same time, they are different modes in some ways, and people who do the one are often trying to do something different than the other.I do think that the desire for rigor and precision and clarity that philosophers have can be a little maddening to nonphilosophers, who see the pull of philosophical questions like, “What sort of life I should lead?” and then see, what do philosophers actually do?And we're doing all this modal logic and all these truth tables and all this very technical stuff that looks like math. And they say, “That can't possibly be the right way to think about how to live.” And it's true that there are these studies of—that suggest ethicists aren't actually very good people and things like that, although you have to wonder what is the background ethical theory that went into evaluating them.So yes, I don't think there's really a contradiction between philosophy and anything else. But certainly, there was a point in my life where I always come back to trying to write poetry and do poorly and then stop. But it was always something where I would say, “Okay, if I'm doing philosophy in the afternoon, I better wait till the evening to write poetry.” You have to sort of reboot and get into a different mode.OLIVER: Iris Murdoch used to write philosophy in the morning and novels in the afternoon. That kind of thing.TRALDI: Yes, I think that's very sensible.OLIVER: And she was upstairs for the one and downstairs for the other.TRALDI: Yes. That's even better, you know?Favorite PoetsOLIVER: Which poets do you like?TRALDI: Geez, I guess for an American, I like Wallace Stevens. I wasn't expecting this question. For a Brit, you know, I actually like Philip Larkin a lot.OLIVER: Oh, yes?TRALDI: I know—what is the opinion of Larkin? Is he considered—OLIVER: Very high.TRALDI: Very high? Okay.OLIVER: Some—there are some dissenters, but basically he's the guy.TRALDI: He's the guy, okay. Yes.OLIVER: Twentieth-century English poetry is like Auden, Larkin, Betjeman.TRALDI: Yes, Auden is—actually, my friend Jane Cooper just wrote something about Auden.OLIVER: Yes, Jane is excellent.TRALDI: Yes, Jane is really great.OLIVER: That was in the New Statesman if you want to look it up.TRALDI: That was in the New Statesman. Yes, yes, yes. But Auden, I don't know quite as well.I mean, poetry is—I think it's interesting the way that we receive poetry now. I think you were talking about this a few days ago, about things like poems appearing as inspirational quotes on social media or something like that, and whoever is the most quotable. And you felt like maybe Dostoevsky is very quotable.OLIVER: Dostoevsky has a sort of screenshot quality.TRALDI: Yes, yes.OLIVER: As does Martin Amis.TRALDI: Yes. So I—OLIVER: Whereas Philip Larkin in a funny way—you know, he has very short poems. You can get the whole poem on Twitter. Like, Robert Frost has that. But something like “The Whitsun Weddings,” it's quite hard to just take three lines out. The whole thing works as a—and that, so that poem gets less—TRALDI: Yes. Which is what you would expect from a good poem, really, that it would form a kind of whole.OLIVER: Exactly. If it's a three-page ode, it should have a continuous quality.TRALDI: Yes, it should have a kind of internal structure. Yes.OLIVER: There are some one-line things and—but I think it's notable that a poet like Wordsworth doesn't seem to get a lot of social media play. And I think probably that's one reason.TRALDI: So yes, I think Larkin is somebody who, I did see some shorter references to him, and I thought I'd better just go and look up a ton of poems by this guy. And Stevens was the same way.Death and Philip LarkinOLIVER: So, which Larkin do you like?TRALDI: You're really putting me on the spot here. [laughter] It has been a little while.OLIVER: I lied to you and said it would be about Jane Austen.TRALDI: Yes, now I'm completely screwed. Well, he has a bunch about death. He has one where death is a ship following you. And he has one where death is, like, a fruit that gets picked or something.OLIVER: Apple?TRALDI: Might be an apple.OLIVER: He decides not to throw the apple.TRALDI: There's one with sweetbreads in it. And now I'm really—OLIVER: The ship one, “Next, Please”—that's excellent.TRALDI: Yes.OLIVER: He sees the—it's like hearing the music coming, and then the ship.TRALDI: I forgot that that was the title. I forgot that that was the title.OLIVER: And then as the ship goes past, it leaves nothing in its wake. It's very sort of—very gloomy.TRALDI: It's very gloomy, yes. I think I read Larkin in a gloomy phase; it was like Larkin and Radiohead or something.OLIVER: But he's a good example of what you were saying before, that he won't think propositionally. He's logical in the sense that he's sort of orderly, and he goes from one thing to the next. But he's not being a philosopher.TRALDI: No, of course. Yes.OLIVER: But he's very preoccupied with the sorts of questions that philosophers are probing, but has a sort of very meaningful treatment of them.TRALDI: Yes.OLIVER: And I think in a way, the sharp response that you want from the reader in those questions, Larkin is better at provoking than someone like Bertrand Russell or some other contemporary of his.TRALDI: Yes, yes.OLIVER: Bertrand Russell's a bit earlier, but you know what I mean.TRALDI: No, I think that's exactly right. And I think that is why I'm a fan of the great books pedagogically and not—I don't know if Larkin will be called a great, you know, like, who knows? I don't really understand that designation, but tings like poetry and novels.OLIVER: The biggest dissenter was Harold Bloom, who said Philip Larkin's just a period piece. And he doesn't understand why everyone likes him.TRALDI: Oh, yes, well, I'm not on board with everything. Oh, I've also been—OLIVER: No, you're not very Bloomian.TRALDI: I'm not very Bloomian, I don't think.OLIVER: Either Allan or Harold.TRALDI: Yes. Well, I actually—this is very embarrassing, but I've actually never read The Closing of the American Mind, which I know is—OLIVER: But why should you? I'm not sure it's retained its—TRALDI: Well, it's certainly been received into my circle. But it is like a classic of anti-ideological—OLIVER: Sure. Have you read Adler, How to Read a Book, that kind of great books stuff?TRALDI: No. There's so many things that I haven't read. I mean, I'm just learning how to read. I learned how to read in Tulsa last year, [laughter] in Oklahoma, which is not where most people would go to learn how to read.Jane Austen and the Problem of MoralityOLIVER: So let's move to Jane Austen. Your thesis basically is, many moral theories face this problem that if I believe XYZ theory and you don't believe it, you can get the advantage of me. Because I'll always stick to my principles and you can just be a bad guy.TRALDI: Yes.OLIVER: So is morality screwed? This is what people say about liberalism. This is what you're arguing. And you think Jane Austen's got an answer to that?TRALDI: Yes, I think she has a kind of answer. And again, one decision I had to make while writing the essay was, am I going to go super—this is a completely philosophically rigorous and respectable answer? Or am I just going to kind of sketch it?OLIVER: Slum it in literary criticism? [laughter]TRALDI: Yes, I wouldn't put it quite that way, but—and I think I went for the latter, where I just wanted to kind of evoke the answer. And I think the answer has something to do with living in a large enough society where—and Austen I think is not the only person to give this answer. But you live in a large enough society where, when people see you acting well and somebody else acting poorly, the disadvantage that you have in that one interaction is outweighed by the advantages you have from the society that you gain from being seen to act well by many others.So one thing I didn't mention here, but a connection I made when I was first coming up with this idea, is that it's actually a lot like what Martin Luther King Jr. says about civil disobedience. So he says, you might think, if you're out there and the police are coming at you with bats, or the white supremacists are coming at you with bats or whatever, weapons or whatever, you might think, “I'm on the losing end of this interaction.”But actually what will happen is that this interaction will be seen by many others. And you, by keeping your calm, will be seen to be the virtuous one, and they, by being violent, will be seen to be the vicious ones. And this can only help your political cause. I'm probably abstracting some of the details of King's presentation.OLIVER: In a vulgar sense, this is the sort of “be the change you want to see” approach.TRALDI: Yes, but also, be the change you want other people to see. You know? Because that's how it gets saved from—and again, one of the ways in which this is not quite philosophically rigorous is because the philosopher can say, “Well, what about an example where nobody's going to see it? Or what about an example where the situation is set up that in doing the right thing, you're perceived to have done the wrong thing?” And you get back into tough problems. And that's why we have philosophy. You know, there's always going to be these puzzles.OLIVER: But we don't get the—I think this is what the novelists are helpful for. We don't get to set the conditions in our lives. You know, when you're doing a philosophical problem, you can just say, “Well, these are the conditions. What happens then?” And what Jane Austen is so good at is saying, “I'm going to take her and drop her in this house, and that's life. And she's just going to—she won't even know what the conditions are for a long time.” That's the novelist's preoccupation.TRALDI: Yes. Yes. It's interesting what you said about not even knowing what the conditions are. It's one thing I love, which is there in, I think, a lot of Austen—and it's done by a lot of my favorite novelists. I think Kazuo Ishiguro is really good at this. It's just novels where you see the characters' growing awareness of their circumstances and—OLIVER: Like in Klara and the Sun or something.TRALDI: Yes, or I think certainly in Never Let Me Go and in Remains of the Day, a lot of the action is in a situation where you understand what's going on better than the characters do.Clues and GamesTRALDI: And I think we talked about this the other day. In Austen, Emma, for example, is this sort of, like, halfway detective where she sees a lot of clues that could help her understand the nature of the life she's leading and the circumstances she's in, but she always misinterprets the clues. But on the other hand, it's not like she misses them entirely. She's kind of on the right track, and at least she's trying.OLIVER: And what I think Austen does so well in that book—I think it's her most important book—is that by putting us, without quite realizing it, with Emma's blinkers on, as it were, and only allowing our perspective to be her perspective, she makes us the detective.But whereas in a detective novel, you know, there's a funny little man and he is a detective, and he says, “Oh, there's a clue in this novel,” the read of—on the first read very often goes straight past what they must later realize to be a clue. And that is such a normal condition of life, that, “Oh, actually, that was one of the conditions, but you couldn't have known it. Sorry.” And you can only work it out in retrospect.TRALDI: Yes. In modern love, these are sometimes called red flags. [laughter] I think it's not quite a precise analogy, but yes, I think it's right. And I certainly—I had read Emma years ago and didn't really notice. As you say, on my first read, I didn't really notice, even having watched—I think it was the, what is it, the Kate Beckinsale version maybe, from ITV in like 1996 or something.It was really in reading it for this essay that I noticed that this feature that, starting on page 30 or 40 or so, there's a—and they're often in games. The clues are often in games. So very early on, Elton is playing some sort of poem game with Emma.OLIVER: The riddles, yes.TRALDI: The riddle game. And you know, Emma already misinterprets his riddles as being about Harriet rather than about her. But then there's also—the riddles also have some relation to things that happen much later.OLIVER: Then there's the anagram game at the end.TRALDI: There's the anagram game at the end. Yes, it's the—and I don't think there are many games like that in any of the other Austen.OLIVER: People play games, but we're not taken into them and have them narrated in that way.TRALDI: And they're not word games in general. There's card games and things like that. And you know, in Pride and Prejudice, Wickham has all these gambling debts and things like that.OLIVER: Yes.TRALDI: You know, in—I don't know if you know Whit Stillman, but for the same magazine a couple years ago I wrote about Whit Stillman, who's a sort of conservative filmmaker who's a huge Austen fan and brings in Austenian themes to a lot of his movies, but writes them about characters in the 1960s and '70s. And one of them was called The Last Days of Disco, for example, about—and some of the broader social themes he talks about are also there in Austen.So one thing that was just on the edges of my consciousness as I read through the novels for this essay was the question of the noble man versus the working man, which I think is very present in Austen and has something to do with her conception of virtue: that the virtuous person will be engaging in commerce in some way.OLIVER: Those moments of the noble and the virtuous man or whatever often take place in a shop, like the drapier in Emma or the jewelry shop in Sense and Sensibility.TRALDI: That's interesting. That's interesting.OLIVER: She's very careful to take us into a commercial situation and contrast.TRALDI: See, that is the sort of detail that I think a philosopher—I think we—the mere—the vibe of, “You're in a shop, and this means something.” I think this is something philosophers are—we can watch for the action; we can judge the characters' actions. But then there are these questions of atmosphere and milieu. And certain things happen in a shop; certain things happen at the seaside. In Persuasion there's an injury by the seaside.OLIVER: Yes. That's one of the most exciting scenes in Austen. Very dramatic.TRALDI: Yes, yes. I think actually Persuasion in some ways is quite different than her other books. It has a sort of—you know, in some ways it feels a little more like Frankenstein or Wuthering Heights at points. There's a little bit of a windblown, dark quality to it at times. It's a little bit bleaker. It's a little hard to explain why, but that's just a feeling that I had reading it that maybe had changed with some of the other literary tastes of the time.Artlessness in Austen's HeroinesOLIVER: Now, the quality that you focus on in the heroines, in this question of virtue defending itself against bad actors who break the rules, is artlessness.TRALDI: Yes. So this is a term Austen uses quite a bit, and almost always, she very much picks and chooses the characters who are going to receive this term. And I thought that this is like—it's not only her artless characters who face this question about how can morality survive, or how can virtue prevail, but I think they're the limit point.Like, if you really are unwilling to use—and I mentioned in the essay, when Darcy describes—I forget what; maybe it's him describing how he found Lydia and Wickham, or it's something to do with Wickham—he said, “I had to resort to arts.” So it must be, the “arts” back then means—one of the meanings of the term is dishonesty or subterfuge or something.OLIVER: Yes, if someone was artful, it could have—TRALDI: Yes, like the Artful Dodger.OLIVER: Exactly. Could have negative connotations for sure.TRALDI: Yes. And so the artless one, you know, they're missing something.So it's the question of, if you view—morality in a way means you're missing something, right? You've taken arts out of your arsenal. You've taken tools that could deal with certain situations, and you've just decided not to use them. So the question is, how can it be an advantage to have less tools?You know, we're here at Mercatus; the economists would tell you it's never advantageous to have fewer choices, right? There's no paradox of choice. It's never advantageous to have fewer choices. And so I think this is the—if morality is a kind of unilateral disarmament, artlessness is the clearest case of that.OLIVER: And you're seeing that in Fanny Price, Elinor—TRALDI: You see that in Fanny Price. You see that in Elinor. Harriet Smith is described as artless over and over again. And then there are these other characters who are described as artful, or other things that are mentioned as arts.I think Harriet, in a lot of ways, is the one who's most often described this way. And it's interesting because you think of Emma changing a lot in Emma, but Knightley actually shifts in his evaluation of Harriet, who he thought of as sort of an unserious person. And Knightley himself comes to recognize her artlessness as a kind of seriousness which makes her a good match, not ultimately for him, but for his dude, Robert.OLIVER: The farmer.TRALDI: The farmer, yes.OLIVER: He doesn't change his view of her social position, though.TRALDI: No, certainly not. But he does change his view of her character, basically. You know, her artlessness is not silliness. It has a sort of depth to it.And yes, certainly Fanny. In the Whit Stillman movie Metropolitan that's part of what set me on this, there's this whole discussion of the book Mansfield Park and this old Lionel Trilling essay about it where he says, how is it—there's this question about how modern people can even like Mansfield Park because we've sort of lost the notion of virtue being exciting or something.One of the most provocative lines to me in Austen was in Sense and Sensibility where it says that Elinor glories in Edward's integrity, which is an odd thing to glory in. You don't glory—nobody is on Instagram showing off their integrity, you know?OLIVER: It's like that René Gerard quote people like to pass around: “Everyone is on diet pills and nobody wants to be a saint.”TRALDI: I like that. That is very Instagrammable.OLIVER: Exactly. Exactly.TRALDI: That's very good, actually. I like that. Yes, so there's something provocative about the notion that virtue can be exciting, and in particular can be romantically exciting.The Importance of IntegrityOLIVER: Or even less than that. One thing I think is difficult for people interpreting Austen today is that virtue, whether it's exciting or romantically exciting, or the notion of integrity is of interest for its own sake.There's a lot of—you know, we have integrity as an organization. It's very important for me to have integrity as a professional. But there's not as much a sense of, just having integrity is the good life. We don't need to be complicated about this. That's just—you should just do that. And Austen's very firm on that all the way through.And criticism wants to pull her towards sometimes feminism, sometimes discussions of slavery, sometimes various other things. And she's just constantly sort of resisting that by saying, “I like integrity. I like good people. I don't think it's that hard.” It's a good line you've picked up on, I think.TRALDI: There's a character in The Wire who says, “A man's gotta have a code.” I think he's Omar, who murders the drug dealers and steals from them.OLIVER: I haven't seen it.TRALDI: So he says, “A man's gotta have a code.” And I think there is a—even in a character who in some ways is bad, we admire the integrity of having a code and sticking to it.There is this debate, I guess in moral philosophy, or at least on the outskirts of moral philosophy, about, “Well, if your code is wrong, maybe it's better not to stick to it.” I don't share that perspective. I think part of the good life is holding yourself to certain standards. And if those standards turn out to be wrong, the holding yourself is still of moral value, right? Not allowing yourself—OLIVER: It doesn't mean they're not adjustable.TRALDI: Yes, no, of course. If you decide the standards are wrong, and in Austen—OLIVER: It's sort of implicit in the idea of having standards that you will be honest and therefore accept when your standards need to be improved or whatever. Right?TRALDI: Yes, I think that's absolutely right. And in Austen we certainly see people shifting their standards. And I think one thing that I—of course, modern readers and watchers of Austen do not quite understand some of these things. But I think in Pride and Prejudice in particular, we're supposed to feel that Lizzy Bennet is quite hard on people and has to learn to improve herself in that way.OLIVER: We're delighted with her when she does that because we think it's sassy.TRALDI: Yes, exactly. If you go on YouTube, you can see all these, like, “Lizzy Bennet owning people's lives for 50 minutes,” these compilations of clips from the various movies or whatever. And she's obviously very, very clever.But she realizes—after coming to understand who Wickham is and feeling that she might not have another chance with Darcy, she comes to realize that she has had certain prejudices, which have made her blind to the realities of the world and blind to what might be her best options.So yes, I was saying I believe in integrity; that's all I was saying. And integrity obviously is adjustable, but I tend to think that it's better—even if the rule is wrong, it's better for the person who has it to hold themselves to it, rather than to adjust to try to get an advantage.And in philosophy, we have all sorts of terminology for these sorts of questions: “Are you an internalist or an externalist about reasons or about rules or whatever?” I think the more literary way to say it would just be that integrity is a virtue. And people should stick to their codes unless they see a good reason to change them.Austen and Adam SmithOLIVER: Now, you have recently been reading Adam Smith.TRALDI: Yes, I did read a lot of Adam Smith for this debate we had last week. Although I did a poor job because I had forgotten that the debate was about whether Smith was a philosopher or an economist. [laughter] I thought it was simply, is he a philosopher or not? So I put myself in the odd position of arguing that Adam Smith is not an economist.But yes, I think it's obvious—without knowing the background, I'm sure there are scholarly questions about, how much Smith did Austen read? And they're both 250th—a lot was happening in 1775 and 1776.OLIVER: Those were great years. Those were the good old days.TRALDI: They were great years. In the great books syllabus, you get to the end of the 1700s and suddenly there's this—you have Smith, you have Kant, you have the American Revolution, you have the French Revolution, you have Burke. Rousseau is right before, Montesquieu is right before. I mean, it was a real—OLIVER: It's a great time.TRALDI: It was a great time. A lot was being done. And obviously, you know, I love the 1800s. I love the Romantics. But you could teach a whole great books course from 1750 to 1800, probably.OLIVER: You've also got all the dictionaries and all that kind of work going on as well. It's a very, very fertile—explorations.TRALDI: Yes, yes. There's all sorts of—yes, it was an amazing time.OLIVER: So did you, having read these two, Austen and Smith, close together—TRALDI: Yes, and I should say that my reading of Austen was much more careful than my reading of Smith.OLIVER: Sure, but you wrote this before you read Smith.TRALDI: Yes, absolutely.OLIVER: Or at least you fully conceived it. Do you see a lot