De 1610 à 1654, Lady Alice Le Strange (1585-1656) tint avec beaucoup de soin le livre de comptes que son mari, Sir Hamon (1583-1654), avait commencé en 1606. Plus méticuleuse et systématique que son époux, elle enregistra de façon détaillée toutes les dépenses et recettes du ménage et poussa l’exactitude jusqu’à consigner les productions de la maisonnée ainsi que les cadeaux reçus des proches et des dépendants. Ce zèle se révèle aujourd’hui précieux pour l’historien, puisque les registres de...

Can an assessment of individuals’ narcissism help explain the quality of a respondent’s ethical judgment? How is the relationship between religiosity and ethical judgment moderated by the effects of narcissism? With a sample of 385 undergraduate business majors, this study uses a taxonomic approach to examine the effects of intrinsic and extrinsic religiosity as well as orthodox Christian beliefs on ethical judgment. Three distinct clusters were identified: Skeptics, Nominals, and Devouts. Surprisingly, of the three clusters, Nominals and Devouts were the (...) only groups impacted by narcissism, although Skeptics overall demonstrate the worst ethical judgment. (shrink)

Analysis of an interview conducted by a white researcher with an African American nutritionist points to the significance of racial-ethnic dynamics in the conduct of qualitative research. Interviewers who follow the standard methodological rule—to let findings “emerge” from their data—may fail to hear the significance of race-ethnicity in the accounts of informants. Close analysis suggests that talk will sometimes reveal racial-ethnic dynamics even when these are not explicit topics and that active attention to such structured inequalities produces a more (...) robust analysis. Institutional ethnography and narrative analysis are discussed as alternatives to the grounded-theory approach to qualitative analysis. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Journal of the History of Ideas 63.1 (2002) 41-62 [Access article in PDF] Pure of Heart: From Ancient Rites to Renaissance Plato Marjorie O'Rourke Boyle The philosopher who published Plato for Western thought praised him strangely. Marsilio Ficino commended his translation of the Phaedrus to his soul mate Iohannes Bessarion because in that dialogue Plato sought from God spiritual beauty. "When this gold was given to Plato by (...) God, it shone in him most brilliantly, because he was so pure in heart." The epithet "pure in heart" is not literally Ficino's diction: he wrote "in his Platonic bosom perfectly clean" (Platonico in sinu utpote mundissimo). 1 Although this philological variant insinuates his full meaning, the modern translation conveys his essential import. Ficino and Bessarion were both scholars and priests, convinced of the compatibility of Platonism with Christianity. The recipient of the letter, Bessarion, had defended the Phaedrusvigorously against protestations that, for promoting the criminal activity of pederasty, it was an obscene work of unchaste philosophy. "Love," he declared, "leads many to beatitude." 2 Ficino emphasized that "no one can attain beatitude, which consists in divine contemplation, unless he loves God ardently." 3 To that end he translated the complete works of Plato into Latin with commentaries. He also composed a speculative Theologia platonica. The pair would have approved of the application to Plato of the gospel promise "Blessed are the pure of heart [hoi katharoi t¯e kardia], for they shall see God" (Matt. 5:8). Was this promise not already fulfilled in Plato, even before Jesus' pronouncement? Did not Socrates in the Phaedrus soar to the vision of God in his myth of the charioteer, where among privileged souls he peered over the rim of intelligible being to behold the divine processional and true being? The [End Page 41] myth figured the recollection of the soul's primordial state of innocence, "when we were pure ourselves," and, beholding "the beatific vision," were initiated into its "most blessed" mystery. 4 Bessarion cited the passage defensively, declaring Socrates' speech "most holy." 5The beatitudes, from which "pure of heart" derived, emphatically comprised the opening discourse of Jesus' Sermon on the Mount. Jesus blessed the poor in spirit, the mourners, the meek, those hungry and thirsty for righteousness, the merciful, the pure of heart, the peacemakers, and those persecuted for righteousness. He pronounced a corresponding good for each type (Matt. 5:1-10). The first four beatitudes promised reversals for the unfortunate; the second four, eschatological rewards for the virtuous. 6 Ficino personalized the beatitudes. He applied them in a letter to an archbishop to his own contrasting status as a priest "of humble fortune." Indicating his slight financial means, he affirmed obedience to his lot, even contentment with his meager possessions. He then wielded the divine reversal of human judgment, so startling in the beatitudes, against his enemies. "I am certainly content with few possessions, even though I am often held in contempt by many; for these many ought to be deemed of little worth. Blessed are the poor in spirit. Blessed are the peacemakers." 7Ficino also philosophized the beatitudes. He argued in Theologia platonica that, although the celestial realm was usually considered fiery, it could be earthy, as poets imagined the Elysian Fields. Jesus' beatitude promising the possession of the earth to the meek was proof. Ficino expounded the nine grades of celestial beatitude as a belief shared by Platonists and Christians. He assigned these grades to varying degrees and combinations of three ends: the fear of divine power, the search for wisdom, and the love of good, which ultimately transformed the soul. This elaborate division Ficino compared to Jesus' beatitudes. "I think that this mystery is signified in the gospel, where the divine oracle nine times calls his disciples blessed, because through nine grades of merit, with God leading, the nine heavens are sought blessedly through nine degrees of contemplation." Despite his philosophical imposition on the biblical text, Ficino qualified his syncretism. The gospel admonished the dismissal of philosophical meanderings to pursue... (shrink)

