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The Dialectical Contrarianism of Richard Flathman

When I was one of Richard Flathman’s graduate students in the early 2000s, I found reading his books frustrating. They were like especially erudite issues of the New Yorker, full of thoughtful reflections that never quite settled any of the issues they so ably illuminated and pondered. At the same time, I was intrigued by his persona (I don’t think I knew him well enough to have gotten to know his personality). At a time when indoor smoking was banned at Johns Hopkins, he had somehow finagled an exception, and his office was a stygian cave of books, papers, cardigans, and smoke. He was a curmudgeonly presence in the department, always ready with a sarcastic aside or a bemused snort at pomposity (though with students he was unfailingly encouraging and generous).