of Smith in Austen?TRALDI: “A lot” might be—OLIVER: Primarily from Theory of Moral Sentiments.TRALDI: So I would say that the notion of sympathy as being fundamentally part of how you recognize a good person seems to me to be there in Austen. The characters are—OLIVER: And this is the thing about awareness of other people and learning from that awareness.TRALDI: Awareness of other people and learning from other people and feeling other people's emotions. One thing that is related to sympathy in an odd way—and I think actually Austen and Smith conceive of it a bit differently, but that is there for both of them, in particular in Sense and Sensibility—is this notion of self-control or self-command.OLIVER: Self command. Yes. Yes.The Importance of Self-CommandTRALDI: Now, Smith gives a really odd argument about self command, which is that if you don't have control over your emotions, you will end up feeling or expressing something that other people can't sympathize with. And this is bad because sympathy is good, or something like that. I actually think it's a rather confused argument.OLIVER: I think what he's saying is that if you display a lack of self-command, then no matter what you are feeling, people find it difficult to deal with that sort of uncontrolled behavior. It's not the particular expression of feeling; it's the fact that you are a little unstable or—TRALDI: Yes, I think that's right.OLIVER: —a bit extra.TRALDI: I think what Smith doesn't do is explain quite how that's bad. But what I think is that actually, in Sense and Sensibility, it's a little bit the reverse, where actually Elinor and their mother, they do sympathize with Marianne. They do feel what she's feeling after—who's the other, the w guy in Sense and Sensibility? They're all w's.OLIVER: Oh, Willoughby.TRALDI: Willoughby, right, right. Not Wickham, Willoughby. When Willoughby—OLIVER: You can just say “the cad.”TRALDI: The cad. There's always a cad. So when the cad leaves, Marianne has all these emotions, and you really feel them. And Marianne also has a lack of self-command when Willoughby is there. There's this whole episode, which I didn't quite make the most of but felt very important, where they go to the house of this woman. They just sort of barge into this house, Willoughby and Marianne.And this is really supposed to show something about the relationship. If you and your partner barge into somebody's house, it can't be a good relationship somehow because it's leading you into bad actions. That's my sense of what that episode is supposed to show from the highest possible remove.OLIVER: I think, yes, and I think there are several other instances of that: when they ride in the carriage together, unaccompanied.TRALDI: Right, right.OLIVER: And there's a sort of general consternation about this. And Marianne sort of says, “Oh, well, how can it be a problem?” And they—part of the consternation is, you're breaking the rules in a very flagrant way, but also that you are assuming that it's okay because you'll get married. And this assumption is a very big one.TRALDI: Yes. And obviously there is this assumption that—she doesn't recognize quite how—she thinks her position is much more secure than it actually is, which is how it turns out in the book. But I think we're supposed to think that even if she were right about Willoughby's affection, which in a sense, she—Willoughby—OLIVER: No. Even if they do get married, she's broken the rules in a way that—TRALDI: She's broken certain rules in a way that is—but I think what's different from Smith is, there is sympathy from her family even though she lacks self-command. But that is precisely—so it's sort of a different theory of why self-command is good. It's precisely because her emotional state is actually draining for her family.And then Elinor says—when she learns that Elinor has actually been going through something—OLIVER: The same.TRALDI: —very similar, and maybe even rougher, in this whole thing with Lucy Steele telling her about this, you know, blah, blah, blah.OLIVER: Which is a beautiful name—to steal. I mean, it's great.TRALDI: It's an amazing—honestly, in some ways Sense and Sensibility may have been my favorite. I think it's just lovely.OLIVER: If I just wanted to just read one for fun, that's what I go to. I do, yes.TRALDI: Yes. And there's a lot—none of these things are quite perfectly in there. But I think honestly, everything that's in the other novels has a little part to play in Sense and Sensibility. You know, I think if I were to recommend just one, if somebody was like, “I have time for just one,” I might recommend Sense and Sensibility.But in the end, Marianne says—again, it's one of these amazingly evocative lines. Elinor says, “You didn't act that badly. Do you compare your conduct with Willoughby's?” And she says, “No, I compare it with—Elinor, I compare it with your conduct. You have this self-command.”And it's precisely the fact—it's not—and I think this is why philosophers do like Austen, because it's not—it's still literary, but there is a precision to her moral evaluations. It's precisely the fact that Elinor knew that her family loved her and didn't want to burden—it's all quite conscious. She didn't want to burden her family with her emotions. But you actually see that Elinor has this family trait of having very strong sentiment, which Marianne does, and simply also has this virtue of self-command.And that is—there are film adaptations and TV adaptations that demonstrate self-command, but it's a very hard thing to film. It's something you feel inside. It's a very hard—the actors have to be very good for you to see—you see pieces of it in some of the adaptations of Persuasion and some of the adaptations of Sense and Sensibility, but self-command is very hard to find.Austen AdaptationsOLIVER: Which adaptations do you like the best?TRALDI: I'm forgetting—I often like the long ones that I think were for the British ITV. So I like the—I think Kate Beckinsale was in the Emma one. Although I think there was one of Persuasion, which was also quite good. I like the one of Northanger Abbey. I don't think it's that good, but it's kind of cute, which I think it's probably the cutest of her long novels.Whit Stillman did a very loose adaptation of Lady Susan, which is hilariously funny at times, and also has Kate Beckinsale and some other great actors in it.OLIVER: Did you see the new Persuasion on Netflix a couple of years ago?TRALDI: No. No.OLIVER: It has that—is it Dakota Johnson, the actress, who's famous for other non-Austenian—Fifty Shades of Grey or whatever.TRALDI: Yes, and isn't she one of the Avengers or something like that?OLIVER: Something like that. But everyone was very upset that it was this terrible adaptation.TRALDI: Oh, yes.OLIVER: Didn't—it sort of killed all of Austen's words. She looks at the camera; she drinks from the bottle. I actually thought it was quite fun. On the basis that all adaptations are bad—TRALDI: I think if you allow some looseness, it can be quite fun. So for example, the 2005 Pride and Prejudice, I think if you're just sort of like, “Well, this is just somebody who was inspired by Pride and Prejudice,” you can have a lot of fun with the movie.OLIVER: I think as an interpretation of the book, that film is quite bad.TRALDI: Oh, yes. I think it's absolutely missing the mark.OLIVER: But in terms of like, the countryside and the house and the geese and the food, it's fantastic.TRALDI: Oh, yes. It's lovely to look at.OLIVER: The dresses, right? The clothes are amazing.TRALDI: And a lot of the—and the cast is honestly like—OLIVER: Yes, it's great.TRALDI: The cast is really, really great. And the parts as they are—OLIVER: Rosamund Pike is maybe the best Jane on TV.TRALDI: She's terrific. And who's the one who plays Kitty?OLIVER: Yes.TRALDI: Who is in—and the father is the guy from The Hunger Games. I forget his name, but I think the father is excellent in that. But of course, it's not exactly the father from Austen.OLIVER: No, no, no.TRALDI: But as a movie itself—but yes, I like a lot of these longer TV versions.One odd thing—they make these choices. So there is some scholarly apparatus brought to bear on some of them. So I think maybe it's Persuasion that there were multiple versions of, and some of the adaptations use pieces from the unpublished version, which are interesting. And as I was reading it, I had to Google around a bit and figure out these things.Austen's Moral PrecisionTRALDI: I was going to say about Austen's moral precision, the other place where I think this comes in—and I wrote a bit about this in the essay—is near the end of Mansfield Park, when—the names are what I'm worst at—when Edmund, right, is finally disillusioned with—OLIVER: Mary.TRALDI: With Mary Crawford?OLIVER: Mm-hmm.TRALDI: It's because there was this affair. There's always a sibling or a cousin who makes some horrible mistake, you know? So there was this affair, and Mary Crawford can only criticize it by saying that they weren't very prudent, you know, in prudential terms. They took a big risk. They made a bad decision. You know, they really screwed themselves over.OLIVER: They could have made it work. Yes.TRALDI: Yes. And Edmund realizes that she lacks moral fervor because he thinks the appropriate criticism should be a moral one. And as a psychological matter, it shouldn't even enter your head, I think is the idea. I'm extrapolating a bit, but if you see somebody acting this badly, to then say, “Well, geez, you're doing something that isn't in your interest”—for that to be your first thought indicates that your priorities are highly misplaced in a way that, to him, is quite unattractive.And this also struck me as a moment of—this is something we philosophers talk about. What is the distinction between prudence and morality? They both tell you what you should do, in some sense, but there's different—the shoulds have different forces, right? So Edmund has a certain moral precision and sensitivity which, actually, Fanny is basically the only person he knows—not that everybody in the house is a bad person; his father is a decent guy, and one of the aunts is okay, I think.But yes, there's a real sophistication to this evaluation. And it's funny to me that she actually used this as the—I mean, I suspect that even at the time there were readers who were just like, “Wait, I really don't get what the nature of Edmund's problem is here,” because it's not like Mary—Mary's not like, “Oh, yes, I support infidelity.” You know? She's not like— it's if you blinked, you might miss it, the mistake that Mary has made.And so I do think that even though she's not making arguments, she's not laying out philosophical theories, there is a level of precision in her thinking about virtue, which I do think is something that it took me a little aback.And I think it's part of why—one person who quote-tweeted my article was Daniel Kodsi, who's a friend of our colleague John Maier and his coauthor often. And he runs this magazine called The Philosophers' Magazine, which I had written before. And Daniel quote-tweeted my article with something like, “Add Oliver to the list of all the philosophers who love Austen.”OLIVER: And it's a long list.TRALDI: And I think it's a long list. And I do think this precision is part of it that she does, that it is—again, it's not like a philosophy journal article, but it is an intellectual sophistication that is often not present in novelists that we really appreciate.Every Word MattersOLIVER: I mean, one way people talk about the great books is to say that every word matters. And a lot of novelists will say that about their own. Well, you know, Elizabeth Bowen used to say, “What you're doing is to make everything count.” Austen is one of the examples where it's actually true. Every word is being used carefully.TRALDI: Yes. It's funny, this bears on another Twitter argument I had recently about this phrase logographic necessity. Basically, every word in a great book is there for a reason. I think that's right. Although you have to be careful about—if you were to say, “Well, every word in Plato is there for a reason, so you can't really say he's wrong about every—” you would be kind of abandoning the philosophical mission.OLIVER: I mean it in the sense of what you might call the artistic or structural integrity of the book. Not everything has to tell in the meaning sense. But it all holds as a unit for some—TRALDI: Yes. I think everything is there—there is what we could call an internal reason for everything to be there. Everything is there to hold together—OLIVER: Like the making of a piece of furniture or something.TRALDI: And I think you hear—I think this is one thing that—and not all classical music, but I think it's one thing that distinguishes classical music even from very good contemporary pop music or jazz or rock music, is that you have this sense of, “Yes, every note I hear basically is holding up a larger structure of some sort.”OLIVER: Yes. And Jane Austen is very Mozart in that way.TRALDI: Yes, I think that's right. Yes.Austen's Place in Great Books ProgramsOLIVER: So should Jane Austen have a bigger place on great books programs, based on all these things you've said about her?TRALDI: Yes, this is—so, there was actually a debate—I did not write the piece in response to this debate, but this is—OLIVER: Tanner Greer.TRALDI: Yes, there was—Tanner Greer weighed in on this, and my friend Circe. I think—OLIVER: I think they're just desperately wrong.TRALDI: You think they don't—that she—OLIVER: I think Emma is obviously a book that should be on one of these syllabuses. Maybe Sense and Sensibility.TRALDI: Yes. I think the ones I would consider are Emma, Sense and Sensibility, Mansfield Park. I do think they're actually longer than I realized, which is always—I mean, there are these very practical concerns with putting together a syllabus.OLIVER: Sure, sure. Although I want to ask you about that, because my response to a lot of these debates, which is maybe just because of where I studied, but just make them read more. And if they don't do the reading, that's their, you know—TRALDI: That's true. Well, I don't want to get into this too much. We already make them read a lot compared to—so for example, a year ago, I had my students read two novels in a week, which is more than most courses make college students read.OLIVER: But that's by no means unreasonable.TRALDI: No, no, of course, of course.OLIVER: You know.TRALDI: Well, exigencies of the teenage mind aside—OLIVER: Because I often think this, when people debate how things should be taught and why it's so important to keep these programs, and they'll talk about the importance of writing essays. And then it turns out the students maybe write one essay a semester. And I sort of think, well, who cares? All this rhetoric for one essay.TRALDI: Yes. I don't know if I'm really ever going to assign essays again. It just is—the age of AI is upon us.OLIVER: Sure. But you see what I mean.TRALDI: No, yes, I know exactly what you mean. And I do think reading a lot is the main part of—and certainly, you know, when I read all seven of these in two weeks, that's much more reading than I normally do, as well, to write this essay.OLIVER: But you didn't have to lie on the sofa afterwards with a cold compress. You were fine.TRALDI: In a way it was a really good two weeks. If you get to read—I mean, this is why we have good lives, right? If you get to read Jane Austen and you call that work, it's a nice life.OLIVER: So yes, will you be putting Emma on your program?TRALDI: I would definitely consider Emma. I would definitely consider Sense and Sensibility. I would consider Mansfield Park. I think these are the ones that have—the moral element is very prominent. But it's obviously there in all of her books.OLIVER: You can have a really good moral discussion about Mansfield Park, which is a bigger, broader thing than Pride and Prejudice, for example.TRALDI: Yes, I think so. I would definitely consider—in the 1800s there were—obviously the British novel of the 1800s was a big deal, and there's—OLIVER: [laughs] We did quite well, yes.TRALDI: You all did quite well. So the ones we did at Tulsa—we had Frankenstein and Wuthering Heights and The Picture of Dorian Gray. And then we had one Irish, The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. And I don't think anybody—if you replaced one of those with Emma or Mansfield Park, I don't think anybody would say, “Oh, you made a horrible call.”OLIVER: I think Tanner's point was that you simply don't have that many slots for an English novel that deals with these sorts of ideas, and that it should obviously be Middlemarch because that is the bigger novel. It's about bigger questions of society. It's about the whole—it's got more greatness in it, whereas Austen is sort of more about the individual.TRALDI: So I do think that this question of greatness—I think there are some people who read Austen and they think, “Well, this is—obviously it has all these sorts of themes, but it's not great. It has this littleness to it. It has this smallness to it.”OLIVER: It's domestic.TRALDI: That is not my reading of it. I think if that's the question, I don't feel that way. I think it pulls out these great themes about the nature of virtue and the nature of moral learning, becoming a better person, the nature of love. We read Sappho. We read the Symposium.To me, you read Wuthering Heights and you say, “Oh, this is a really big book because it's about society and how trauma gets passed down, and it has these horror elements, and it's very dark.” But actually, it's quite hard to figure out, how do we turn Wuthering Heights in a discussion about how to live? With Austen, it's just completely straightforward.OLIVER: [laughs] How not to live, maybe.TRALDI: Yes. In Austen, it's just completely straightforward. This is the discussion. This is what she had in mind as well, this question of how to live. So to me, Austen is completely—in terms of her successes as an artist, she belongs. In terms of her themes, she belongs. So I would not rule her out. I think she is absolutely a great, and who knows what that means, but I think she would be completely appropriate on any of these syllabi.Reading PlansOLIVER: Very good. And what will you read next?TRALDI: What will I read next? I mean, our—from the beginning, I'm thinking I should read some more poetry. It's been a while. Actually, speaking of—this is funny. Well, I want to get into William Empson. He had an odd life, which I think somebody should do like a movie about him or something.OLIVER: Yes, he'd make a great movie.TRALDI: I think Empson would be a good movie. So that might be—OLIVER: Are you going to read the poems or the criticism?TRALDI: Probably a little of both, but that's for a while from now. I think, you know, at the moment I'm back to reading philosophy. So what novel will I read next? That's a good question. What should I read next?OLIVER: If you like Jane Austen?TRALDI: Yes.OLIVER: Maybe read one of the people that she admired, like Samuel Richardson or Fanny Burney, someone like that.TRALDI: You know, I do think—you saying Samuel Richardson reminded me, I've read very little Samuel Johnson. I think reading some of the great critics, I think, writing this piece—OLIVER: Oh, Johnson, yes. You would like Johnson.TRALDI: I think I would like Johnson. I think I would like Empson. The history of literary criticism is something I have very, very little idea of.OLIVER: Oh, well, then, Johnson. I mean, he's the best.TRALDI: Yes, I think I should, I should definitely read Johnson.OLIVER: English literary criticism begins and ends with Samuel Johnson.TRALDI: You know what, this is a little different, but—I might have talked about this with you a little bit—I want to read The Fable of the Bees, Mandeville, because reading about Smith—a lot of the ideas that we think of as Smithian are actually Mandevillian, and he kind of moderated them.OLIVER: Well, he hated Mandeville.TRALDI: Yes.OLIVER: Very hard on him.TRALDI: Yes. So a lot—like the invisible hand, it's only a small part of Smith's thinking, but it was like the entirety of Mandeville's thinking, this sort of dynamic.OLIVER: Well, I think it means different things for them. I think Mandeville, in a funny way, is more philosophical in the sense you were saying, and trying to make these propositions. And Smith was saying, “Well, what about feelings? What about all these funny things that we can't account for? Like, look around. It's too messy.”TRALDI: No, that makes sense to me. Yes, I think between Mandeville and Smith, Mandeville is somebody who thought virtue was sort of like a con.OLIVER: A fool's game.TRALDI: Exactly. You're sort of a sucker if you try to be virtuous.OLIVER: I think he also just assumed that if you were commercial, you were obviously on the get.TRALDI: Yes. But this is one of the great—I know we talked about this, but it's one of the great—you see this in Smith, you see this in Austen—commerce has its own virtues, and they are very traditional virtues. You have to be trustworthy. You have to be pleasant. You can't really be wholly self-interested in every moment because people have to be willing to deal with you given your—I mean, think about Yelp reviews or even just word of mouth. “Oh, that person screwed me over.”OLIVER: There's a discussion in one of Hayek's papers, which is—it's a very Smithian point he makes about, the nature of the knowledge problem means that it's not so much that I'm trying to get information about the thing you're trying to sell me, but I'm really trying to get information about you and whether you are someone I should be buying from. Which is exactly the project that the novelists and Smith—there's a sort of period between Smith and the early novelists, running through Austen to George Eliot, when they're all working on that problem together.TRALDI: Yes. I do think in Austen, it's often—the real puzzle is, how do you make out somebody else's character?OLIVER: Exactly.TRALDI: This is a phrase that Lizzy Bennet does use with regard to Darcy. And how do we actually figure out who the trustworthy and untrustworthy people are?OLIVER: And if you're too philosophical about that, in the sort of analytic sense, I think you can end up not paying enough attention to the particulars of that question.TRALDI: Yes.OLIVER: Because when you actually try and do it, it's really, really hard.TRALDI: Yes. And I think this is the sort of—reading Austen, you get a sense of—and there are very few philosophy papers on things like this. Reading Austen, you get a sense of, what sorts of details in a normal life are the ones that I can extract information from to make out somebody else's character?In philosophy, we do ask, what is a good character and what is the good action in this sort of situation? What is the bad action in this sort of situation? But it's not for the philosopher to say, “Okay, in the sorts of situations you're likely to be in, what do you pay—where do you direct your attention to try to figure out these things about?”And it's not—I don't think Austen—it's not super subtle either. In Persuasion—I mentioned in the essay—in Persuasion, it starts out by saying Anne really cared about paying off the family's debts, and the rest of her family didn't give a s**t, you know? And it's sort of like, okay, so we just immediately are like, Anne's the sort of person who you might want to have a business transaction with because if she has a debt to you, she might actually pay it. And I forget if that's the exact detail, but it's something like that, you know?OLIVER: And there's also the novelist—Jane Austen is very good at what you don't see, which aga