Patient engagement in healthcare is increasingly discussed in the literature, and initiatives engaging patients in quality improvement activities, organizational design, governance, and research are becoming more and more common and have even become mandatory for certain health institutions. Here we discuss a number of ethical challenges raised by this engagement from patients from the perspectives of research, organizational/quality improvement practices, and patient experiences, while offering preliminary recommendations as to how to address them. We identified three broad categories of ethical (...) issues that intersect between the different types of patient engagement: (1) establishing a shared vision about goals of patient engagement and respective roles; (2) the process and method of engaging with patients; and (3) practical aspects of patient engagement. To explain these issues, we build from our personal, professional, and academic experiences, as well as traditions such as pragmatism and hermeneutics that stress the importance of participation, empowerment, and engagement. Patient engagement can be highly valuable at numerous levels, but particular attention should be paid to the process of engaging with patients and related ethical issues. Some lessons from the literature on the ethics of participatory research can be translated to organizational and quality improvement practices. (shrink)

STRAUS'S Vom Sinn der Sinne was published in 1935, Kurt Goldstein's Der Aufbau des Organismus had been published the previous year, E. Minkowski's Le Temps Vécu in 1933, Helmuth Plessner's Die Stufen des Organischen und der Mensch in 1928. In the European literature of philosophical anthropology and, more broadly, of philosophical biology, all these works have exerted a profound influence. In particular, when one reads this literature, the phrase "das schöne Buch von E. Straus" becomes almost a fixed epithet like (...) "swift-foot Achilles" or "the incomparable Mr. Newton." Even Buytendijk, who takes issue with Straus's theory of sensing, pays tribute to—and borrows a great deal from—particular Strausian themes. (shrink)

After so many centuries of debate, much of it even quite recent, as to the credibility of Anselm’s and others’ ontological arguments for the existence of God, it seems only fair to the opposition that some such argument be proposed for Satan’s existence. It must be noted, however, that in advocating the Devil’s existence, we may be no more than playing the Devil’s advocate.

A philosophic tradition makes its mark through the growth and extension of the vocabulary it develops, the categories it articulates, the distinctions it illuminates, and the connections it draws. The power of a philosophical tradition is revealed in the recurrence of its problems and themes, the fecundity of its methods, the durability of its structures and insights. It may be that such power is shown not by generating academic approval and attention, but by a tradition's ability to reconstruct: through persistent (...) inquiry to create the conditions for its own relevance; by its discoveries to open the way to its own rediscovery. Rediscovery in this sense may be recognized by the emergence, after a period of eclipse, of: a vocabulary, a set of categories, a concern with particular distinctions and connections, a focus on problems and a development of themes which had been previously articulated in a powerful philosophic tradition. I shall argue that this emergence may be viewed as “rediscovery” even if those articulating the new positions are unaware of their direct or indirect debt to the earlier tradition; and I shall argue that just such a rediscovery of the American Tradition is apparent in the work of contemporary feminist philosophers. (shrink)

