Lost Piece IV Getting To Know You

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LOST PIECE
an undergraduate journal of letters
VOLUME I, ISSUE IV
Getting to Know You
LOST PIECE: Issue IV
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Lost Piece: An Undergraduate Journal of Letters

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Center for Undergraduate Scholarly Engagement
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

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LOST PIECE
VOLUME I, ISSUE IV
Getting to Know You
Stephen Lechner
Editor in Chief
Raymond Korson
Supporting Editor
Josef Kuhn
Conor Rogers
Editors
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Table of Contents
Lost Piece: Issue IV
Something of a Mission Statement
From the Editors ....................................................................................5
Meet the Writers
Lost Piece................................................................................................6
Searches
Stephen Lechner......................................................................................8
In Search of Myself
Daniel O’Duffy.......................................................................................12
Lifeline
Claire Gillen...........................................................................................16
Man, According to Primo Levi
James C Dever........................................................................................17
And How He Is
Scott Posteuca..........................................................................................26
Bayview
William Stewart.....................................................................................30
Interpretations and Intersubjectivity
Mark Tancredi........................................................................................36
People By Day
Stephen Lechner......................................................................................41
Penury Everlasting
Nicholas Brandt......................................................................................46
A Portrait of T.S. Eliot
Josef Kuhn...............................................................................................48
A Girl Without A Country
Maria Santos..........................................................................................51
Goodbye
Javier Zubizarreta..................................................................................57
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Something of a Mission Statement

From the Editors
Lost Piece exists to facilitate undergraduate reading, discussion,

and writing of an intellectual nature beyond course curriculum
and without distraction from the grade point average.
Lost Piece seeks to help undergraduates to complement

and even unify what they learn in their classes with
their own personally driven intellectual pursuits.
The goal of Lost Piece is to combat mediocrity in all

things, and particularly in all things intellectual.
Lost Piece holds that the goods proper to intellec-

tual activity are ends in and of themselves and are to
be sought regardless of whatever recognitions may or
may not be extrinsically attached to such activity.
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Meet the Writers

These groups have contributed The Program of
to the writing of the Fall 2010 Liberal Studies:
Edition of Lost Piece. We So it turns out that PLS
encourage you, as an undergrad- students don’t only like to talk
uate, to contribute your writing about such trivial things as
to future editions whether indi- “free will” or “the meaning of
vidually or as part of any such life” as approached through
intellectual society. You can the lens of certain Great
send your writing and feedback Books, but they also like,
to the editor at slechner@nd.edu. even need, to engage ideas
wherever they can find them.
That’s why a few of them got
together to watch movies every
week, first as a social event
and later more as a discussion
group. They like to think they
are staying true to the spirit
of the word “seminar” (which
literally means “seedbed”) by
D holding profound conversa-

tions on their own from which
they hope to bear the fruits of
new ideas, serious dialogue,
and lasting friendships.
Istum:
(Also called That Thing) Three
years ago, a group of friends
decided to get together every
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weekend to start a literary T:

society. Its members include T is a group of undergradu-
students from the Colleges of ates who meet together to
Arts and Letters, Science, and discuss issues of importance,
Engineering, but strangely ranging from theology to
none from the college of philosophy to current issues
Business. They write, simply in any and all fields. It is a
put, despite the obvious fact casually structured, socially
that they are only tyro writ- engaging event that welcomes
ers, and they criticize each the opportunity to find both
other’s writing as best they common ground and a mul-
can. One of their goals is to titude of opinions on topics.
bring back the essay (which And they drink tea, too.
literally means “an attempt”)
as a form of writing and as The Orestes Brownson Council:
a rhetorical work of art. The As a club, OBC is focused
group takes its name from on better understanding the
one of Cicero’s orations. Catholic intellectual tradi-
tion and its interaction with
The Philosophy Club: philosophy, politics, and
The Philosophy Club is culture. It takes its name
a group of a few dozen from the American Catholic
undergraduates who enjoy political thinker who is
arguing, using big words, buried in the crypt of the
attempting to answer “life’s Basilica of the Sacred Heart,
great questions,” asking more Orestes Brownson. V
questions, and arguing.
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Searches
An Introduction
Stephen Lechner career of puzzle-piecing. But
Class of 2011
Editor-in-Chief I must confess: it wasn’t until
working on this journal that
I once heard someone de- I actually experienced this
scribe life as an autobiographical frustration literally. We had
dramatic narrative; I have yet to already decided on the name,
hear a description I like better. Lost Piece, and Ray and I were
It’s a story, simply put, and a piecing together a puzzle to
collection of stories—stories see how we liked it. To say we
from many places, distant and were shocked to discover that
varied, that come together there was, in the end, one piece
sometimes in patterns and missing does little to capture
sometimes in explosions, often the ridiculous situation in which
colorful, always mysterious. we found ourselves: there we
This issue can be better under- were, two editors of a new
stood if one knows the stories journal titled Lost Piece tearing
that pieced it together. I’d like apart the room trying to find
to tell some of those stories now. the lost piece to the journal’s
The first story concerns the cover on our first attempt
journal’s name, Lost Piece. I at piecing it together. The
don’t know if you’ve ever suc- irony was magnified when we
ceeded in assembling a puzzle, realized that the piece we were
a large puzzle, after hours looking for was, like the floor,
of fumbling with cardboard brown and that the two of us
wedges only to find a single are both colorblind. Needless
piece missing from the picture. to say, we never found it...
The frustration of such a Another story is, perhaps,
situation is, perhaps, enough more to the point. In the fall of
to justify an early end to one’s 2007, there was a freshman at
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Notre Dame who decided that that he and I undertook to start

he was missing something in the literary society that would
his education. He had classes, eventually become one of the
friends, a place at an excellent driving forces behind this
university with excellent profes- journal. Istum has met once a
sors, and a great interest in week for three years now and all
learning—in short, all that he this while we have been sharing
ought to have wanted. But nev- our thoughts, arguments, and
ertheless he needed something writing with each other as
more, something he couldn’t friends. Why? Because we like
seem to find, something to pull to. Because we are friends. It’s
it all together and put it into an eclectic mix—Philosophy
perspective. If this all sounds majors, premeds, Theology,
familiar to you it is because I English, Math, Political
took his idea of “something Science, Classics, Economics,
missing” and made it the and several engineers—and
cornerstone for the first issue of a small one—about seven
this journal. And what did he regulars and another eight
decide this “something” was? or so who come every now
One might call it an “intellec- and later, usually averaging
tual community”, a community anywhere between seven and
within which he could not only ten. It seems to have worked
go to class and learn things, but out well, even though we never
really live an intellectual life in had a place to put our writing
which all of it—the classes, the when we finished it, until now.
friends, the books, the degree— But even Istum was not quite
cooperated in a sensible way. enough for Jerry—some of you
It was with the intention know him, I’m sure—and he
of starting such a community decided to leave Notre Dame
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after his second year. Why? He military? Then why haven’t I

couldn’t see the point of staying done so myself? No. I tell it
here. Why college? To get a now in hopes that you might
degree? What use is a degree? consider your own point to
To land a job? What should college, a point that you may
college have to do with that? or may not have actually
And nobody else seemed to considered recently, or even at
even question the point, despite all. Strangely, it’s fairly easy to
the forty-six thousand dollar ignore the question of a point
price tag that comes with it to college—everyone else is
every year. In the end he took a here, and nobody else seems
year off to work at home, a year to be wondering why. And so
that became four years when he long as friends are near, beer
joined the army last March. cheap, and a career soon to
Was that the only reason he follow, what’s to worry about?
left? Who can tell for sure? What could be missing?
But it was for no less. His But evidently something is
grades were well above average. missing, because Jerry isn’t here
He had, and still has, many right now. It isn’t something
friends here. His is easily unique to Notre Dame; rather,
one of the sharpest minds I’ve universities in general seem
ever come across, and he had to share this absence—even
an ambitious and genuine the Ivies, which seem to fool
interest in studying. He themselves most successfully
should have had all he wanted of anyone into thinking that
here—he even told me so. the virtue of scholarship can be
So why do I tell Jerry’s story institutionalized. More impor-
now? Do I want you to leave tantly, it isn’t something that
college, perhaps to join the either the administrations or
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faculties of universities are miss- it, is to finish his studies at