"Den enda engelska romanen för vuxna"

Författarna Christoffer Carlsson och Lina Wolff gästar Lundströms Bokradio för att bokcirkla om klassikern Middlemarch av George Eliot i Hans-Jacob Nilssons prisade översättning. Lyssna på alla avsnitt i Sveriges Radios app. Den viktorianska romanen Middlemarch har utsetts till den bästa romanen på engelska någonsin. Virginia Woolf kallade den på sin tid, i ett berömt citat, ”en av de få romanerna på engelska skrivna för vuxna”.Författaren heter George Eliot, en pseudonym för Mary Anne Evans. Född 1819 i en engelsk småstad bosatte hon sig i London 1850, där hon blev självförsörjande. Hon levde med en filosof och kritiker som redan hade fru och barn. I samtiden var hon en mycket läst författare, hennes böcker sålde och hon jämfördes med Charles Dickens. Romanen Middlemarch publicerades i åtta delar åren 1871 och 1872.Tillsammans med författarna Christoffer Carlsson och Lina Wolff dyker vi ner i denna kända klassiker. Tiden i berättelsen är 1830-tal och i förgrunden står två systrar i 20-årsåldern, Dorothea och Celia Brooke, som båda är ”giftasmogna”. De har förlorat sina föräldrar i tidig ålder och lever med sin farbror. Middlemarch gestaltar bland annat tidens syn på äktenskap, kärleksrelationer och familjeliv.Boken är översatt till svenska av Hans-Jacob Nilsson och det är en översättning från 2024 som har hyllats och prisats.Programmet sändes första gången i oktober 2024.Skriv till oss! bokradio@sverigesradio.seProgramledare: Marie Lundström

Mary Shelley signed off her introduction to the 1831 edition of Frankenstein by bidding her ‘hideous progeny go forth and prosper'. In this episode of The Man Behind the Curtain, Tom McCarthy and Thomas Jones look at the machinery that Shelley used to assemble her immortal creature and bring it to life. As well as its origins and afterlives, they consider the many systems that the novel draws on, challenges, reproduces and mutates – the laws of nature, philosophy, science, the human body, the traditional family – and ask whether the real horror at the heart of Frankenstein is not the creature so much as incest. The Man Behind the Curtain is a bonus Close Readings series running this year. The next episode will be on ‘Middlemarch', released in a couple of months. This is an extract from the episode. To listen in full, and to all our other Close Readings series, sign up: Directly in Apple Podcasts: https://lrb.me/closereadingsmbtc For Spotify and other apps: https://lrb.me/applecrmbtc Read more in the LRB: Anne Barton on Mary Shelley: ⁠https://lrb.me/frankensteincr01⁠ Caroline Gonda on the original Frankenstein: ⁠https://lrb.me/frankensteincr02

This week's book guest is Middlemarch by George Eliot.In this episode we discuss soap operas, love stories, socialism, Nietzsche and Cariad getting angry.Thank you for reading with us. We like reading with you!Follow Sara & Cariad's Weirdos Book Club on Instagram @saraandcariadsweirdosbookclubProduced by Naomi Parnell Recorded by Naomi Parnell and edited by Aniya Das for Plosive.Artwork by Welcome Studio. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