To what extent and in what sense is the being of a person a historical way of being? To what extent? Comprehensively and fundamentally. To be a person is to be a history. In what respect? In two respects, opposed but related. On the one hand, being a person is an achievement of a living individual belonging to a natural kind whose genetic endowment and possible behaviors provide the necessary conditions for that achievement. On the other hand, a human being (...) becomes the person he is within, and as one expression of, a complex network of artifacts—language, ritual, social institutions, styles of art and architecture, cosmologies and myths—that constitute a culture. A culture, of course, is itself a sedimentation of the actions of past persons; but it is, nevertheless, preexistent with respect to the development of any particular person. Great innovators may change their societies, but they have to be born into, and grow up in, some society, however radically they may come to alter, perhaps even to destroy it. Admittedly, the distinction between nature and culture is a commonplace; I am trying to introduce it here, however, not as a simple dichotomy, but as an internal relation essential in its integrity to the being of human beings. Helmuth Plessner has spoken of the natural artificiality of man: a human being is an individual member of the species homo sapiens, to whose development, even as a living thing, inherence in an artifactual medium is necessary. It is our nature to need the artificial; we come to ourselves not only as users of, but as dwellers within, a tightly woven net of artifacts. Even for his physiological development, for the achievement of reproduction, sustenance, rest, and so on, a human being needs, in general, a roof over his head, a language, theories of some kind about the way things are, at least minimal apprenticeship in a trade or calling, etc. Thus human nature, being dependent on culture, is itself historical. For a culture is an historical artifact interiorized in the life history of each of its participants, and to be one of those participants consists precisely in that process of interiorization. That is the chief lesson, for example, of Adolf Portmann’s study of the first year of life, or, as he calls it, the year of the social uterus. Our young, like those of other higher mammals, are born with their senses wide awake, yet, like the lower mammals, and unlike other higher forms, they have to hug the nest, lying recumbent, in order to assimilate, in their dependency, the structure of their immediate human community. Only in the second year of life, when they have learned to walk and to speak, will they enter on a course of what will eventually be responsible actions. In its natural as well as cultural aspect, humanity is something to be achieved, and the person is the history of that achievement. It is in this dual, yet single, sense that the being of the person is historical. (shrink)

This paper discusses the contribution that the work of Sally Gadow makes to understandings of interpretive inquiry and it's potential to inform and influence nursing practice, research, and education. The discussion draws on several of Gadow's published works that make explicit her understandings of what it means to be interpretive, to be open to multiple truths, to hear multiple voices, to have a history, to be experienced, and to recognize agency in language. Situating this discussion of Gadow's contribution in opposition (...) to a metaphysics of genius is intended to move our understanding of particular work past the subjectivity that produced it, past the subjectivized responses to the work, past the reporting on myself – my thoughts, my perspectives, my experiences – to explore, to see the worthwhileness or even the possibilities of exploring the work itself and the worlds it evokes. This paper is a deliberate attempt to disrupt the call to the author to save us from the task of interpreting the questions that the work itself places us under. Gadow's work itself points us away from a valorization of the voice of the author of the work, a single voice, and towards a cultivation of a worldly repose where each interpretive account points us to some longstanding whole to which the work belongs and from which it gains its sense and significance. (shrink)

