28 January 2018

Book Review: “Rome’s Last Citizen”

Roger Whitney piqued my interest in Stoicism a few weeks back. I had downloaded a few books to understand what he was talking about and started in a slightly unconventional way. Instead of reading about the subject, I first started by reading about people who have followed it.

The history of Cato attracted me. Supposedly a very principled person and Julius Caesar’s arch nemesis (who he viewed as somebody bent on destroying the constitution), he was most famous for how he committed suicide rather than live one day under Julius Caesar’s reign. Ironically, Cato’s son-in-law – Brutus – would be instrumental in the killing of Caesar a couple of years later.

I would give this book about a 6 out of 10. It portrays Cato fairly brilliantly. It does a great job of not steadfastly putting up Cato as just a principled person. In fact, it highlights the fallacies and foibles that Cato had too. The times that he seemingly compromised. And the one time that he did not – when it could have completely changed Roman history in his favor. All due to deep seated fears he harbored of Pompey’s ambitions. It also does a great job of the times that Cato stood up to the rest of the world and like the Twelve Angry Men got the world (or at least those who mattered) to his point of view.

The best contribution the book has is to trash the myth of the so-called greatness of the Great Roman Civilization. If anything, it lays bare the internecine warfare, the depth at which corruption ran, the mockery of democracy by bribes, the backstabbing, the temporary friendships, the brutal use of force and all those things you would not call a civilization by the adjective “Great”.

Where the book gets tedious at times is getting lost in seemingly unimportant details. The book that is 381 pages in lowest size font in iBook (on an iPad Pro) could have been easily put in about 150-180 pages and still contained the full import. (That readers may not have paid the steep price for that thin a book is a different concept altogether)!

The other place where the book failed me personally (less to do with the book, more to do with the fact I was trying to understand Stoicism) is the way the authors make fairly weak and sometimes extremely tenuous connection between Stoicism and how that must have affected Cato. As an example, he giving his second wife Marcia off to the sexagenarian Hortensius – and how that comes from Stoic beliefs of women and their (re)productive years is extremely tortured if not outright misplaced.

As an aside – and the authors mention it only once tangentially – the parallels between the Roman democracy during those years and contemporary US politics was intriguing to me. The influence of money; the conservative (often associated with the Republicans and Cato) versus the liberal (often associated with the Democrats and Julius Caesar), the use of filibuster, the “oppose everything the other guy stands for” … was almost prescient to me!!

Would I suggest you read this book? Not if you are trying to understand Stoicism. But if you had any interest in understanding Cato or the internal workings of the Roman elite (versus the public), it is a reasonably good read. A tad long though it might be.

22 January 2018

She gave me something to think about… What do you think?

Last week, I spent some time with one of my favorite friends in one of the hospice centers – let’s call her Mrs. Nancy. I walked into her room and was not sure she would have remembered me.
“Mrs. Nancy. Remember me?”
“Of course. You went to India to see your dad.”

That was surprising. In fact how our whole brain works or sometimes chooses not to work still is an enigma to me. Both Mrs. Nancy and my dad can remember certain things so well and then there are obvious things that we have to keep repeating to them!

“So, how is he doing?”
“Thank you Mrs. Nancy. He actually has had a surprisingly good progress. That was very encouraging”.
“That is good”.
“Indeed. Looks like I missed your birthday when I was gone.” I had noticed a few cards over her table.

She kept looking at me. I was not sure I had a grip over the whole situation. So I asked:
“When is your birthday?
“Jan 19th”, she said after a quick thought.
“Jan 19th? I see. Let’s see… that was… that was… wait a minute. Today is Jan 19th! Is it your birthday today?”
“I do not know”

I opened up a couple of cards and sure enough – one stated Jan 19th.
“Happy Birthday! It is your birthday today!!”, I yelled.
I was not too sure why I was yelling. I was inexplicably excited.

“Have you read the cards? Did somebody read them to you?”
“I do not remember”
“Well, that is what we are going to do now then”.

As you see in the picture, I held the cards very close to her and slowly read them out. The particularly favorite one for me was the one from her son and daughter-in-law who wrote a very touching card, I thought. In fact, I read it out a couple of times for her. (The picture is of that card).

I did not realize it then, but the picture has partially caught that incredible smile that can come only from a blissful pride in your child.

Later, when we were done, I packed up the cards and then settled down in my chair.

Suddenly, she remembered my dad again. She can’t remember her own birthday but she remembered a person she had only heard about a couple of times. Go figure!

“Do you write to your dad?”

Whoa! I am reasonably fast on my feet – even if I say so. But that one stumped me.
“No”, I stammered… Too many things were swirling in my mind – the two weeks it takes for a letter to go from Atlanta to Kalyani. The missed mails. etc. But I soldiered on – “I call my parents up everyday”. I omitted the part that should have clarified “parents” mean “mom”. My dad can’t hear anything on a phone.

She nodded. I figured I had made peace with her.

Till she came up with the words that has been ringing in my ears – “Sometimes you should write him a card. He can read that over and over again”.

I must have stared at her for a few good seconds.
That is true. Phone calls are one and done. Cards and letters are forever. I know how much I cherish the letters that I have saved from my childhood. And how much I regret not saving more of them.

She might have just pushed me to write to my dad. Maybe a letter every other week? What do you think? Should I do it?

Would you do it for your dad or mom? Do physical pieces of memory transcend ephemeral ones like phone calls?