How to Think Like Shakespeare - A Review

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The list of books I have purchased because of Ken Myers and his Mars Hill Audio Journal continues to grow. Though subscriptions to the journal run about $30, regular listeners are likely to find the actual cost of the journal and the free, weekly Friday Features much greater because Myers has the gift of bibliography. He also brings such interesting people in for interviews or reads such enthralling essays that curious minds will find it difficult not to want to follow where he leads. For those without robust university libraries nearby, the cost of following those intellectual breadcrumbs can rise as online orders and regular deliveries from the postman serve to dish up fuel for the mind.

One recent book that I purchased because of Ken Myers is How to Think Like Shakespeare: Lessons from a Renaissance Education. The author, Scott Newstok is a professor of English at Rhodes College. He has previously published on both Shakespeare and renaissance education. In this volume, published with Princeton University Press, Newstok brings those ideas together.

How to Think Like Shakespeare sounds like a “how to” manual. Thankfully, it is not, though that might annoy some who pick up the volume thinking it will provide “10 easy steps to better writing” or whatever.

In an interview with Myers, Newstok related that one of the driving forces behind his writing the book was a rejection of the education-industrial complex. His daughter, enrolled in a public school, came home muttering about “assessment,” which is code for “high stakes testing to justify money spent on novel methods with unproven results which may not have a valid goal in mind.” The problem with assessment is that it pushes toward educating in measurable information without necessarily considering whether the end goal is right and proper. What could have turned into a manifesto is framed much more positively, though, as Newstok provides a framework for considerations for the Renaissance Mind.

The purpose of this book is to help reframe the goal of education around more human considerations. Newstok writes:

My conviction is that education must be about thinking––not training a set of specific skills. . . . Education isn’t merely accumulating data; machines can memorize far more, and far less fallibly, than humans.

The best way to learn about thinking is not to hire a neuroscientist to measure the electrical activity in the brain, but to watch how others have thought before. Since we do not have a time machine to travel back to meet Shakespeare or other thinkers who lived before our technology-saturated age, we must consider what they have written and follow the trails they have followed.

How to Think About Shakespeare takes an intriguing approach. In a world that prizes originality, the book is comprised largely of quotes and tight allusions. Newstok is fastidious in his annotation, so this is no plagiarist’s volume. However, what is illustrated is the great degree that we are dependent upon those that have come before us. In many cases, they have already thought better with clearer language about the things that we consider imponderable.

The book has fourteen chapters, which all deal with particular issues relevant to human thinking and our contemporary culture. For example, Newstok begins with “Of Thinking,” which is appropriate considering the title of the volume. The upshot being that the lament “why can’t people think” is not a new problem driven by smart phones (though perhaps accelerated), but one that spans the intellectual history of the world. The conclusion we might draw from that is that it may be better to see how the problem has been overcome in the past and model our solutions off of that, rather than trying to reinvent the wheel. Newstok then moves on to discuss ends, craft, fit, place, attention, and more. All the topics serve to outline aspects of human thought in a humane world. Each of the chapters is brief—usually about a dozen pages, which keeps the pace quick while providing some material for future consideration.

How to Think Like Shakespeare is not so much earthshattering as paradigm disrupting. It’s hard to define, really, but this is book that caused me to think and is still nagging at me to continue thinking. Mostly, it’s driving me to continue to explore what it means to be human and to think as a human in a computerized world. Newstok’s brief chapters highlight the ways that we have been habituated to a technological society. He doesn’t provide a lot of clear answers, but he raises some of the more significant questions that we should be asking and which humanity has previously asked. This is the sort of book that I read and have dipped into several times as I’ve mulled its contents since then. The book is one that that will stick with you at the edge of your mind and encourage dabbling.

From Plato to Christ - A Review

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In the final pages of The Chronicles of Narnia in the grand eschatological conclusion to The Last Battle we find Professor Digory Kirke explaining the wonder that is before the faithful Narnians, muttering to himself impatiently as he tries to explain what is happening to the English children: “It’s all in Plato, all in Plato: bless me, what do they teach them at these schools!”