Whatever we choose to call Beckett’s series of disjunctive and repetitive paragraphs , Ill Seen Ill Said surely has little in common with the short story or the novella. Yet this is how the editors of the New Yorker, where Beckett’s piece first appeared in English in 1981, evidently thought of it, for like all New Yorker short stories, it is punctuated by cartoons and, what is even more ironic, by a “real” poem, Harold Brodkey’s “Sea Noise” . Notice (...) that the reader immediately knows—or is supposed to know—that Brodkey is a poet and Beckett a fiction writer, not only because “Sea Noise” is designated a poem in the issue’s table of contents, but also because its placement on the page, framed by white space, distinguishes it from Ill Seen Ill Said, which is printed in standard New Yorker columns. Yet if we examine the sound structure of Brodkey’s poem, we find that the rhythm of recurrence is, if anything, less prominent here than in the Beckett “prose.” The four stanzas are of irregular line length ; the stress count ranges from one to five ; rhyme occurs only once, at the end of the poem ; and alliteration and assonance are not marked. Unless we assume that poetry is defined by the sheer decision of its maker to lineate the text, or unless we want to call “Sea Noise” a poem because it is built around a single extended metaphor , there is no rationale for the classification the New Yorker has implicitly adopted.4The meaning of this classification is worth pondering, for it represents, in microcosm, the orthodoxy of every major literature textbook and literary history as well as of most classrooms in the United States and Britain, which that Beckett is a writer who, like the young Joyce or the young Faulkner, wrote in his dim youth some negligible, clotted lyric poems but whose real work belongs to drama and fiction. As such, we don’t teach Beckett in our poetry courses or include him in discussions of contemporary poetry and poetics. The index of any major book on the subject—say, Robert Pinsky’s The Situation of Poetry—will bear this out. And yet the irony is that contemporary poets are increasingly using forms that cannot be properly understood without the example of Beckett’s astonishing “lyrics of fiction”—to use Ryby Cohn’s apt term5—or, as I shall call them, his “associative monologues.” Perhaps, then, it is time to rethink our current procedures of canon making. In what follows, I shall use Ill Seen Ill Said as an example.4. Contemporary prosodists, perhaps because they must account for the difficult case of free verse, generally do equate verse—and hence implicitly the poem—with lineation. For example, Charles O. Hartman, in his recent Free Verse: An Essay in Prosody , observes that, difficult as it is to define the word “poetry” “rigorously and permanently,” verse can be distinguished from prose quite readily:Verse is language in lines. This distinguishes it from prose…. This is not really a satisfying distinction, as it stands, but it is the only one that works absolutely. The fact that we can tell verse from prose on sight, with very few errors…indicates that the basic perceptual difference must be very simple. Only lineation fits the requirements. [P.11]But, as I have just shown in the case of Beckett and Brodkey, what looks like verse may sound like prose and vice versa. The “basic perceptual difference” between the two is surely not as simple as Hartman suggests. I discuss this question from a somewhat different angle in “The Linear Fallacy,” Georgia Review 35 : 855-69.5. See Ruby Cohn, Back to Beckett , chap. 5, “Lyrics of Fiction.”. (shrink)

The Japanese poet-scholar John Solt is perhaps best known in the United States for his excellent biocritical study (Harvard, 1999) of the avant-garde poet Kitasono Katue, who served, from the mid-1930s on, as Ezra Pound's primary conduit to the stylization of Japanese poetics that he so admired. “Kit Kat,” as Pound fondly called the poet he knew only via their extensive correspondence, was Pound's translator, editor, and sometime collaborator; in return, Pound (who did not read Japanese) wrote admiringly of Katue's (...) work in Guide to Kulchur and elsewhere.Solt has now published a beautifully produced volume of his own distinctive poetry—a poetry that fuses the concision of Japanese tanka and haiku with very up-to-date explorations of what Pound called moeurs contemporaines: riddling short lyrics laced with humor and a telling irony that makes the reader smile with a shock of recognition. In the spirit of Kenneth Rexroth, with whom he studied in Santa Barbara, Solt's seemingly “simple” free verse is carefully structured. The minimalist poems are placed, one per page, in different spatial positions, with the Japanese translation en face. The volume contains a sprinkle of elegies and occasional poems, but Solt's signature poems are epigrams or aphorisms in the vein of the Zen koan: i held my tongueas if it werea ticketThe pun on the word held and the ticket metaphor can be read quite variously: I said nothing, saving my “ticket” for future gain. Or I “held” my tongue as one holds on to a precious ticket for some form of entrance, perhaps erotic. Indeed, Solt excels at the erotic poem—one that is never directly confessional or even personally expressive but that gives the reader a strong sense of a particular moment, as inice cubes meltin the crackleof your nakednessyou roll down your lace stockingsexposing the same designin tattoo... where it is the imprint the lace leaves on the skin that produces arousal. We never know who the “you” of these poems is, nor does it matter. We only know—in the case of a neighboring poem—that the lovers have “met again / and again / like spinning tops,” until “with centrifugal force / we easily slipped / outside the windows / of our eyes.” Caught up in the moment of ecstasy, they no longer see one another.In this complex and subtle poetry, comparisons come readily, only to be given an ironic twist: the mind is a kitehe thoughtletting goof both stringsAnd things are never quite what they seem: you toasted“happiness to usand confusionto our enemies”and I laughedsecureuntil a cloud formedin my mindWe have all had this experience of group approval only to wonder—the next minute—whether we really agree. Solt's minimalist lyrics not only make us smile: they also make us think. (shrink)

