In Brief
reviews of articles of note in recent journals
Minds in the Making

- Aquinas and semiotics
- 17th century medical almanacs
- Lincoln's depression
- Edmund Wilson, critic extraordinairre

The role of Thomas Aquinas in the development of semiotic consciousness*
article by John Deely
Semiotica
vol. 152, no.1 (2004): 75-139 (65 pages)
* full text is accessible at the Calvin College Hekman Library (details)

Reviewed by Nathan Bierma, Minds Editor

"‘Semiotic consciousness’ is the awareness we have of the role and action of signs in the world," writes John Deely. "Although Aquinas never focused on the subject of signs for its own sake, he frequently treats of it in relation to other direct investigations." Building on the work of Augustine, who introduced the notion of the signum, or "sign" (as distinct from the thing being signified), Aquinas built a bridge from Augustine to post-medieval philosophy by expanding upon the ideas Augustine had initiated but left relatively unexplored. "A thing cannot be called a sign, properly speaking, unless it be something from which one arrives at an awareness of something else as if by discoursing," Aquinas wrote. But Aquinas nuanced his conclusions when he stated, "The spoken word is a sign only and not what is signified; but what is understood is both sign and signified, as is also the thing." Eventually, Deely writes, "Aquinas moved far beyond a simple-minded contrast of a ‘literal’ to a ‘figurative or metaphorical’ use of the term ‘sign’ as it applied to psychological states in contrast with overt behavioral manifestations of those states, and as it applied in some generic, common sense to both." Deely credits John Poinsot as recognizing Aquinas' contribution, and then traces Aquinas' thought to its fruition (as he sees it) in postmodern philosophy and semiotics.

The Medical Content of English Almanacs 1640-1700*
article by Louise Hill Curth
Journal of the History of Medicine and Allied Sciences
(2005) 60:255-282
* full text is accessible at the Calvin College Hekman Library (details)

Reviewed by Stephanie Watkins, Class of 2008, Calvin College

Curth analyzes medical almanacs published between 1640-1700, saying that almanacs have been underused as historical resources.
Calling them "the first form of mass media," Curth says almanacs reached a popular audience because they were cheap, readily accessible, and provided medical information (however unreliable). In an analysis of 1,392 almanacs from the 17th century, Curth finds that the content dealt with the betterment of the body and soul, prescribing the use of homegrown products as medicines. Medical almanacs "played a major part in the dissemination, continuing popularity, and longevity of traditional astrological and Galenic beliefs and practices [those of 2nd century Greek physician Galen, which saw health as a matter of balance among the four humors] . with barely a nod to the great scientific discoveries of the seventeenth century, such as the circulation of blood within the body," Curth writes. Almanacs identified six aspects of bodily wellness: "ayre [air], meate and drinke, slepe and watch, mevying[moving] and rest, emptynesse and repletton [repletion], and the affections of the minde." Although the advice was unscientific and outdated, Curth says, readers still benefitted, since "being provided with and attempting to follow a systematic method helped address feelings of helplessness in the face of disease. "

Lincoln's Great Depression**
article by Joshua Wolf Shenk
The Atlantic
October 2005, pp. 52-68
** full text requires paid subscription; this periodical is available at the Calvin College Hekman Library (details)

Reviewed by Nathan Bierma, Minds Editor

Amid the thunderous cheering at the 1860 state Republican convention in Decatur, Illinois, one man who didn't seem to share in the ecstasy was 51-year-old would-be presidential nominee Abraham Lincoln. Wrote one observer of Lincoln in Decatur: "I then thought him one of the most diffident and worst plagued men I ever saw." Indeed, Shenk writes, "Lincoln's look at that moment-the classic image of gloom-was familiar to everyone who knew him well. Such spells were just one thread in a curious fabric of behavior and thought that his friends called his 'melancholy.' He often wept in public and recited maudlin poetry." For years, Lincoln scholars dismissed these traits as mere moodiness, but now a new look at the evidence suggests Lincoln suffered from clinical depression, a serious medical condition. But while such a diagnosis today would all but disqualify a politician from running for major political office, Shenk argues that Lincoln's depression actually contributed to his monumental achievements as a leader. "The suffering he had endured lent him clarity and conviction, creative skills in the face of adversity, and a faithful humility that helped him guide the nation through its greatest peril," Shenk says. Lincoln's depression led him to assess events honestly, rather than with the naive optimism of many of his contemporaries, and it led him to articulate his vision with preternatural flair and gravity. "Whatever greatness Lincoln achieved cannot be explained as a triumph over personal suffering," Shenk concludes. "Rather, it must be accounted an outgrowth of the same system that produced that suffering."

Missionary: Edmund Wilson and American Culture
article by Louis Menand
The New Yorker
August 8 & 15, 2005

Reviewed by Cara Daining, Class of 2007, Calvin College

Every critic has a distinct style, and Edmund Wilson’s was brutal honesty. Wilson (1895-1972) spent his career as a critic writing for different commercial magazines, producing many books, and leaving his critical mark on countless writers of his time. Louis Menand describes Wilson as an individual in a time of conformity, and recognizes Wilson’s blunt cynicism as the seed of his success. “Wilson hated American chauvinism and gentility, and everything he associated with them – prudery, pedantry, commercialism, and militarism," Menand writes. "That hatred is the starch in his prose.”

Menand divides Wilson’s professional life into three chapters. In the first, Wilson was “a player in the drama that he wrote about.” Wilson dominated the literary scene as a mentor to many contemporary writers, including Fitzgerald and Hemingway, in the hope that American literature would take over the literary scene. During the second chapter of his career, Wilson lost his passion and abandoned any dream of American literary greatness. Menand attributes this to the lack of initiative of American writers to follow Wilson’s style. Wilson’s last chapter was entirely autobiographical. His first of five books began with a seven-volume series on his life in the 1920s; his last, at 968 pages, detailed his life in the 1960s. Menand says Wilson's memoirs read nothing like literature and “need someone like Wilson to explain what it all means.” In this stellar appreciation, Menand suceeds in putting Wilson in human terms. Menand doesn’t embellish; he captures the existence of a confused man who wanted America to lead the literary world.