The essays of Richard McKeon have long circulated piecemeal among scholars who see him as the leading twentieth-century philosopher and historian of rhetoric. This volume brings together McKeon's seminal works in rhetoric and philosophy, and vividly demonstrates the basis for this extraordinary reputation. In his pursuit of rhetoric's fundamental qualities, McKeon ventures far beyond the traditional notion of rhetoric as simply a verbal art of persuasion. He details a history in which rhetoric functions as a tool for creating disciplines, arts, systems, and methods. Expression has always been an important element of rhetoric, but rhetoric also can serve as an organizational principle that provides the framework within which we can reveal and arrange the significant parts of any human understanding.

Our digitized, technological culture is controlled by five principles of language and reality that were first enunciated during the fifth century BCE in the city-states of Greece as the basis of the art of rhetoric:

• Words are tools

• Images are real

• Information is power

• Change is inevitable

• Truth is relative

These rhetorical principles are expressed in conflicting concepts of history, politics, education, ethics, and aesthetics. They invest our art and literature with the archetypal themes and symbols that portray rudimentary emotions. And they influence the fundamental concepts and methods of our political, cultural, and educational institutions. Yet, as recent history demonstrates, the sophistication of our culture is a Faustian bargain affecting all the realms of self-consciousness, self-expression, and self-realization.

This book concerns one month in the life of the late Gilmartin Jacobsen, when he donated and delivered his library to our alma mater, Desert Wells College—a very exclusive, very remote, all-male two-year institution he attended in the late 1960s, on the border of California and Nevada near Death Valley. During our long hours together, we talked about his life, intellectual interests, and work. With no firm plan in mind, but thinking it might prove useful in the future, I digitally recorded our conversations, several of his encounters with some of the faculty and students, and a seminar he conducted. Shortly before leaving, he gave me a box filled with what he called the 'detritus' of his intellect and asked me 'to make something of it' if I could: a trove of unpublished essays, unfinished poems, fragments of a memoir, letters, emails, reviews, even handwritten notes on the back of ATM receipts. Ghost Writ is the "something" I've made of it—Joshua Cryst