ing. It is something that under- Notre Dame upon his return
graduates themselves are miss- from the Army three years
ing and need to provide if they from now. Ultimately, he will
are to gain a higher education. have earned his education by
The notion of having a point his own very difficult service
extends beyond one’s college as a private in the Army, and
career—indeed, it extends to the expense of his education
life itself—and it is with this will burden neither his federal
in mind that these writers have government, nor his university,
presented their thoughts. Let nor his family. He is the only
these insights give credence to person of whom I know I
the claim already presented in can say this. I most certainly
a previous issue: that human cannot say it of myself. V
beings, as rational animals,
cannot live without purpose.
Human beings thrive on
purpose. A story, to be
called a story, requires at least
enough order to make a plot.
I should say that Jerry, as last
I heard from him, is still serving
safely at his post in Iraq, having
been commissioned there this
September, and is reading the
entire works of Shakespeare in
what little spare time he has.
His plan, as last he’s considered
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In Search of Myself
An Essay
Daniel O’Duffy other minds – or my own – if
T
all I see are shadows dancing
on a cave wall? I ask, “what is
What am I? Science tells
love?” and I am told that it is
me that I am Homo sapiens,
like “like a red, red rose”. I ask,
constituted of atoms that form
“what is life?” and I am told that
cells shaped by billions of years
it is but “a brief candle”. These
of evolution, but this does not
answers, like anything encoded
answer my question. Though I
in language, can only flirt and
may zoom into my body with
flit with the truth, never truly
science and see my elements, I
encapsulating it. We are limited
am no closer to understanding
by language and experience
my innermost self. Throughout
to hear mere echoes of truth.
time, man has zoomed in on
Never will we be able to truly
himself with the intellect,
convey in words or show or say
questing for answers. From the
the secret of that which most
insight of the social sciences
fundamentally constitutes us.
to the wondrous perspicac-
The answers to human identity
ity of literature, humans have
may thus only be found with
recorded their attempts to find
introspection, not extrospec-
themselves. Through tracing
tion. Searching for myself, I
these thoughts, I marvel at the
will take as my guide the great
epic tapestry that illustrates the
philosophers, following their
human experience. I am enrap-
meditations. I ask myself, then,
tured when touching the mind
where I can be said to exist. The
of another… yet still I cannot
answer is apparent, Cartesian
grasp at the truth, the answers
in nature: I am that which asks
to those uniquely human ques-
what I am. I look to my mind.
tions. How may I come to know
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“For my part, when I enter most intimately into what I call

myself, I always stumble on some particular perception or other,
of heat or cold, light or shade, love or hatred, pain or pleasure.
I never can catch myself at any time without a perception, and
never can observe anything but the perception. (Hume)
I read Hume and follow his can affect its angle somewhat,
gaze, peering into my con- as the wind does during a
sciousness. I try to make sense storm, but I am powerless to
of what I find but all is at sea, a prevent its inevitable descent.
tumultuous crashing of percep- Breathless, I retreat to normal-
tions, thoughts and feelings that ity, chastened. Is this all there
threaten to drown me under a is to humans – an ephemeral,
cascade of sensations. I try to elusory existence consisting
swim through it to locate the of no more than fleeting pas-
locus of being, but I am unable sions? Hume concluded thus,
to see through the perceptions denying the existence of ‘self ’.
that fall into my awareness Is this the end of my journey?
like shifting curtains of rain. I
“Behind your thoughts and feelings, my brother, there stands a

mighty ruler, an unknown sage, whose name is self.” (Nietzsche)
Nietzsche beckons me back With Hume, I looked within

into myself with the promise to find only passions, but I do
that there is indeed something not conclude that this is all I
more, that I am hidden beyond am. After all, there must be
the deluge of mental activity. a subject of these perceptions,
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something to experience them. perceptions around me to look

Is this “me”? I turn my gaze down at the nameless figure,
from the constellations of this pivot in the center of it all.
“The philosophical I is not the human being, nor the human

body, nor the human soul with which psychology deals. The
philosophical self is the metaphysical subject, the bound-
ary – nowhere in this world.” (Wittgenstein)
Spurred on by Wittgenstein, observer in the middle is a void,

who talks of a self beyond that an entity entirely devoid of
which I had contemplated, character. There is no wondrous
I reach the final intellectual answer, no Grail at the end of this
magnification of the self, at last quest, just... emptiness. I am the
approaching the nucleus of being. empty vessel into which experi-
I look down into the awareness ence is poured, nothing more.
within to see... nothing. The
“The mental and the material are really here, but there is no person to
be found. For it is void and fashioned like a doll.” (Visuddhimagga)
I have not found my ‘self ’, only Like Descartes, I have worked my

diaphanous awareness. All of way down into the bottom of a
the things that I had once called doubt parabola, questioning every
‘me’, my thoughts, my feelings, level of my existence down to the
are apparently no more than poor absolute minimum point - some-
players upon a stage, moving and thing is aware. This is all I know,
interacting in the Cartesian the- all I can know for sure, unless
ater by a script that I do not write. I can construct an edifice of
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knowledge to ascend once more,

zooming back out and escaping
this dark cave of ouroboric
questions. This is the essence of
philosophy. We live in the midst
of plethoric puzzles that scream
at us, begging to be answered:
What are we? What is reality?
Attuning to these thoughts can
be maddening, or liberating; it
is no doubt much safer to plug
our ears! The greatest minds
of humanity nevertheless tied
themselves to the mast of
‘reality’ and turned to face that
siren’s call. Did any find their
Penelope? I do not know. They
have left me clues to their path,
a path that I may follow out, but
ultimately this odyssey must be
undertaken alone. Following
philosophy, I have journeyed
to my innermost self, zooming
in to find nothing. Following
philosophy, I may journey back
to reality, and find meaning. V
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Lifeline
A Poem
Claire Gillen
Class of 2011
Philosophy Club
Though blessed beyond measure, still I grumble.

Preoccupied with charting an assured way,
Through daily duty, I fumble, stumble,
Trying to stay upright, measure each day.
Just as my map’s nearly complete, I fall
From my high peak into raging ocean.
Water drives relentlessly, sapping all
My strength in its perpetual motion.
At length, the mighty force recedes and hurls
A wounded, gasping girl upon the shore.
Alone, confused, within herself she curls –
Doubts her power to recover, face more.
But, when placing trust in my greatest friend,
My yoke is easy; anxieties end. V
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Man According to Primo Levi

A Literary Research Paper
James C Dever but in order of urgency”,1 deals
Class of 2011
Orestes Brownson Council almost exclusively in particu-
lars. In compiling numerous
From the outset it is impor- experiences of life in the Lager,
tant to note that Primo Levi, in Levi constructs a rich and
is work Se questo è un uomo, is complex picture of humanity.
both participant in and narrator His writing demands that the
of various encounters with men, reader engage general questions
all of which contribute to his regarding the human condition
conversation with the reader on the level of particular. Levi
regarding man’s nature. For the invites the reader to deepen
sake of focus and clarity, I will his or her reflection on the
retain this division between questions he is raising, rather
Levi as author and Levi as than provide definitive answers
participant in one of these of his own. In this essay I have
encounters, addressing first how attempted to synthesize Levi’s
he as author is expressing his treatment of particulars in a
conception of man’s nature and fashion that does not neglect the
second how he as participant complexity of his work. Having
came to his understanding. The reflected on Levi’s text, I will
particularity of his experience argue that for Levi, a man is a
as participant will serve as being driven by the seemingly
evidence for the various themes unquenchable desire to discern
the work examines as a whole. meaning in experience, reflect
I will constrain my discussion upon this lived experience in
to one particular encounter memory, and then convey the
found in “Il canto di Ulisse”. The contents of those reflections to
form of Levi’s text, “written not others by means of language.
in order of logical succession,
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Man’s Search for Meaning
In “Il canto di Ulisse” Levi Levi’s search for meaning in

as both author and participant the Lager and Ulysses’ search
grapples with questions sur- for meaning in Inferno. Levi
rounding man’s desire to begins his meditation abruptly,
search for meaning. For Levi, “…the canto of Ulysses.” It
man hungers for meaning, is motivated initially by the
and attempts to discern the desire to teach Jean Italian, but
content of lived experience is soon transformed into an
according to principles of opportunity to discover mean-
reason. Levi’s reflection on ing in the inferno of the Lager.
Dante’s canto di Ulisse from Levi first draws the parallel
the Commedia establishes between Dante’s text and the
an implicit parallel between current situation of the two men
‘…So on the open sea I set forth.’ Of this I am certain, I am sure,

I can explain it to Pikolo, I can point out why ‘I set forth’ is not
‘ je me mis’, it is much stronger and more audacious, it is a chain
which has been broken, it is throwing oneself on the other side
of a barrier, we know the impulse well. The open sea: Pikolo
has traveled by sea and knows what it means…there is nothing
but the smell of the sea; sweet things, ferociously far away.2

His interpretation of the side of a barrier, crossing into the
passage points towards the unknown, driven by the human
similarity of their situation in impulse for meaning. Jean knows
the Lager to that of Ulysses, what the open sea means and
throwing himself on the other thus its particular relevance for
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Ulysses. The open sea is in- to search. Levi quotes Dante’s

scrutable, but still calls Ulysses Ulysses again and comments
‘Think of your breed; for brutish ignorance / Your mettle was

not made; you were made men, /To follow after knowledge
and excellence.’ As if I also was hearing it for the first
time: like the blast of a trumpet, like the voice of God.
For a moment I forgot who I was and where I am.3

