Great Ideas—No More, No Less

Mr. Nelson Algren, one of the finest living American writers, once referred to Mortimer J. Adler as the Lawrence Welk of the philosophy-trade. Now that is a profound remark, a many-faceted remark, one that I have studied as I have studied maestro Welk’s bubble machine, over the years, with a good deal of awe. It is the sort of remark to treasure, top, for the day may come when it can be used to silence an opponent. That day came for me just a few weeks ago, when two young men in pinstripe suits and shoulder pads, carrying briefcases, arrived at my door and told me they were engaged in a research project for the University of Chicago, and could I help them? Of course I could help them; I invited them in. They made themselves comfortable, and remarked on the furniture, and laughed pleasantly as if they were shuffling a deck of cards, and finally one asked me, with just a touch of condescension: “Have you ever heard of Mortimer J. Adler?” “Why, yes,” I replied. “He’s the Lawrence Welk of the philosophy trade.” Well, now, I can’t expect everyone to take quite as much pleasure in this anecdote as I do, and I wish I could finish it off with a melodramatic flourish—such as: they whipped out their pocket Syntopicons and—zap! I was sterile. For that’s what they were selling: the fabulous Syntopicon, and Mortimer J. Adler’s Great Books program, and the idea that you, too, can have the world’s wisdom triple-cross-indexed and available only a whim away, for each and every occasion. There is something insidious about the whole idea, and it becomes more insidious the more I think about it, and The Great Ideas Today, edited by Mr. Adler and Dr. Robert M. Hutchins, is an aspect of that expanding insidiousness.

I should begin with a description of the book. It weighs three pounds, and it is subtitled: “A dynamic new work which focuses the wisdom of the past upon the problems of today.” According to this book, there are exactly 102 Great Ideas, no more, no less. We are never told just how the pincer-like movement of the minds of Adler and Hutchins arrived at that curiously frightening number; it reminds me of the radio advertisements for a beer brewed in Southern California, which went through exactly as many trial runs before being perfected. The 102 Great Ideas are conveniently listed for us, and we are advised in a brief introduction that if we require additional information or elaboration, at the end of each chapter will be listings which detail pertinent passages to be found in the Great Books, and the reference number in the Syntopicon which appertains. This is not to say that The Great Ideas Today is just a gimmick to push Adler’s culture-by-pills Great Books program; orifitis such a gimmick, it comes highly priced, nine dollars worth.

JL

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John Leonard

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Mr. Nelson Algren, one of the finest living American writers, once referred to Mortimer J. Adler as the Lawrence Welk of the philosophy-trade. Now that is a profound remark, a many-faceted remark, one that I have studied as I have studied maestro Welk’s bubble machine, over the years, with a good deal of awe. It is the sort of remark to treasure, top, for the day may come when it can be used to silence an opponent. That day came for me just a few weeks ago, when two young men in pinstripe suits and shoulder pads, carrying briefcases, arrived at my door and told me they were engaged in a research project for the University of Chicago, and could I help them? Of course I could help them; I invited them in. They made themselves comfortable, and remarked on the furniture, and laughed pleasantly as if they were shuffling a deck of cards, and finally one asked me, with just a touch of condescension: “Have you ever heard of Mortimer J. Adler?” “Why, yes,” I replied. “He’s the Lawrence Welk of the philosophy trade.” Well, now, I can’t expect everyone to take quite as much pleasure in this anecdote as I do, and I wish I could finish it off with a melodramatic flourish—such as: they whipped out their pocket Syntopicons and—zap! I was sterile. For that’s what they were selling: the fabulous Syntopicon, and Mortimer J. Adler’s Great Books program, and the idea that you, too, can have the world’s wisdom triple-cross-indexed and available only a whim away, for each and every occasion. There is something insidious about the whole idea, and it becomes more insidious the more I think about it, and The Great Ideas Today, edited by Mr. Adler and Dr. Robert M. Hutchins, is an aspect of that expanding insidiousness.

I should begin with a description of the book. It weighs three pounds, and it is subtitled: “A dynamic new work which focuses the wisdom of the past upon the problems of today.” According to this book, there are exactly 102 Great Ideas, no more, no less. We are never told just how the pincer-like movement of the minds of Adler and Hutchins arrived at that curiously frightening number; it reminds me of the radio advertisements for a beer brewed in Southern California, which went through exactly as many trial runs before being perfected. The 102 Great Ideas are conveniently listed for us, and we are advised in a brief introduction that if we require additional information or elaboration, at the end of each chapter will be listings which detail pertinent passages to be found in the Great Books, and the reference number in the Syntopicon which appertains. This is not to say that The Great Ideas Today is just a gimmick to push Adler’s culture-by-pills Great Books program; orifitis such a gimmick, it comes highly priced, nine dollars worth.