The Healing Virtues explores the intersection of psychotherapy and virtue ethics - with an emphasis on the patient's role within a healing process. It considers how the common ground between the therapeutic process and the cultivation of virtues can inform the efforts of both therapist and patient. Within this book, the Duff R. Waring argues that there is a case for patient virtues that are crucially relevant to working through the problems in living that arise in psychotherapy, e.g., (...) honesty, courage, humility, perseverance. The central idea is that treatment may need to build virtues while it ameliorates problems. Hence, the patient's work in psychotherapy can both challenge character strengths and result in their further development. (shrink)

A signal challenge of twenty-first century psychiatry is the effective treatment of existential/spiritual suffering in palliative care. This chapter will concentrate on research to assess the therapeutic potential of psilocybin to assuage that suffering. If a “psychedelic experience” can facilitate an acceptance of impending death, and reduce the existential suffering of those who endure it, it could prove to be a valuable intervention where one is sorely needed. The therapeutic use of psilocybin with dying patients (hereinafter patients) raises numerous questions (...) about research trial design, the model of psychiatry that might accommodate it, and the kind of experience it induces. Are these the sorts of experience that psychiatric treatment should effect on troubled patients? Is spiritual care within the ambit of psychiatry? There are epistemological questions as to the veridicality of the psychedelic experience. How much credence should we give it? I will argue in cautious support of ongoing research to evaluate the therapeutic use of psilocybin in palliative care. This argument can be extended to research on its therapeutic use in psychotherapy. The chapter will focus on four questions: (1) what is the ethical justification for this research on patients? (2) What types of research trial design are best used to assess the purported benefits of a psychedelic drug experience? (3) What is the epistemic warrant of the “mystical” and “noetic” facets of this experience? (4) What models of (a) psychiatry and (b) drug action could accommodate the therapeutic use of psilocybin in palliative care? (shrink)

Kamm's approach to patient selection qualifies the notion that fairness makes need for scarce, transplantable organs inversely proportional to age. She defines need as how much adequate conscious life a person will have had before death. Length of adequate conscious life correlates highly with age. If so, then younger persons are usually needier than older ones. Since Kamm allows for past periods of non‐adequate conscious life, I argue that this correlation may be neither as close, nor as easy to apply, (...) as she wants it to be. Fairness should require assessment of experiential content in determining how long one's life has been adequately conscious. I argue that such assessments involve some of the goods of experience and quality of life judgements that Kamm thinks a reliance on adequate conscious life will avoid. (shrink)

This essay argues that the practice ofmedicine is not a phronetic activity in theoriginal Aristotelian sense of that term. Jonsen andToulmin are two philosophers who have conflated thetechne of medicine with phronesis. Thisconflation ignores Aristotle's crucial distinctionbetween techne and phronesis and his useof the medical analogy. It is argued that medicalreasoning is similar to phronesis but does notexemplify it. Phronesis will not save thelife of medical ethics. The concept could be utilized as amoral prosthetic.

The standard approach to ethics in psychotherapy is to focus on the therapist. Although normative “boundary” ethics revolves around what the therapist ought, or ought not, to do, virtue ethics can revolve around the kind of person the therapist ought to be. One can thus apply virtue ethical theory to clinical practice and argue for therapist virtues that are relevant to meeting professional standards and to working effectively through the problems that arise in psychotherapy. Considerably less attention has been paid (...) to how virtue ethics relates to the patient. The ethics of psychotherapy can also revolve around the sort of person the patient should be. I argue that there are nascent virtues which the patient can bring to psychotherapy that, when cultivated with the therapist, can facilitate a beneficial outcome and virtues that can be seen as psychotherapeutic goals toward which the patient ought to strive. (shrink)

The expert clinical community is split about whether the difference between antidepressant treatment and treatment with placebos stems from the efficacy of the drug or from subjects’ heightened expectancy enhanced by side effects—i.e., enhanced placebo effects. Proving whether pharmacological efficacy has been established reliably by randomized controlled trials of antidepressant drugs is difficult, primarily because substituting a placebo for an effective treatment in the control arm of a trial is ethically questionable. I argue that clinical equipoise permits the use of (...) active placebo controls in trials that test antidepressants. Placebo controls for drug trials are ethically defensible and scientifically justified when we have evidence that a standard treatment might only work because of enhanced placebo effects, and when a respectable minority of the expert clinical community endorses these concerns. (shrink)

This article offers a conceptual analysis of self-respect and self-esteem that informs the ethics of psychotherapy in palliative care. It is focused on Chochinov’s Dignity Therapy, an internationally recognized treatment offered to dying patients who express a need to bolster their sense of self-worth. Although Dignity Therapy aims to help such patients affirm their value through summarized life stories that are shared with their survivors, it is not grounded in a robust theory of self-respect. There is reason to be skeptical (...) about deathbed narratives, and Dignity Therapy can unintentionally encourage distorted representations at odds with the self-respect it aims to affirm. Dignity therapy can also encourage distortions of self-esteem that are in conflict with self-respect. Although Chochinov does not address it, the distinction between self-respect and self-esteem is relevant to deathbed accounts. Dillon’s feminist revisioning of self-respect can inform the practice of Dignity Therapy by encouraging honest life stories through a reckoning with one’s moral complexity, especially in moral generativity cases where patients seek forgiveness, relate atonement, or present their lives as examples to be followed. Her concept of self-esteem allows for therapeutic benefits that are less demanding, but no less significant, than those derived from a moral reckoning. Appropriate affirmations of self-esteem can provide much-needed solace when self-respect is damaged beyond adequate repair. Dillon’s account of self-respect and self-esteem enables a richer understanding of the kinds of personal evaluation and disclosure that Dignity Therapy accommodates. As such, their place in Dignity Therapy needs more critical evaluation than it has received. (shrink)

Grunbaum claims that the remedial failure of atreatment's characteristic factors is thegeneric, objective property of a placebo. Hestipulates that a treatment is placebic if thisremedial failure exacerbates the targetdisorder. This stipulation can subsume asplacebic effects that might be solelypharmacological, e.g., paradoxical reactions tocertain psychiatric drugs. If that exacerbationcan be explained pharmacologically, then wemight question whether Grunbaum's definitionalscheme captures the core identity of what weusually intend by the placebo concept. Ipropose that this core identity is bestcaptured by a symbolic meaning hypothesis (...) inwhich psychological factors exert thedeterminative influence. (shrink)

The central issue of this dissertation is known in bioethics as the problem of fair chances versus best outcomes. The decision-making context is patient selection for scarce, transplantable organs. This problem poses two options for patient selection: either select by a procedure which affords fair chances to all medically suitable transplant candidates or select those whose prognoses indicate the highest levels of prospective medical benefit. The fair chances/best outcomes problem is essentially a problem of choosing between lives. An egalitarian approach (...) to patient selection favours fair chances. A utilitarian approach favours best outcomes. My project is a sustained defence of an egalitarian approach. It targets first a rule utilitarian argument for maximizing medical benefit. It targets second an argument that fairness in patient selection requires a preference for saving younger lives. I argue that patients should have prognoses at or above a threshold level of medical benefit to be medically suitable candidates. I propose random selection by lottery as a means of final selection that equally values lives. I argue that equality of opportunity best reflects an egalitarian commitment to equal concern and respect. (shrink)

Volume 34, Issue 8, December 2020, Page 1632-1645.