The impact of this moment that he and Jean are engaging
is tremendous for Levi who in conversation seems to fill his
seems to have received a kind soul with an affirmation of his
of divine revelation about his own humanity. The essential
situation in the Lager as well difference between Levi’s search
as what it means to be a man. and that of Dante’s Ulysses
On Ulysses’ words, men follow is the role community plays
after knowledge and excellence, in deepening one’s ability to
pursuing the great questions of pursue knowledge and excel-
man’s existence in an attempt lence. Ulysses abandoned the
to discern meaning. On all of very members of his community
Levi’s descriptions, the Lager is that Levi emphasizes must be
essentially a place of dehuman- remembered. In engaging in
ization, breaking down what it the search for meaning with
means to be a man in the minds another Levi affirms the need
of the prisoners. The revelation for community and friendship.4
from Dante’s Ulysses that men
are made to seek after knowl-
edge and excellence and the way
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Memory and Connection memories that shed important

to the Past light on Levi’s subsequent
exegesis of Dante’s text. Levi
Se questo è un uomo is essen- writes, “We spoke of our hous-
tially a collection of memories. es, of Strasbourg and Turin, of
Elsewhere in his work Levi the books we had read, of what
described himself as “a normal we had studied, of our mothers:
man with a good memory.”5 how all mothers resemble each
Levi was an author who was other!”6 In this brief exchange
very concerned with human between the two men, their
memory and memory’s role in memories enable them to
the communication of truth establish a link with their past
about the human condition. lives. Memory, in creating
In this section I will address that link between the past and
Levi’s emphasis on the power of present, allows Levi and Jean
memory to create connections to reflect on a time when their
with the past. This is significant humanity was not somehow
both on the level of being as in question, a time when they
an essentially human capacity knew they were in fact men.
associated with meaning, and Levi relates as much of the
on the level of the ability of canto as he is able to remember.
memory to recall instances He struggles to translate and
of lived human experience, comment on the fragments he
especially in moments when is able to recall, while stitching
one’s humanity is in doubt. together what he has produced.
Within the narrative, Here memory performs the
Levi begins his journey with same act of linking Levi in the
Jean speaking about various Lager to words and ideas that
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transcend the Lager, allowing dusk of evening as I returned

him for a time to forget who he by train from Milan to Turin!”8
is and where he is. Levi’s lapses The pain of memory is lasting,
in memory point to the power yet revivifying, echoing Levi’s
of memory to transcend imme- sentiments earlier in the book,
diate circumstances. He writes, “For a few hours we can be
“I would give today’s soup to unhappy in the manner of free
know how to connect ‘the like men.”9 There is something
on any day’ to the last lines.”7 uniquely human about the pain
In asserting his willingness to one can suffer from a memory
surrender this ration, Levi is es- that while transporting one
sentially claiming that he would from his or her environment
have given his life to remember makes them acutely aware that
the way the final lines of the it will only be temporary.
canto are connected. For Levi, it
would be better to contemplate Language and Community
the imagery of Dante’s text
with Jean in the manner of One’s ability to search for
men. The capacity to remember meaning and reflect on lived
and to relate one’s memories to experience in memory are
another is something uniquely ultimately frustrated without
human. The power of memory the capacity to express oneself
is further attested to as Levi’s in meaningful language. As
rendering of the canto sparks with the power to discern
other memories, notably of his meaning, and reflect on
home in Turin, “…do not let me memory, the use of language
think of my mountains which is something that is essen-
used to show up against the tially human. Furthermore, in
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order for communication to be in the Preface to Se questo è

meaningful it must be directed un uomo, “The need to tell our
towards a listener, establishing a story to ‘the rest,’ to make ‘the
community. In this final sec- rest’ participate in it, had taken
tion I will show how language on for us before our liberation
facilitates the creation of and after, the character of an
community between Levi and immediate and violent impulse,
his readers as well as between to the point of competing
Levi and Jean in the Lager. with our elementary needs.”11
The epitaph from Coleridge’s Both of these statements echo
“Rime of the Ancient Mariner” similar sentiments of a violent
is found at the beginning of impulse to share one’s story
his work, I sommersi e i salvati, with others as well as notions
“Since then at an uncertain of community and otherness.
hour, / that agony returns, / Levi is deeply concerned with
And till my ghastly tale is told one’s ability to communicate
/ This heart within me burns.”10 meaning to others. In I som-
Levi writes of the burning mersi e i salvati, he writes:
desire to share the “ghastly tale”
Except for cases of pathological incapacity, one can and must com-
municate…To say that it is impossible to communicate is false; one
always can. To refuse to communicate is a failing; we are biologically
and socially predisposed to communication, and in particular to its
highly evolved and noble form which is language. All members of the
human species speak, no non-human species knows how to speak.12
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Thus, to speak is something that ideal listener throughout Levi’s

is essentially human. It is the frantic lesson. Levi mentions
manner in which one relates to his “great attention” and “how
“the rest”. The exercise of lan- good Pikolo is”.13 Jean partici-
guage is carried out in commu- pates verbally only once, but for
nion with other human beings. a majority of the time follows
The main action of Levi’s Levi’s reflections intently,
commentary in Il canto di Ulisse deepening his own reflections
is an attempt to establish a on their condition in the Lager
form of community with Jean as they are implicitly compared
by teaching Jean his native to those of Ulysses. Levi writes,
language. Jean is depicted as the
…he is aware that it is doing me good. Or perhaps it is something

more: perhaps, despite the wan translation and the pedestrian,
rushed commentary he has received the message; he has felt that it
has to do with him, that is has to do with all men who toil, and
with us in particular; and that is has to do with us two, who dare to
reason of these things with the poles for the soup on our shoulders.14
Jean affirms Levi’s burning reflect with him on the great

desire to speak by providing questions of meaning they face
him with a willing ear to listen. in the Lager. This experience
Beyond mere courtesy, however, of communication shared
Jean has been affected by Levi’s between the two men allow
story. In sharing his transla- both to recognize the humanity
tion and commentary, Levi is of themselves in the other. For
able to deepen Jean’s ability to Levi and Jean, who dare to
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reason about these things in the author, Levi invites the reader
Lager, shared communication is to become participant in those
another way in which humanity experiences and engage the text
may be retained. This is the as a living strand of conversa-
fact of man’s life on earth that tion on what it means to be
Dante’s Ulysses neglected. human. His reconstructions of
In separating himself from his human encounters provide
human community in order the basis for the search for
to search after knowledge and meaning, investing his readers
excellence he rebelled against with a sense of purpose as they
man’s natural impetus towards follow his thought in the text.
fruitful social interaction and Levi’s memory provides the area
the virtue of friendship. in which the search for meaning
Thus far, I have attempted to is carried out. He invites the
show an understanding of man reader into his most intimate
as rational, linguistic, and social thoughts with all the urgency of
in Levi’s relation of his encoun- the original moment. Both the
ter with Jean in Il canto di Ulisse, invitation and sense of urgency
but to reduce Levi’s relation of are expressed through Levi’s use
his encounters in Se questo è un of language. Language creates
uomo to a dogmatic definition the relationship between the
of man, however, would be speaker and the listener in a
offensive to the complexity of manner that demands of the
Levi’s text. As we have seen listener a willingness to reflect
Levi’s work is characterized by with Levi on the nature of
its emphasis on the particularity man. In the same way Levi’s
of human experience. Levi encounters are necessarily
chooses to relate his experiences singular, so too is the response
as experiences of individuals. As to Levi derived from his
24
S X
readers. In Il canto di Ulisse Levi

offers his own commentary
and interpretation of Dante’s
poetic text with a particularity
of circumstance that provides
new meaning to the text itself.
By allowing the reader to
follow his journey with Jean
through Dante’s text. Levi has
provided us a model to follow in
interpreting his own. Probing
Cited:
the depths of meaning that are 1 Se questo è un uomo, p. 15-16
present, taking adequate time to 2 Ibid, p. 119
reflect what we have managed 3 Ibid, cf.
4 Inferno XXVI, 94-99, “No
to grasp, and finally carrying tenderness for son, no duty owed
on the conversation once more, / To aging fatherhood, no love
that should / have brought my
deepening our understanding wife Penelope delight / Could
each time we return. Se questo overcome in me my long desire /
burning to understand how this
è un uomo does not offer us a world works / and know of human
finalized definition of what it vices, worth and valor”; note 9
5 Levi, Stories and Essays, quoted
means to be a man, but rather in Woolf, “From If this is a Man to
invites the reader along the The Drowned and the Saved ”, p. 35
6 Se questo è un uomo, p. 117
path of Levi’s own search for 7 Ibid, p. 120
meaning through his memory 8 Ibid
and expressed in his language 9 Ibid, p. 82, “A Good Day”
10 Coleridge, ‘The Rime of the
indicating that these three Ancient Mariner”, 582-585
components of man’s nature 11 Se questo è un uomo, p. 15
12 I sommersi e i salvati, p. 89
were essential to his under- 13 Se questo è un uomo, p. 118, 119
standing of what man is. V 14 Ibid, p. 119-120
25
S X
And How He Is
A Poem
Scott Posteuca
Class of 2011
Philosophy Club
It is so easy just to throw up

your arms and to pretend
it is all pretend.
The nauseating drone of the alarm clock
—tiresome, bothersome, a nuisance
“Get up,” it says, “Get up and go... go... go...go... go...”
tiresome, monotone, and clueless—
fails under quick fingers
and we sink
into
dreams...
dreams do not complicate
(don’t say there’s nothing to do in the doldrums...)
dreams are easy.
But that is just the thing