Originally published in 1940, this book contains a succinct introduction to Boethius, the influential medieval philosopher who was writing during the final days of the Western Roman Empire. Barrett keeps the general reader in mind as she explains Boethius' philosophy and his role in keeping Greek thinking available to his fellow Romans even as they were being conquered by the Ostrogoths. This book will be of value to anyone with an interest in ancient thought and in Late Antique philosophy.

Before publishing his landmark _Meditations_ in 1641, Rene Descartes sent his manuscript to many leading thinkers to solicit their objections to his arguments. He included these objections, along with his own detailed replies, as part of the first edition. This unusual strategy gave Descartes a chance to address criticisms in advance and to demonstrate his willingness to consider diverse viewpoints—critical in an age when radical ideas could result in condemnation by church and state, or even death. _Descartes and his (...) Contemporaries_ recreates the tumultuous intellectual community of seventeenth-century Europe and provides a detailed, modern analysis of the _Meditations_ in its historical context. The book's chapters examine the arguments and positions of each of the objectors—Hobbes, Gassendi, Arnauld, Morin, Caterus, Bourdin, and others whose views were compiled by Mersenne. They illuminate Descartes' relationships to the scholastics and particularly the Jesuits, to Mersenne's circle with its debates about the natural sciences, to the Epicurean movements of his day, and to the Augustinian tradition. Providing a glimpse of the interactions among leading 17th-century intellectuals as they grappled with major philosophical issues, this book sheds light on how Descartes' thought developed and was articulated in opposition to the ideas of his contemporaries. (shrink)

The current studies (N = 255, children ages 4–5 and adults) explore patterns of age‐related continuity and change in conceptual representations of social role categories (e.g., “scientist”). In Study 1, young children's judgments of category membership were shaped by both category labels and category‐normative traits, and the two were dissociable, indicating that even young children's conceptual representations for some social categories have a “dual character.” In Study 2, when labels and traits were contrasted, adults and children based their category‐based (...) induction decisions on category‐normative traits rather than labels. Study 3 confirmed that children reason based on category‐normative traits because they view them as an obligatory part of category membership. In contrast, adults in this study viewed the category‐normative traits as informative on their own (not only as a cue to obligations). Implications for continuity and change in representations of social role categories will be discussed. (shrink)

Evolutionary theory is a tempting field for non-biologists, partly, I suppose, because it seems to impinge on such large questions about human and/or animal nature, “the meaning of life” and such, and for philosophers because of its tantalizing conceptual structure. Darwinian evolutionary theory in particular—the orthodoxy of the present and recurrently the most prestigious theory on and off throughout the past century—Darwinian evolutionary theory seems both remarkably simple and persistent in its basic principles, and yet remarkably flexible, not to say (...) ambiguous, in some of its fundamental concepts. Accuse it of determinism, it turns teleological, accuse it of basing a most improbable history on chance, it tells of selection’s creative powers, creative in the full sense, like a composer or a poet. But accuse it of anthropomorphism, it turns hard-nosed and deterministic or even “merely” statistical. What material could be better suited to what my colleagues in Leeds used to call “concept-cracking”? (shrink)