That is a comment that went largely over my head when first I read of Narnia. All I knew of ancient Greek philosophy in my school days came from the brief summaries of their lives in history textbooks, which might tell me something like, “Plato was the student of Socrates. He wrote much of the canon of Western philosophy.” Additional contributions came from sources like Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, which made a joke of pronouncing the names and generally reinforced the plausibility of ignorance. What did they teach in these schools, indeed!

Entirely missing from the accounts of any of the classical philosophers was the content of their teaching. That level of ignorance was only reinforced in college, where I earned a degree and became a Really Smart Person without ever encountering more than a passing familiarity with some of the philosopher that have largely shaped the contours of Western thought and civilization.

Then the classical education revival became more prominent, I had kids, we decided to homeschool, and I started to read C. S. Lewis more broadly. I came to understand that in order to understand where we are culturally and where we might want to go, it is necessary to understand how we got here. That includes both through the influence of Christianity and other sources. Moreover, how can I provide the sort of education to my children I wish I had had when I’m too busy to master all the information myself? I need an entry point to help bring things together.

From Plato to Christ: How Platonic Thought Shaped the Christian Faith is a resource that can stand in the gap for many parents who, like me, did not receive a classical education and lack time to cram it all in to teach our children. In this volume Louis Markos highlights significant points of contact between Christianity and Plato’s philosophy. He shows why some Christians theologians have been enamored of Plato and will describe themselves as platonic. He also shows some ways that some theologians may have less helpfully appropriated portions of Plato’s philosophy.

Markos is a classicist who teaches at Houston Baptist University. He has written extensively on the truthfulness of Christianity, ancient Greek and Roman cultures, various works of the Inklings, and certainly more. In other words, he’s just the sort of individual to teach contemporary Christians without a background in ancient philosophy about the relationship between philosophy and Christianity.

The first half of From Plato to Christ is a summary of the teaching of Plato’s philosophy. The work Markos does in the first six chapters is not exhaustive, but it lays the groundwork for the points of contact he will highlight with Christian theologians later in the work. This section of the book is enough to inspire greater interest for those unfamiliar with Plato and help draw some themes together for those, like me, who are somewhere at a midpoint on our journey to understanding philosophy.

The second half of the volume looks back through the Christian tradition at ways Plato and the platonic tradition have influenced Christian thinking. This is the section that will serve as a litmus test for how one perceives the relationship between Christ and culture and the way that a reader views common grace. For some, the influence of Plato on Christian thinking is a pollution of the pure source. For others, the influence of Plato on Christian thinking is a powerful aid to Scripture. The portrait Markos provides is something of both, which makes this volume balanced and helpful.

On the one hand, it is sometimes astonishing how much of what Plato and other ancient philosophers accomplished apart from direct special revelation. There are points at which they reasoned out the right ordering of the universe without a word from God. On the other hand, Markos makes it clear where Plato and his intellectual descendants clearly missed the mark. For example, Plato is one of the ancient philosophers who viewed women as deformed men—lesser creatures—which did negatively influence the Christian tradition. These pagan philosophers must not be taken without parsing their words carefully, as Markos regularly reminds readers.

To my mind, Markos ends up too positive toward Plato. At several points he describes him as inspired—not in the same sense as Scripture, but more than simply artistically. I’m not sure that is necessary. However, Markos is fair in pointing out the failings of the Platonic tradition where it has corrupted Christian theology. If nothing else, this book has the potential to help contemporary readers sift through the Western Christian theological tradition more carefully, becoming aware of the sources and ideas that were influencing them. Markos provides a helpful tool that can be used with Scripture to parse through the Christian tradition and ask whether a particular conclusion is indeed biblical or if it relies on conceptions from another source.

Most significantly, Markos can help the contemporary reader make sense of the platonic tradition and be better equipped to appreciate the goodness of it. This is a book that is engaging to read, but also useful. While it does not replace the reading of the original sources, Markos provides a commentary that can help readers understand the original sources better. This is the sort of instruction that a parent seeking to guide their children in a classical education—which they likely lacked themselves—will find invaluable.