What does Englishness mean to you?In this episode of OffScript, Dash Arts' Artistic Director Josephine Burton is joined by journalist, writer, and Editor-in-Chief of Byline Times, Hardeep Matharu, for a wide-ranging conversation about the complex and overlooked stories shaping contemporary England. Drawing on her work leading an independent, reader-funded news outlet committed to investigative journalism and democratic accountability, Hardeep brings a sharp perspective on the narratives that dominate public life — and those that are too often ignored.This podcast series sits within Dash Arts' ongoing exploration of landscape and language, Albion, from reimagining Middlemarch in 1980s Coventry to running speech-making workshops with over 700 people across the UK. Throughout these projects, we've been listening closely to how people express identity, voice, and place.In 2026 Albion will culminate with our new touring theatre production, Our Public House. Get your tickets and to find out more on the Dash Arts website : https://www.dasharts.org.uk/our-public-house Our intro music is Fakiiritanssi by Marouf Majidi Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Hello! Welcome and welcome back! Today, Jake and Brooke discuss an early Dobson work, back when he was still a working psychologist. What a horrifying thought. There's time to talk about Freud, Middlemarch, and too many checklists. Check out our Patreon! www.patreon.com/ihatejamesdobsonMusic from #Uppbeat (free for Creators!):https://uppbeat.io/t/mood-maze/trendsetterLicense code: 9OT2MTBHWWSRZP5S Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

