Nothing Is as It Seems: The Tragedy of the Implicit in Euripides' Hippolytus Book

This book is foul. Not the text especially but its self. It literally makes me sneeze it's so grotty and old. I read some article in the Berkeley Philosophy Journal Qui Parle a while back which sort of pegged George Santanyana as a politically indifferent Bourgeois Classicist, and maybe he is. I really don't think any sort of direct critique of thought or people or anything is very interesting anyway, as if Nature's true meaning can be just 'had out' by some yapping grad-student.. Just look at language itself the word Writan which meant 'scratch' and gives us writing written backwards damn near gives you Nature, and Nature written backwards gives you 'Ruttin' or perhaps Ratan.. at any rate,
there are far too many variables in Nature for human thought
to become anything other than another level of irony in that final reckoning whatever sublimely horrible decoction that will be. In 3 philosophical poems, GS not only grapples with each of these figures, but takes the time to dig up the criticism which has been done and basically offers "mediated encounters" and subsequent meditation. Sometimes you think the critic is right, at first, until further hermeneusis by George on the text which amounts to him gargling some wine and spitting it in your face.
Ha! This books is actually not even a book, but a kind of delirious wine tasting by one of the great modern Epicureans!
I like George Santanyana precisely because he is unpopular, and a bit wrong-headed and goes on about 'chaste folds' and innocent marbles far too long to take seriously, which I absolutely do!