"This book almost didn't exist. I was about to write a serious, heavy book entitled How To Save Western Civilization, as a sequel to my book How To Destroy Western Civilization and Other Ideas from the Cultural Abyss. But writing it was not making me happy, and reading it was not going to make anybody else happy either. And then I stopped just long enough for my guardian angel to squeeze through that tiny window of opportunity that I had opened up by my silence and to whisper this commonsense question into my subconscious: "Why not make them happy instead?" (Angels specialize in common sense.) 

I started thinking: Western civilization is neither healthy, happy, nor holy. Humor is all three. Humor is not only holy, it's Heavenly. And if you are surprised to be told that humor is Heavenly, you need to read this book because you reveal your misunderstanding of both humor and Heaven. If you ask, 'Is there laughter in Heaven?' my answer is: 'You can't be serious!'" 

This edition is the first that treats Hamlet as the work of a philosophical poet concerned with knowing the nature of the world, particularly the human world. Where conventional editions lift the play out of its specific setting and analyze it in the light of the social, cultural, and political circumstances of Elizabethan England, Jan Blits takes the play’s dramatic setting of early Renaissance Denmark as indispensable to understanding its rich meaning. In providing notations and commentary on Hamlet, Blits sets aside the historicist principle or prejudice, pervasive throughout literary studies today.  Blits, by contrast, strives to understand the play entirely on its own terms. He inflicts no literary or philosophic theory—no parochial professional preconceptions—upon the play. Instead, he aims to be fully receptive to what Shakespeare wrote and try to draw out of the play the substance that he deliberately put into it. His treatment of Horatio is particularly stunning in this regard. 
     Though they differ from each other, there are two generally trustworthy texts of Hamlet—namely, the Second Quarto (1604–5) and the Folio (1623). Blits does not consult the First Quarto (1603), which contains a much different dialogue, some different character names, and omits some famous passages. Blits points out important variations and refrains from pronouncing which are clearly right or wrong. He omits references to secondary works (including his own) as distractions from the play itself. The Bibliography lists many primary and secondary readings that readers will find helpful. He follows the line-numbering of the New Cambridge Shakespeare Edition, edited by Philips Edwards.
     Teachers and students of Shakespeare will find a valuable resource in Blits' new edition of Hamlet, which brings readers as close to the mind and heart of the real Shakespeare as possible and remains untouched by the fingerprints of literary theory and other mechanisms unknown and inconsequential to Shakespeare. This is also an indispensable tool in helping teachers in one of the greatest challenges of the classical classroom––namely, how to teach Shakespeare?

 

“The ultimate of human happiness is to be found in contemplation.” In offering this proposition of Thomas Aquinas to our thought, Josef Pieper uses traditional wisdom in order to throw light on present-day reality and present-day psychological problems. What, in fact, does one pursue in pursuing happiness? What, in the consensus of the wisdom of the early Greeks, of Plato and Aristotle, of the New Testament, of Augustine and Aquinas, is that condition of perfect bliss toward which all life and effort tend by nature? In this profound and illuminating inquiry, Pieper considers the nature of contemplation, and the meaning and goal of life.

This new edition of The Heart (out of print for nearly 30 years) is the flagship volume in a series of Dietrich von Hildebrand’s works to be published by St. Augustine’s Press in collaboration with the Dietrich von Hildebrand Legacy Project. Founded in 2004, the Legacy Project exists in the first place to translate the many German writings of von Hildebrand into English.

While many revere von Hildebrand as a religious author, few realize that he was a philosopher of great stature and importance. Those who knew von Hildebrand as philosopher held him in the highest esteem. Louis Bouyer, for example, once said that “von Hildebrand was the most important Catholic philosopher in Europe between the two world wars.” Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger expressed even greater esteem when he said: “I am personally convinced that, when, at some time in the future, the intellectual history of the Catholic Church in the twentieth century is written, the name of Dietrich von Hildebrand will be most prominent among the figures of our time.”

The Heart is an accessible yet important philosophical contribution to the understanding of the human person. In this work von Hildebrand is concerned with rehabilitating the affective life of the human person. He thinks that for too long philosophers have held it in suspicion and thought of it as embedded in the body and hence as being much inferior to intellect and will. In reality, he argues, the heart, the center of affectivity, has many different levels, including an eminently personal level; at this level affectivity is just as important a form of personal life as intellect and will. Von Hildebrand develops the idea that properly personal affectivity, far than tending away from an objective relation to being, is in fact one major way in which we transcend ourselves and give being its due. Von Hildebrand also developed the important idea that the heart “in many respects is more the real self of the person than his intellect or will.”

At the same time, the author shows full realism about the possible deformities of affective life; he offers rich analyses of what he calls affective atrophy and affective hypertrophy. The second half of The Heart offers a remarkable analysis of the affectivity of the God-Man.