In this episode of OffScript, Dash Arts' Artistic Director Josephine Burton is joined by Jeremy Deller for a wide-ranging conversation about how art uncovers the contradictions, radical traditions, and hidden stories that shape contemporary England.Jeremy and Josephine reflect on why Englishness remains so slippery to define; how popular culture, folk traditions, and street art reveal who we really are.Dash Arts has been digging into landscape and language — from reimagining George Eliot's Middlemarch in 1980s Coventry, to running speech-making workshops with more than 600 people across the country. We've been listening to who we are — and who we could be.Join us as we ask: what does Englishness mean to you?In 2026 Albion will culminate with our new touring theatre production, Our Public House. Get your tickets and to find out more on the Dash Arts website : https://www.dasharts.org.uk/our-public-houseOur intro music is Fakiiritanssi by Marouf MajidiThis podcast is marked explicit for language only. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Ahead of her new book What's So Great About the Great Books? coming out in April, Naomi Kanakia and I talked about literature from Herodotus to Tony Tulathimutte. We touched on Chaucer, Anglo-Saxon poetry, Scott Alexander, Shakespeare, William James, Helen deWitt, Marx and Engels, Walter Scott, Les Miserables, Jhootha Sach, the Mahabharata, and more. Naomi also talked about some of her working habits and the history and future of the Great Books movement. Naomi, of course, writes Woman of Letters here on Substack.TranscriptHenry Oliver: Today, I am talking with Naomi Kanakia. Naomi is a novelist, a literary critic, and most importantly she writes a Substack called Woman of Letters, and she has a new book coming out, What's So Great About the Great Books? Naomi, welcome.Naomi Kanakia: Thanks for having me on.Oliver: How is the internet changing the way that literature gets discussed and criticized, and what is that going to mean for the future of the Great Books?Kanakia: How is the internet changing it? I can really speak to only how it has changed it for me. I started off as a writer of young adult novels and science fiction, and there's these very active online fan cultures for those two things.I was reading the Great Books all through that time. I started in 2010 through today. In the 2010s, it really felt like there was not a lot of online discussion of classic literature. Maybe that was just me and I wasn't finding it, but it didn't necessarily feel like there was that community.I think because there are so many strong, public-facing institutions that discuss classic literature, like the NYRB, London Review of Books, a lot of journals, and universities, too. But now on Substack, there are a number of blogs—yours, mine, a number of other ones—that are devoted to classic literature. All of those have these commenters, a community of commenters. I also follow bloggers who have relatively small followings who are reading Tolstoy, reading Middlemarch, reading even much more esoteric things.I know that for me, becoming involved in this online culture has given me much more of an awareness that there are many people who are reading the classics on their own. I think that was always true, but now it does feel like it's more of a community.Oliver: We are recording this the day after the Washington Post book section has been removed. You don't see some sort of relationship between the way these literary institutions are changing online and the way the Great Books are going to be conceived of in the future? Because the Great Books came out of a an old-fashioned, saving-the-institutions kind of radical approach to university education. We're now moving into a world where all those old things seem to be going.Kanakia: Yes. I agree. The Great Books began in the University of Chicago and Columbia University. If you look into the history of the movement, it really was about university education and the idea that you would have a common core and all undergraduates would read these books. The idea that the Great Books were for the ordinary person was really an afterthought, at least for Mortimer Adler and those original Great Books guys. Now, the Great Books in the university have had a resurgence that we can discuss, but I do think there's a lot more life and vitality in the kind of public-facing humanities than there has been.I talked to Irina Dumitrescu, who writes for TLS (The Times Literary Supplement), LRB (The London Review of Books), a lot of these places, and she also said the same thing—that a lot of these journals are going into podcasts, and they're noticing a huge interest in the humanities and in the classics even at the same time as big institutions are really scaling back on those things. Humanities majors are dropping, classics majors are getting cut, book coverage at major periodicals is going down. It does seem like there are signals that are conflicting. I don't really know totally what to make of it. I do think there is some relation between those two things.Ted Gioia on Substack is always talking about how culture is stagnant, basically, and one of the symptoms of that is that “back list” really outsells “front list” for books. Even in 2010, 50 percent of the books that were sold were front-list titles, books that had been released in the last 18 months. Now it's something like only 35 percent of books or something like that are front-list titles. These could be completely wrong, but there's been a trend.I think the decrease in interest in front-list books is really what drives the loss of these book-review pages because they mostly review front-list books. So, I think that does imply that there's a lot of interest in old books. That's what our stagnant culture means.Oliver: Why do you think your own blog is popular with the rationalists?Kanakia: I don't know for certain. There was a story I wrote that was a joke. There are all these pop nonfiction books that aim to prove something that seems counterintuitive, so I wrote a parody of one of those where I aim to prove that reading is bad for you. This book has many scientific studies that show the more you read, the worse it is because it makes you very rigid.Scott Alexander, who is the archrationalist, really liked that, and he added me to his blog roll. Because of that, I got a thousand rationalist subscribers. I have found that rationalists at least somewhat interested in the classics. I think they are definitely interested in enduring sources of value. I've observed a fair amount of interest.Oliver: How much of a lay reader are you really? Because you read scholarship and critics and you can just quote John Gilroy in the middle of a piece or something.Kanakia: Yeah. That is a good question. I have definitely gotten more interested in secondary literature. In my book, I really talk about being a lay reader and personally having a nonacademic approach to literature. I do think that, over 15 years of being a lay reader, I have developed a lot of knowledge.I've also learned the kind of secondary literature that is really important. I think having historical context adds a lot and is invaluable. Right now I'm rereading Les Miserables by Victor Hugo. When I first read it in 2010, I hardly knew anything about French history. I was even talking online with someone about how most people who read Les Miserables think it's set in the French Revolution. That's basically because Americans don't really know anything about French history.Everything makes just a lot more sense the more you know about the time because it was written for people in it. For people in 1860s France, who knew everything about their own recent history, that really adds a lot to it. I still don't tend to go that much into interpretive literature, literature that tries to do readings of the stories or tell me the meaning of the stories. I feel like I haven't really gotten that much out of that.Oliver: How long have you been learning Anglo-Saxon?Kanakia: I went through a big Anglo-Saxon phase. That was in 2010. It started because I started reading The Canterbury Tales in Middle English. There is a great app online called General Prologue created by one of your countrymen, Terry Richardson [NB it is Terry Jones], who loved Middle English. In this app, he recites the Middle English of the General Prologue. I started listening to this app, and I thought, I just really love the rhythms and the sounds of Middle English. And it's quite easy to learn. So then, I got really into that.And then I thought, but what about Anglo-Saxon? I'm very bad at languages. I studied Latin for seven years in middle school and high school. I never really got very far, but I thought, Anglo-Saxon has to be the easiest foreign language you can learn, right? So, I got into it.I cannot sight read Anglo-Saxon, but I really got into Anglo-Saxon poetry. I really liked the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. Most people probably would not like the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle because it's very repetitive, but that makes it great if you're a language learner because every entry is in this very repetitive structure. I just felt such a connection. I get in trouble when I say this kind of stuff, because I'm never quiet sure if it's 100 percent true. But it's certainly one of the oldest vernacular literatures in Europe. It's just so much older than most of the other medieval literature I've read. And it just was such a window into a different part of history I never knew about.Oliver: And you particularly like “The Dream of the Rood”?Kanakia: Yeah, “The Dream of the Rood” is my favorite Anglo-Saxon poem. “The Dream of the Rood” is a poem that is told from the point of view of Christ's cross. A man is having a dream. In this dream he encounters Christ's cross, and Christ's cross starts reciting to him basically the story of the crucifixion. At the end, the cross is buried. I don't know, it was just so haunting and powerful. Yeah, it was one of my favorites.Oliver: Why do you think Byron is a better poet than Alexander Pope?Kanakia: This is an argument I cannot get into. I think this is coming up because T. S. Eliot felt that Alexander Pope was a great poet because he really exemplified the spirit of the age. I don't know. I've tried to read Pope. It just doesn't do it for me. Whereas with Byron, I read Don Juan and found it entertaining. I enjoyed it. Then, his lyric poetry is just more entertaining to read. With Alexander Pope, I'm learning a lot about what kind of poetry people wrote in the 18th century, but the joy is not there.Oliver: Okay. Can we do a quick fire round where I say the name of a book and you just say what you think of it, whatever you think of it?Kanakia: Sure.Oliver: Okay. The Odyssey.Kanakia: The Odyssey. Oh, I love The Odyssey. It has a very strange structure, where it starts with Telemachus and then there's this flashback in the middle of it. It is much more readable than The Iliad; I'll say that.Oliver: Herodotus.Kanakia: Herodotus is wild. Going into Herodotus, I really thought it was about the Persian war, which it is, but it's mostly a general overview of everything that Herodotus knew, about anything. It's been a long time since I read it. I really appreciate the voice of Herodotus, how human it is, and the accumulation of facts. It was great.Oliver: I love the first half actually. The bit about the Persian war I'm less interested in, but the first half I think is fantastic. I particularly love the Egypt book.Kanakia: Oh yeah, the Egypt book is really good.Oliver: All those like giant beetles that are made of fire or whatever; I can't remember the details, but it's completely…Kanakia: The Greeks are also so fascinated by Egypt. They go down there like what is going on out there? Then, most of what we know about Egypt comes from this Hellenistic period, when the Greeks went to Egypt. Our Egyptian kings list comes from the Hellenistic period where some scholar decided to sort out what everybody was up to and put it all into order. That's why we have such an orderly story about Egypt. That's the story that the Greeks tried to tell themselves.Oliver: Marcus Aurelius.Kanakia: Marcus Aurelius. When I first read The Meditations, which I loved, obviously, I thought, “being the Roman emperor cannot be this hard.” It really was a black pill moment because I thought, “if the emperor of Rome is so unhappy, maybe human power really doesn't do it.”Knowing more about Marcus Aurelius, he did have quite a difficult life. He was at war for most of his—just stuck in the region in Germany for ages. He had various troubles, but yeah, it really was very stoic. It was, oh, I just have to do my duty. Very “heavy is the head that wears the crown” kind of stuff. I thought, “okay, I guess being Roman emperor is not so great.”Oliver: Omar Khayyam.Kanakia: Omar Khayyam. Okay, I've only read The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam by Edward Fitzgerald, which I loved, but I cannot formulate a strong opinion right now.Oliver: As You Like It.Kanakia: No opinions.Oliver: Boswell's Life of Samuel Johnson.Kanakia: Boswell's Life of Samuel Johnson. I do have an opinion about this, which is that they should make a redacted version of Boswell's Life of Samuel Johnson. I normally am not a big believer in abridgements because I feel like whatever is there is there. But, Boswell's Life of Samuel Johnson, first of all, has a long portion before Boswell even meets Johnson. That portion drags; it's not that great. Then it has all these like letters that Johnson wrote, which also are not that great. What's really good is when Boswell just reports everything Johnson ever said, which is about half the book. You get a sense of Johnson's conversation and his personality, and that is very gripping. I've definitely thought that with a different presentation, this could still be popular. People would still read this.Oliver: The Communist Manifesto.Kanakia: The Communist Manifesto. It's very stirring. I love The Communist Manifesto. It has very haunting, powerful lines. I won't try to quote from it because I'll misquote them.Oliver: But it is remarkably well written.Kanakia: Oh yeah, it is a great work of literature.Oliver: Yeah.Kanakia: I read Capital [Das Kapital], which is not a great work of literature, and I would venture to say that it is not necessarily worth reading. It really feels like Marx's reputation is built on other political writings like The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte and works like that, which really seem to have a lot more meat on the bone than Capital.Oliver: Pragmatism by William James.Kanakia: Pragmatism. I mean, I've mentioned that in my book. I love William James in general. I think William James was writing in this 19th-century environment where it seemed like some form of skepticism was the only rational solution. You couldn't have any source of value, and he really tried to cut through that with Pragmatism and was like, let's just believe the things that are good to believe. It is definitely at least useful to think, although someone else can always argue with you about what is useful to believe. But, as a personal guide for belief, I think it is still useful.Oliver: Major Barbara by George Bernard Shaw.Kanakia: No strong opinions. It was a long time ago that I read Major Barbara.Oliver: Tell me what you like about James Fenimore Cooper.Kanakia: James Fenimore Cooper. Oh, this is great. I have basically a list of Great Books that I want to read, but four or five years ago, I thought, “what's in all the other books that I know the names of but that are not reputed, are not the kind of books you still read?”That was when I read Walter Scott, who I really love. And I just started reading all kinds of books that were kind of well known but have kind of fallen into literary disfavor. In almost every case, I felt like I got a lot out of these books. So, nowadays when I approach any realm of literature, I always look for those books.In 19th-century American literature, the biggest no-longer-read book is The Last of the Mohicans by James Fenimore Cooper, which was America's first bestseller. He was the first American novelist that had a high reputation in Europe. The Last of the Mohicans is kind of a historical romance, à la Walter Scott, but much more tightly written and much more tightly plotted.Cooper has written five novels, the Leatherstocking Tales, that are all centered around this very virtuous, rough-hewn frontiersman, Natty Bumppo. He has his best friend, Chingachgook, who is the last of the Mohicans. He's the last of his tribe. And the two of these guys are basically very sad and stoic. Chingachgook is distanced from his tribe. Chingachgook has a tribe of Native Americans that he hates—I want to say it's the Huron. He's always like, “they're the bad ones,” and he's always fighting them. Then, Natty Bumppo doesn't really love settled civilization. He's not precisely at war with it, but he does not like the settlers. They're kind of stuck in the middle. They have various adventures, and I just thought it was so haunting and powerful.I've been reading a lot of other 19th-century American literature, and virtually none of it treats Native Americans with this kind of respect. There's a lot of diversity in the Native American characters; there's really an attempt to show how their society works and the various ways that leadership and chiefship works among them. There's this very haunting moment in The Last of the Mohicans, where this aged chief, Tamenund, comes out and starts speaking. This is a chief who, in American mythology, was famous for being a friend to the white people. But, James Fenimore Cooper writing in the 1820s has Tamenund come out at 80 years old and say, “we have to fight; we have to fight the white people. That's our only option.” It was just such a powerful moment and such a powerful book.I was really, really enthused. I read all of these Leatherstocking Tales. It was also a very strange experience to read these books that are generally supposed to be very turgid and boring, and then I read them and was like, “I understand. I'm so transported.” I understand exactly why readers in the 1820s loved this.Oliver: Which Walter Scott books do you like?Kanakia: I love all the Walter Scott books I've read, but the one I liked best was Kenilworth. Have you ever read Kenilworth?Oliver: I don't know that one.Kanakia: Yeah, it's about Elizabeth I, who had a romantic relationship with one of her courtiers.Oliver: The Earl of Essex?Kanakia: Yeah. She really thought they were going to get married, but then it turned out he was secretly married. Basically, I guess the implication is that he killed his wife in order to marry Queen Elizabeth I. It's a novel all about him and that situation, and it just felt very tightly plotted. I really enjoyed it.Oliver: What did you think of Rejection?Kanakia: Rejection by Tony Tulathimutte? Initially when I read this book, I enjoyed it, but I was like, “life cannot possibly be this sad.” It's five or six stories about these people who just have nothing going on. Their lives are so miserable, they can't find anyone to sleep with, and they're just doomed to be alone forever. I was like, “life can't be this bad.” But now thinking back over it, it is one of the most memorable books I've read in the last year. It really sticks with you. I feel like my opinion of this book has gone up a lot in retrospect.Oliver: How antisemitic is the House of Mirth?Kanakia: That is a hotly debated question, which I mentioned in my book. I think there has been a good case made that Edith Wharton, the author of House of Mirth, who was from an old New York family, was herself fairly antisemitic and did not personally like Jewish people. What she portrays in this book is that this old New York society also was highly suspicious of Jewish people and was organized to keep Jewish people out.In this book there is a rich Jewish man, Simon Rosedale, and there's a poor woman, Lily Bart. Lily Bart's main thing is whether she's going to marry the poor guy, Lawrence Selden, or the rich guy, Percy Gryce. She can't choose. She doesn't want to be poor, but she also is always bored by the rich guys. Meanwhile, through the whole book, there's Simon Rosedale, who's always like, “you should marry me.” He's the rich Jewish guy. He's like, “you should marry me. I will give you lots of money. You can do whatever you want.”Everybody else kind of just sees her as a woman and as a wife; he really sees her as an ally in his social climbing. That's his main motivation. The book is relatively clear that he has a kind of respect for her that nobody else does. Then, over the course of the book, she also gains a lot more respect for him. Basically, late in the book, she decides to marry him, but she has fallen a lot in the world. He's like, “that particular deal is not available anymore,” but he does offer her another deal that—although she finds it not to her taste—is still pretty good.He basically is like, “I'll give you some money, you'll figure out how to rehabilitate your reputation, and later down the line, we can figure something out.” So, I think with a great author like Edith Wharton, there's power in these portrayals. I felt it hard to come away from it feeling like the book is like a really antisemitic book.Oliver: Now, you note that the Great Books movement started out as something quite socially aspirational. Do you think it's still like that?Kanakia: I do think so. Yeah. For me, that's 100 percent what it was because I majored in econ. I always felt kind of inadequate as a writer against people who had majored in English. Then I started off as a science fiction writer, young adult writer, and I was like, “I'm going to read all these Great Books and then I'll have read the books that everybody else has read.” In my mind, that's also what it was—that there was some upper crust or literary society that was reading all these Great Books.That's really what did it. I do think there's still an element of aspiration to it because it's a club that you can join, that anyone can join. It's very straightforward to be a Great Books reader, and so I think there's still something there. I think because the Great Books movement has such a democratic quality to it, it actually doesn't get you to the top socially, which has always been the true, always been the case. But, that's okay. As long as you end up higher than where you started, that's fine.Oliver: What makes a book great?Kanakia: I talk about it this in the book, and I go through many different authors' conceptions of what makes a book great or what constitutes a classic. I don't know that anyone has come up with a really satisfying answer. The Horatian formulation from Horace—that a book is great or an author is great if it has lasted for a hundred years—is the one that seems to be the most accurate. Like, any book that's still being read a hundred years after it was written has a greatness.I do think that T. S. Eliott's formulation—that a civilization at its height produces certain literature and that literature partakes of the greatness of the civilization and summarizes the greatness of the civilization—does seem to have some kind of truth to it.But it's hard, right? Because the greatest French novel is In Search of Lost Time, but I don't know that anyone would say that the France in the 1920s was at its height. It's not a prescriptive thing, but it does seem like the way we read many of these Great Books, like Moby Dick, it feels like you're like communing with the entire society that produced it. So, maybe there's something there.Oliver: Now, you've used a list from Clifton Fadiman.Kanakia: Yes.Oliver: Rather than from Mortimer Adler or Harold Bloom or several others. Why this list?Kanakia: Well, the best reason is that it's actually the list I've just been using for the last 15 years. I went to a science fiction convention in 2009, Readercon, and at this science fiction convention was Michael Dirda, who was a Washington Post book critic. He had recently come out with his book, Classics for Pleasure, which I also bought and liked. But he said that the list he had always used was this Clifton Fadiman book. And so when I decided to start reading the Great Books, I went and got that book. I have perused many other lists over time, but that was always the list that seemed best to me.It seemed to have like the best mix. There's considerable variation amongst these lists, but there's also a lot of overlap. So any of these lists is going to have Dickens on it, and Tolstoy, and stuff like that. So really, you're just thinking about, “aside from Dickens and Tolstoy and George Eliot and Walt Whitman and all these people, who are the other 50 authors that you're going be reading?”The Mortimer Adler list is very heavy on philosophy. It has Plotinus on it. It has all these scientific works. I don't know, it didn't speak to me as much. Whereas, this Clifton Fadiman and John Major list has all these Eastern works on it. It has The Tale of Genji, Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Story of the Stone, and that just spoke to me a little bit more.Oliver: What modern books will be on a future Great Books list, whether it's from someone alive or someone since the war.Kanakia: Have you ever heard of Robert Caro?Oliver: Sure.Kanakia: Yeah. I think his Lyndon Johnson books are great books. They have changed the field of biography. They're so complete, they seem to summarize an entire era, epoch. They're highly rated, but I feel like they're underrated as literature.What else? I was actually a little bit surprised in this Clifton Fadiman-John Major book, which came out in 1999, that there are not more African Americans in their list. Like, Invisible Man definitely seemed like a huge missed work. You know, it's hard. You would definitely want a book that has undergone enough critical evaluation that people are pretty certain that it is great. A lot of things that are more recent have not undergone that evaluation yet, but Invisible Man has, as have some works by Martin Luther King.Oliver: What about The Autobiography of Malcolm X?Kanakia: I would have to reread. I feel like it hasn't been evaluated much as a literary document.Oliver: Helen DeWitt?Kanakia: It's hard to say. It's so idiosyncratic, The Last Samurai, but it is certainly one of the best novels of the last 25 years.Oliver: Yeah.Kanakia: It is hard to say, because there's nothing else quite like it. But I would love if The Last Samurai was on a list like this; that would be amazing.Oliver: If someone wants to try the Great Books, but they think that those sort of classic 19th-century novels are too difficult—because they're long and the sentences are weird or whatever—what else should they do? Where else should they start?Kanakia: Well, it depends on what they're into, or it depends on their personality type. I think like there are people who like very, very difficult literature. There are people who are very into James Joyce and Proust. I think for some people the cost-benefit is better. If they're going to be pouring over some book for a long time, they would prefer if it was overtly difficult.If they're not like that, then I would say, there are many Great Books that are more accessible. Hemingway is a good one and Grapes of Wrath is wonderful. The 19th-century American books tend to be written in a very different register than the English books. If you read Moby Dick, it feels like it's written in a completely different language than Charles Dickens, even though they're writing essentially at the same time.Oliver: Is there too much Freud on the list that you've used?Kanakia: Maybe. I know that Interpretation of Dreams is on that list, which I've tried to read and have decided life is too short. I didn't really buy it, but I have read a fair amount of Freud. My impression of Freud was always that I would read Freud and somehow it would just seem completely fanciful or far out, like wouldn't ring true. But then when I started reading Freud, it was more the opposite. I was like, oh yeah, this seems very, very true.Like this battle between like the id and the ego and the super ego, and this feeling that like the psyche is at war with itself. Human beings really desire to be singular and exceptional, but then you're constantly under assault by the reality principle, which is that you're insignificant. That all seemed completely true. But then he tries to cure this somehow, which does not seem a curable problem. And he also situates the problem in some early sexual development, which also did not necessarily ring true. But no, I wouldn't say there's too much. Freud is a lot of fun. People should read Freud.Oliver: Which of the Great Books have you really not liked?Kanakia: I do get asked this quite a bit. I would say the Great Book that I really felt like—at least in translation—was not that rewarding in an unabridged version was Don Quixote. Because at least half the length of Don Quixote is these like interpolated novellas that are really long and tedious. I felt Don Quixote was a big slog. But maybe someday I'll go back and reread it and love it. Who knows?Oliver: Now you wrote that the question of biography is totally divorced from the question of what art is and how it operates. What do you think of George Orwell's supposition that if Shakespeare came back tomorrow, and we found out he used to rape children that we should—we would not say, you know, it's fine to carry on to doing that because he might write another King Lear.Kanakia: Well, if we discovered that Shakespeare was raping children, he should go to prison for that. No. It's totally divorced in both senses. You don't get any credit in the court of law because you are the writer of King Lear. If I murdered someone and then I was hauled in front of a judge and they were like, oh, Naomi's a genius, I wouldn't get off for murder. Nor should I get off for murder.So in terms of like whether we would punish Shakespeare for his crime of raping children, I don't think King Lear should count at all, but it's never used that way. It's never should someone go to prison or not for their crimes, because they're a genius. It's always used the other way, which is should we read King Lear knowing that the author raped children, but I also feel like that is immaterial. If you read King Lear, you're not enabling someone to rape children.Oliver: There's an almost endless amount of discussion these days about the Great Books and education and the value of the humanities, and what's the future of it all. What is your short opinion on that?Kanakia: My short opinion is that the Great Books at least are going to be fine. The Great Books will continue to be read, and they would even survive the university. All these books predate the university and they will survive the university. I feel like the university has stewarded literature in its own way for a while now and has made certain choices in that stewardship. I think if that stewardship was given up to more voluntary associations that had less financial support, then I think the choices would probably be very different. But I still think the greatest works would survive.Oliver: Now this is a quote from the book: “I am glad that reactionaries love the Great Books. They've invited a Trojan horse into their own camp.” Tell us what you mean by that.Kanakia: Let's say you believed in Christian theocracy, that you thought America should be organized on explicitly Christian principles. And because you believe in Christian theocracy, you organize a school that teaches the Great Books. Many of these schools that are Christian schools that have Great Books programs will also teach Nietzsche. They definitely put some kind of spin on Nietzsche. But they will teach anti-Christ, and that is a counterpoint to Christian morality and Christian theology. There are many things that you'll read in the Great Books that are corrosive to various kinds of certainties.If someone who I think is bad starts educating themselves in the Great Books, I don't think that the Great Books are going to make them worse from my perspective. So it's good.Oliver: How did reading the Mahabharata change you?Kanakia: Oh yeah, so the Mahabharata is a Hindu epic from, let's say, the first century AD. I'm Indian and most Indians are familiar with the basic outline of the Mahabharata story because it's told in various retellings, and there's a TV serial that my parents would rent from the Indian store growing up and we would watch it tape by tape. So I'm very familiar with it. Like there's never been a time I have not known this story.But I was also familiar with the idea that there is a written version in Sanskrit that's extremely long. It is 10 times as long as the Iliad and the Odyssey combined. This Mahabharata story is not that long. I've read a version of it that's about 800 pages long. So how could something that's 10 times this long be the same? A new unabridged translation came out 10 years ago. So I started reading it, and it basically contains the entire Sanskrit Vedic worldview in it.I had never been exposed to this very coherently laid-out version of what I would call Hindu cosmology and ethics. Hindus don't really get taught those things in a very organized way. The book is basically about dharma, the principle of rightness and how this principle of rightness orders the universe and how it basically results in everybody getting their just deserts in various ways. As I was reading the book, I was like, this seems very true that there is some cosmic rebalancing here, and that everything does turn out more or less the way it should, which is not something that I can defend on a rational level.But just reading the book, it just made me feel like, yes, that is true. There is justice, the universe is organized by justice. It took me about a year to read the whole thing. I started waking up at 5:00 a.m. and reading for an hour each morning, and it just was a really magical, profound experience that brought me a lot closer to my grandmother's religious beliefs.Oliver: Is it ever possible to persuade someone with arguments that they should read literature, or is it just something that they have to have an inclination toward and then follow someone's example? Because I feel like we have so many columns and op-eds and “books are good because of X reason, and it's very important because of Y reason.” And like, who cares? No one cares. If you are persuaded, you take all that very seriously and you argue about what exactly are the precise reasons we should say. And if you're not persuaded, you don't even know this is happening.And what really persuades you is like, oh, Naomi sounds pretty compelling about the Mahabharata. That sounds cool. I'll try that. It's much more of a temperamental, feelingsy kind of thing. Is it possible to argue people into thinking about this differently? Or should we just be doing what we do and setting an example and hoping that people will follow.Kanakia: As to whether it's possible or not, I do not know. But I do think these columns are too ambitious. A thousand-word column and the imagined audience for this column is somebody who doesn't read books at all, who doesn't care about literature at all. And then in a thousand-word column, you're going to persuade them to care about literature. This is no good. It's so unnecessary.Whereas there's a much broader range of people who love to read books, but have never picked up Moby Dick or have never picked up Middlemarch, or who like maybe loved Middlemarch, but never thought maybe I should then go on and read Jane Austen and George Eliot.I think trying to shift people from “I don't read books at all; reading books is not something I do,” to being a Great Books card-carrying lover of literature is a lot. I really aim for a much lower result than that, which is to whatever extent people are interested in literature, they should pursue that interest. And as the rationalists would say, there's a lot of alpha in that; there's a lot to be gained from converting people who are somewhat interested into people who are very interested.Oliver: If there was a more widespread practice of humanism in education and the general culture, would that make America into a more liberal country in any way?Kanakia: What do you mean by humanism?Oliver: You know, the old-fashioned liberal arts approach, the revival of the literary journal culture, the sort of depolitical approach to literature, the way things used to be, as it were.Kanakia: It couldn't hurt. It couldn't hurt is my answer to that question.Oliver: Okay.Kanakia: What you're describing is basically the way I was educated. I went to Catholic school in DC at St. Anselm's Abbey School, in Northeast, DC, grade school. Highly recommend sending your little boys there. No complaints about the school. They talked about humanism all the time and all these civic virtues. I thought it was great. I don't know what people in other schools learn, but I really feel like it was a superior way of teaching.Now, you know, it was Catholic school, so a lot of people who graduated from my school are conservatives and don't really have the beliefs that I have, but that's okay.Oliver: Tell us about your reading habits.Kanakia: I read mostly ebooks. I really love ebooks because you can make the type bigger. I just read all the time. They vary. I don't wake up at 5:00 a.m. to read anymore. Sometimes if I feel like I'm not reading enough—because I write this blog, and the blog doesn't get written unless I'm reading. That's the engine, and so sometimes I set aside a day each week to read. But generally, the reading mostly takes care of itself.What I tend to get is very into a particular thing, and then I'll start reading more and more in that area. Recently, I was reading a lot of New Yorker stories. So I started reading more and more of these storywriters that have been published in the New Yorker and old anthologies of New Yorker stories. And then eventually I am done. I'm tired. It's time to move on.Oliver: But do you read several books at once? Do you make notes? Do you abandon books? How many hours a day do you read?Kanakia: Hours a day: Because my e-reader keeps these stats, I'd say 15 or 20 hours a week of reading. Nowadays because I write for the blog, I often think as I'm reading how I would frame a post about this. So I look for quotes, like what quote I would look at. I take different kinds of notes. I'll make more notes if I'm more confused by what is going on. Especially with nonfiction books, I'll try sometimes to make notes just to iron out what exactly I think is happening or what I think the argument is. But no, not much of a note taker.Oliver: What will you read next?Kanakia: What will I read next? Well, I've been thinking about getting back into Indian literature. Right now I'm reading Les Miserables by Victor Hugo. But there's an Indian novel called Jhootha Sach, which is a partition novel that is originally in Hindi. And it's also a thousand pages long, and is frequently compared to Les Miserables and War and Peace. So I'm thinking about tackling that finally.Oliver: Naomi Kanakia, thank you very much.Kanakia: Thanks for having me. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.commonreader.co.uk