By the time of his death in 1989, R.D. Laing was already history. His status as a countercultural legend remained intact, but he had gone from icon to relic. His intellectual and political credibility reached a peak in the late 1960s that he never regained. For many, the publication of The Politics of Experience and The Bird of Paradise in 1967 presaged his critical demise into bad poetry and bellicose shamanism. Laing himself was keenly aware of his fall from popular (...) grace. (shrink)

The Malleus Maleficarum was a detailed manual for Dominican witch-hunters. It codified specific criteria for identifying witches and guidelines for their application. It elaborated a system of symptoms that indicated illness caused by witchcraft . These symptoms were seen as the visible projections of a vast and complex organization of behavior. Since the existence of witches was presupposed by those who used the manual, its criteria were confirmed repeatedly during the Inquisition. Once the Malleus was published, its diagnostic system acquired (...) a momentum of its own and generated its own evidence . Its authors saw physicians as experts at distinguishing physical illnesses from those caused by witchcraft. The authors began the manual by asserting that belief in the existence of witches is an essential part of the Catholic faith. Priests and inquisitors were not to doubt the existence of witches . Like the Malleus Maleficarum, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual is a detailed text which codifies specific criteria for identifying people who are seen as abnormal. It codifies guidelines for applying these criteria and elaborates a system of symptoms that indicates illnesses known as mental disorders. These symptoms are seen as the visible projections of a vast and complex organization of behavior. Since the existence of these disorders is presupposed by many of those who use the manual, its criteria are confirmed repeatedly in the diagnostic process. Once DSM was published , its diagnostic system acquired a momentum of its own and has generated its own evidence. Its authors regard psychiatrists as experts at applying the manualís criteria. They are also seen as experts at distinguishing mental disorders from other illnesses. Belief in the existence of mental disorders is an essential part of the psychiatric faith. (shrink)

Some authors argue that the ethics of medical care and the ethics of research differ, and that it is a mistake to conflate the two. They propose “that medical research and medical treatment are two distinct forms of activities, governed by different ethical principles.” This raises the question of whether physicians who are also clinical investigators may separate their role as physician from that of researcher when they are involved in clinical trials, thereby avoiding the obligations required in the physician-patient (...) relationship. Miller and Brody suggest that medical training is to blame for what they believe is the physicians’ tendency to confound the obligations of research and practice. “Physician-investigators, after all, went to medical school” they explain. They believe that considering research with patients outside the ethical framework of the physician-patient relationship may be “difficult and threatening” to physicians who have “psychological needs” to consider the ethical obligations flowing from their relationship with their patients. (shrink)

We describe on-going work on IAO-Intel, an information artifact ontology developed as part of a suite of ontologies designed to support the needs of the US Army intelligence community within the framework of the Distributed Common Ground System (DCGS-A). IAO-Intel provides a controlled, structured vocabulary for the consistent formulation of metadata about documents, images, emails and other carriers of information. It will provide a resource for uniform explication of the terms used in multiple existing military dictionaries, thesauri and metadata registries, (...) thereby enhancing the degree to which the content formulated with their aid will be available to computational reasoning. (shrink)

Why was mythology of vital importance for the romantics? What role did mythology play in their philosophical and literary work? And what common sources of influence inspired these writers across Britain and Germany at the turn of the nineteenth century? In this wide-ranging study, Owen Ware argues that the romantics turned to mythology for its potential to transform how we see ourselves, others, and the world. Engaging with authors such as William Blake, Friedrich Schlegel, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Friedrich von (...) Hardenberg (Novalis), and Percy Bysshe Shelley, Ware shows why they believed that neither perception nor reason alone can sustain a vision of the unity of all things. A new mode of cognition is necessary, they claimed, one that revives the poetic origin of mythology and reveals our own mythmaking powers. _Return of the Gods_ investigates the rise of mythology in the British and German traditions and the romantics’ practices of reinterpreting old myths and inventing new ones. Their shared aim was nothing less than to elevate the human imagination to higher stages of self-development in which philosophy and poetry, as well as intellect and imagination, form an integrated whole. Far from calling us to return to the past, the romantics’ work on mythology points us to a future where we can live in harmony with the personal, social, and natural worlds we inhabit. Owen Ware combines intellectual history with philosophical analysis and literary criticism to offer a bold reflection on why mythology mattered for the romantics—and why it still matters today. (shrink)

Introduction: -/- It is likely that Boethius (480-524ce) inaugurates, in Latin Christian theology, the consideration of personhood as such. In the Treatise Against Eutyches and Nestorius Boethius gives a well-known definition of personhood according to genus and difference(s): a person is an individual substance of a rational nature. Personhood is predicated only of individual rational substances. This chapter situates Boethius in relation to significant Christian theologians before and after him, and the way in which his definition of personhood is a (...) particular answer to the question, “Jesus has two natures, a divine nature and a human nature, but is one what?” Among Greek (and Syriac) speaking theologians, the typical answer is that Jesus is one ‘hypostasis’. Among Latin speaking theologians, the typical answer is that Jesus is one ‘persona’. It is Boethius’s definition of ‘persona’ that inaugurates personhood as such in Latin speaking theology. Although the Greek and Syriac theologians that I survey come close to a concept of personhood as a distinct category, they do not have such a concept and did not need it for their theological purposes. I show that Rusticus the Deacon is an early witness to this Latin theological invention, and also show that for later Latin theologians, the rationality condition for personhood does very little metaphysical work for their Trinitarian theology or Christology. -/- Further, this chapter surveys Patristic and Medieval Christian theologians’ answers to the question, “God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit are one God, but each is one what?” The same replies as above are typically given by Christian theologians. These two theological questions frame the discussion about personhood (and ‘hypostasis’) and put a boundary around what a satisfying account of personhood (and ‘hypostasis’) would be. -/- In contemporary philosophy, there is a lot of attention paid to the rationality condition for personhood. But if we look at the text in which Boethius defines a person, we do not find any precise criteria for it. In other texts, he says that a rational being is one compatible with (capable of) thought and free choice of the will. What we find is that detailed discussion of personhood shows up in theological questions about the Trinity and Incarnation, but not in e.g., applied ethics. The intrusion of personhood into contemporary applied ethics with a focus on detailed and disputed criteria for rationality as a condition for personhood seems to be a modern development. From a Patristic and Medieval Christian theology point of view, trying to find just the right detailed criteria for rationality in order to define personhood is a wild goose chase. This chapter makes clear another contribution that Christian theology had for personhood. Given the theological issues at play in developing a notion of personhood, Christian theologians came to posit that e.g., an individual human is a person contingently (i.e. not essentially), but God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit are each a person essentially. The contingency for created persons is not based on whether e.g., an individual human has conscious acts (as might be the case for John Locke) but on the possibility of a divine person’s assuming e.g., an individual human nature. -/- This sampling of Christian intellectual history spans over one thousand years. I make no claim of being exhaustive. The chapter consists of six sections, where each section covers significant historical conversation partners who together represent the sorts of things that Patristic and Medieval Christian theologians where concerned with in theorizing about ‘persona’ or ‘hypostasis’. -/- 1. Origen of Alexandria and the Cappadocians: Basil of Caesarea and Gregory of Nyssa 2. Miaphysites: Severus of Antioch, John Philoponus, and Peter of Callinicum 3. Boethius and Rusticus the Deacon: Rationality, Subsistence, and the Invention of Personhood 4. Neo-Chalcedonians (II): Leontius of Byzantium 5. Scholastic Neo-Chalcedonians (I): Gilbert of Poitiers, Richard of St. Victor, William of Auxerre, Alexander of Hales, Bonaventure, Thomas Aquinas, and William of Ware 6. Scholastic Neo-Chalcedonians (II): Henry of Ghent, John Duns Scotus, and William of Ockham . (shrink)

Indeterminate sentencing is a sentencing practice where offenders are sentenced to a range of potential imprisonment terms and where the actual release date is determined later, typically by a parole board. Although indeterminate sentencing is often considered morally problematic from a retributivist perspective, Michael O’Hear has provided an interesting attempt to reconcile indeterminate sentencing with the communicative version of retributivism developed by Antony Duff. O’Hear’s core argument is that delayed release, within the parameters of the indeterminate sentence, can be (...) seen as an appropriate retributivist response to the violations of prison rules. This article highlights several problems in O’Hear’s proposal and argues that the communicative theory is not easily reconciled with his proposed model for indeterminate sentencing. In conclusion, it is argued that proponents of the communicative version of retributivism should resist indeterminate prison sentences. (shrink)

European Journal of Philosophy, EarlyView.