William Morrisey unravels Melville’s “loomings” of the great whale, showing them to be important threads of politics and theories of governance. The Young America of Melville’s day valorized popular sovereignty such that moral law suppressed by the majority rule was bringing America to state of being that could only then be ruled by the mightiest of the mighty––the great Leviathan, who reigns in the boundless chaotic sea separated from “stable land.” The force of the created world and the necessary ordering achieved through conquest are dominating themes of Melville’s great tale, but as Morrisey observes approaching the great whale, ruler of the untamable seas, is for captain (ruler) an opportunity to destroy it. But for the sailor (the ruled) being close to the white whale is a moment for understanding, and in turn of being understood. Yet in what sense is being seen, for human beings of moral bearings, not also an impulse to self-impose? “The modern Ishmael wants to see, not to kill, perhaps to be seen, and surely not to be killed. Americans too need to come to terms with the white whale, if they are to perceive reality as it is without bringing destruction upon themselves.” Is Melville proposing an utterly new philosophy of ruler and ruled, of a proper gauge of the immeasurable chaos that is nature?

“Does Melville also intend to be a founder in the ‘New World’?” Morrisey’s study is a compelling look at the early political moments of a new nation, but one that at the time perceived itself as already aging and maturing in the process of political voyage and adventure. Dangers lie ahead, Melville seems to warn, and in his disenchantment of the vigor of the Young America he once endorsed he tells the story of what really happens when democracy is idealized and the surrounding waters of chaos are thereby veiled; and yet also of what happens when one would seek to command the chaos only to transform into the unpredictably destructive prey he pursues, especially under the guise of moral outrage. 

Melville, like Ishmael, urges a new vision of both God and nature, and challenges the notion of rule in all its expressions. Americans, the people of the New World, are invited to be unafraid, but also careful. In wandering as on the open waters one wonders, beyond civic boundaries and conventions, and in that wonder one may finally come face to face with what is good and grand––but in beholding the great white whale, can one resist the urge to conquest, now that he is likewise by the leviathan beholden? Is the rule of man and the coronation of a specific dialectic of power an untenable victory, given that “‘Nature is nobody’s ally’: it wounds or kills any person or nation that violates it, impartially”? 

Morrisey writes with lucidity and weaves together elements of history, literature, politics and perhaps his own affinity for Ishmael’s passenger spirit to reveal just how broad and boundless of a narrative Melville’s Moby Dick truly is.

This is a personal and insightful portrait of Pope Pius XII, the memories of Sister M. Pascalina Lehnert, who served as his housekeeper for forty years. Her book, most of it written just a few months after the Pope’s death, shares insights into the person, the life, and the thinking of Pius XII, from his time as Nuncio in Munich until his death. Much of Sister’s motivation in writing this work was to correct the many distortions of fact and interpretation regarding this great pope.

This book was a best seller in the original German, as well as in the Italian and French translations. This is the first edition in English.

These reminiscences were written down at the instructions of Sister’s Superior General, but were not made known to the public until 1982, when it was published in German at the express wishes of Pope John Paul II to publish the work without any changes. So the work remained a lively, flowing account of memories and anecdotes in a simple, spontaneous style. It is a powerful and insightful account of Pius’s daily life, his treatment of those around him, and his concern for the upholding of the traditional teaching of the Church in the face of his awesome burden to lead the Church during World War II.

"The present crisis is felt more acutely than previous crisis situations," observes Dutch security expert Marcel van Herpen, largely because human beings are now projecting responsibility into history on all fronts––past and future, in addition to the present. Learning from the past has become an imperative to safeguard the well-being of future generations by never repeating negative experiences, so much so that it demands an explanation of culpability into the past that burdens the present under a weight that does not properly belong to actors who did not commit the deeds of the past and have yet to decide their futures.

In a time of crisis we face the accusations of history, however distant, and are subjected to the sound of its echoing ahead of us. But, Van Herpen asks, to what exactly (or to what extent) should we listen as we strive to respond to the challenges of present day? "Is it true that history is a teacher for our lives? And has it ever been? In crisis periods this question becomes more urgent: old certainties disappear and––independently from our wishes––a new, unknown world is emerging, which seems to be at odds with our established ways of thinking and our existing value patterns."

Van Herpen scrutinizes modern European history and the post-modern man and offers the reader a compelling account of human freedom in politics, morality, and the ways in which history will or will not ever guide us into the future. He proves himself to be a very capable political scientist and sociologist, but more importantly he has now pronounced himself to be an optimistic (yet sober) observer of both human beings and history, willing to confront the present generation with possible future outcomes of contemporary crises.

To mark the 40th anniversary of John Paul II's encyclical on human work, published in 1981, a group of globally-recognized scholars presents the critical aspects of this document and its purpose. These original essays revisit John Paul II's approach to work in post-modern society and reconnect the dignity of the working person to a pursuit of holiness. These authors convey that only when it is truly Christian can humanism accomplish the lofty ideals it indicates.
This book is a timely contribution to the field of scholarship that focuses on Catholic Social Thought and is ideally suited for graduate studies and the reader interested in more serious questions in Christian theology. 