On Saturday Iran's Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei was killed after Israel and the US launched a "massive" and ongoing attack against Iran's leadership and military. US President Donald Trump urged Iranian forces to lay down their arms, and for Iran's people to rise up against its government. Iran has responded by firing ballistic missiles and drones at US assets and allies across the region. Whilst huge questions still remain about what will happen next in this conflict, on Woman's Hour today we ask what this moment might mean for women in Iran. Nuala McGovern is joined by BBC Persian reporter Ghoncheh Habibiazad and international human rights lawyer Azadeh Zabeti, Co-President of the Committee of Anglo-Iranian Lawyers.Mary Ann Evans is better known by her pseudonym George Eliot. She's the author of many important novels including Middlemarch, Silas Marner, and Mill on the Floss, which brings the issue of women's education to the fore. A new play, Bird Grove, the name of George Eliot's home, has just opened at the Hampstead Theatre in London. When we meet Mary Ann she has not yet started writing fiction, but beginning to have her mind opened to progressive new ideas. Nuala finds out more with the play's director, Anna Ledwich, and actor Elizabeth Dulau who plays Mary Ann Evans. According to the NGO International Justice Mission, child sexual abuse that takes place on social media and other online platforms is one of the fastest‑growing yet least‑detected types of child abuse globally. Offenders pay to direct the real‑time sexual exploitation of children via any internet‑connected, camera‑enabled device. Most identified victims are in the Philippines and the UK is among the top three countries consuming this material, with the United States at number one. Nuala is joined by Molly Hudson from the International Justice Mission, and Sharon Pursey, co‑founder of SafeToNet, a British online safety technology company.Kate Pickett is Professor of Epidemiology at the University of York. Her new book is The Good Society and How We Make It and in it she looks at ideas she believes will build a better society and says we “can't afford to nibble” when it comes to solving some of the big issues we are facing. Presenter: Nuala McGovern Producer: Andrea Kidd

Welcome to Albion - our exploration of what it means to be English, and what we mean by England.In this episode of OffScript, Dash Arts' Artistic Director Josephine Burton is joined by Caroline Lucas for a thoughtful and urgent conversation about Englishness - beyond flags and nostalgia.Drawing on her book Another England, Caroline shares her thoughts on how land, belonging and identity shape our politics and our culture; how England's stories have been constructed and contested; and why reclaiming a generous, complex vision of England matters now.Since 2022, Dash Arts has been digging into landscape and language - from reimagining Middlemarch by George Eliot in 1980s Coventry, to running speech-making workshops with more than 600 people across the country. We've been listening to who we are — and who we could be.Join us as we ask: what does Englishness mean to you?Albion will culminate in 2026 with our new touring theatre production, Our Public House. Get your tickets and to find out more on the Dash Arts website : https://www.dasharts.org.uk/our-public-house Our intro music is Fakiiritanssi by Marouf Majidi Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Is the real crisis today economic — or architectural? In this episode, we challenge the idea that loneliness and despair come from a broken ladder of upward mobility. What if the problem isn't that we can't climb… but that we were taught to measure our worth by climbing in the first place? Drawing from Middlemarch, modern work culture, and personal experience, this conversation explores why craftsmanship, authorship, and daily building may be the antidote to vertical despair.In this episode:Why the “career ladder” mindset fuels anxiety and comparisonThe difference between climbing and buildingHow craftsmanship creates internal pride (and hunger)What Lydgate's crisis in Middlemarch teaches us about collapsed ambitionWhy being seen — not promoted — can save a lifeThe power of asking: “Am I actually in danger right now?”Moving from passive consumption to generative actionHow to build meaning even when the system feels unstable

How Do We Shape Future Generations Well?   Nancy French returns to The Good Faith Podcast with host Curtis Chang for a heartfelt, funny, and surprisingly practical conversation about how grandparenting reshapes your view of hope, kids and screens, grief, and what's worth doing with the time you have—even is that just means "robbing a bank with a Barbie." This conversation isn't just for grandparents: it's for anyone mentoring, parenting, teaching, or influencing the next generation, with practical wisdom on choosing connection, naming loss honestly, and creating space for kids to grow "analog" and resilient. Nancy also explains why legacy and being remembered aren't the point—what matters is faithfully loving the people in front of you and passing on stability, courage, and hope that outlasts you.   02:05 - Why Did Nancy Choose a Year as Primary Caregiver To Her Grandpkids? 07:44 - No screens and the value of analog, imaginative play. 13:15 - Preserving Children's Natural Hope  14:26 - Navigating Difficult Topics with Children  17:14 - The Value of Letting Children Experience Loss  23:09 - Creativity and Storytelling with Grandchildren  25:51 - Introducing Real-World Conflicts in Play  29:19 - Grandparents as Links to Family Legacy  34:53 - George Eliot: The Value of Unremembered Acts  36:18 - Living with Cancer and Embracing the Present  42:30 - Grandparenting from a Distance  45:27 - Encouragement to Focus on fun, connection, and Presence Rather Than Legacy   Episode Companion: A Guide for Grandparents & All Those Influencing The Next Generation   Mentioned In This Episode: Demographic research: Grandchildren's spatial proximity to grandparents and intergenerational support in the United States Jennifer F. Cross, M.D.: Why screen time should be limited for kids  The Child Mind Institute: The Power of Pretend Play for Children Chicago's Harold Washington Library Curtis Chang's The Anxiety Opportunity: How Worry Is the Doorway to Your Best Self Nancy French & Curtis Chang's The After Party: Toward Better Christian Politics Nancy French's Ghosted: An American Story George Eliot's Middlemarch (epubs) More about Secretary of State Cordell Hull More From Nancy French: Nancy French's website Nancy French on instagram Nancy French on Threads   Follow Us: Good Faith on Instagram Good Faith on X (formerly Twitter) Good Faith on Facebook   The Good Faith Podcast is a production of a 501(c)(3) nonpartisan organization that does not engage in any political campaign activity to support or oppose any candidate for public office. Any views and opinions expressed by any guests on this program are solely those of the individuals and do not necessarily reflect the views or positions of Good Faith.

This is a "re-air," since economic uncertainty continues this year-end giving season."...for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs..."This week, I am reflecting a quote from George Eliot's Middlemarch, published in 1871 to ask the question, "will donor give during uncertainty?"Reflection QuestionsWhen was the last time you did a temperature check with your donors? Asked them how they are feeling in the uncertainty?  Asked them how they are keeping the darkness at bay? And, just listen.Then consider, will your vision inspire donors to give to a capital campaign?Reflection for Capital CampaignsOne common question I receive is “is this the right time for a campaign because of … the fill-in-the-blank economic or societal uncertainty?”  Will donors give?During uncertain times, the ordinary people who are our donors often feel overwhelmed.  When there is increased division, enmity, and strife, it's easy to feel powerless and to focus inward. We begin to feel as though nothing will change and, for some, this can lead to a decrease in their giving. And, yet, neuroscience has proven that the act of giving boosts a donor's mood and their feelings of agency.  When we give donors a concrete way that they can help their community, they no longer feel as powerless.  Their donations become the small acts of kindness and love that they can do to push back against the enmity.  Through giving, we empower them to partner with us to keep the uncertainty in check.  We empower them to grow the good in each of our communities through these unhistoric acts.  A well-planned capital campaign can cast a vision that becomes a visible reminder of the good they can do in the community.  What do you think? Send me a text. To explore small town capital campaign coaching deeper and to schedule an free explore coaching call, visit ServingNonprofits.com.Music credit: Woeisuhmebop

In this episode of Quakers Today, co-hosts Sweet Miche (they/them) and Peterson Toscano (he/him) invite you to learn more about the sometimes baffling practice of silent worship. Whether you're a long-time Friend or someone who has never stepped into a mostly silent meeting, we are pulling back the curtain to explore what happens in our hearts, minds, and bodies when we sit together in worship. The Purpose of Ministry We speak with author Rhiannon Grant about her book, Speaking in Quaker Meeting for Worship: What, When, How, and Why. Rhiannon helps us understand the purpose of spoken ministry in the silent meeting, explaining how speech that deepens silence is a vital part of our shared spiritual practice.  Quote: "The purpose of ministry then might be understood as deepening the silence of meeting for worship." Read a review of Speaking in Quaker Meeting for Worship by Paul Buckley at FriendsJournal.org.  Learn more about Rhiannon Grant's book and other Quaker Quicks at QuakerBooks.org/Collections/Quaker-Quicks. Our First Meetings for Worship Peterson and Sweet Miche share their first experiences in Quaker worship: Peterson's search for community after 9/11 and Sweet Miche's feeling of guidance at Pendle Hill. We also hear from Paula Christophersen, a Quaker in Germany, who shared her first experience of ministry. You can watch the full video of Paula Christophersen on YouTube or at QuakerSpeak.com. Meeting for Worship with Attention to Worship Peterson introduces a new format for meeting for worship he's been experimenting with: Meeting for Worship with Attention to Worship. This model of worship uses the meeting's existing structure to guide newcomers by making the internal work of worship visible and conversational. Quaker Fiction We explore how writers use fiction and poetry to make the internal, mystical experience of worship visible. Anne E.G. Nydam's story, “The Conduits”, reveals the flow of connection in meeting through glowing lines of light. Peterson shares two of his short stories! “Penn's Spring”, uses a mysterious, unexplained wet patch on a meetinghouse wall to represent a spiritual movement in a "stagnant and dry" meeting. “What Is Actually There” features a high-schooler named Jordan reflecting on the enduring effort of the Quaker path. “A Fine Showing for the Court of Owls” by Jonathan Doering is a story about the radical Quaker abolitionist Benjamin Lay. Read Quaker-themed fiction and poetry in the November 2025 issue of Friends Journal. Listener Responses Who is someone you've encountered in fiction that embodies Quakerness? The character could be from a book or movie. They could be a hero or even a minor character, and they do not need to be Quaker.  This month's fictional “Quakers” include: Pooh Bear, Maisie Dobbs, Gumby, Ted Lasso, Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, WALL-E, Stevens from The Remains of the Day, and Dorothea from George Eliot's Middlemarch. Next Month's Question We want to hear from you! What do you believe now that you didn't believe before becoming a friend or before encountering Quakerism?  Leave us a voice memo with your name and town at 317-QUAKERS (317-782-5377). (+1 if outside the U.S.) You can also reply by email at podcast@FriendsJournal.org or on our social media channels. Sponsors Quakers Today is the companion podcast to Friends Journal and other Friends Publishing Corporation content. It is written, hosted, and produced by Peterson Toscano and Sweet Miche. Season Five of Quakers Today is sponsored by the American Friends Service Committee and Friends Fiduciary. For over a decade, the American Friends Service Committee has provided technical and strategic support for divestment campaigns around the world. Today, AFSC's Action Center for Corporate Accountability aims to expose and reduce corporate complicity in mass incarceration, immigrant detention, border militarization, and the Israeli military occupation. Visit investigate.afsc.org and find resources to help you divest from corporate-sponsored state violence. Friends Fiduciary is a Quaker non-profit offering cost-effective, professional investment services to Friends meetings, churches, schools, and organizations. We offer five value-aligned portfolios, managed by 12 SEC-registered firms. We screen every holding for Quaker values, engage in shareholder advocacy, and in 2024, distributed $16 million to our constituents. Learn more about us at FriendsFiduciary.org. Music in this episode comes from Epidemic Sound. For the extended video version of this episode, visit the Friends Journal YouTube channel (insert hyperlink). For a full transcript, visit QuakersToday.org.