(Aye, there’s the rub):
Perhaps it is too easy, this throwing up, this pretending,
too easy to be
the proper response to it
all (life, work, love, breathing), all
that being as man entails.
26
S X
It seems to me that by being

man, I demand certain
things from the Reality about me
: for one
that it be more
more than just pretend
more than just a dream
:for another
that it be worthwhile,
worth a great deal
(worthy of a sunset,
perhaps, on a warm summer
day at the edge
of the sea;
worthy of a deep look
into its vast,
shimmering eternity;
worthy of a good whiff
of the salt
spray of unknown Adventure)
27
S X
:and for another, perhaps

most importantly,
that it be
real, that it be
relevant, that it
exist, that it not be
a lie!
Man, for him to exist

as man,
requires
demands,
depends upon
Truth;
and how he is
restsless upontil he befriends it. V
28
S X
29
S X
Bayview
A Story
William Stewart sales and violin repair shops
Class of 2012
Istum that day. For her, it was a
slow stumble through a frag-
The clocks all look out mented memory of disinterest
toward the shore, each tick and the impatience of an
and each tock pointed to the eight-year-old: underexposed
shore. It is a city of hands, negatives that would never
asymmetrical pairs, one little, quite fully develop. For me, it
one big. Soaring above the was a chance to retrace an all-
streets and smokestacks, the too-hurried, frantic and lost
time-piece towers stand over afternoon when the blackness
the factories and warehouses, of the sky began to fill the
solitary sentinels of the surge cab of the pickup as the radio
and setting of the day. The blurted warnings of impend-
sweeps obscure the faces as ing weather. We decided to
the hands wave in and out the walk the streets we had only
highways, the railways, the the faintest remembrance of.
port lanes. Even the summits The sign just said books,
of the churches inhabit a vertically, three feet tall,
breed of these mechanical beginning just above the
star-gazers, a metronome crown of my head. It may
for the worshipers and their have been lit at some point,
God. My footsteps along the but the hours had corroded
side walks are matched by the its wires and cracked its glass.
tolls of the hour: inhale, high On the window glass was
tide, tick all mirrored with posted ‘Closed’ but also ‘Open
the tock, low tide, exhale. June 19-20.’ Craning my
Madeline and I found our- neck, I opened the door.
selves in a land of rummage ‘Close the door!’ came
30
S X
the reply. ‘Close the door!’ welcome to look around.’

We skirted hurriedly Hoping to stumble across
through the doorway as the some priceless treasure bound
voice emerged from beneath a with glue and string, I turned
precariously balanced teepee of down the miniature isle,
dust jackets and first editions. drawn by the shelves upon
‘It’s air conditioned. shelves of forgotten best-sellers
Naturally air conditioned, and abandoned novelty.
see,’ the teepee explained. But he continued,
The chief who emerged was trapping Madeline.
ancient, with three days of ‘Nicer in here than it is out
acid-free paper stubble embel- there, eh? Cooler down here.
lishing his chin. His pants That’s why I say ‘naturally’ air
hung high, suspended by elastic, conditioned. Just a few win-
the brass clasps worn with age. dows and plate glass. Keeps it
Glasses, thick with text, shaded cooler in the summer. I just am
his brilliant, sunken eyes, the writing this letter. I don’t really
arms running from the heavy own the place, just I’m running
lenses to his tired ears across the it for the day. But that’s why
valleys of his cheeks and temple. I didn’t want you to have the
I quickly stepped to the door open for too long. It lets
side, out of the way, leaving all of the cooler air escape.
Madeline to greet him. Like this, see, there is no extra
‘The place is open,’ he bill. People don’t think of that,
answered absently when queried though. But it helps you not
if we could look. ‘I’m only here have to pay. So that’s why I put
for a few minutes. Probably there, on the sign, “naturally”
about fifteen. I just have to air conditioned. See. Because
finish this letter. But you are there is no real air conditioner.
31
S X
But it’s conditioned air. It’s just crier, and gracelessly scrambled
been conditioned by the build- over box and bag into the far
ing. As long as it is different back corner of the store. The
that the air outside, it’s con- entire shop could not have been
ditioned. So this air is colder more than 200 square feet.
than the air outside but it’s I recognized even less pat-
colder because of the building, tern on these shelves, with
so it’s naturally air conditioned. signed copies sharing space
Anyway, I’m just finishing with pulp fiction and nudists.
writing this letter then I need ‘How am I going to finish
to go, but you can sure look this letter? It is a book,’ he
around here while I am here.’ muttered to himself, droning
He shuffled back into off into indecipherability but
his cavern of binding and certainly remaining in the
Cubs-Indians on the radio. realm of audibility. The players
Madeline laughed at me with were tied in the 11th inning.
her spread eyes as I sniggered He just wanted the company.
into a volume I had absent- ‘Ralph Nader could have
mindedly pulled off of a shelf. been president!’ He snapped
The shelves appeared towers, out of his contemplations
stacking up to the low ceiling when Madeline asked to
instantly, crammed with every make a purchase, but not
variety of book, every variety of before dragging the front
time, every variety of subject, end of his derailed train of
and in no particular organiza- thought through his teeth.
tion. I left her by the sections ‘O, these are old ones,’
on Lincoln and Bestsellers, he commented. ‘You ever
loosely designated, tip-toed know about,’ asking her about
past our book and baseball some long-forgotten great.
32
S X
‘What?! You never heard of to one side, instead of how they

him?! I can’t believe that. One used to decide for every person,
of the smartest men to ever act. each one to his own vote, you
He played in, and then he was know? But, instead, he didn’t
in. Maybe you say it is because get the votes, so they couldn’t
you are young. But you know elect him, but if they had just
who Charlie Chaplin is. If I let the votes fall as they were,
ask you who Charlie Chaplin he could’ve taken enough away
is, you would know who he is, himself. He could’ve been
wouldn’t you? That just doesn’t president. A run off, at least.’
make sense because you don’t I laughed, feeling bad
know about one guy who was that I had stranded her
later than one, but if I ask you again with his rambles.
about Chaplin, you would know ‘Alright, let’s see what we
him, but not the younger one. can do here. I probably am
‘But what about Ralph going to leave in about five
Nader?’ resurrecting his old in- minutes. I want to get to
ternal debate. ‘You know about church a little early today. So
him. He almost could’ve won I will probably leave in a few
the last election. The one before minutes. But I think it will
last. He would’ve had enough, be, let’s see. Two books, hmm,
but, they always do that kind yea, two books, two dollars.
of thing. You know that if the Thank you. I guess now I can
people who voted could’ve voted close up and head out.’ He
instead of the electors, because shut off the radio mid-pitch.
you mean to tell me that the I clamored out from behind
electors vote the very same for the avalanche of books above
all one guy as just the people me and handed him my choice.
voted for, but when they all go ‘Heh, we were about to
33
S X
close up. What do you have he would be open again,

there? Ah, a Merton. Disputed he shook his head.
Questions? I have never, I don’t ‘Today is the only day.
remember this one. Let me see. Then it will be closed until
I have more Merton here in the September. But it’s not mine
office. But I don’t know about anymore, see. I sold it to anoth-
this one.’ He gestured to a wall er guy. I have to go in for treat-
of the teepee, and I carefully ment. Surgery for my heart. So
inched out a well-read copy of there’s not really time for me
The Seven Storey Mountain. to finish setting the shop up.
He thumbed frantically But I think he will finish that
through an appraisal book, back room that you were in,’
considerably flagged and gesturing to the natural disaster
underlined and circled. Calling that I had just escaped from.
out four digit numbers of prices As we turned to
and explaining that he usually leave, I stopped.
charges some incomprehensible ‘Ayn Rand, you say? Ain
amount for his books, depend- Rand? Ain. Yea, I think I
ing on ten percents, the phases have some right here. Right
of the moon, and the Chinese here. Somewhere on this
New Year, he tried to determine shelf. I think so. I just put
the going rate for my choice. some up there. It might be
His thought process was spo- side ways. Hmm. You just
radic, most of it leaking through have to look.’ He trailed off.
his mouth. But it was too ‘Don’t worry about it. There’s
much, even for him. He ended not enough time. Besides, you
up reluctantly asking me for $10 need to get going. Church?’
for both. I was happy to pay. The door closed emphatically
When I asked him when behind us. We reached the top
34
S X
of the street, turned at the inter- have been swallowed up by

section, and I cast a glance back the storefronts abutting it,
over my shoulder to the crack in swallowed up by the city that
the masonry from which we had took no notice of it, swallowed
just exited. Open one day the up by the clocks that soared so
whole summer. Half an hour far above its basement stacks.
later and the bookseller would The sidewalk carried
have failed to even exist for us. our feet around the block:
The serendipity of the step, step, high tide, low
afternoon, stepping into the last tide, tick, tock. V
15 minutes of a man’s career,
to listen to him calmly finish
a letter to his brother, it was
like catching an extra inning
of game whose turbulent at-
bats were not betrayed by the
placidity of the identical scores.
Inside the naturally air con-
ditioned basement, where the
only windows looked straight
up to the sky, time had paused
to let us into a story that would
end as soon as we reemerged
into our city of clocks. Had I
walked back down the street to
the sign that had not glowed
“books” in twenty years, I
have no doubt that I would
have found the shop to already
35
S X
Interpretations and Intersubjectivity