Giulio Maspero, "The Bible and the Fathers of the Church on Work"
Patricia Ranft, "Work Theology in the High Middle Ages"
Angela Franks, "John Paul II's Metaphysics of Labor"
Deborah Savage, "Confronting a Technocratic Future: Women's Work and the Church's Social Vision"
Martin Schlag, "Contemplation at Work: A Theological Conversation Between John Paul II and Josemaría Escrivá"
Richard Turnbull, "Laborem Exercens: A Protestant Appreciation"
Michael Naughton, "Good Work: Insights from the Subjective Dimension of Work"
Christopher Michaelson, "Subjects and Objects in Meaningful Work"
Javier Ignacio Pinto Garay and Alvaro Pezoa Bissieres, "The Worker and the Transistor: The Dignity of Work and Business Ethics in Global Corporate Practices"
Gonzalo Flores-Castro Lingán, "The Real Work: Making the Encyclical Laborem Exercens Operational"
Geoffrey C. Friesen, "Laborem Exercens and the Subjective Dimension of Work in Economics and Finance" 

What is the man who cannot be known apart from his socio-political environment? As Zbigniew Janowski asserts, one does not ask who this man is, for he does not even know himself. This man is suppressed and separated, and not by Fascism or Communism. In present-day America this has been accomplished by democracy.

“Only someone shortsighted, or someone who values equality more than freedom, would deny that today’s citizens enjoy little or no freedom, particularly freedom of speech, and even less the ability to express openly or publicly the opinions that are not in conformity with what the majority considers acceptable at a given moment. It may sound paradoxical to contemporary ears, but a fight against totalitarianism must also mean a fight against the expansion of democracy.”

Janowski all at once brazen and out of bounds states what he calls the obvious and unthinkable truth: In the United States, we are already living in a totalitarian reality. The American citizen, the Homo Americanus, is an ideological being who is no longer good or bad, reasonable or irrational, proper or improper except when measured against the objectives of the dominating egalitarian mentality that American democracy has successfully incubated. American democracy has done what other despotic regimes have likewise achieved––namely, taken hold of the individual and forced him to renounce (or forget) his greatness, pursuit of virtue and his orientation toward history and Tradition. 

Homo Americanus, Janowski argues, has no mind or soul and he cannot tolerate diversity and indeed he now censors himself. Democracy is not benign, and we should fear its principles come by and applied ad hoc. It is deeply troublesome that in the way democracy moves today it gives critics no real insight into any trajectory of reason behind its motion, which is erratic and unmappable. The Homo Americanus is an ideological entity whose thought and even morality are forbidden from universal abstraction. 

Janowski mounts the offensive against what the American holds most sacred, and he does so in order to save him. After exposing the danger and the damage done, Janowski makes another startling proposal. It is a “diseased collective mind” that is the source of this ideology, the liberal anti-perspective that presses man into the image of the Homo Americanus, and its grip can only be broken through the recovery of instinct. Homo Americanus cannot be free again until he is himself again. That is, until the shadow that belongs only to him is restored, and he is thereby no longer alienated from others. Despite the condemnation Janowski seems to be levying on the citizen of the United States, he betrays a great hope and confidence that the means to shake ourselves awake from the bad dream are nevertheless in hand.

Janowski’s work is the next title in St. Augustine’s Press Dissident American Thought Today Series. It occupies a controversial overlapping terrain between the philosophical descriptions of liberalism as a tradition, psychology and the fundamentally influential critiques of democracy offered by Thucydides, Jefferson, Franklin, Tocqueville, Mill, Burke and more. More anecdotal than analytical, Janowski offers the contemporary proof that the reader is right to be scandalized by democracy and his or her own likeness of the Homo Americanus. Once upon a time it was the despicable Homo Sovieticus fruit of tyranny, but now we fear democratic society too might fall and all its citizens never be found again. 

Originally published in Polish in 2019 by The Lethe Foundation, this book demonstrates the relevance and important of Paul Elmer More (1864–1937) and Irving Babbitt (1865–1933). Their collective legacy is one of responsible and truly thoughtful living. Their treatment of Humanists and their diagnosis of modernity is an important theme in this work, and the indication of the political consequences of humanism.

"This is a protreptic book. Its main goal is to encourage people to undertake independent studies or more generally, simply to think independently. If we want to think for ourselves, and not like preprogrammed humanoids, we can’t do so in a vacuum. We have to lean on something. In the Author’s view, the more than century-old writings of Paul Elmer More and Irving Babbitt are perfectly suited to the role of such a support for us, living in the here and now. They make it possible for us to dig ourselves out from underneath the heaps of opinions, “principles” or “theories” that allegedly can’t be rejected, that we’re obliged to follow, but that have a paralyzing and dumbing-down effect on us, making our lives from the
outset seems like the dream of a childish old man."

––Taken from the Preface by Pawel Armada