
A Great Idea at the Time: the rise, fall, and curious afterlife of the Great Books by Alex Beam is a delight to read and it makes no pretense of being fair to the well-intentioned but far too misguided idealists who, by 1952, gathered “443 works by seventy-four white male authors, purporting to encompass all of Western knowledge from Homer to Freud.” The people behind it were two University of Chicago admiinistrators, the charming ivory towered Robert Hutchins and philosopher Mortimer Adler, who, the author suggests, got in the way more than helped . (Beam calls them “two fascinating people, one of whom you’d like to be, and one of whom you would not.”) From their days as student and professor they felt that it was necessary for civically engaged persons to have a shared background of what was later called cultural literacy.
The idea was that people would read one of the great books each week, and in classes at liberal arts colleges, or in local meeting rooms filled with tradesmen, housewives, and people of business and the professions, they would be led by a Socratic professorial type who would engage them in lively discussions of that book in order to bring out the meanings applicable to that day’s issues, events, and problems. It sounded then and now like a wonderful idea. But when published first in 1952 by the Encyclopedia Britannica company in conjunction with the university, Beam says, “The Great Books of the Western World were in fact icons of unreadability – 32,000 pages of tiny, double-column, eye-straining type.” And many of the books chosen were centuries old tracts of surpassed scientific specificity and philosophic meandering such that one could do little with them but fall asleep over them. Many of the Western canon’s great literary writers were there, of course, but not all, and no women, nor people of color until much, much later.
Still they meant well but when these sets were sold to status seekers by flashy salesman, who hadn’t read them either, millions of Americans kept unopened copies as tasteful room decoration. During the hype Adler created a kind of index to find any of 102 idea themes throughout the eighty-some volumes of the Great Books, by listing which page in which volume that idea was discussed or exemplified. He called it the Synopticon, a word he made up, meaning 'a way of looking at things from several angles' and it was used later by him in a reworking of the Encyclopedia Britannica. (It was not that useful on paper, but little did Adler know that he was inventing something like tagging long before the Internet where such mullitple angle searching would become useful at last.) According to Beam, however, he left quite a few important ideas out.


1 comment:
The subtitle should have read, Every Negative Fact and Innuendo I Could Dredge Up
Although he was not particularly unkind to me in the book, I found virtually every page to be a smart-alecky and snide diatribe of the worst order against the Great Books, Adler, Hutchins, et al. Plus the book is replete with errors of commission and omission.
As an effective antidote, I prescribe Robert Hutchins' pithy essay, The Great Conversation.
If the Great Books crusade is as bleak as Beam purports, then happily, not many will read his invective book.
Max Weismann,
President and co-founder with Mortimer Adler, Center for the Study of The Great Ideas
Chairman, The Great Books Academy (3,000+ students)
Post a Comment