The rest of the article.
Dear Mr. Crovitz:
In 1975, I was a sophomore at Northside High School in Fort Smith, Arkansas and intensely aware that I was well beyond the pale of intellectual America and, probably, the civilized world. Then, I found "that low door in the wall" through which I gained admittance into that world I yearned for. In my sophomore year, I took an advanced placement English class based on The Great Books.
That year, we followed a program leading us through those Great Books and the course resolved with each of us using the Syntopicon to study a single great idea through history. In my case, the idea was truth. And I'm writing to tell you this about the experience:
Standing in front of a set of Great Books, even in the foothills of the Ozarks, I could see the breadth and depth of What Is Important. It brought all the best and greatest ideas, literally, into my grasp and suddenly, I knew it might be possible to learn something that could get me somewhere. The Great Books defined what it was to be learned and illuminated a path leading towards that destination. Taking that course gave me the confidence that "I can do this."
Due to an early romance with Journalism, I attended the University of Missouri and promptly enrolled in its two-year Humanities program, a study of Western Thought. And following my years in Missouri, I confidently enrolled at Radcliffe to learn how books are published. And I held my own in a small class of enormous intellects gathered up to be shepherded into Book Publishing and become its stewards.
Today, I just read too much and try my best to pass along my
enthusiasm. Alas, it is a challenge. My daughter doesn't "get" Romeo
and Juliet even when I screen the Bas Luhrmann vision.
And when I
review the table of contents of her English reader, I admire the work
done to make it up-to-date, but sigh about what's been left behind.
Last week, I read that Milton's Paradise Lost has been translated
into English prose to make it easier for people to read. Oh dear.
This month, Book Publishers are deciding to stop buying manuscripts.
Oh dear. And one of my colleagues from Radcliffe sent me a DVD of the
movie Fahrenheit 451
for my birthday this year. --And the sly joke
wasn't lost on me at all.
Best regards,
Brian D. Johnson
California.