We argue performance in the serial reaction time task is associated with gradations of awareness that provide examples of fringe consciousness [Mangan, B. . Taking phenomenology seriously: the “fringe” and its implications for cognitive research. Consciousness and Cognition, 2, 89–108, Mangan, B. . The conscious “fringe”: Bringing William James up to date. In B. J. Baars, W. P. Banks & J. B. Newman , Essential sources in the scientific study of consciousness . Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press.], and address (...) limitations of the traditional SRT procedure, including criticism of exclusion generation tasks. Two experiments are conducted with a modified SRT procedure where irrelevant stimulus attributes obscure the sequence rule. Our modified paradigm, which includes a novel exclusion task, makes it easier to demonstrate a previously controversial influence of response stimulus interval on awareness. It also allows identification of participants showing fringe consciousness rather than explicit sequence knowledge, as reflected by dissociations between different awareness measures. The NEO-PI-R variable Openness to Feelings influenced the diversity of subjective feelings reported during two awareness measures, but not the degree of learning and awareness as previously found with traditional SRT tasks [Norman, E., Price, M. C., & Duff, S. C. . Fringe consciousness in sequence learning: the influence of individual differences. Consciousness and Cognition, 15, 723–760.]. This suggests possible distinctions between two components of fringe consciousness. (shrink)

This paper has two main foci: the history of curriculum design, and implications from the new sciences of chaos and complexity for the development of new forms of curriculum design and teaching implementation. Regarding the first focus, the paper posits that there exist—to use Wittgenstein's phrase—‘family resemblances’ between Peter Ramus’ 16th century curriculum design and that of Ralph Tyler in the 20th century. While this 400‐year linkage is by no means linear, there are overlapping strands from Ramus to (...) Comenius to the Puritans to colonial New England to Horace Mann to Ralph Tyler. What unites these strands, all belonging to the Protestant Methodization movement that swept across northern Europe into colonial America and the USA, is the concept of Method. Taylor's ‘time and motion’ studies set the stage for Tyler's Basic Principles of curriculum design—those starting with set goals and concluding with measured assessment. The second focus draws on the new sciences of chaos and complexity to develop a different sense of curriculum and instruction—open, dynamic, relational, creative, and systems oriented. The paper concludes with an integration of the rational/scientific with the aesthetic/spiritual into a view of education and curriculum informed by complexity. (shrink)

This book addresses the retributive and "orthodox subjectivist" theories that dominate criminal justice theory alongside recent "revisionist" and "postmodern" approaches. Norrie argues that all these approaches, together with their faults and contradictions, stem from their orientation to themes in Kantian moral philosophy. He explores an alternative relational or dialectical approach; examines the work of Ashworth, Duff, Fletcher, Moore, Smith, and Williams; and considers key doctrinal issues.

William Ames (1576-1633) a incarné une autorité fondamentale pour les puritains qui ont émigré en Nouvelle-Angleterre. Dans son œuvre, il a la singularité d’allier ses convictions religieuses à une mentalité ramiste. Ames considère la méthode de Ramus comme une manière adéquate de comprendre l’acquisition et la transmission des savoirs. Le système ramiste s’applique aussi au domaine de la théologie et à certaines questions liées au gouvernement de l’individu. Cet article vise à mettre en lumière cette combinaison entre le (...) puritanisme et le ramisme qui caractériserait une façon bien particulière de concevoir le gouvernement de l’individu : un modèle qui renforce la volonté de l’individu et sa capacité de contrôle, en tant qu’instruments essentiels de gouvernement, et qui renferme un objectif émancipateur et égalitaire. (shrink)

This article considers Frances Yates’s famous attribution of “inner iconoclasm” to the rhetorical and logical innovations of Petrus Ramus (1515–1572), particularly as exemplified in the theological writings of the Elizabethan preacher William Perkins (1558–1602). According to Yates, the rejection, by Ramists such as Perkins, of the imagistic art of memory practised by Raymond Lull (c.1232–c.1315) and Giordano Bruno (1548–1600) was tied directly to Ramists’s commitment to the Calvinist rejection of religious images. For Yates, the rejection of images in (...) religious contexts motivated Ramists, including Perkins, to reject all images, both physical and imaginary. Contra Yates, this article suggests that there is little warrant to connect the rejections of mnemonic and religious imagery. Furthermore, Yates’s implicit suggestion that both Ramism and Calvinism constitute rejections of the human imagination tout court is contested through a detailed engagement with the philosophical theories of the imagination articulated by Ramists, Calvinists and proponents of the art of memory. The article concludes with an exposition of Perkins’s account of imagination, and its connection to his treatment of religious images, arguing that Perkins retained an important place for the imagination even within his theology. (shrink)

Question 6: Whether God as infinite is an object of theology from the Prologue to the Commentary on the Sentences written by William is a polemic with Giles of Rome and Henry of Ghent. The former contends that God is the subject of theology through the specific notion, namely as Saviour, while the latter asserts that God’s infinity is accessible to men’s knowledge only if it is understood as something added to the proper object of theology, i.e. to God. (...) William sharpens Henry’s criticism of Giles and puts forward thesis claiming that God’s infinity is knowable as the direct object of theology. William’s proof of the cognoscibility of infinity paved the way to John Duns Scotus’s developed conception of infinity as the principal divine attribute. (shrink)

Machine generated contents note: ARISTOTELIAN AND CARTESIAN LOGIC AT HARVARD -- by Rick Kennedy -- I. Introduction --II. Religiously-Oriented, Dogmatically-Inclined Humanistic Logics from the Renaissance to the Seventeenth Century -- A. Melanchthon and Aristotelianism 01 -- B. Richardson and Ramism 16 -- C. Aristotelianism, Ramism, and Schematic Thinking 25 -- D. Puritan Favoritism From Ramus to Descartes 32 -- E. Cartesian Logic and Christian Skepticism 37 -- F. The Religious and Dogmatic Orientation of The Port-'Royalfogic 42 -- G. Cartesian (...) Logic in British Textbooks 52 -- III. Charles Morton and c A; logick System -- A. Charles Morton 62 -- B. Morton's cAfogick System 78 -- IV. William Brattle and the Compendium of logick -- A. Intellectual Reform in the Puritans' Collapsing World 91 -- B. The Compendium ofJogick 93 -- c. Brattle: Tutor and Unofficial Professor of Divinity 108 -- V. Epilogue: Later Constituencies of Religious Logics and 133 -- The Separation of Logic and Divinity at Harvard. (shrink)

A wide-ranging, collection focusing on the practical philosophy of Williams, with many chapters on politically relevant themes and many trying to assess the importance and influence of Williams. With contributions by Roman Altshuler, Mathieu Beirlaen, Thom Brooks, Jonathan Dancy, Jennifer Flynn, Lorenzo Greco, Chris D. Herrera, James Kellenberger, Colin Koopman, Stephen Leach, Esther Abin, Nancy Matchett, Jeff McMahan, Sarah Pawlett, Jonathan Sands-Wise, Robert Talisse, and Owen Ware.

