New Book Out

The Roman poet Horace once advanced the theory that an author ought to wait nine years before publishing a book. He referred to this maturation process as "building soil." At least, that's how I remember the remark. I made an attempt to double-check the quotation online and came up with a link to P.M. Agricultural Sources in Horace, North Dakota.

All the same, Horace's point is well-taken, though a little extreme. Nine years is a long time for anyone but a locust, or a geologist. Yet every so often I take a look at something I wrote a few years ago and am surprised at how cogent it is. I also notice, more than occasionally,  a few unnecessary adjectives and frivolous asides. "This would not be bad, if someone cleaned it up a bit," I say to myself.

All of which is a roundabout way of saying that a new collection of essays appeared on the market recently bearing my name. My intention, when putting it together, was to gather a few pieces together that were perhaps on the more serious side, as a complement to the breeziness of my previous collection, Cabin in the City.

The title I came up with was "A Metaphysical Bent." Confident that such a collection would appeal to few readers, my plan was to upload the files to a print-on-demand site, so that the book would become available on Amazon, in case anyone happened to be interested. I might give away a few copies myself. Christmas is right around the corner!

Ernst Cassirer

Hilary advised me to change the title. She also read through the manuscript and suggested that I remove a few pieces. For example, she questioned whether anyone would get excited about an essay called "The Conceptual Sympathy of Ernst Cassirer." Good point. She also found the essay about my struggles with ilio-tibial span syndrome (sore hip) a bit self-referential, not to mention BORING.

"Why don't you add a few fun essays?" she said. "Travel? Music? Food?" She also suggested that I move the last, and longest, essay in the book, "Metaphysics for Beginners," to the front. I found that encouraging.

The revised and much improved collection now carries the following description on the back:

Fresh from the backyard ruminations of Cabin in the City, essayist John Toren here turns his attention to all manner of earthly and cosmic speculation. Driven by the belief that philosophic thought should be clear, accurate, and emotionally gratifying, he takes up such questions as whether the universe will continue to expand forever, what it means to be “moved,” and why it is that a common cold can significantly undercut our mood, and hence our view of life. Dipping into the Western canon, he takes Blaise Pascal to task for some of the views he advances in his Pensées on both probability and faith, and makes a valiant attempt to come to grips with Dante’s Divine Comedy, before becoming waylaid by the challenge of choosing among the many competing translations. Lydia Davis’s “flash fiction,” Glenn Gould’s search for the perfect piano, the history of agriculture in the Mediterranean basin, and Swedish entomologist Fredrik Sjöberg’s unusual perspective on the natural world—these are just a few of the subjects under review in this curious and delightful collection.

A perfect stocking-stuffer? A light-weight companion for a North Woods getaway? 

You can pick up a copy here.