Desmond Clarke's remarks on “my” absurdity argument are puzzling. i) Although I do indeed still believe it to be a valid argument, I certainly would not claim credit for it. I believe that “Reducibility: Another Side Issue?” put the general problem of the reducibility of mind into a somewhat unorthodox context, but the particular claim Clarke is attacking forms only one very unoriginal step in the general argument of that essay. ii) Some points that Clarke makes I would certainly agree (...) to, and believe I have agreed to in some of the texts he cites, while others are far from anything I meant to convey. Under Clarke's, 1) of course the “antinomies” of the paper above referred to trade on ambiguities. That's one of the points of the paper. 2) in both “Reducibility … ” and “To Have A Mind …”, I have tried to specify the sense in which “mechanism” was being used. That I do not take such terms as self-explanatory should be clear, for instance, from the remarks in the latter paper that immediately follow the passage Clarke criticizes. 3) I have no idea how physics is to develop in the future, nor did I wish to suggest that I did. With the rest of Clarke's I entirely agree. As to his, I fail to see its relevance to my argument, unless it simply leads up to and, with which, again, I wholeheartedly concur. Nancy Maull's paper, which Clarke refers to, for example, seems to me to shed great light on what used to be thought the problem of reduction; I don't see how her argument conflicts with “mine.” iii) Clarke's two “interpretations” of “my” argument are even more puzzling. The first paragraph is clear, as far as it goes. But the second is entirely murky. Perhaps I may try to reconstruct it. “The question for the scientist of a reductivist disposition in this context,” Clarke writes, “is: would it be possible to construct an alternative theory which adequately explains the same phenomena as the human sciences?” Fair enough. But apparently one is not allowed to reflect about an answer to this question. One has to wait and see if such a theory does develop. And meantime to notice that any theory by its very nature is intentional: this is to use some part of the human sciences to establish the explanatory power of all the human sciences. Is that what is meant? If so, I would reply: that the claim that theories are inherently intentional is not a thesis of any “human science” but a philosophical thesis about the nature of intelligible discourse. If a wholly non-intentional theory of human action were stated it would invalidate itself as theory. Thus, to respond to the major accusation of, we would have an answer to Clarke's question such that the question could not have been asked. What we have, then, is not a petitio but a valid reductio ad absurdum. (shrink)

La séparation parentale apparaît comme un événement fréquent, mais néanmoins majeur dans la vie d’un sujet, surtout à l’adolescence. Comment se conjuguent adolescence et les problématiques psychiques (œdipienne et de perte) et relationnelles qu’elle implique, avec la séparation parentale? L’article discute ici le cas d’Adèle, âgée de 22 ans, pour qui la séparation des parents a eu lieu lorsqu’elle avait 16 ans. Adèle a été rencontrée trois fois dans le contexte d’une recherche. Les éléments cliniques recueillis lors des entretiens mènent (...) sur la voie d’effets négatifs toujours actuels en lien avec la séparation parentale et qui se télescopent avec une sensibilité préalable à la perte. On peut repérer, dans le cas d’Adèle, une instabilité identificatoire, un clivage des figures parentales, une accentuation de l’ambivalence à l’égard du parent de sexe opposé, une errance scolaire et des difficultés relationnelles. Ce cas clinique illustre la nécessité de procéder à un repérage des adolescents en souffrance suite à la séparation parentale et d’offrir un accompagnement aux parents. (shrink)

The United States, unlike most developed countries, continues to use the marital couple as the taxable unit for its income tax. This continued use of the marital unit— like its original establishment —rests on cultural preferences. This Article suggests that the roles of marriage, religion and taxation in America are essential factors in America’s retention of the marital unit. Part I examines the distinctive contribution marriage — especially the traditional single-earner breadwinner marriage — makes to the political life of the (...) country. Part II explores the similar role of religion. Part III describes some congressional efforts over the past two decades to aid, ostensibly, married couples through the income tax. Part IV concludes that although these actions have not been the most effective or efficient means of helping married couples, they nevertheless serve an important expressive purpose. Tax has been the arena for many political issues since the founding of the nation. Consequently, congressional actions and rhetoric regarding the income tax’s "marriage penalty" reinforce the marital unit/joint return and reaffirm — even if only symbolically — a national commitment to marriage as instrumental to American democracy. (shrink)