The article discusses the philosophical and theological currents that made their appearance at the university of Paris in the thirteenth century and prepared the rise of the philosophy and theology of John Duns Scotus. The principal rival orientations were newly the introduced Aristotelianism, as represented by Roland of Cremona, Albert the Great, Thomas Aquinas and his Dominican pupils, Siger of Brabant, and Boethius of Dacia, and the traditional and conservative Augustinianism, which found its defenders above all within the Franciscan order, (...) where two schools of thought can be distinguished before Scotus: the older school culminating in St Bonaventure, and the second school, with Matthew of Aquasparta, William of La Mare, William of Ware, Peter Olivi and others. The heterodox tendencies within the thirteenth century Aristotelianism lead to an official condemnation in 1277 by Church and university authorities of 219 of its tenets regarded as erroneous, yet this fact did not stop further continuance and development of this current. After this condemnation there appeared syncretistic solutions by Henry of Ghent and Giles of Rome; also mysticism of Pseudo-Dionysian inspiration (Eckhart) made its appearance. Against this background the origin and rise of the doctrine of John Duns Scotus can be explained as one more attempt to steer a middle course between the rival extremes of Aristotelianism and Augustinian Platonism and to include in a comprehensive synthesis the most valuable elements present in both currents. This attempt prepared the way for the new philosophy of the fourteenth century, although at the same time became the target of criticism by its representatives. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:The Gorgon’s Severed Head: Studies of Alcestis, Electra and PhoenissaeJustina GregoryC. A. E. Luschnig. The Gorgon’s Severed Head: Studies of Alcestis, Electra and Phoenissae Leiden, New York, and Cologne: E. J. Brill, 1995. xvi 1 255 pp. Cloth; Gld. 121, $78 (US). (Mnemosyne Supplement 153)Luschnig offers three self-contained essays, framed by an introduction and an epilogue. She derives her title from the circumstance that each of the plays (...) chosen for study contains a reference (in the case of Electra, two references) to the Gorgon’s head. Although she suggests (xiv) that the tragedies represent “different stages of Euripides’ career, one from each volume of the OCT,” she is not proposing to trace development, whether formal or thematic, from play to play. Her concern is with a constant: the plays’ mirroring of the redemptive power of art. On Luschnig’s account tragedy is fundamentally self- referential, urgently and repeatedly directing attention to “the human spirit at its most creative, creating a life and a story” (xv).The approach is not unfamiliar. Zeitlin (Ramus 1980) has described Orestes as the most extreme example of a theatrical self-consciousness that permeates all of Euripides, while Goldhill in Reading Greek Tragedy (1986) and Segal in Euripides and the Poetics of Sorrow (1993) have explored metatheatricality in Electra and Alcestis respectively—two of the very plays chosen for discussion by Luschnig. Where Luschnig differs from Zeitlin is in viewing Euripidean self-reflexivity not as a symptom of the genre’s moribund condition, but as a way to “examine the traditional stories and to test them and to keep them alive” (243). She differs from Goldhill and Segal, who concentrate on the poet’s manipulations of mythical tradition and generic practice, in emphasizing how the characters within each play replicate the creative process as they vary well-established stories, conjure up imaginary scenarios, and try on roles, costumes and masks. For Luschnig, “not only the author and audience, but the characters are taking part in the debate with the tradition” (132). She maintains that this debate is pursued with especial vigor by female characters, whose social and theatrical roles tend to be more circumscribed.Luschnig begins her chapter on Alcestis by reviewing the generic problems presented by the play and then embarks on a scene-by-scene commentary which focuses on the “aesthetic choices” made by the principals. There are occasional lapses over details; at Alc. 1148, for example, Heracles does not tell Admetus “to treat strangers better,” as Luschnig translates (241), but to continue to treat strangers well in the future. Nevertheless her distinctive perspective on the action leads to some intriguing conclusions. Alcestis, she asserts, is not a helpless victim but a determined woman who selects her own role and “play[s it] to the hilt” (33). As for Admetus, he starts “as a shell” (74) but grows in self-awareness in the course of the play. He searches throughout for “other, grander story patterns” (72); thus he briefly contemplates, only to reject, the possibility of playing Orpheus to Alcestis’ Eurydice. That role is reserved for Heracles, who succeeds in rescuing Alcestis from Hades. But Admetus, Luschnig asserts, [End Page 126] has laid the groundwork for Heracles’ intervention; when he proposes to commission a statue of Alcestis, and even when he equivocates to Heracles over whether she is alive or dead, he is doing his part to keep his wife alive in memory and story. Admetus thus emerges as a more decent and sympathetic character than is generally held to be the case.The chapter on Electra appeared previously in article form, and it struck me as the most polished of the three. Organized thematically rather than by scene, it focuses initially on Electra’s water jug as emblematic of Electra’s separation at once from her natal home and from her normal role in myth. The homely jug is contrasted to the “fine ware” (89) employed in the other Electra plays: the libation vessels that characterize the members of the chorus at the opening of Aeschylus’ Choephoroe, and the libation vessel and funerary urn that figure prominently in Sophocles’ Electra. The rest of the chapter... (shrink)

The concept of genius—artistic genius in particular—is generally thought of as a quintessentially nineteenth-century phenomenon: the cornerstone, in fact, of German romanticism. Kant’s treatment of the concept has always been recognized as the source from which the early Romantics drew. But the fact of the matter is that it is to the British Enlightenment that we must look for the first modern formulation of the concept of artistic genius. For it was already well formed and clearly recognizable before Kant got (...) his hands on it. The essay begins by suggesting two ancient sources for the concept of genius, as it developed in eighteenth-century Britain. It then goes on to discuss the contributions to the concept of Joseph Addison, Edward Young, Alexander Gerard, William Duff, and Gerard again, who dipped his oar in twice. (shrink)

This chapter considers political, psychological, and grammatical forms of connection and their implications for narrative analogies between self and nation developed in relation to the 1707 Union between England and Scotland, and the confederation of the United States in 1776. Reid's and Beattie's ‘refutations’ of Hume propagate the structural tension in his epistemological argument into the assumptions of Common Sense philosophy. Some implications for imaginative literature of tensions between coherent stories and fragmented form are explored in the example of (...) class='Hi'>William Duff's History of Rhedi and the work of Henry Mackenzie. Similar issues of style and self-consciousness about language use are discussed in relation to the prose of the American Founders. (shrink)

This book focuses on the emergence and development of philosophical historiography as a university discipline in the 18th and 19th centuries. During that period historians of philosophy evaluated medieval philosophical theories through the lenses of modern leitmotifs and assigned to medieval thinkers positions within an imaginary map of cultural identities based on the juxtaposition of 'self' and 'other'. Some medieval philosophers were regarded as 'forerunners' who had constructively paved the way for modern rationality; whereas others, viewed as 'outsiders', had contributed (...) to the same effect by way of their struggle against established forms of philosophy. The contributions gathered in this volume each deal with the creative reception of a particular figure in modern history of philosophy. From the 9th century, with al-Farabi, to the 16th century, these philosophers belong to four historical worlds which have been characterized by European cultural history or have defined themselves as such: the (Jewish-)Arabic world (al-Farabi, Avicenna, Maimonides), Latin scholasticism (Roger Bacon, Henry of Ghent, William of Ockham, Marsilius of Padua), medieval lay philosophy (Ramon Lull, Petrarch), and Humanism in a broader sense (Nicholas of Cusa, Petrus Ramus, Andrea Cesalpino). (shrink)

Isolation in the back-country: George Chamier, G.B. Lancaster, Katherine Mansfield, John Mulgan, and Graham Billing -- Outsiders and misfits in fragmented social milieux: William Satchell, Vincent Pyke, John A. Lee, Robin Hyde, Frank Sargeson, and others -- The lonely and the alone in the fiction of Janet Frame -- Maurice Gee and postmodern isolation -- Women, isolation, and history: Fiona Kidman, Noel Hilliard, and Patricia Grace -- Cultural deracination and isolation : Witi Ihimaera, Keri Hulme, and Alan Duff.

