Linda McMahon, official photograph, 2017
Last night, just before falling asleep, I received a phone call—real or imagined, I'm not sure—from Linda McMahon, President-elect Trump’s nominee to head the Department of Education. Known for her tenure as the head of the Small Business Administration during Trump’s first term and her role as former CEO of World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE), McMahon has an intriguing background. A graduate of East Carolina University in 1969, she majored in French and earned a teaching certificate. I felt connected to her. She is a Humanities person, and I am, too. I majored in English literature.
During our conversation, she admitted feeling the need to engage more deeply with the great books of Western literature. In her case the primary focus was Western literature, but she explained that she wanted to expand her horizons over time. "And I am not alone in this need."
Then came her idea. She envisioned starting a book study for people in the Department of Education, as well as for congressmen and senators. She noted that many of them had never truly explored the literature in a meaningful way, tending instead, as she put it, to “think in overly managerial ways” or, worse, in “combative ways, as if life is but a wrestling match with winners and losers." Most of them majored in law or business, finance or engineering," she said, "but few majored in French or English. They wish they were more knowledgeable."
I admired her desire to broaden perspectives—her own included. Together, we brainstormed a list of possible books for the study:
Given her past as a French major, McMahon playfully suggested adding In Search of Lost Time by Marcel Proust, a book she’d always wanted to read but never tackled because it is so long: No wonder--In Search of Lost Time is approximately 4,200 pages long (depending on the edition), has seven volumes, and is widely regarded as the longest novel in Western history. Very few people, French majors or otherwise, have read it or can read it, save for a dedicated literary minority. If we add it, I proposed starting with an excerpt to explore themes of memory, time, and the subtle beauty of human experience.
Her mention of In Search of Lost Time resonated with me as a process theologian. Proust’s focus on momentary subjective events—remembering, perceiving, smelling, tasting, hoping, dreaming and anticipating, from a first-person point of view —parallels the process perspective of the world as a flow of interconnected moments. It even occurred to me that professional wrestling, as an art form, which it is, might offer a lens for understanding life in similar terms. I think of so much Renaissance literature that works with stock characters. But our task, in the conversation, was to talk about a National Conversation on Great Books, so we didn't explore the connections.
The challenge, of course, is that congresspeople and cabinet members have little time to read such books. However, I suggested an alternative: short, engaging lectures on these works delivered by gifted teachers from the Washington, D.C., area. They could meet once or twice a month during lunch, followed by breakout groups to explore key themes. It would be like going back to college, offering leaders a chance to engage with great ideas and, not least, with one another.
To make the initiative even more impactful, the lectures could be televised for public viewing. The Department of Education could establish a website with essays on the selected works and organize local book groups under its auspices. The program might be called A National Conversation on Great Books, creating a ripple effect of learning and engagement throughout the country. It might even heal a bit of our divided country. We may not be able to talk easily across political lines, but we can talk about other things: family life, food, sports, and the like. Why not talk about big ideas from great books?
Linda, if you’re reading this, call me. Let’s strategize.
—Jay
During our conversation, she admitted feeling the need to engage more deeply with the great books of Western literature. In her case the primary focus was Western literature, but she explained that she wanted to expand her horizons over time. "And I am not alone in this need."
Then came her idea. She envisioned starting a book study for people in the Department of Education, as well as for congressmen and senators. She noted that many of them had never truly explored the literature in a meaningful way, tending instead, as she put it, to “think in overly managerial ways” or, worse, in “combative ways, as if life is but a wrestling match with winners and losers." Most of them majored in law or business, finance or engineering," she said, "but few majored in French or English. They wish they were more knowledgeable."
I admired her desire to broaden perspectives—her own included. Together, we brainstormed a list of possible books for the study:
- Plato’s The Republic
To explore ideas about justice, governance, and the nature of a good society. - Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics
For a foundational understanding of virtue ethics and the pursuit of the good life. - John Stuart Mill’s On Liberty
To discuss the balance between individual freedom and societal responsibility. - Hannah Arendt’s The Human Condition
To reflect on the nature of work, action, and political engagement. - Homer’s The Odyssey
To delve into themes of resilience, leadership, and the human journey. - Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace
For insights into the interplay of individual lives and historical forces. - George Orwell’s 1984
To examine the consequences of authoritarianism and the manipulation of truth. - Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart
To understand cultural diversity and the effects of colonialism. - Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Self-Reliance
To consider the role of individuality in shaping leadership and values. - Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin
To confront America’s history of slavery and moral courage. - F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby
For its exploration of ambition, wealth, and the American Dream. - Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass
To inspire a sense of possibility and interconnectedness. - T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land
For a poetic meditation on modernity, tradition, and renewal. - Toni Morrison’s Beloved
To explore the legacy of slavery and the complexities of love and memory. - Rebecca Solnit’s Hope in the Dark
To encourage optimism and activism in challenging times. - Ta-Nehisi Coates’s Between the World and Me
To foster understanding of systemic racism and personal narratives in America. - James Baldwin’s The Fire Next Time
For an urgent call to empathy and racial justice.
Given her past as a French major, McMahon playfully suggested adding In Search of Lost Time by Marcel Proust, a book she’d always wanted to read but never tackled because it is so long: No wonder--In Search of Lost Time is approximately 4,200 pages long (depending on the edition), has seven volumes, and is widely regarded as the longest novel in Western history. Very few people, French majors or otherwise, have read it or can read it, save for a dedicated literary minority. If we add it, I proposed starting with an excerpt to explore themes of memory, time, and the subtle beauty of human experience.
Her mention of In Search of Lost Time resonated with me as a process theologian. Proust’s focus on momentary subjective events—remembering, perceiving, smelling, tasting, hoping, dreaming and anticipating, from a first-person point of view —parallels the process perspective of the world as a flow of interconnected moments. It even occurred to me that professional wrestling, as an art form, which it is, might offer a lens for understanding life in similar terms. I think of so much Renaissance literature that works with stock characters. But our task, in the conversation, was to talk about a National Conversation on Great Books, so we didn't explore the connections.
The challenge, of course, is that congresspeople and cabinet members have little time to read such books. However, I suggested an alternative: short, engaging lectures on these works delivered by gifted teachers from the Washington, D.C., area. They could meet once or twice a month during lunch, followed by breakout groups to explore key themes. It would be like going back to college, offering leaders a chance to engage with great ideas and, not least, with one another.
To make the initiative even more impactful, the lectures could be televised for public viewing. The Department of Education could establish a website with essays on the selected works and organize local book groups under its auspices. The program might be called A National Conversation on Great Books, creating a ripple effect of learning and engagement throughout the country. It might even heal a bit of our divided country. We may not be able to talk easily across political lines, but we can talk about other things: family life, food, sports, and the like. Why not talk about big ideas from great books?
Linda, if you’re reading this, call me. Let’s strategize.
—Jay