Joel Katzav's survey of the philosophy of Grace Andrus de Laguna's philosophy covers a broad range of ideas, and I have selected three for further development and commentary: (1) the relationship between naturalism and analytic philosophy, (2) the relationship between classical and radical empiricism, and (3) the historical question of where to situate a view such as de Laguna's in the history, the present, and the future of philosophy. I suggest that the view belongs with a group I call the (...) ‘New Naturalists’, including Theodore de Laguna, Susanne Langer, Marjorie Grene, Michael Polanyi, and others who keep philosophy closer to developments in natural and social science than is typical for pragmatists, process philosophers, and analytic philosophers. This is a position somewhere between classical and radical empiricism, but which insists that reductionism is too limiting and unwise, even when restricted to being only a method. (shrink)

Marjorie Grene (1910-2009) and David Hull (1935-2010) were among the most influential voices in late twentieth-century philosophy of biology. But, as Grene and Hull pointed out in published discussions of one another’s work over the course of nearly forty years, they disagreed strongly on fundamental issues. Among these contested issues is the role of what is sometimes called “typology” and “typological thinking” in biology. In regard to taxonomy and the species problem, Hull joined Ernst Mayr’s construal of typological thinking (...) as a backward relic of pre-Darwinian science that should be overcome. Grene, however, treated the suspicion of typological thinking that characterized Hull’s views, as well as those of other architects of the New Evolutionary Synthesis, as itself suspicious and even unsustainable. In this paper I review three debates between Grene and Hull bearing on the question of the validity of so-called typological thinking in biology: (1) a debate about the dispensability of concepts of “type” within evolutionary theory, paleontology, and taxonomy; (2) a debate about whether species can be adequately understood as individuals, and thereby independently of those forms of thinking Hull and Mayr had construed as “typological”; and (3) a debate about the prospects of a biologically informed theory of human nature. (shrink)

The history of phenomenology, and its absence, in American philosophy. Phenomenology and so-called “continental philosophy” receive scant attention in most American philosophy departments, despite their foundational influence on intellectual movements such as existentialism, post-structuralism, and deconstruction. In Inventing Philosophy’s Other, Jonathan Strassfeld explores this absence, revealing how everyday institutional practices played a determinative role in the development of twentieth-century academic discourse. Conventional wisdom holds that phenomenology’s absence from the philosophical mainstream in the United States reflects its obscurity or even (...) irrelevance to America’s philosophical traditions. Strassfeld refutes this story as he traces phenomenology’s reception in America, delivering the first systematic historical study of the movement in the United States. He examines the lives and works of Marjorie Grene, Alfred Schütz, Hubert Dreyfus, and Iris Marion Young, among others, while also providing a fresh introduction to phenomenological philosophy. (shrink)

One of the signal developments in contemporary criticism over the past several years has been the ascendancy of the colonial paradigm. In conjunction with this new turn, Frantz Fanon has now been reinstated as a global theorist, and not simply by those engaged in Third World or subaltern studies. In a recent collection centered on British romanticism, Jerome McGann opens a discussion of William Blake and Ezra Pound with an extended invocation of Fanon. Donald Pease has used Fanon to open (...) an attack on Stephen Greenblatt’s reading of the Henriad and the interdisciplinary practices of the new historicism. And Fanon, and published interpretations of Fanon, have become regularly cited in the rereading of the Renaissance that have emerged from places like Sussex, Essex, and Birmingham.1My intent is not to offer a reading of Fanon to supplant these others, but to read, even if summarily, some of these readings of Fanon. By focusing on successive appropriations of this figure, as both totem and text, I think we can chart out an itinerary through contemporary colonial discourse theory. I want to stress, then, that my ambitions here are extremely limited: what follows may be a prelude to a reading of Fanon, but does not even begin that task itself.2 1. See Jerome McGann, “The Third World of Criticism,” in Rethinking Historicism: Critical Readings in Romantic History, ed. Marjorie Levinson et al., pp. 85-107, and Donald Pease, “Toward a Sociology of Literary Knowledge: Greenblatt, Colonialism, and the New Historicism,” in Consequences of Theory, ed. Barbara Johnson and Jonathan Arac.2. A properly contextualized reading of Fanon’s Black Skin, White Masks, the text to which I most frequently recur, should situate it in respect to such germinal works as Jean-Paul Sartre’s Réflexions sur la question Juive, Dominique O. Mannoni’s Psychologie de la colonisation, Germaine Guex’s La Névrose d’abandon, as well as many lesser known works. But this is only to begin to sketch out the challenge of rehistoricizing Fanon. Henry Louis Gates, Jr. is coeditor of Transition, a quarterly review, and the author of Figures in Black and The Signifying Monkey, which received an American Book Award. (shrink)