Reproduced with the kind permission of the author. Currently available in the collection I Looked Alive . © 2010 The Brooklyn Rail/Black Square Editions | ISBN 978-1934029-07-7 Originally published 2003 Four Walls Eight Windows. continent. 1.1 (2011): 43-51. Introduction Ben Segal What interests me is instigated language, language dishabituated from its ordinary doings, language startled by itself. I don't know where that sort of interest locates me, or leaves me, but a lot of the books I see in the stores (...) seem to lack language entirely. Gary Lutz (2006). This issue of continent.'s fiction section features a reprint of “This Is Nice of You” from the first edition of Gary Lutz's collection I Looked Alive . That book was originally released by Four Walls Eight Windows in 2003 and has since been reissued in 2010 by The Brooklyn Rail/Black Square Editions. Calamari Press has also reissued Lutz's Stories in the Worst Way (originally published by Knopf, largely forgotten and dismissed, and then re-issued by the too-short-lived 3rd Bed). “This Is Nice of You” was edited for the re-issue of I Looked Alive and, as the original book is out of print, the earlier version of the story has been hard to come by for some time. This initial version is a bit longer than the new version—Lutz is a master of tightening down his texts to their most linguistically intensified cores—but it is in no way sloppy. It is a great privilege for continent. to be able to make available rare texts of (first) aesthetic and (second) scholarly value. For those readers unfamiliar with Gary Lutz, I believe this story will serve as a worthy introduction. Like Raymond Carver, Diane Williams, Christine Schutt, and so many other important twentieth century and contemporary short story writers, Lutz studied with and was edited by Gordon Lish. This connection is apparent in his attention to sound and the sentence as compositional unit, but Lutz's is a unique voice. “This Is Nice of You” bears Lutz's trademark torqued and turning syntax, his sexed-but-nameless characters, his rendering of the human body and its emissions as utterly discomfiting. Lutz's preoccupations with the mundane raise ordinariness, via startling language and observation, to grandiosity and grotesquery. In the fall of 2008, Lutz delivered a lecture entitled “The Sentence is a Lonely Place” to writing students at Columbia University. The lecture was later printed in The Believer (and is linked below). In it, he spoke about the importance of the sentence as a compositional unit, as even the distinguishing formal characteristic of prose. Specifically, Lutz explained that, from Lish, he had developed a "poetics of the sentence." Accordingly, Lutz constructs his stories at the level of the sentence, paying extreme attention to the material of words- their letters and their sounds- and the way they abut one another and interact on this material level even before they are employed in the service of traditional aims of fiction like meaning or story. Lutz often uses a(n almost constraint-related) technique called consecution. Letters or sounds from one word are carried forward into the following, producing drama and movement in the language itself at a level entirely apart from that of plot. For example, you can see how the 't's in the first sentence of “This Is Nice of You” repeat fast and hard through met and then soften into the 'th's of brothers and they. This close attention to the specific material and characteristic conditions of prose means that Gary Lutz's work always involves both a happening in language and of language. “This Is Nice of You” has a richness and depth that is hidden not in symbolism or obscure reference but on the surface of the page, in the language of every sentence. FURTHER READING Lutz, Gary. “ The Sentence Is a Lonely Place. ” The Believer January, 2009. Web. Short stories and excerpts at Web del Sol . Web. Taylor, Justin. “ An Interview with Gary Lutz .” Bookslut. July, 2006. Web. THIS IS NICE OF YOU [156] [1] I was a man dropping already well through my forties, filthy with myself, when, taking a turn at the toilets one afternoon, I met two brothers-they said they were brothers-who swore they had a sister, a schoolteacher, an officer of instruction at the county college, a whirlwind midlife turmoil of everything already put to ruin, who had gone off from a new marriage in an old car, an upkept and ennobling sedan, but had returned now to the apartment and [157] was living there alone with the little runoff there was from the marriage-some outcurved appliances, apparently, and low-posted furniture promoting its own mystery but becoming figurable in certain concentrations of TV light-and, above all, a telephone (on a pedestal, they insisted), the handpiece of which she gripped in lieu of exercise, or in fury, and I thus let out my little, reliable cry that I was in fact a student of the telephone, that it was a debasing apparatus in the main, with its meager economy of bells and tones, and the intimacy of the mouthpiece that sent your breath, tiny aftervapors of it, back toward your lips, so that regardless of the party accepting the outgoing products of your voice, you were, at most, in a further, rivaling exchange with yourself alone, and this is what must have brought the two of them around, the men who proclaimed brotherhood with the woman, because they offered me her phone number, put it at my disposal on a piece of paper one of them had already committed it to, a tearing from a menu, and the looks the men were now giving me had deletions in them, already, of my exact, beanpole shape and size. So off I went to a pay phone, the nearest canopied one I could find. The woman answered after the second ring and said she needed a lift right that very moment into the little, unlevel city close by. She was idling in the doorway of the building when I pulled up in front, and I helped her into the car, then got back in myself. I had always had a way of not having to look at people that nonetheless brought them to me in full, and so I still am certain of the susceptive and impressible comp-[158]lexion, the shimmer on the mouth, a lipstick of low brilliance, a difficulty around the eyes, the hair short and rayed out exclamation ally, skin bagged up over the elbow bone, conflict even in how her arms stayed at her sides—in sum, a spinal loveliness for me, an off-blonde quantity with shadowed, thumbworn hollows that put me out of as much as I might have ever known of women before. I set the two of us into the narrow traffic, and I remember telling her, by way of explaining the little burden which I had shifted, by now, from the shelf of the dashboard and onto my lap, that when you lived in filth, as I then did, a daily newspaper came to count for a lot, although instead of the thick-supplemented local paper I bought a trimmer one from a backlying town—not, of course, for any affluences of native data it carried, but as an article of house ware: a rough immaculacy in four lank sections, a set of fresh, hygienic surfaces to come between the table, say, and whatever I had going for me at the table, if the table was where I was going forward—because what else so cheap comes so clean and far-spreading? The woman told me that her own trouble with paper was that through a modest hole, no larger than a quarter, that had been drilled a foot or so above the floor (the standard height, she had reasoned, of legitimate electrical outlets), and by means of which her faculty office had at last gained communication with the roomier but unoccupied office next door, more and more often shot a single sheet of paper, plain copier paper she had rolled just barely into a tube, [159] so that after landing on the floor of the neighboring office the paper would preserve little if any of the curl, and there would be nothing written or typed on it, of course, and it was always a blank sheet that had been ageing on her desk for some time and had already been moved around, or advanced, from station to station on the desktop, coming into further creaselets and crimps and other infirmities—paper, in short, still too bare and unfraught to be thrown responsibly and forgettably away, and yet too seasoned and beset with irritations of the surface (a molelike blemish, say, or what looked like a tiny hair, an eyelash, sunk into it, or frecklings, or notational pressings of a fingernail), too wrought, in sum, for the paper to be appointed to any secure curricular purpose. Her office, she claimed, was in fact full of such paper, much-handled and singularized sheets of it by the loose, functionless hundred. I had to get it across to the woman that I myself no longer had an office, or any other place to divide me reliably from everybody else, and that for much of the daylight I thus appeared to be among people because I kept putting myself where people came together into even closer-fitting assortments, the viewing areas and showrooms and rotundas and such: I took in the lean-to look of the women, the tongues coming and going in what the men kept thinking of to say—whole families of low knees for me to bark my shins against during the crowded and involving way out. At home afterward, in the one room where my life was packed down, I would keep my nose stuck in the safehold of the phone [160] book, where the names of people suffered reduction to mere episodes of the alphabet and underwent humbling declensions down every column (Lail, Lain, Laine, Lainerd), and he names of streets, of the towns and townships, got docked in crude, heedless abbreviations (the vowels almost always the first to get poked out), and I would run my eyes over the telephone numbers themselves, each sequence of digits another fallible run of the infinite. I thus corrected my feelings for people and assembled myself emotionally into whatever else I had at hand—the obligating arms of the clothes hangers, usually, or the keen-angled understructure, the guardian legginess, of the ironing board. The woman said that in her case, though, it was more a matter of making slow circuits of the classroom where she had to put across the Emporial Sciences, retail theory and methods, to heat-giving and suggestive young women, some of them world cruelties already. There was the cooing of empty stomachs in the hour just before lunch, and the braying and fizzle of loaded stomachs in the low hours of the afternoon. She would recite her notes in a voice barely loyal to anyone octave, a tiny alluvium of slaver hardening at the corners of her mouth on the days she gave the glassy lozenges a slow, warming suck, and she would take lowering notice of how whatever she said succumbed at once to freak spellings and razzing paraphrase in the big, dividered notebooks; and because in midafternoon light the world looked as thorough, as filled in, as it was ever going to get, a better way to set about ruining her eyes was to review how hair had [161] established itself on the arms of the young women, because almost every arm had brought across itself a welcome and diversifying shadow. On one girl it would be a fine, driftless haze afloat above the white of the arm, never seeming to touch down on the skin itself. (An atmosphere, at most, of chestnut brown.) On another, it was as if copper wire, the narrowmost lengthlets of it, had been stuck into the fleshy batter of the thick, freckled forearms. On a third: a field of it–wheat-colored, thin-spun. On a fourth; a differencing, darkish updrift that shaded off as it approached the inner bend of the elbow, then re-emerged at the base of the upper arm as whiskery fringe. On others it was a brassy or rust-colored frizz, or it was as coarse as cornsilk, or it looked fussed on, as if the arm had been slowly stroked with charcoal. But here the woman broke off, or I may well have made an interruption of my own—I think I must have asked whether she was hungry, and she said if I was, and so on one of the lesser streets I parked the car and led her down into a belowstairs eating house I still remembered. Sandwiches were presently lowered in front of us. I watched her remove the festooned toothpick from hers and then play her fingers over the toasted planes before she took a fond first bite. "This is nice of you," she said. I must have looked at her in the way I then had of getting people to speak so they would not seem to be dwelling any longer on my features, because if on the well-set face the mouth and eyes are said to seem frozen in elegant orbit about the til) of the nose, then mine was a face that behold-[162]ers, regarders, could not help trying to round off with greater success, to goad the particulars of it back into the arcs they had wandered away from—the mouth, for instance, having been pursed and pinched suchwise that it seemed resident more on one side of the face than the other—and there were other signs of original strife to be busied with (slapdash eyebrows unbunched, it appeared, from reserves of hair elsewhere on my person; a showing of adult acne, a shrivelly little relevance of it, confined to the declivity of my nose); and so to be polite, the woman thus sank her gaze into her sandwich, and told me, in a voice lowered accordingly, that, one late-childhood summer, she had devoted herself to collecting postage stamps: it was a tongue-involving sideline to early-arriving puberty, and she liked having to lick the pale, gummed hinges instead of the sticky backs of the stamps themselves before entering everything into the hosting album; and once, during some foul weather between her and a brother (the older, thrown-over one, who had already made a habit of fooling the underside of his arm across the top of hers and calling her "pussified"), she reached for the shoe box in which she had let duplicate stamps accumulate—Spanish ones, mostly, of a fading orange—and sent the box slooshing through the lower air so that the stamps showered onto the brother's bare legs with a full, delicate harm. The woman was now touching up the surface of her iced tea with tiny activities, initiatives, of the longspun spoon. I myself was good at getting my touch onto things, although in a way that seemed to mix up the motive atoms inside [163] them, but I was satisfied that for the moment my sandwich, the unbitten-at half of it, was displayable and fit and local to my plate. The woman went on to say that, as a child, she had been bundled off, many an afternoon, to the slope-ceilinged quarters of a bachelor uncle who, when speaking of anybody not immediately present, could not bring himself to use the person's name but instead would say "an acquaintance of mine in ..." and then mention the name of some lapsed homeland, or little-loved rural orchestra, or backset building about to come down; and it was never a riddle, this device of his (not once could the girl have been expected to identify any of the subjects), and no matter how often and aloud he insisted that particularizing persons any further—bringing even a first name down upon anyone of them—would have been indecent, he claimed, much like doing things to people while they slept, the girl accepted all of the uncle's prim and extravagant evasion for what he surely must have intended it to be: a neat, protective trick to space the world out a little further in her favor, to scatter the population so that