Ask yourself: can you? It is a question that George Eliot asks over and over through her characters in Middlemarch, a 19th-century novel that speaks to our own fractious age. Eliot highlights how important it is to see the world from the point of view of others — even characters we don't like. *This is second episode in our two-part series. It originally aired on April 7, 2002.We'd love to hear from you! Complete our listener survey here.

Virginia Woolf called George Eliot's novel, Middlemarch “one of the few English books written for grownups.” It's a book full of characters asking: is it a good thing to live a life of duty, or is it ridiculous? Even after 150 years since the book was published, it provides up-to-date lessons in how to live a modern life. *This is part one or two-part series. It originally aired on April 6, 2022.

"...for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs..."This week, I am reflecting a quote from George Eliot's Middlemarch, published in 1871 to ask the question, "will donor give during uncertainty?"Reflection QuestionsWhen was the last time you did a temperature check with your donors? Asked them how they are feeling in the uncertainty?  Asked them how they are keeping the darkness at bay? And, just listen.Then consider, will your vision inspire donors to give to a capital campaign?Reflection for Capital CampaignsOne common question I receive is “is this the right time for a campaign because of … the fill-in-the-blank economic or societal uncertainty?”  Will donors give?During uncertain times, the ordinary people who are our donors often feel overwhelmed.  When there is increased division, enmity, and strife, it's easy to feel powerless and to focus inward. We begin to feel as though nothing will change and, for some, this can lead to a decrease in their giving. And, yet, neuroscience has proven that the act of giving boosts a donor's mood and their feelings of agency.  When we give donors a concrete way that they can help their community, they no longer feel as powerless.  Their donations become the small acts of kindness and love that they can do to push back against the enmity.  Through giving, we empower them to partner with us to keep the uncertainty in check.  We empower them to grow the good in each of our communities through these unhistoric acts.  A well-planned capital campaign can cast a vision that becomes a visible reminder of the good they can do in the community.  What do you think? Send me a text. To explore small town capital campaign coaching deeper and to schedule an free explore coaching call, visit ServingNonprofits.com.Music credit: Woeisuhmebop

In this week's episode of The Learning Curve, co-hosts U-Arkansas Prof. Albert Cheng and Great Hearts Academies' Dr. Helen Baxendale interview Dr. Kathryn Hughes, academic historian and award-winning author of George Eliot: The Last Victorian. Dr. Hughes discusses the significance of 19th-century novelist Mary Ann Evans, better known by her pen name George Eliot, in […]

In this week's episode of The Learning Curve, co-hosts U-Arkansas Prof. Albert Cheng and Great Hearts Academies' Dr. Helen Baxendale interview Dr. Kathryn Hughes, academic historian and award-winning author of George Eliot: The Last Victorian. Dr. Hughes discusses the significance of 19th-century novelist Mary Ann Evans, better known by her pen name George Eliot, in shaping British literature and capturing the societal tensions of the Victorian era. She highlights Eliot's formative years in rural Warwickshire, her intellectual and scandalous personal relationship with the philosopher George Henry Lewes, and how her unconventional experiences shaped her writing. Additionally, she delves into Eliot's most celebrated works, including Adam Bede, Silas Marner, and Middlemarch. Dr. Hughes reflects on recurring themes of marriage, women's roles, and political reform, solidifying her reputation as one of the greatest writers of the 19th century and ensuring her lasting impact on modern readers. She concludes the interview with an excerpt from her book, George Eliot: The Last Victorian.

Eindelijk... we openen seizoen 13 met Middlemarch van George Eliot! In Engeland geldt het als een van de belangrijkste Engelstalige boeken ooit geschreven, voor Boeken FM-luisteraars geldt het als het boek dat ze al heel lang een keer besproken zouden willen hebben. In Middlemarch beschrijft Eliot het leven van een aantal mensen uit de Engelse middenklasse, en hoe ze met elkaar omgaan, in het provinciestadje Middlemarch rond 1830. George Eliot was het pseudoniem van Mary Ann Evans. Onlangs is Middlemarch opnieuw gedrukt met een nawoord van onze Ellen, in een vertaling van Annelies Roeleveld en Margret Stevens. Wat heeft Middlemarch betekend voor het volwassen leven van het Boeken FM-panel? Is het eigenlijk een historische roman? Waarom zijn klassiekers van alle tijden? En wie is de vertelstem precies? Een luisteraar vraagt ons of we wel eens graven van schrijvers bezoeken. Voor welke graven zijn we omgelopen? SPONSOR - Brabants Boek Present Het Brabants Boek Present is een initiatief van literair productiehuis Tilt en CultuurfondsNoord-Brabant en wordt dit jaar geschreven door Leonieke Baerwaldt. Meer info lees je opwww.brabantsboekpresent.nl See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Tonight's reading comes from Middlemarch. Written by George Eliot (the pen name of Mary Ann Evans) and first published in 1871, this story is part of a series that explores live in a provincial English town. My name is Teddy and I aim to help people everywhere get a good night's rest. Sleep is so important and my mission is to help you get the rest you need. The podcast is designed to play in the background while you slowly fall asleep.For those new to the podcast, it started from my own struggles with sleep. I wanted to create a resource for others facing similar challenges, and I'm so grateful for the amazing community we've built together.

Fort Zumwalt West (MO) Percussion Director and Chapter President for the Missouri Percussive Arts Society Neil Flannigan stops by to talk about his teaching position (03:25), the MOPAS Presidency (21:40), growing up in STL, his percussion and guitar background, the band Rush, Southwind Drum and Bugle Corps, and working at Dierberg's Grocery Store (31:00), attending St. Louis CC and the University of Missouri-St. Louis for undergrad, and meeting his eventual wife Jessie (47:30), his early teaching jobs, his decision not to follow the band director path, and landing his current position during COVID lockdown (01:00:00), and finishes with the Random Ass Questions, including discussions about setting boundaries, Indian food, Jurassic Park, puppetry, bourbon, and great visual art (01:27:00).Finishing with a Rave on the classic George Eliot novel Middlemarch (02:03:20).Neil Flannigan links:Neil Flannigan's Innovative Percussion pageNeil Flannigan's SABIAN Cymbals pagePrevious Podcast Guests mentioned:Jessie Flannigan in 2025Alex Smith in 2018Alexandros Fragiskatos in 2021Megan Arns in 2016Josh Knight in 2017Ivan Trevino in 2017Matt Henry in 2017Patricia Islas in 2021Eric Willie in 2022Other Links:MMPATNicole HackelSebastian BuhtsSt. Louis Wind SymphonyMichael Burritt“Tom Sawyer” - Rush“Smells Like Teen Spirit” - Nirvana“When Doves Cry” - Prince Southwind Drum and Bugle CorpsJim Widner“Fix You” - ColdplayJurassic Park trailerThe Martian trailerThe Martian - Andy WeirGhost Rider - Neil Peart“I Want it That Way” - Backstreet BoysWater Lilies - Claude MonetRaves:Middlemarch - George Eliot

Summer is slipping away and we are on break this week. But we have a fantastic rerun for you — our conversation with Min Jin Lee from last summer, when her book "Pachinko" was named one of the "100 Best Books of the 21st Century" by a New York Times Book Review panel. She spoke about her novel as well as the book she's read the most times — George Eliot's "Middlemarch."“I'm willing to say it's the best English language novel, period. Without question,” Lee says. “George Eliot is probably the smartest girl in the room ever as a novelist. She really was a great thinker, a great logician, a great empathizer and also a great psychologist. She was all of those things. And she was also political. She understood so many aspects of the human mind and the way we interact with each other. And then above all, I think she has a great heart.” Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

Our classic literature correspondent Kat Weaver joins us for a look at George Eliot's masterpiece about small towns and bad marriages. We find some wizards in it.

Send us a textWhat if we told you that there was an ingenious retelling of Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights set in post-war Japan that also has shades of Middlemarch and The Great Gatsby? Minae Mizumura's A True Novel, first published in 2002, checks all those boxes and more. Joining us to discuss A True Novel is Lavanya Krishnan, co-founder of the literary book subscription Boxwalla. (This episode originally aired in 2023).Discussed in this episode: A True Novel by Minae Mizumura Lavanya Krishnan, BoxwallaAlexander CheeWuthering Heights by Emily BronteThe Great Gatsby by F. Scott FitzgeraldMiddlemarch by George Eliot “Why I Write What I Write” by Minae MizumuraWriting Routines with Minae MizumuraThe Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor DostoyevskyLight and Darkness, Continued by Minae MizumuraAn I Novel from Left to Right by Minae MizumuraA Heart So White by Javier Marías Autobiography of Red by Anne CarsonThe Diary of an Invasion by Andrey KurkovTime Shelter by Georgi GospodinovSupport the showFor episodes and show notes, visit: LostLadiesofLit.comSubscribe to our substack newsletter. Follow us on instagram @lostladiesoflit. Email us: Contact — Lost Ladies of Lit Podcast

Welcome to the 200th episode of Sarah's Bookshelves Live with a very special celebration with both co-hosts: Susie (@NovelVisits) and Catherine of Gilmore Guide to Books. Today, they are answering listener-submitted questions all about their reading journeys, their podcast journeys, and some about their pre-podcast blogging days! This post contains affiliate links through which I make a small commission when you make a purchase (at no cost to you!). CLICK HERE for the full episode Show Notes on the blog. Highlights Their early reading lives. The most surprising things about their reading history. Susie's secret endeavor! How much they talk about books in their day-to-day lives. What their friends outside of the book world think about what they do. Would Susie or Catherine ever want to do an author interview? How their feelings about the podcast have changed over the years. Topic Highlights Key Moments in Their Reading Lives [1:59] A few of the questions answered: Have you always been a reader, and do you have a distinct memory of when you truly fell in love with reading? [2:11]  Was there a time in your life when you were not reading very much? [6:34]  What parts of your reading tastes have changed dramatically over the course of your reading life and what parts have stayed consistent? [10:56]  Currently, what is your reading “why”? What's the primary reasoon you read? [29:35] Their Professional Reading Journeys [34:17] A few of the questions answered: Why did you start your blogs? [34:26]  Is there anything you miss from the time when you only blogged? Anything you don't miss? [40:35]  What is your relationship like off mic? [44:49]  How has social media changed your reading life? [53:04] Anything you wish you had known about podcasting before you got involved? [1:03:13]  Books Mentioned Dick and Jane Reading Collection  [2:41] Ant and Bee and the ABC  (1950) [4:31]  The Secret of the Old Clock by Carolyn Keene (1930) [4:59] Kristy's Great Idea (The Baby-Sitters Club, 1) by Ann M. Martin (1986) [5:02]  Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown (1947) [5:29]  The Interestings by Meg Wolitzer (2013) [9:47]  Double Love (Sweet Valley High, 1) by Francine Pascal (1983)  [16:09]  Great Expectations by Charles Dickens (1861)  [16:49]  Tell Me Lies by Carola Lovering (2018)  [17:42]  Normal People by Sally Rooney (2019)  [17:43]  Bitter Sweet by Hattie Williams (2025)  [17:44]  Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert (1857) [18:46]  Middlemarch by George Eliot (1872) [18:54]  Out of Africa by Isak Dinesen (1937) [19:17] 

“The subject of affairs, I think it's of interest to everybody. We have all had an Oedipal experience - we've all been babies who have at some point realized that we are not the only person. We're not perfectly fused with our mother, and she has other things to do, and there may be a father. We've all known what rejection feels like, and probably betrayal, and I think that affairs are in our unconscious. I think that's sort of evident in the way that most great novels, most great films, or at least many, have an affair at their heart. From Anna Karenina to Madame Bovary to Fatal Attraction, I think this is something that is just interesting. I wanted to write about affairs because I think they are a way of showing what psychoanalysis can do in a field in which everyone has an opinion on, and probably most people, in some way, have been indirectly or directly affected by. That was really the sort of the genesis for wanting to write about affairs.” Episode Description: We consider the challenge of writing about dynamic treatments in a manner that is accessible to the non-clinical reader. Juliet's book about affairs opens up this widely recognized experience and adds intrapsychic insights without using emotionally - distancing jargon. She introduces us to individuals who have been involved in affairs, with carefully protected confidentiality, who generally reveal the power of past experiences to influence adult choices. Some end happily, and some end in agony. Juliet demonstrates the usefulness of bringing a dynamic listening to both accepting and deepening each individual's lifelong search for love.   Our Guest: Juliet Rosenfeld is a psychoanalyst and a member of the British Psychoanalytical Society, London. She studied at Oxford before a 15-year career in advertising and marketing, ending up in Government Communications. During this time, she began a Master's at the Tavistock and Portman Trust in Organizational Consultancy and started training as a psychotherapist a year later. She qualified as an integrative psychotherapist in 2012. Juliet was an elected trustee of the UK Council of Psychotherapy for four years, and is presently one of two clinician Trustees at the Freud Museum London, Sigmund Freud's final home. Juliet is the author of two books, The State of Disbelief ( 2020) and Affairs, True Stories of Love, Lies, Hope and Desire. Juliet's broader interest is in how psychoanalysis might be more accessible, and its ideas put into non-clinical language for audiences who may never be able to access psychotherapy themselves but are curious about what the unconscious means and what goes on in the consulting room. Recommended Readings: Creativity and Perversion by Janine Chasseguet-Smirgel (W. W. Norton & Co., Inc., 1984)   Dreams of Love and Fateful Encounters by Ethel S. Person (American Psychiatric Association Publishing, 2006)   Home Is Where We Start From by D. W. Winnicott (Penguin, 1990)   Love in the Time of the Internet by Martina Burdet (underbau, 2020)   Sex, Death and the Super Ego by Ronald Britton (Routledge, 2020)   Sexual Attraction in Therapy edited by Maria Luca (Wiley-Blackwell, 2014)   Sexuality and Attachment in Clinical Practice edited by Joseph Schwartz and Kate White (Routledge, 2019)   The Bonds of Love by Jessica Benjamin (Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, 1988)   The New Sexual Landscape and Contemporary Psychoanalysis by Danielle Knafo and Rocco Lo Bosco (Confer Books, 2020)   Novels about Affairs Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy (Penguin Classics, 2003)   A Very English Scandal by John Preston (Penguin, 2017)   Deception by Philip Roth (Vintage, 1991)   Getting Lost by Annie Ernaux (Fitzcarraldo Editions, 2022)   Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert (Wordsworth Editions, 1993)   Middlemarch by George Eliot (Wordsworth Editions, 1993)   The End of the Affair by Graeme Green (Vintage Classics, 2004)     