An Essay
Mark Tancredi of a man’s being alone on an
Class of 2011
Istum island might be incomprehen-
sible for a man living in New
Suppose there is a man York City. But do we not also
living on a deserted island recognize in the man from the
who has never known another island an altogether different
person, but has instead raised understanding of what we call
himself entirely and learned “happiness” that owes itself to
independently all those things that emotion’s being cultivated
that he needs to know about his in a different context? We might
behaviors. His behaviors might think that the man from the
be peculiar from our point of island understands “happiness”
view. Perhaps he scratches his in the same way we do—that
ears with his foot or snorts he understands at base the same
when happy or talks to himself emotion—and that he is simply
by slapping his face and clasping acting it out in a different way.
his hands around his arms or But what reason do we have to
performs any number of other think this? Why do we feel that
odd rituals. Suppose also that “happiness” is pure and simple
there is a man living in our own and that emotions are uniform
society who exhibits all of these and unaffected by the practices
same behaviors. If we reflect on that embody them? Is it not
these two persons, is it not pos- possible that the island-man’s
sible for us to say that the first “happiness” and our “happiness”
is sane while the second insane? are similar but not the same,
And would we not say this in the same way that an Oak
because of the contexts in which and a Maple are recognizably
their behaviors developed? different and yet both trees?
What is understandable in light And now I ask, why should
36
S X
the man from the island have also about emotions. Behaviors
any behaviors at all? If they give expression to emotions,
are outward demonstrations but they also do something
of something intrinsic to him, more: they provide identity and
who are they demonstrations substance to emotions; they
for? That is, why should he have help to define emotions rather
behaviors rather than mere acts than merely embody them.
of instinct? If I rub my eye to ***
signal that I am tired, what Emotions are contextual; the
distinguishes that behavior from ability to identify a particular
my rubbing my eye because emotion as “happiness” or “joy”
there is an eyelash in it? How is more than simply putting
is it that another person can a name on it. Naming is only
interpret my behavior? What one part of identifying, and
does that other person need to the name “happiness” is only a
know? If my intent is what is at label, just as “Mark Tancredi”
issue, there must be something is merely a label for me.
that supplies others with “Happiness” stands in place
knowledge of my intent. For if of all those features that are
my friend asks (or suggests) that held together in the emotion.
I am tired and I insist that I am But those features for which
not, he may still argue with me “happiness” serves as shorthand
that I am, and argue further are not qualities of only the
that that is the reason that I emotion; they are also quali-
rubbed my eye. This can only ties of its use. Thus emotions
be because he has interpreted are not basic entities that just
my action in context. This, I am need to be named. Identifying
going to suggest, tells us not just an emotion means noting its
about actions and behaviors, but features along with something
37
S X
about the appropriate situations context does not serve simply

that evoke those features. to provide a name, but it serves
Notice that this does not mean to provide an identity. Context
that I must identify all those feeds back onto the emotion of
situations, but it does mean that interest and makes us under-
situations provide a component stand it and understand how to
of the emotion’s identity; in act on it. Even if “excitement”
experiencing situations, I and “fear” subjectively feel the
learn the emotion’s identity. same, they are not separated
“Happiness” is not something only by context; they are phe-
internal that merely responds to nomenologically distinct.
a given circumstance. If it was, An emotion is not an entity
we could call something “happi- that we know from experience
ness” by describing just its fea- or that we can isolate and
tures without noting anything describe the features of.
about the context in which it Nothing can be said about an
is experienced. But this is not emotion except that it is an
possible, for what would we say? emotion (and perhaps that it is
Even if the subjective “feeling” pleasant or unpleasant) unless
of happiness does not change context is taken into account.
with circumstance, the identity ***
of that feeling does. Here I am Consider how one learns to
not simply saying that the same act on a very basic emotion—
basic emotion can be given sadness, for example. While
a different name depending crying may be universally
on the context. I am instead consistent, it is largely instinc-
suggesting that the identity of tive as a behavior; mourning is
an emotion is contextual; the neither of these things. If I am
38
S X
to mourn, I must first learn to some other way of expressing

recognize those situations in sadness, I would then have
which mourning is appropriate. learned more about sadness.
I then learn the appropriate The movement is dialectical,
behaviors to exhibit, words and without such a movement
to speak (“I’m sorry for your my emotions remain just emo-
loss,” “My prayers are with tions; they are not “sadness”
you,” etc.) and activities to do or “happiness” or “anxiety”.
in such situations, and later I That I can observe happiness
begin to repeat them. Finally, in a very young infant says
I make them my own. Only relatively little about the infant
at this point can I be said to and comparatively more about
understand the sadness that socialization. That I can, in
calls for mourning, for I now fact, interpret happiness from a
understand how to express sad- smile says much about me. That
ness to other people. Only then an infant can smile is perhaps
can I go through a card aisle in reflexive; that that smile can be
a grocery store and understand a response to the infant’s feeling
why different cards are grouped of what I may call happiness is
in different sections. But more more significant; but that I can
importantly, I learn something call that feeling “happiness”,
about emotions and the actions that I can interpret the move-
they might elicit at the same ment of an infant’s lips as a
time; the actions provide scope smile, that I can read the child
and detail to my emotions, and as conveying a recognizable
as I begin to clarify my emo- emotion to me when I cannot of
tions, I also begin to understand course know first-hand what the
how I might put them to use. child is feeling suggests some
If I were later to understand level of intersubjectivity. It is
39
S X
not that I am projecting onto it is a convenient reason for us

the child, if this is understood to discount objections to our
to mean that I am ascribing own thoughts. So “happiness”
behavior to the child that the is generally thought good to
child does not intend, for I produce, but rarely thought
can never know what anyone good to form and even less
intends unless I interpret their likely to be thought of as some-
behavior in the same way that thing that needs to be educated
I interpret the smile of an or learned. (What would that
infant. What this suggests is even mean to most of us?) And
that emotions are neither basic gut reactions—what we “just
nor distinct entities. They are feel”—are deemed reliable and
also not firmly ingrained, and should be listened to; unless,
particular emotions need not of course, that gut reaction is
be universally felt. Rather, that of a friend with whom we
emotions are something of a disagree. But in this case, what
capacity, something awaiting are we left with? Weighing one
development and clarification person’s gut reaction against
by interpersonal relationships. another’s? My sorrow to my
*** neighbor’s pride? As long as
We spend much of our lives emotions are common currency
focused on emotions—on for talking about right and
satisfying them, on rectifying wrong behavior, we will never
them, on assuaging them, on actually talk about right and
pursuing courses of action that wrong behavior. Nor will we ac-
will produce the most of certain tually talk about emotions, since
kinds of them—but we often to talk about them would be
do not give thought to what fundamentally to talk about the
informs them nor, indeed, to behavior that molds them. V
what forms them, except when
40
S X
People By Day…
A Thought Experiment
Stephen Lechner the morning? Constant IV?
Class of 2011
Istum ***
Now say that while a person
Imagine that a new drug is under the influence of this
becomes fashionable and highly drug, they retain an appearance
accessible. It makes a person much like that of any other
feel really good, it makes them rational human being, but that
forget their problems for a at some point they begin to
little while, it cures simple act in an irrational manner.
depression temporarily but They begin to do things that
thoroughly, gives them a sense they would ordinarily not do,
of companionship with others whether or not those things are
who take the drug, provides a things that they would want to
certain boost or high that can do under normal circumstances.
make even the most stressful They moan and groan a little,
situations become a Sunday they find suddenly that they
picnic, and has a bearable health can dance and sing when
recoil—definitely not enough previously they could not, and
to cause serious injury, and only they suddenly begin making
enough to cause a slight dis- love to any other human being
comfort that is much less than of the opposite sex (or of the
the typical stresses of daily life. same) that they find the slight-
Question: Would you take est attraction to. They do all
the drug? If so, how often? On sorts of ridiculous yelling and
special occasions? In tough screaming and singing and
times? On holidays? On stumbling and jumping and
weekends? After a hard day’s crawling and spitting and biting
work? After work? During and howling and even some of
work? When you wake up in the unspeakable, but they do so
41
S X
mostly amongst themselves and young people) at night in flocks

instances of bad things like ac- looking for sources of flesh and
cidents, violence, injury, assault, blood and have been witnessed
death, rape, etc… are almost to be capable of tearing animals
always amongst themselves apart as a means of satisfying
and even then have the reputa- this hunger, but they rarely ever
tion of occurring so seldomly kill people, since people quickly
that one need not worry that learned to avoid them (they can-
they happen to oneself. not move about very quickly, for
Same questions as before. they become slow and clumsy)
*** and to lock their doors at night
Now say that while a person (they do not hunt people in
is under the influence of this their rooms, but there have
drug, they retain the appearance been instances when they have
much like that of any other mistaken other rooms for their
rational human being, but that own and things have ended up
at some point they begin to act badly). Let’s say that for some
in a more seriously irrational reason the proper authority is
manner. They gain unexplain- either uninterested or incapable
able strength and a certain of stopping people from taking
hunger for flesh and blood along this drug and that the drug
with an inability to distinguish is sufficiently available that
between other animals and anyone who wants it can get it
one’s own kind, although with little effort, and they do.
they strangely do not have an Question: Assuming that
appetite for anyone who is also you would not take the drug
under the influence of this drug. (although you might, given
They tend to roam universities its positive effects), do you get
(it is popular especially amongst angry at these people?
42
S X
Note that the effects of this Say that one Saturday night
drug wear off within eight hours you walk in the hall of your
or so (or whatever is a good dorm past a young man, a class-
night’s rest) leaving the druggy mate of yours named Bob, who
as something like a supposedly is under the influence of this
normal person, so several of drug and whose appetite find’s
these people who walk around you likeable to a half-pound
as zombies at night are the same burger. He begins stumbling
people who you go to class with after you and wailing, and you
in the day—yes, even the same shake your head in pity for him
people who work hard during as you usually do to people
the day and get A’s (A’s!) in in such situations (especially
their classes and go on to get Bob), and you make for the
high paying jobs. Their nightly exit door behind you. To your
activities might affect their daily distress, the door is inoperable.
activities, but not enough that it You do not know whether it
be noticeable to the professors, be jammed, locked, blocked
rectors, parents, etc… or at least from the other side by another
not enough for them to care or drugged person, but neither do
do anything about it. It is so- you have time to find out before
cially accepted that these people Bob walks up to you and sub-
do what they do at night and it sequently devours you. You do
is socially abnormal for people not particularly like Bob, and
to complain about this or to for the time being you cannot
think it strange or stupid, etc… think of another drugged up
Question: Do you complain human being by whom you
in any way? Do you pretend would more despise being de-
not to think it strange? voured. You turn to meet him,
*** find the hall sufficiently narrow
43
S X
that you cannot circumvent him bottle of beer over someone’s