wherever her hand might at last come down, it would have to be on herself alone. And here I could sense that the woman wanted from my mouth an account of as much as I myself might have ever managed of attachment, so I told her I had once owned a house (a rising, really, of much-fingered, handwrought architecture that amounted to a little family of rooms above garages: a boxlike building with a rattly thorax of downspouts [164] and drainpipes and an unfolded but full-toned fire escape), and I had had for a time a boarder, a student, a high-colored, loose-packed representative of declining girlhood, hung with necklaces and barrettes, a girl of precise but shifting leanings and inclinations; and the afternoon she had come round to ask after the room, I stood in the entranceway, handshaken and asweat, and from what would later be my memory of the girl, I made off with, first, how every pore of her nose seemed to be sheltering within itself a tiny dark seedlet, a grain of something immediately, enormously valuable. And an almost lipless mouth (just a slit, practically), the teeth inside looking wet, watered-it was my life's chore, at that instant, to keep from sending the back of my thumb blotterlike across the line of them (I was later to learn she drank everything cold and through the narrowest of straws). And her hair: it was tea-colored hair she had, long and reachful, an unstopped downcome of it. Tall for a girl, but she managed to stay out of much of her height and put herself across as somebody backward, or behind. I must have told the girl, as best I could, that I of course had a wife, a full-faced, imperishable partner, though for the moment she was gone otherwhere in the marriage, and here the woman, my present companion, my tablemate, whose feet were now parked, in parallel, on the grade of my upper leg, interrupted to say that her husband, too, had been such a liar, and what could I bring up by way of reply other than that a lie is a truth struck through with other, further truth, or that a lie is the present multiplied by the past or that a lie [165] is an outcry of borrowed hope? The woman gave me an allowed look of disgust, her eyes lowered but still popular with me, and on I went with what had now become the girl of my story. For there had been a great, gainful carpet in the room I put the girl into, a matty expanse of coarse, grabby piles, an engrossing affair that took things into itself and held them tight, misered them, and I of course insisted that the girl not bother herself with its upkeep, that I enjoyed weekly access to a prestigious, upstanding vacuum cleaner; but no sooner was the girl out of the house each morning than I would withdraw from my room, where time was unportionable, and loose myself into the ticktock impertinence of the girl's room and get down on my knees, and, going after the carpet first with my fingers, then with a forceps, and finally by unspooling lengths of clear package-sealing tape and pressing them against the tufts in neat rectangles to catch what I might have missed, I brought vast tracts of the carpet to depletion, recovering not simply the girlinesses, the girleries, one would expect (buttons, straight pins, downed jewelry), but flirtier personalia in the form, say, of a stray confetto brought into the world when a page had been wrung with out caution from a spiral-bound notebook, or some pleated paper shells of the chocolates she required, or one of the bargain antihistamines she took to get her naps going, or a trash-bag tie ragged enough to show the kinked line of the wire within (this I would get wound around my finger), or a cough drop enwrapped like a bonbon (I would undo the [166] wings of the wrapper and have to decide whether to suck the drop all down or begin chewing it midway)—I became the following, the public, that these things, these off-faIlings, had come to have; but mostly there was hair, afloat above the uppermost pushings of the fabric of the carpet an almost continuous haziness of loose hairs of all lengths and sources, and I would have to set them out on a fresh sheet of paper and assort them according to the regions of the body they had taken their departure from, and in no time I had nest-like filiations of broken filaments and smaller involvements of the hairs that made me think of hooks, of barbs, of treble clefs, and each pile required a separate envelope, to be filed in a separate shoe box for every sector of the body until, I hoped, the boxes themselves would no longer be enough and I would have raised something semblable, brought up something equal in volume to the comprehensive girl herself. And her wastebasket! For every bit of rubbish, every dreariment she tossed into the thing, I would, in secret, deposit a reciprocal discard of my own, matching a spotted, confessory tissue of hers with a lurid throwaway after my own heart–the cardboard substructions of a fresh parcel of underwear, maybe, or tearings from pantyhose I now and again pressed against a span of my forearm to work onto it the complications of female shading I otherwise made do, choosily, without. I thus built the two of us up together in her trash! One afternoon-it was another of those lifeful, unsam-[167]pled days on which the world humors us each a little differently to keep us nicely on our last legs—I discovered in the wastebasket an inch-deep textbook of hers, a paperback with a celery-colored cover that had come partly unglued, and this dilapidation I paired off, naturally, with a name-your baby guide to whose pages, during my recurrent turnings of them, in bed or at table, I had contributed dried produces of my person, a chemical splendor entirely mine. This coupling sent a sudden spigoty thrill from me that forced an unbuckling and an unzipping and a cleanup with a handkerchief I then ventured responsively into the wastebasket as well. It was in the bathroom afterward that I found a suds-clouded puddle on the unlevel floor of the tub, a little undrained remainder, rimmed with offscum, of the girl's prolonged early-morning soak, and this was as much as I needed to get on my hands; I pressed them flat against the wet porcelain, then flapped them around in the air, and that was when I noticed it—in the amphitheater of the toilet bowl, an orange-yellow tint, or value, to the waters. When the girl arrived home that evening, I told her, of course, that I had discovered fresh, unforeseen trouble within the tank of thelet (a misalignment of the trip lever, a waywardness of the float ball, a ulation of the lift wires, kinks and defects, really, throughout the entire system) and that in fine it was an apparatus now operable only by means of advanced and strenuous equilibrial manipulations that it would be unseemly, inhospitable, of me to pre-[168]sume to burd to burden her with–so that from here on out, following any leak or evacuation she need merely lower the lid and then, before quitting the room, ring the handbell that had been placed on the would seeeverythinghing else. But the bell never rang, not even once, and from my window the next morning I watched the girl carry from the house a little plastic bag distended balloonishly, much like those bags you will remember having seen in the hands of children bearing homeward their solitary carnival-prize goldfish. In fact, I never ran across the likes of the girl again. The man who came to collect her things-not the father, apparently, but an advocate, an upholder-l found to be dull-eared and lax in his speech, and the better part of his face seemed to have already begun making tiny, rotational departures from whatever it was that the eyes, themselves impressively mobile, were just that moment having to take in. (Was there a lamp in the house that was not that night slopping its wattage over everything?) I guess I was waiting for the man to take a laggard, last-minute interest in me, and by now I was pushing everything out into the paired first person–it was, I said, “Our night shot,” and I began including the two of us in whatever it might be doing out, the expected sprinkles and such—but he was no friendship buff, and he paid no heed to my telling him that the only dress of hers I'd ever twidged myself into even part of the way had been the simplest of them all, a large-buttoned wonder of depthless blue, and then only on the principle that one naturally fits whatever one has into whatever somebody else [169] had first, or how else would the world keep getting any taller with people? The man just went about the removal of the girl's things without having to be reminded too noticeably, I guess, of how every dick hangs by a thread. My listener, though, had by this time brought about some becoming slowings of her arm—it was an arm inclinable to langorous diagonals and magicianly swoops through the air above the tabletop—but it no longer was involving itself with her plate, so I suggested we shove off, I made payment for the food, and on our way to the car, and then in the car as I took to following her pointings, the directional tilts of her head, she said that you naturally kept putting more and more of yourself into another person, at first wondering how much she can take, how much of you is accumulable and how much she can hold, and you're letting things out, disbursing yourself, and you've soon got things set up in her, and room is being made for even more of you, and if you bring this off with enough people, even two or three, what you've got is at first a comfort, because you can pass yourself along and move a little more widely through the world and leave it to these others to man your grievances, your disappointments; and what brought this to mind, the woman said, was a term of financial hardship she had contrived for herself a few years back, an unpaid leave of absence from scrupling letter grades onto quiz papers (propped-up As, and upended Bs made to look, rather, like fannies; all As and Bs, no Cs or anything lower, the difference between an A and a B having less to do with the accuracy of whatever facts might [170] have been impounded in provided for an answer than with anything recallable about the way the enrollee ad conformed her body to the confining perpendiculars of her chair and the navel-level writing surface that projected from it, or the way there might one day have been an unignorable blush on the instep of a once-moseying foot, disburdened of its shoe, that had got itself trapped in the grillwork of that cagelike involvement, intended for books, that was welded to, or otherwise schemed into, the underworks of the chair)—this had been a duration, in short, of controlled difficulty when the misexpenditure of even a twenty-dollar bill had set her thrilling, gloating, over everything she would miss out on, and one afternoon she had made an engagement for a haircut, just a trim, and very early in the session the haircutter, a woman ill-defined in the face but otherwise full of conspicuities of emotion, set down the prevailing scissors and pressed the flat of a lukewarm hand against the woman's cheek, held it there for a good minute or longer, while the other hand eventually found its way into a drawer, a shallow treasury of slender specialty scissors, one pair of which the cutter withdrew and began routing deductively through the woman's hair, the other hand staying put on the cheek, longer and longer, and the woman went home and for afterward the bathtub was now a more likely destination than any of the upright furniture, and it got easier to fill the tub with further clarifying volumes than to clear space on the difficult heights of the sofa, and she was hardly claiming to have become a cleaner [171] person in result—she in fact would often discover, voyaging about her body, a browned, fractionary detail of a larger crepe of toilet tissue that must have got itself stuck in some assy crevice and was impossible to get plucked out of the revolving suds—she was saying only that she spent more and more of her time thus immersed, ill off in water, and the haircutter had surely had a hand in it, the woman was doing some of the cutter's life now, coming into some of its wrong, because you sometimes have to look to somebody else's life to get dimensions set back even part of the way around your own, and it should not have to be any less your own life when it comes from somebody else, and you could surely fudge a society out of anyone available person and get this person doubling for the many, so that in the little run of things perpetuable from one person to the next, every loose moment stood to become a complete, active finality. But by now this was a new day, with only an hour or so off it already, and the place the woman had made me bring us to, the man's place, with a promise that the man was elsewhere—this was on a little offshoot of a street, a stewy efficiency apartment the color had long ago gone out of; and when, once in bed, still clothed, I found among the sheets and blankets a spoiling pair of the man's underpants, one of the leg openings of which was puckered into an avid, sloppy mouth, I held myself accountable for redisposing the fabric until I got a befitting featurelessness back onto it; but all the while, I am sure I had to make myself go over again in my mind that if the body is the porter of as many organs of affec-[172]tion as there might one day turn out to be, then the idea was to let the thing carry you to where you would otherwise never have any reason to arrive, because I listened for the unmelodiof the the thede ofthe woman's zipper, and then the woman made me put myself out of my own clothes, the attritional corduroys and overshirt, and got herself up at last onto the topic not of the man whose apartment it was (because his story was scarcely the story of how the boy who decides he is half a girl no sooner starts to worry about where the other half might than he gets careless with where he rests his eyes, or what he gives even the feeblest of fingerholds to, and anything, even a crumbly triangle of pie offered on a saucer instead of on a pie plate proper, comes in easy, ready, wronging answer), but of her husband, and how, no more than a couple of months into the marriage, he had begun snugging away in his undershorts a little source of chanc, reliable frictions to nudge him onward through the workday—anything company-keeping that could be counted on not to slide out of the elasticky leg holes: a half-dollar packet of chocolate tittles, maybe, that was barely noticeable in the baggy surround of the widecut trousers so popular at the time. For by now the woman had at last brought what is usually called the other mouth to within only inches of my lips, but it is not a mouth, obviously, although I let myself go along with the goodwill behind the comparison, the way I will remain loyal to anything deliberately and faithfully misunderstood, and I fussed my tongue against the vital trifles hung inside of her, as much of the curtailed finery as I could find, [173] and gave the whole insimplicity of it a slow-circling, examinational lick, until I was taking a sudden tepid downwash on the tongue. It was a familiar, latrine in dribble that must have tasted, no doubt, like trouble just starting out.p [1] Editor's Note: Original pagination from first edition print denoted with bracketed page numbers. (shrink)