Virginia Woolf once described Middlemarch as one of the few English novels 'for grown ups'

'El verano de Cervantes' es el último libro de Antonio Muñoz Molina (Seix Barral)  y nos lo ha presentando en la biblioteca de Hoy por Hoy. El autor nos lleva a sus lecturas veraniegas del gran clásico de las letras españolas. Es un libro que lee desde niño y a través de sus lecturas nos cuenta episodios de su vida y la relación de Don Quijote de la Mancha con la cultura española y universal. También nos descubre como es un libro donde siempre es verano, solo llueve una vez  o que Cervantes nunca describe el paisaje. Un ensayo apasionante en el que siempre que te pones frente a una obra de Antonio Muñoz Molina aprendes, y no sólo de literatura. Más allá de 'El verano de Cervantes' nos regalo otros dos libros para nuestras estanterías: 'Middlemarch' de George Eliot (Alba Editorial) y 'Antología poética' de Vicent Andrés Estellés (Visor).  Nuestro bibliotecario Antonio Martínez Asensio nos trajo tres libros que relaciona con la crisis de la inmigración en Estados Unidos : 'Genealogía' de María Teresa Andruetto y Santiago Guevara (Libros del zorro rojo) , 'Americanah' de Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche (Random House) y 'Solito' de Javier Zamora ( Random House). A estos tres libros Martínez Asensio sumó el libro que nos contará en 'Un libro, una hora', un clasicazo "Celia en la revolución' de Elena Fortún (Renacimiento). Las novedades las trajo Pepe Rubio , dos : 'Aquellas noches eternas' de Silvia Grijalba (Ediciones B)  y 'Apuntes para una despedida" de Javier Serena  (Almadía) . Pascual Donate rescató de nuevo un libro abandona en la redacción de la SER, bueno tres 'Mapas del tesoro' (I, II y III)  de j. Miguel Espinosa Infante (Caligrama). Tres tomos en el que el autor deja en herencia todo su saber a sus hijos. Por último las donaciones de los oyentes que fueron: 'La vida exagerada de Martín Romaña" de Alfredo Bryce Echenique (Anagrama) , 'Tinta invisble' de Javier Peña (Blackie Books) y 'Cometas en el cielo" de Kalhed Hosseini (Salamandra) 

'El verano de Cervantes' es el último libro de Antonio Muñoz Molina (Seix Barral)  y nos lo ha presentando en la biblioteca de Hoy por Hoy. El autor nos lleva a sus lecturas veraniegas del gran clásico de las letras españolas. Es un libro que lee desde niño y a través de sus lecturas nos cuenta episodios de su vida y la relación de Don Quijote de la Mancha con la cultura española y universal. También nos descubre como es un libro donde siempre es verano, solo llueve una vez  o que Cervantes nunca describe el paisaje. Un ensayo apasionante en el que siempre que te pones frente a una obra de Antonio Muñoz Molina aprendes, y no sólo de literatura. Más allá de 'El verano de Cervantes' nos regalo otros dos libros para nuestras estanterías: 'Middlemarch' de George Eliot (Alba Editorial) y 'Antología poética' de Vicent Andrés Estellés (Visor).  Nuestro bibliotecario Antonio Martínez Asensio nos trajo tres libros que relaciona con la crisis de la inmigración en Estados Unidos : 'Genealogía' de María Teresa Andruetto y Santiago Guevara (Libros del zorro rojo) , 'Americanah' de Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche (Random House) y 'Solito' de Javier Zamora ( Random House). A estos tres libros Martínez Asensio sumó el libro que nos contará en 'Un libro, una hora', un clasicazo "Celia en la revolución' de Elena Fortún (Renacimiento). Las novedades las trajo Pepe Rubio , dos : 'Aquellas noches eternas' de Silvia Grijalba (Ediciones B)  y 'Apuntes para una despedida" de Javier Serena  (Almadía) . Pascual Donate rescató de nuevo un libro abandona en la redacción de la SER, bueno tres 'Mapas del tesoro' (I, II y III)  de j. Miguel Espinosa Infante (Caligrama). Tres tomos en el que el autor deja en herencia todo su saber a sus hijos. Por último las donaciones de los oyentes que fueron: 'La vida exagerada de Martín Romaña" de Alfredo Bryce Echenique (Anagrama) , 'Tinta invisble' de Javier Peña (Blackie Books) y 'Cometas en el cielo" de Kalhed Hosseini (Salamandra) 

This podcast covers episodes 11,585 to 11,590. Sally is shocked when she catches Tim meeting with a social worker to investigate the possibility of fostering. Carl makes some easy cash from Fiona with his dodgy MOT caper while courting a very keen Tracy. Sean worries about Dylan being released from the STC and running into Brody, but for the wrong reasons. Dee Dee is ready to focus on her work when James returns from the US again. Jason suggests to Eileen that she become his business partner and move to Thailand. Millie reads Middlemarch. Abi's mince needs a sniff. Psst — Kev fainted.

In recent years, floodwater and contaminated muck has flowed through homes, businesses and streets in the rural Otago town of Middlemarch. The regional council held a community meeting to update locals on a solution - and Tess Brunton was there.

In a new installment of the Critics at Large advice hotline, Vinson Cunningham, Naomi Fry, and Alexandra Schwartz field calls from listeners on a variety of cultural dilemmas, and offer recommendations for what ails them. Callers' concerns run the gamut from the lighthearted to the existential; several seek works to help ease the sting of the state of the world. “I can't say that we will solve those deeper issues,” Cunningham says. “But to share art with somebody is to offer them a companion.”Read, watch, and listen with the critics:The New York Issue of The New Yorker (May 12 & 19, 2025)“Birds of America,” by Lorrie Moore“Eighth Grade” (2018)“Gilead,” by Marilynne Robinson“Danny, the Champion of the World,” by Roald Dahl“Midnight Diner” (2016-19)“Sentimental Education,” by Gustave Flaubert“Middlemarch,” by George Eliot“My Life in Middlemarch,” by Rebecca Mead“How the Method Made Acting Modern,” by Alexandra Schwartz (The New Yorker)Charles Schulz's “Peanuts”“First Reformed” (2017)“Better Things” (2016-22)“The Functionally Dysfunctional Matriarchy of ‘Better Things,' ” by Alexandra Schwartz (The New Yorker)“Odes,” by Sharon OldsTJ Douglas's “Dying”Mozart's “The Magic Flute”“Peppa Pig” (2004—)Aaron Copland's “Billy the Kid”Dennis Wilson's “Pacific Ocean Blue”Caetano Veloso's “Ofertório”Crosby, Stills & Nash's début albumNew episodes drop every Thursday. Follow Critics at Large wherever you get your podcasts. Learn about your ad choices: dovetail.prx.org/ad-choices

"The next person I want to present to you is Andrew Leslie. I'm fairly certain none of you know that name. But I hope that after several episodes, his “hidden life” and “unvisited tomb”, to use George Eliot's phrases from the last line of her novel “Middlemarch”, will be honored."   For more information, visit CBTSeminary.org

The next person I want to present to you is Andrew Leslie. I'm fairly certain none of you know that name. But I hope that after several episodes, his “hidden life” and “unvisited tomb”, to use George Eliot's phrases from the last line of her novel “Middlemarch”, will be honored.For more information, visit CBTSeminary.org

Back in 2021, John and Elizabeth sat down with Brandeis string theorist Albion Lawrence to discuss cooperation versus solitary study across disciplines. They sink their teeth into the question, “Why do scientists seem to do collaboration and teamwork better than other kinds of scholars and academics?” The conversation ranges from the merits of collective biography to the influence of place and geographic location in scientific collaboration to mountaineering traditions in the sciences. As a Recallable Book, Elizabeth champions The People of Puerto Rico, an experiment in ethnography of a nation (in this case under colonial rule) from 1956, including a chapter by Robert Manners, founding chair of the Brandeis Department of Anthropology. Albion sings the praises of a collective biography of the Art Ensemble of Chicago, A Message to Our Folks. But John stays true to his Victorianist roots by praising the contrasting images of the withered humanist Casaubon and the dashing young scientist Lydgate in George Eliot's own take on collective biography, Middlemarch. Discussed in this episode: Richard Rhodes Making of the Atomic Bomb Ann Finkbeiner, The Jasons: The Secret History of Science's Postwar Elite James Gleick, The Information Jon Gertner, The Idea Factory: Bell Labs and the Great Age of American Innovation Black Hole photographs win giant prize Adam Jaffe, “Geographic Localization of Knowledge Spillovers as Evidenced by Patent Citations“ Jamie Cohen-Cole, The Open Mind Julian Steward et al., The People of Puerto Rico Paul Steinbeck, Message to Our Folks Jenny Uglow, Lunar Men George Eliot, Middlemarch Listen to and Read the episode here. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

Back in 2021, John and Elizabeth sat down with Brandeis string theorist Albion Lawrence to discuss cooperation versus solitary study across disciplines. They sink their teeth into the question, “Why do scientists seem to do collaboration and teamwork better than other kinds of scholars and academics?” The conversation ranges from the merits of collective biography to the influence of place and geographic location in scientific collaboration to mountaineering traditions in the sciences. As a Recallable Book, Elizabeth champions The People of Puerto Rico, an experiment in ethnography of a nation (in this case under colonial rule) from 1956, including a chapter by Robert Manners, founding chair of the Brandeis Department of Anthropology. Albion sings the praises of a collective biography of the Art Ensemble of Chicago, A Message to Our Folks. But John stays true to his Victorianist roots by praising the contrasting images of the withered humanist Casaubon and the dashing young scientist Lydgate in George Eliot's own take on collective biography, Middlemarch. Discussed in this episode: Richard Rhodes Making of the Atomic Bomb Ann Finkbeiner, The Jasons: The Secret History of Science's Postwar Elite James Gleick, The Information Jon Gertner, The Idea Factory: Bell Labs and the Great Age of American Innovation Black Hole photographs win giant prize Adam Jaffe, “Geographic Localization of Knowledge Spillovers as Evidenced by Patent Citations“ Jamie Cohen-Cole, The Open Mind Julian Steward et al., The People of Puerto Rico Paul Steinbeck, Message to Our Folks Jenny Uglow, Lunar Men George Eliot, Middlemarch Listen to and Read the episode here. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Back in 2021, John and Elizabeth sat down with Brandeis string theorist Albion Lawrence to discuss cooperation versus solitary study across disciplines. They sink their teeth into the question, “Why do scientists seem to do collaboration and teamwork better than other kinds of scholars and academics?” The conversation ranges from the merits of collective biography to the influence of place and geographic location in scientific collaboration to mountaineering traditions in the sciences. As a Recallable Book, Elizabeth champions The People of Puerto Rico, an experiment in ethnography of a nation (in this case under colonial rule) from 1956, including a chapter by Robert Manners, founding chair of the Brandeis Department of Anthropology. Albion sings the praises of a collective biography of the Art Ensemble of Chicago, A Message to Our Folks. But John stays true to his Victorianist roots by praising the contrasting images of the withered humanist Casaubon and the dashing young scientist Lydgate in George Eliot's own take on collective biography, Middlemarch. Discussed in this episode: Richard Rhodes Making of the Atomic Bomb Ann Finkbeiner, The Jasons: The Secret History of Science's Postwar Elite James Gleick, The Information Jon Gertner, The Idea Factory: Bell Labs and the Great Age of American Innovation Black Hole photographs win giant prize Adam Jaffe, “Geographic Localization of Knowledge Spillovers as Evidenced by Patent Citations“ Jamie Cohen-Cole, The Open Mind Julian Steward et al., The People of Puerto Rico Paul Steinbeck, Message to Our Folks Jenny Uglow, Lunar Men George Eliot, Middlemarch Listen to and Read the episode here. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/science

Tonight, we'll read the opening to “Middlemarch, A Study of Provincial Life” written by English author George Eliot, and originally published in 1871.George Eliot is the pen name of Mary Ann Evans. The novel is set in a fictional English Midlands town in the early 1800s, following many separate characters whose lives intersect at times. Issues include the status of women, the nature of marriage, idealism, self-interest, religion, hypocrisy, political reform, and education. Initial reviews were mixed, but it is now seen widely as her best work and one of the great English novels.— read by 'V' —Sign up for Snoozecast+ to get expanded, ad-free access by going to snoozecast.com/plus! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoicesSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Tonight, we'll read the opening to “Middlemarch, A Study of Provincial Life” written by English author George Eliot, and originally published in 1871. George Eliot is the pen name of Mary Ann Evans. The novel is set in a fictional English Midlands town in the early 1800s, following many separate characters whose lives intersect at times. Issues include the status of women, the nature of marriage, idealism, self-interest, religion, hypocrisy, political reform, and education. Initial reviews were mixed, but it is now seen widely as her best work and one of the great English novels. — read by 'V' — Sign up for Snoozecast+ to get expanded, ad-free access by going to snoozecast.com/plus! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Relax and fall asleep tonight to the continuation of this classic story. Support the podcast and enjoy ad-free and bonus episodes. Try FREE for 7 days on Apple Podcasts. For other podcast platforms go to https://justsleeppodcast.com/supportOr, you can support with a one time donation at buymeacoffee.com/justsleeppodIf you like this episode, please remember to follow on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or your favourite podcast app. Also, share with any family or friends that might have trouble drifting off.Goodnight! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

As part of its recent "100 Best Books of the 21st Century" project, The New York Times Book Review is interviewing some of the authors whose books appeared on the list. This week, Min Jin Lee joins host Gilbert Cruz to discuss her novel, as well as the book she's read the most times — George Eliot's "Middlemarch."“I'm willing to say it's the best English language novel, period. Without question,” Lee says. “George Eliot is probably the smartest girl in the room ever as a novelist. She really was a great thinker, a great logician, a great empathizer and also a great psychologist. She was all of those things. And she was also political. She understood so many aspects of the human mind and the way we interact with each other. And then above all, I think she has a great heart.”