without some probable contact, head just as one sees in the
and discover that he is about movies. It shattered beautifully.
five hobbles away. You coolly Question: Do you hate Bob?
walk up to him, take your bottle Question: Do you find it odd
of Guinness that you have been that you do not find it odd that
drinking and, as he lifts his this sort of thing happened?
hungry, shaky arms towards ***
you, you bash the shapely Two days later, you have to
glass bottle over his forehead give a presentation in class. At
(he is a little taller than you) the question-answer part of the
sending beer and glass flying presentation, the first person to
across the hall in a glittering raise a hand to ask a question
golden spray. Bob stumbles is none other than a sane and
to the ground and with little sober Bob, a perfectly normal
hesitation you walk past him Bob except that he has a black
to your room to go to bed. and blue bruise on his forehead,
You lie awake for a while that the appearance of which he
night because of a complex cannot seem to remember.
combination of feelings: you Question: Do you have a
are shocked because you have reaction to his question? Do
nearly been devoured, you you listen to his question? Do
are angry at Bob for nearly you answer his question? If
devouring you, you are mourn- you do answer his question, is
ful that you had to waste a your answer non-violent? Can
half-bottle of Guinness in you give any explanation as to
order to save yourself, and why you might feel the sudden
you are very proud at having urge to repeat what you did
successfully broken a glass to him two nights ago, except
44
S X
perhaps with a chair this time

instead of a bottle? If in fact
you do repeat said action, do
you realize beforehand that
you will have to convince the
professor of the soundness
of this explanation upon the
completion of said act lest you
find yourself in the hands of
some uninformed and punish-
ing authority? If in fact you do
repeat said action, how do you
suppose Bob might react? V
45
S X
Penury Everlasting
A Poem
Nick Brandt
Class of 2012
T
A flighty flair for affluence,

Mocks the tyrant poverty,
Basking in the garden of earthly delights,
It rests on the golden ashes,
Of its predestined forefathers.
Many will go, many will go,

And I will stay, for this I know,
That just as the sun rises in May,
So also my golden earthly bouquet.
It is the constant gardener,

The still point in Eliot’s turning world,
Because McMansions have McOwners,
McMarkets have McBrokers.

That just as the market paves its way,
Was it not Matthew who dared proclaim,

“The poor you will always have with you?”
The poor reap harvests of harvests not theirs,
Devouring the sweat of laborious lament.
46
S X

That just as the farmer grows his pay,
And I am not their savior,

I am the captain of Her Majesty’s Jewel,
The ship of the line,
The treasure trove of prosperity,
The perfect target,
For vicious piracy.

That just as the sea holds its sway
And even when I die, this much I say,

Much like your poetry, so must gold stay,
And shine in brilliance upon my grave,
Bathing me in sunlight, as a light upon a wave. V
47
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A Portrait of T. S. Eliot
A Story
Josef Kuhn the street lamp was talking to
Class of 2011
PLS him! He, Eliot, twenty years
of age, his grey hair combed
Old men ought to be neatly so that no one would
explorers, thought one as he ever suspect—he was secretly
ventured out the door into training to become a prophet.
the grey London street, once Wait—that man there, the
cobblestoned, now paved. one with the briefcase, smells
History always gets paved over, dusty, like he stepped right out
but Eliot was conscious of the of Ezekiel. A terrifying vision
cobblestones buried beneath his suddenly flashed before Eliot of
feet; his footsteps sent vibrations a brown scar of earth, the dried
down to them, which they sent husk of the Th ames, winding
back up, slightly altered. He under London Bridge, and the
received these intimations of the million umbrellas of London
past into his head and churned open on the bridge, waiting for
them about as he walked, eyes a drop of rain, but none came
downcast and brow furrowed, and they were all just blown
trying to apply words to the away, along with everyone’s
shadow-pattern shapeshifting top-hats. And then they all
through his mind. He looked just stood around, looking
up for one second and noticed dumbfounded and glum.
the day was overcast, or maybe As he progressed down
it was just the twilight. A black Bloomsbury Way, the prophet
cat flitted across the sidewalk fingered the lapel of his green
in front of him, disappearing jacket. Green, on the one side,
behind some rubbish bins. but red on the other; he was
The street lamp sputtered, the sure people could see it, the
street lamp muttered—yes, blood from his bullet wound,
48
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soaking through the fabric of much searching, many infernal

his left shoulder, the blood of nights, to find that there are
the Lamb. It was on his face, only two ways: the way up and
too; he could feel it, warm and the way down. And the only
sticky, although he could also way up is the way down. And
feel plants growing there, grass the only way out is the way in.
and clover; these spread down There are only two ways,
across his jacket, which was, Two-Face Eliot repeated to
after all, a lively spring green. himself as a mantra while he
His visage hadn’t always been passed a church, St. Peter’s
so springy, so sanguine; back or St. Paul’s. As a boy, in a
in the days of straw men, living white-washed room with low
in limbo, he had powdered his ceiling and wooden benches,
face a pale green and stalked he had eaten bread, and under
through the streets like a living high stone vaults trimmed with
disease. It was his need, then, gold flourishes, he had eaten the
and his burden, to question Lord. He remembered fishing
everything, even asking who he in the mud of the Mississippi
was. Thomas, he found, for the and foraging for crabs on the
dubious Apostle; Stearns for his coast of Massachusetts. The
brooding countenance, driving sea-breeze wafted into his
all easy companionship away. nostrils as he played among
But he was also an Eliot, with the rocks, Mother watching
roots dug down into the earth of him closely because of his weak
East Coker. Both of these faces legs. Dear Mother, where is
were his, and only the vertex she now? He owed so much
of the two could point him to her—his education, his
on toward the horizon. Yes, it appreciation for letters, his
had taken him a long time and desire to know God. And later,
49
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when he had read Pascal, he

had thought back on her, her
simple acceptance of miracles,
and realized she had been right.
So the end of all his learning
was to arrive at his summer
home back in Gloucester, back
where he had started, and to
know it for the first time. V
50
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A Girl without a Country

An Essay
Maria Santos with excitement. It takes me
Class of 2011
PLS ten minutes to coax her to
leave. We scurry through the
It’s Salsa Night at Legends. cold night, relaxing at last
I’ve never been before, but in her Walsh Hall room.
my friend Kelly promised “I’m so jealous of your
that she knows some guys Cuban genes,” Kelly giggles.
who are great dancers. She She is still thinking of the
was right. My dance partner, dashing boys who asked her
one of her friends, guides me to dance. “How much better
effortlessly across the floor. my salsa would be! And my
He twirls me around, his tango and merengue, too.”\
movements smooth and fluid. I begin to point out, “Being
He is sure and graceful, poise Cuban doesn’t make you a good
incarnate. I trip, mid-twirl, dancer, as I am living proof,”
and step on his foot. Again. but I stop myself. There is no
He gives up after a few point in arguing. I learned
minutes. There’s no hope of that at a high school dance
teaching me to dance. He’s one three years ago, when my date
in a long line of failed instruc- actually got mad at me for my
tors, including my mother, admittedly clumsy dancing.
all my high school friends, “You have to actually move
and several ex-boyfriends. your hips,” he lectured with
I stand by the wall looking mounting frustration. Finally,
for Kelly, who is nowhere to he burst out, “Come on, you’re
be seen. Silently, I reaffirm my Cuban! This is in your blood!”
vow, broken again, to avoid Is there a gene for dancing?
dancing at all costs. Kelly If there is, why am I apparently
flutters over at last, breathless the only Cuban who it skipped?
51
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*** change me from being Cuban.