Mit diesem klaren und provokativen erkenntnistheoretischen Ansatz im Bereich der Religionsphilosophie argumentiert William P. Alston, dass die Wahrnehmung Gottes eines der wichtigsten Beitrage zu den Grunden des religiosen Glaubens liefert. Dabei spielt sein Begriff des direkten erfahrungsmassigen Bewusstsein eine entscheidende Rolle. Nach einem Uberblick uber verschiedene berichtete direkte Gotteserfahrungen zeigt Alston, dass eine Person auf der Grundlage der mystischen Erfahrung berechtigt ist, an Gott zu glauben. "Dieses grossartige Buch ist die Frucht von Jahrzehnten des Reifens und der durchdringenden Reflexion. (...) Wie zu erwarten war, nimmt es die Diskussion des umgebenden Themas der Gotteserfahrung auf und fuhrt es zu einer neuen Ebene der Einsicht und der Durchdringung." Alvin Plantinga, Universitat von Notre Dame, USA "Die Erkenntnistheorie des religiosen Glaubens war vor einiger Zeit das heisseste Thema der Religionsphilosophie. Alstons Arbeit ist der beste und interessanteste Beitrag zu diesem Gebiet. Alston ist nicht nur mit der Verteidigung des religiosen Glaubens beschaftigt, sondern er eroffnet einen plausiblen Vorschlag zum verbesserten Verstandnisses der Frage nach der Entstehung des religiosen Glaubens. Gott wahrnehmen ist sicher der wichtigste Beitrag zur Religionsphilosophie in diesem Jahr." Robert Merrihew Adams, Universitat von Califonien, Los Angeles". (shrink)

