I’ve just finished reading an interesting trilogy of books. Ishmael, The Story of B and My Ishmael, by Daniel Quinn. I’ve been looking forward to finishing the series, because I’ve wanted to share some of the thoughts from the book with the good people here at the frog pond.
I think the frog pond is a natural place for these thoughts. Whenever I’ve read something that is completely outside conventional thought (e.g., I’m reminded of Zinn and A People’s History), and felt the need to share thoughts on this topic, it seems to me that this place is the most open group of people I know for airing such things.
I suspect that a number of you have already read Quinn’s books. So some will already be familiar with the stories and ideas. For those who are not, the reason I say it is perhaps outside “conventional thought,” is because even for someone like me (an ardent adherent of Flying Spaghetti Monsterism), the basic ideas in the book seem a little bit like some kind of new-age mysticism. Perhaps beyond the pale. Too much to take seriously. A little too “Celestine Prophecy” for a rational atheist to latch on to (and I don’t mean to malign those adherents of the Celestine Prophecy — after all, I’m here writing this). And yet the ideas are very appealing. So I’ll try to share them. To the extent there is any interest from frog pond members.
Okay. Don’t laugh. But the first book is about a gorilla. A telepathic gorilla. A telepathic gorilla philosopher or anthropologist on a level of Socrates or Aristotle. Ishmael.
Okay. Stop laughing. The gorilla puts an advertisement in the paper which says:
Student wanted. Must have an earnest desire to save the world.
And low and behold. An ex-hippie shows up and starts training under Ishmael. And the first book is basically a chronicle of this student. Written from the student’s perspective.
The lessons are somewhat Socratic. Something I loved about law school. For someone with a mind like mine, I find it the best way to learn. It can be a bit intimidating. And it can seem a bit sadistic when wielded by a power-tripping asshole (think “Paper Chase”). But it can really cement ideas home. For me, it is far and away the best way to learn. I learned more in three years of law school than in seventeen elsewhere. So this may be a part of my attraction to the ideas in the book. For crying out loud, it is a bout a genius telepathic gorilla who can teach like Socrates.
It is hard to explain. I feel like writing, “You had to be there,” now. But I won’t. I’ll just say this. The first lesson is pretty simple. Just explain the story of the world. How you came to be where you are? Everything you’ve learned, for you to believe and understand why we are where we are? The myth or science or explanation that gives you the context to understand your own place in the world.
Try it. I answered the question. Along with the student character in the book. And I’ve asked a few people to answer it. And it is quite remarkable — how we all know the tale. To some degree or another.
So give me your answer. And maybe I’ll throw out a few more ideas. Should anyone have an earnest desire to save the world.