NOTE: I received a gratis copy of this volume from the publisher with no expectation of a positive review.

Another Life is Possible - A Review

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There is nowhere to run and hide from modernity, it seems. Even if you homeschool your children, screen the books you let into the house, keep them from radio, and unplug the TV, you still have to contend with conversations with other kids at church or in the neighborhood whose parents have not screened out the influences of the world. This was much of Rod Dreher’s complaint in The Benedict Option. More positively, it’s nearly impossible to find a community filled with people focused on rebuilding a culture from the wreckage of modernity, so to speak.

The Bruderhof communities, which are scattered through seven countries across the globe, are examples of people gathering around the common of aim of trying to live rightly in this life. Members give up property rights, commit to contributing to the common good with their labor, and give themselves to mutual aid in a life that is both civilly and religiously united on pursuing goodness and quiet in the midst of an increasingly busy world. The 2020 book, Another Life is Possible, tells their story in pictures and words.

The book itself is a beautiful, large format volume with glossy, full color pages. The pages are filled with brief accounts of the lives of many current and former residents of the various Bruderhof communities. It tells stories of those who came late in life to the community, looking for peace in the midst of life’s storms. It offers accounts of people who were raised within the community, were sent out to learn a trade, and came back to live the common life. It highlights the industries and efforts of the community to bear each other’s burdens and put food on the table. The accounts are often beautiful and reveal a lot of wonder and goodness in human community.

Though the volume is not primarily theological, the anabaptistic roots of the Bruderhof movement are clear. They eschew military service, seek withdrawal from political engagement, and focus on simplicity in attire—especially for women. The world transformation referenced within the volume is always organic and human-scaled, rather than political and grandiose. The emphasis of the book is on the common life, rather than the theology that must give form to that way of living. In fact, even the section on finding faith has little in the way of the content of that faith—it seems to point simply to the centrality of Christ, not the substance of who he is.

There is much to be praised in the book and the way of life it advertises. There is a comfort and homeliness apparent, which is enough to make the world-weary heart long to emulate it. Though each individual is poor, having chosen to live in community and maintain a common purse, there is great wealth in knowing that no individual or family stands alone. This solidarity comes through especially in the section about healthcare. In a world where rising costs and insurance premiums consume a great deal of income, there is security in knowing there are many who will stand with you and support you in your need.

Within the volume, however, there are signs of the inroads of modernity, despite their efforts at insulation. For example, due to the emphasis on cooperative labor of all parties, the Bruderhof have a daycare system for their preschoolers. Both parents are apparently working, so the three-year-olds have a caretaker in one of the stories. It is a friendly daycare and one that affirms the values of the families, but it provides evidence that even in a closed, supposedly pre-modern community, the drive to have both parents occupied outside the home can cause youngsters to be segregated from their families before normal school age. There are also accounts on the edge of the stories of individuals and families that have left the Bruderhof community, apparently finding the way of life less desirable than other opportunities. It is impossible to hide from the world, even in a community that seems designed to do so.

For those who find themselves unable to align fully with the Bruderhof theology, there is a still a great deal of help in this volume. The book does not offer a roadmap or instructions to building an intentional community, but it does illuminate an opportunity. As the title claims, Another Life is Possible. Although we cannot build our own Brigadoon and wake for only a day in the Scottish hills, attempting to maintain our idyllic perfection in perpetuity, there are ways that Christian communities can become more holistic and healthier. Few are likely to build a compound, take a vow of poverty, and break out the headscarves. However, the sharing, mutual aid, and companionship provide a vision that offers hope. In a culture that decimates friendship, there can be true companionship. The possibility exists. That is a hopeful contribution.

Another Life is Possible is the sort of volume that is better dabbled in and waded through than read cover to cover. I found myself picking up the volume for a few minutes each evening and sampling from various sections. It makes a good break from other forms of entertainment and really is encouraging in many ways. As we think through how best to live as humans in a dehumanizing culture, Another Life is Possible provides some glimpses that can inform our imagination and open up new possibilities for consideration.