What does it mean to be Cuban blood flows in my
Cuban? What qualities, physical veins- whatever that means.
or intangible, am I lacking? But in actions and appearance,
However you define “Cuban,” I’m as American as the Fourth
I don’t fit the description. My of July Parade, as “white”
parents used to be Cuban. as The Preppy Handbook.
Now they live in Chicago. In I hate that choice I’ve had
fact, with my light brown hair to make again and again,
and pale skin, Midwestern between being “white” and
accent, and Fighting Irish being “Hispanic.” I first
pride, I’m a better fit for noticed it when I started taking
South Side Irish myself. standardized tests. They ask
My grandparents used to you to “Choose one” in the
tease me for my “gringa” accent Race category. I feel like a liar
when I spoke Spanish. Now when I fill in the “Hispanic”
they pretend not to notice that I bubble. I always do anyway. It’s
barely speak Spanish anymore, a statement, a protest of one.
only throwing in the rare And of course, I hoped it would
“muchas gracias” or “te quiero.” help me get into better schools.
I sued to live in Miami, where The thought behind that
everyone spoke Spanish. Now, hope was the worst of it, actu-
my family doesn’t even speak ally- when people assumed that
Spanish at home. My few I got into Notre Dame because
Spanish phrases are a final ploy I am Hispanic. It makes my dad
to prove to my grandparents, furious that people think that.
and really to myself, that I “Is there a school where you
am somehow still Cuban. get affirmative action for being
In one sense, nothing can rude?” he exploded once, when
52
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a friend’s mom said that my even replied to the invitation.

race must have “really helped” The event scared me, partly
in my college applications. My because I knew I wouldn’t fit in.
dad went to Harvard and then I could picture it in my head:
to Columbia Medical School, random white girl who can’t
and my mom holds a Ph.D, so speak Spanish surrounded by
they are convinced that it was students imported direct from
my naturally inherited ability Puerto Rico. I was afraid of
and not my race that earned feeling out of place, but I was
me a spot at Notre Dame. I more afraid that I would be
try to believe that my parents exposed as a fake. One look
are right, but I know my high at my pale face, my thin hair,
school grades were no better and my hopelessly butchered
than those of my friends who Spanish, and they would never
weren’t admitted here. believe that I’m Cuban.
Am I a fraud? I wonder, ***
sometimes, if Notre Dame I can’t prove that I’m Cuban,
only let me in to boost their I’ve realized. Examine my
reputation for diversity. I was blood. Test my genes. You’ll
a poor choice, if that’s the find no special evidence.
case. I don’t look “Hispanic” That is what makes me lie,
and I have no interest in any telling anyone who asks that
of the multicultural student I’m fluent in Spanish. That
agendas they like to publicize. is why I make a big show of
Before I decided to come camaraderie whenever I meet
here, Notre Dame invited me another Hispanic. It’s why I
to spend a weekend at Notre say silly meaningless things
Dame, an event for prospective like “Americans don’t know
minority students. I never how to show emotion” or
53
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“Cubans have a much better today. Miami, that haven of

sense of style.” I am clinging refugee Cubans, is an interna-
to an identity of which I am tional city which is much more
almost completely ignorant. American than the die-hard
My racial identity crisis has Cuban abuelos like to admit.
only grown worse since I got to The Cuba I try to identify with
college. Here at Notre Dame, may exist only in the minds of
I’m awash in a sea of All- my grandparents’ generation.
American varsity, polo shirts, Still, I cannot stop searching.
and Ugg boots. My friends I have always been defined, at
who attend Northwestern least in part, by my Cuban-ness.
joke, when they visit, that my I was the only “Hispanic” girl
school looks like a live J. Crew in my elementary school class.
Catalogue. I often dress and I taught the other girls nursery
look like a prep myself. When rhymes and playground games
I tell people that I’m Cuban, at in Spanish, passed down from
first, they never believe me. my mother. I fell asleep most
*** nights of my childhood to my
What do you become when mother singing Spanish lul-
your nationality is just a label? labies. My dad says a blessing
I’m not the immigrant from the in Spanish whenever my friends
Old Country who mourns her come over for dinner, perhaps
children’s detachment to their his own small way of asserting
heritage. I’m those children’s that he is still Cuban. I used
child, and I do not know what to play a game with my sisters
my heritage is. I don’t even called “Escaping from Cuba,”
know if it exists. After all, the based on my grandparents’
Cuba of my grandparents was fascinating stories of fleeing
not the Communist Cuba of Castro’s Communist regime.
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On Christmas Eve, my family I was defined, again, by an

eats a traditional Cuban meal identity I don’t recognize or
and holds a parade through feel. I felt like an ambassador
the house with images of the sent to represent a country I
Nativity, a Cuban custom. had never visited. Perhaps I
Ideas and images of Cuba, will always feel that way.
sometimes garbled, dominated Race is a tricky thing to
my childhood, and continue define. Morgan Freeman asked
to arrest me at family events. that he no longer be called
That part of my identity is still “black,” believing that the best
too present to be abandoned. way to end racism is to stop
*** talking about it. On surveys and
Last summer, my boyfriend census reports, my dad refuses
brought me to his annual family to choose between “Hispanic”
reunion for the first time. His and “White.” Instead, he checks
relatives interrogated me. “Other” and writes in “Human.”
“What does Cuban I will never learn to Salsa,
food taste like?” and my Spanish is a long way
“How do you feel about from fluent. Yet whatever it
the United States’ relation- means to be a Cuban, I am
ship with Cuba?” one. That is the truth behind
“Do you prefer to be the “Cuban-American” label.
called Cuban-American or I am lucky enough to live in
Hispanic? Are you offended America, where I am defined
by the term ‘Latina?’” by my talents rather than my
They had never met a ancestry. And I am lucky
Cuban before. They were enough to have an ancestry,
so kind, so genuinely inter- still unfamiliar to me in many
ested- and I was so ignorant. ways, that nonetheless gives
55
S X
me traditions and customs

that are fairly unique. Raised
more American than Cuban,
my heritage at times feels like
just a label, a bubble to fill in.
Perhaps it is time for me
to burst that bubble, reach
out to my ancestry, and make
that identity my own. V
56
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Goodbye
A Story
Javier Zubizarreta nothing – South Bend and
Class of 2011
Film, Television, Theatre Cleveland respectively – we
bought candy. We bought sodas.
The bags were packed. We bought milkshakes. We
The rooms were in order. The bought ice cream. We bought
suits were pressed and the the accoutrements we felt
shoes polished. Everything necessary for a road trip. We
and everyone had long been snickered at the mullet hair-do’s
prepared for the twenty-fifth of and joked about the guides
April. We were ready, set, go. to Amish country. We were
Father John would be there giddy. The iPod was DJ as the
with us. His sour-lipped, road spun a party on past. We
screwed-tight face would take guessed the drivers in upcoming
a break from supervising horny cars – perhaps a single, blonde
undergrads to provide the much white lady age 35, perhaps a
needed support. He instructed husky, balding Asian man aged
us on the etiquette: Don’t fall 60, and so on. We moved on to
to pieces, don’t say you know guessing zodiac signs and when
how they’re feeling, just say I announced “Cancer!” the car
your peace and move along. He fell quiet and I felt stupid.
made a crack at my black-on- ***
black-on-black suit, shirt, tie. We were in the parking lot.
How fitting – a priest saying Father John met us there. A
you wear too much black. I just white sedan pulled up and out
assumed the color appropri- stepped a pair of zebra-print
ate, but then we were off. stilettos with a 16-year-old
attached. Make-up caked and
***
At a truck stop halfway bra doing wonders, we did
between nothing and more our best to look away – no,
57
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to look aloof. A devilish grin pleasant. We shared anecdotes

slipped out of Father John, with the Midwestern folk
“Hmph. Didn’t realize we about our football team.
were in the red light district.” And so we came into the
God it was hilarious, this main hall and there he was, laid
new memory we were out in his suit and apparently
so spoiled to make. taking a nap as well-wishers
*** streamed past. There was no
St. Patrick’s Day. Freshman exclamation point, no question
year. Hair was growing back mark, just a simple period.
and alcohol was no longer off There he was. There we were.
limits. Celebrations were in There were his parents. It
order. After the obligatory was as perfectly arranged as
Guinness and fiddle music, the red and white carnations
Captain Morgan and a blister- surrounding his coffin.
ing Salsa filled the room. The surprise and exclama-
Girls were dancing, we were tion came when we turned to
red in the face, and within our left and saw a display of
an hour I was offering my photographs, from his birth
shirt up for singles. through elementary school
*** and on to his college days.
We stilted through a mile-long And there in plain sight for
line of terribly polite and ter- family, friends, and seemingly
ribly condolent Midwestern the whole of Cleveland, was
folk in blazers and cardigans. my drunk ass parading around
Between the litany of flower with a four-leaf clover necktie.
arrangements and warm af- And Father John, whose job it
ternoon sun, the building was to prevent such libatious
was terribly and irrevocably revelry, was standing behind me
58
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smirking to the high heavens. looked tired. He spoke earnestly

