Warmth; the philosophy of spying; Thurber; you can’t go home again
Eighty-two degrees (F) today. That’s more like it!
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Something you don’t often see: a philosophy book about spying. And it looks like a good book. (The reviewer is C.A.J. Coady, whom I’ve previously mentioned and who is known for philosophizing about “dirty hands” in governance.)
From the acknowledgments:
I am voting for George Bush because I liked his daddy.
I liked Daddy Bush because I liked Ronald Reagan.
I liked Ronald Reagan because he was in the movies.
I like movies.
Maybe someone who likes to watch movies about the Mafia can write a book about the ethics of belonging to the Mafia. (I’d hope the thesis would be an unqualified or negligibly qualified condemnation of belonging to the Mafia.)
For what it’s worth, I’ve met at least two philosophers who were spies.
They didn’t tell me they were spies.
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Karin & I have been reading aloud about James Thurber’s quasi-fantastical hometown – Columbus, Ohio – in his My Life and Hard Times, one or two chapters each night. Our mistake last night was to read Thurber and then the Old Testament. “The Car We Had to Push” and “The Day the Dam Broke” did not prepare our hearts for Leviticus 15.
Re: my own hometown – sad news.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Something you don’t often see: a philosophy book about spying. And it looks like a good book. (The reviewer is C.A.J. Coady, whom I’ve previously mentioned and who is known for philosophizing about “dirty hands” in governance.)
From the acknowledgments:
I read my first spy novel, Ian Fleming’s Goldfinger (in French translation), about thirty-five years ago. Since then, spy fiction (be it in novel, movie, or TV series form) has been one of my favourite genres, alongside crime fiction. Over the last four years, I have had to read spy novels, watch spy movies and sit through years’ worth of television series. Of all my books so far, this one has been the most enjoyable to research and write, though at times and for reasons that will become apparent throughout, uncomfortably so. Unless I decide to write on the ethics of policing, it is unlikely that I will ever again combine my research with my love for so-called popular culture and so have the chance to indulge in the latter entirely without guilt. Partly for this reason, my elation at having finished this book is tinged with regret.I’m glad the author admits this in the very first paragraph! It reminds me of the quip:
I am voting for George Bush because I liked his daddy.
I liked Daddy Bush because I liked Ronald Reagan.
I liked Ronald Reagan because he was in the movies.
I like movies.
Maybe someone who likes to watch movies about the Mafia can write a book about the ethics of belonging to the Mafia. (I’d hope the thesis would be an unqualified or negligibly qualified condemnation of belonging to the Mafia.)
For what it’s worth, I’ve met at least two philosophers who were spies.
They didn’t tell me they were spies.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Karin & I have been reading aloud about James Thurber’s quasi-fantastical hometown – Columbus, Ohio – in his My Life and Hard Times, one or two chapters each night. Our mistake last night was to read Thurber and then the Old Testament. “The Car We Had to Push” and “The Day the Dam Broke” did not prepare our hearts for Leviticus 15.
Re: my own hometown – sad news.