First published in 1977. Ethics is the most practical branch of philosophy: its immediate concern is with people's actions. Yet most philosophers do little to relate ethics intelligibly to the human situation. In this inquiry into the nature of ethics, William Ash draws on the relevant works of Marx, Engels, Lenin and Stalin to present the theory and practice of Marxist ethics. He offers an explanation of the moral aspect of Marx's dictum: 'The philosophers have only interpreted the world, (...) in various ways; the point, however, is to change it.' The book includes, perhaps for the first time in so considered a form, an assessment of Mao Tsetung's contribution to Marxist moral philosophy, together with the ethical implications of such developments in social practice as the Proletarian Cultural Revolution. The author deals with the question of value by analysing the concept of 'good'; with the question of claims on people and things by analysing the concept of 'right'; with the question of the limits and scope of freedom of choice and action by analysing the concept of 'ought'.' Clearly written in order to 'de-mystify' the subject, the book challenges readers to test the author's enlightened, Marxist approach in terms of the ethical ordering of their own society. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:BOOK REVIEWS 147 The Godly Image: Christ and Salvation in Catholic Thought from Anselm to Aquinas. By ROMANUS CESSARIO, O.P. Studies in historical theology. v. 6. Petersham, Mass.: St. Bede's Publications, 1990. Pp. xxiv + 214. $14.95 (paper). The Godly Image presents a retouched version of the author's dissertation, first published in 1982 as Christian Satisfaction in Aquinas: Towards a Personalist Understanding (Washington, DC: University Press of America). Seeking (...) a broader audience, the author has dropped the dissertation's numerous Latin footnotes, shortened and enlivened the chapter titles, and streamlined some of his arguments (e.g., pp. 9395 ). He has as well corrected (e.g., on Pannenberg, p. xxii; on Anselm, p. 157) or toned down (e.g., the description of monastic theology, p. 1) earlier statements. Reference to the possibility that Aquinas suffered a nervous breakdown disappears (p. 18). Still, the work remains substantially the same, reproducing even some typos (e.g., William of St. Armour [sic], p. 3) from the original. The new subtitle, Christ and Salvation in Catholic Thought from Anselm to Aquinas, is unfortunate. First, it leads one to expect a survey of the major soteriological positions articulated in the period between the two, hut such is not forthcoming. The work remains what the original title indicated, a study in the thought of Aquinas. Second, in that work Anselm plays hut a perfunctory role, serving as the foil from whose mercantile model (p. 73) or juridical mentality (p. 91) Thomas can advance to a more appropriately interpersonal grasp of the mode of our salvation. This reading of Anselm, however, leaves him in the hands of liberal Protestant historians of doctrine of the nineteenth century, and, as the bibliography indicates, it ignores more recent literature which rightly stresses the metaphysical and religious depth of Anselm's key concept of iustitia. For a precise rendering of the relation between Anselm and Aquinas, one may wish to place greater emphasis on ST III, q.14, a.I, ad 1. In that text Aquinas accomplishes two things. First, he integrates Anselm's concept of satis· faction with the traditional religious insight that, in some sense, Christ suffered what sinners deserve to suffer. At the same time he deepens the concept by rendering explicit the place of love and obedience as the formal element in satisfaction and thus rejoins Anselm in rejecting any strict notion of penal substitution. These reservations aside, the author's thorough, comprehensive, and competent investigation into Aquinas fills a lacuna in the history of soteriology, a lacuna, one regrets to say, still left open by the work of his immediate predecessor, B. Catao. At the same time the scope 148 BOOK REVIEWS of the author's work offers a further and important contribution. By researching Thomas's thought on satisfaction in the context of penance as well as soteriology, the author manages to suggest, and explicitly, that the generative matrix for Thomas's theoretic work in both areas lies in the cruciform dynamics of Christian conversion, the life of grace. With this insight he opens a door from historical theology to a contemporary systematics. Catholic University of America Washington, D.C. WILLIAM P. LOEWE Free Will and the Christian Faith. By W. S. ANGLIN. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990. Pp. vii + 218. $55.00 (cloth). W. S. Anglin, a Post-Doctoral Research Fellow in Mathematics at McGill University, has produced a highly compact and compelling volume which attempts in just 218 pages to prove God's existence, to argue for personal immortality, to defend the coherence of theism against the problem of evil, to provide cogent analyses of both omnipotence and omniscience, and to examine criteria for distinguishing divine revelation from other forms of communication. The thread holding these rather motley swatches of cloth together is the author's concentration on libertarian freedom which weaves throughout the above issues in one way or another. It shows up in the expected places (e.g., in the so-called 'free will defense' of the problem of evil) but also in places hitherto unexpected (Anglin nicely argues that if humans are truly free in the libertarian sense, then it is appropriate and necessary that the Scriptures take the... (shrink)

Like Kolodny, I think feminism one of the most vital and energizing forces in literary criticism today, but for two reasons I found her exposition of the topic disappointing. It seems to me that she underplays the most crucial of the many aesthetic and pedagogical issues raised by feminist literary study, and she endorses a kind of intellectual defeatism when, in the conclusion of her essay, she places a "Posted" sign between the male readers of Critical Inquiry and her own (...) area of work. Both flaws arise, it appears, out of her underestimation or understatement of the revolutionary implications of feminist literary study. On the other hand, both flaws may be evidence of her problem in writing for so general an audience, for in addressing a very heterogeneous audience about a topic so potentially incendiary, she has to confront the rhetorical problem of how to tell the truth and still be heard. It is that problem, I think, that may have led Kolodny and other feminists to propose an intellectual separatism of sorts as a necessary interlude. It seems to me that once the revolutionary implications of feminist literary study are understood, separatism can be seen to be one of the most damaging proposals one could make. William W. Morgan, associate professor of English at Illinois State University, is a contributor to Thomas Hardy: An Annotated Bibliography of Writings About Him and has published essays on Hardy. He is presently working on a book on Hardy's poetry. This essay is a response to Annette Kolodny's "Some Notes on Defining a 'Feminist Literary Criticism'". (shrink)