“Hmph. Didn’t know you to me, gratefully. “I just want to
could move like that.” And so thank you for coming out.” Oh,
we laughed. We laughed! We it was nothing and thank you
laughed with such nerve we for having me. “It just means
should have been ashamed. so much to know Matthew has
*** such good friends.” Perhaps I
His father tried to hide it, blushed. “These past two years
but his mother acted upon it, have been so difficult for Mrs.
making sure each detail was Molloy and I, it’s just nice to
in order, that my bed on the know…” And then Matthew
couch was comfortable, that the entered the room. We were
fried shrimp was to my liking. both embarrassed. Matthew
You could see it though, that that I should learn of any
inhumane burden laid upon weakness, me that I should
them. They had gone across the be considered a good friend.
river Styx, witnessed the blood ***
and bile poured out, the poison Perhaps they hadn’t suffered
and radiation injected in, they enough, perhaps watching
knew what it was to suffer. Yet tumors devour your son’s brain
now was Easter and the friend wasn’t enough to justify their
from college was coming to visit grief, but there they stood
and the pain was assuredly over. next to his coffin. Each well-
We were preparing for wisher was greeted warmly, a
brunch. Matthew was still in quiet thank you, an occasional
the bathroom and I was waiting embrace, perhaps even a chuckle
in the bedroom. Mr. Molloy at some shared memory. Their
entered. It wasn’t for lack of stiff-upper lip decorum of-
sleep the night before but he fered an empty assurance. I
59
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told myself they were okay, I could do was hold on to my

we were okay, I was okay. friends as they bawled fero-
But then they saw us. ciously and gravity gave way.
Mr. Molloy crumbled first. ***
His face fell to the floor and We played a movie trivia
flooded with tears. I fumbled game that night. In competi-
in my mind as this grown tion with his friends from
man wrapped his arms around high school we shouted out
me and cried buckets on my the answers – Kevin Spacey!
shoulder. The words, “It was Revenge of the Nerds! Toto!
an honor to know your son,” As the game neared its climax
stumbled out foolishly. I surveyed the room and re-
We were herded forward, minded myself that the person
knelt before him, and perhaps connecting this odd collection
I said a prayer. Nick and of strangers was awaiting his
John and Jacques were to my burial. It would have been
left – shaking as heavy tears an appropriate moment to
fell down their ruddy cheeks. feel remorse, but no. Just
This was death. Not a goldfish, another statement. No tears.
not a border-collie, not a I stepped outside with his
great-grandma, but a friend, friend Sara – a slender girl
a peer, a child like ourselves. with ivory hair – and sat on
We weren’t prepared. We the back bumper of somebody’s
hadn’t even brought Kleenex. truck. The stars were out.
And dammit all to hell but She gave me a bracelet that
I couldn’t cry. Not a single tear read “Cancer Sucks” – so
would come out. I would gladly people remember that life
have poked myself in the eye is still great, she told me.
for one purposeful drop. All “I’ve lived across the street
60
S X
from him my whole life, up their home to us. The Ferry

whenever his light was on I children were sent elsewhere
knew he was still up and we so the boys from Notre Dame
could talk. And god I’d talk to would have a place to sleep. I
him. He coached me through was in one of the girl’s room
every boyfriend. He hated all and staring up at the daisy-print
of them. Hated them. And walls I felt – nothing. I wasn’t
you know how he is, if he numb. Numb comes after you
really didn’t like the guy he feel pain. No, I was simply
wouldn’t talk to me for weeks.” laying there growing more and
We both smiled at this. I put more frustrated with myself –
my head down and watched as for god’s sake your friend just
Sara swung her feet in the air. died! Cry a little! Something!
“When he graduated we I considered whether I even
finally admitted we liked liked Matthew, whether I was
each other, but we decided even his friend. I thought back
we wouldn’t start dating until to any grievance we commit-
he finished chemo.” ted to each other – he once
And now he’s asked me to attend a special
dead, I thought. Mass for a fallen friend and
She didn’t know what she I feigned sick, wanting a few
was going to do without him more hours in bed. He once
and I didn’t know what to say insulted my writing. I would
so we just sat there and watched welcome any excuse for my
the stars for a while longer. apathy, but instead just felt
*** further like an asshole.
I was in bed. The Ferry I flipped through the grieving
family – it was our first time stages. I tried on anger, tried
meeting them – had opened to get mad at him, at God, at
61
S X
the world but it just felt silly. I Perhaps for Matthew, perhaps
tried on depression too, I thought for his family, but mostly I
about seeing his body in the coffin cried for life. That life was
and his parents and my crying formaldehyde in an oak coffin.
friends, but when nothing hap- That life ended so horribly. That
pened it just reminded me of how life ended at all. We walked
awful I must be. I called home from the church and into a world
but “Everyone grieves differently” bursting of springtime petals
wasn’t a satisfying answer. and blooms that would fall and
After a while I just fade and die. I thought of my
went to sleep. parents, that they looked older
*** than I remembered. That they
The Mass was lovely. The would die. That I would die.
choirboys gave an aching And because we are gluttons
rendition of Ave Maria as they for punishment, we had to bury
wheeled in the coffin. Father him in the ground. And because
John gave a touching homily. it couldn’t get any worse, it started
We all shared in Communion to rain. We huddled about the
and selfishly, I could only worry gravesite beneath a canopy of
over how I wasn’t feeling. collective umbrellas and watched
His mother and father placed as the ceremony continued, as the
the white cloth over his coffin Molloy’s were forced to say good-
and the presiding priest made bye. I swear I heard his mother
mention that like baptism, first say, “It’s okay, Matthew, we’ll be
communion, and confirmation, right here,” but she was too far
death was another rite of initia- away for that to be possible. A gap
tion, that it was another step in appeared in the umbrellas above
life. The bagpipes began their me and rain was dripping on my
moaning dirge and finally I cried. suit. A woman in her eighties
62
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with lines scouring her face away – not even the cancer.”
turned and said, “Oh, you’re She looks like she’s
getting wet.” I pushed through doing really well.
the bodies in black and hid “She is. She’s a smart girl.”
my face in the car’s back seat. We told everyone
*** goodbye, an incongruous
There was a reception word with no real mean-
later. It was hosted at St. ing, but after learning of
Bernadette’s Elementary farewells, we meant it. V
School. As we munched on
cookies and felt guilty for
each bite we got to take,
Sara came over. She knew
we were leaving soon and
wanted to offer her farewell.
In the far corner of the room
I saw his sister, Ashley.
The pre-teen was wearing a
bright dress of purple and
green. She was laughing
with the girls around her.
I asked Sara how
Ashley was doing.
“I talked to her yesterday
and she’s doing really well.
She just told me, you know,
we had almost thirteen
years together and they were
great. Nothing can take that
63
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LOST PIECE
VOLUME I, ISSUE IV
Getting to Know You
S X
Colophon:
This journal is compiled entirely from the

works of undergraduate scholars at
The University of Notre Dame.
The editors of Lost Piece: An Undergraduate Journal of Letters

are indebted to Dr. Cecilia Lucero for her invaluable assistance on
behalf of The Center for Undergraduate Scholarly Engagement.
The editors also extend thanks to the

Undergraduate Research Opportunity Program,
and the Institute of Scholarship in the Liberal Arts,
both of which are directed by Dr. Agustin Fuentes.
Stephen Lechner, Editor in Chief

Raymond Korson, Executive Editor
Josef Kuhn and Conor Rogers, Associate Editors
Lost Piece was designed in Adobe InDesign, CS5;

its body copy is set in 12 pt Adobe Caslon Pro.
This publication was designed by
Vu Nguyen ‘10, VuNguyen06@gmail.com.

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S X

© Copyright, Lost Piece; All rights reserved.

No part of this journal may be used or reproduced by any means,

Lost Piece: An Undergraduate Journal of Letters

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Something of a Mission Statement

Lost Piece exists to facilitate undergraduate reading, discussion,

Lost Piece seeks to help undergraduates to complement

The goal of Lost Piece is to combat mediocrity in all

Lost Piece holds that the goods proper to intellec-

Meet the Writers

D holding profound conversa-

weekend to start a literary T:

Notre Dame who decided that that he and I undertook to start

after his second year. Why? He military? Then why haven’t I

faculties of universities are miss- it, is to finish his studies at

“For my part, when I enter most intimately into what I call

“Behind your thoughts and feelings, my brother, there stands a

Nietzsche beckons me back With Hume, I looked within

something to experience them. perceptions around me to look

“The philosophical I is not the human being, nor the human

Spurred on by Wittgenstein, observer in the middle is a void,

I have not found my ‘self ’, only Like Descartes, I have worked my

knowledge to ascend once more,

Though blessed beyond measure, still I grumble.

Man According to Primo Levi

Man’s Search for Meaning

In “Il canto di Ulisse” Levi Levi’s search for meaning in

‘…So on the open sea I set forth.’ Of this I am certain, I am sure,

Ulysses. The open sea is in- to search. Levi quotes Dante’s

‘Think of your breed; for brutish ignorance / Your mettle was

Memory and Connection memories that shed important

transcend the Lager, allowing dusk of evening as I returned

order for communication to be in the Preface to Se questo `e

Thus, to speak is something that ideal listener throughout Levi’s

…he is aware that it is doing me good. Or perhaps it is something

Jean affirms Levi’s burning reflect with him on the great

readers. In Il canto di Ulisse Levi

It is so easy just to throw up

But that is just the thing

It seems to me that by being

:and for another, perhaps

Man, for him to exist

the reply. ‘Close the door!’ welcome to look around.’

‘What?! You never heard of to one side, instead of how they

close up. What do you have he would be open again,

of the street, turned at the inter- have been swallowed up by

Interpretations and Intersubjectivity

about the appropriate situations context does not serve simply

to mourn, I must first learn to some other way of expressing

not that I am projecting onto it is a convenient reason for us

mostly amongst themselves and young people) at night in flocks

that you cannot circumvent him bottle of beer over someone’s

perhaps with a chair this time

A flighty flair for affluence,

Many will go, many will go,

It is the constant gardener,

Many will go, many will go,

Was it not Matthew who dared proclaim,

Many will go, many will go,

And I am not their savior,

Many will go, many will go,