In now classic article, James Clifford offers a novel perspective on ethnographic texts. Inspired by literary studies he uses contemporary ethnographic works to question ethnography’s claims of scientific objectivity and a clear distinction between allegorical and factual. If ethnography aims to keep its contemporary relevance, it should specifically focus on allegory as an intrinsic quality of ethnographic texts This kind of analysis may assume that any ethnographic text accounts for facts and events but at the same time it tackles the (...) moral, ideological or even cosmological issues. According to Clifford, ethnography has been dominated by a “pastoral” allegorical register which allowed an ethnographer to occupy a privileged position to interpret other, non-writing cultures. Clifford notices that this register is loosing support in the modern world since the difference between illiterate and literate cultures is not relevant anymore. Ethnographic pastoral is now replaced with self-reflexive and dialogical forms of ethnographic writing, analyzed by Clifford by the example of Marjorie Shostak’s book Nisa: The Life and Words of a!Kung Woman. (shrink)

A new science, the science of complexity, is birthing. This science boldly promises to transform the biological and social sciences in the forthcoming century. My own book, Origins of Order: Self Organization and Selection in Evolution, (Kauffman, 1992), is at most one strand in this transformation. I feel deeply honored that Marjorie Grene undertook organizing a session at the Philosophy of Science meeting discussing Origins, and equally glad that Dick Burian, Bob Richardson and Rob Page have undertaken their reading (...) of the manuscript and careful thoughts. In this article I shall characterize the book, but more importantly, set it in the broader context of the emerging sciences of complexity. Although the book is not yet out of Oxford press’s quiet womb, my own thinking has moved beyond that which I had formulated even a half year ago. Meanwhile, in the broader scientific community, the interest in “complexity” is exploding. (shrink)

This edited volume is the first specialized book in English about the Swiss zoologist and anthropologist Adolf Portmann. It provides a clarification and update of Portmann’s theoretical approach to the phenomenon of life, characterized by terms such as “inwardness” and “self-presentation.” Portmann’s concepts of secondary altriciality and the social uterus have become foundational in philosophical anthropology, providing a benchmark of the difference between humans and animals. In its content, this book brings together two approaches: historical and philosophical analysis of Portmann’s (...) studies in the life sciences and application of Portmann’s thought in the fields of biology, anthropology, and biosemiotics. Significant attention is also paid to the methodological implications of his intended reform of biology. Besides contributions from contemporary biologists, philosophers, and historians of science, this volume also includes a translation of an original essay by Portmann and a previously unpublished manuscript from his most remarkable English-speaking interpreter, philosopher Marjorie Grene. Portmann’s conception of life is unique in its focus on the phenomenal appearance of organisms. Confronted with the enormous amount of scientific knowledge being produced today, it is even clearer than it was during Portmann’s lifetime that although biologists employ physical and chemical methods, biology itself is not physics and chemistry. These exact methods must be applied according to what has meaning for living beings. If biology seeks to understand organisms as autonomous agents, it needs to take display and the interpretation of appearances as basic characteristics of life. The topic of this book is significantly relevant to the disciplines of theoretical biology, philosophy, philosophical anthropology, and biosemiotics. The recent epigenetic turn in biology, acknowledging the interconnections between organismal development, morphology and communication, presents an opportunity to revisit Portmann’s work and to reconsider and update his primary ideas in the contemporary context. (shrink)

Professor Gill's recent defence of the notion of ‘reasons of the heart’ in religion 1 depends upon Polanyi's view that through ‘tacit knowledge’ of lower levels of reality we can come to know something of higher levels - even, I take it, of God, himself, as the highest level of all. Unfortunately, Polanyi's argument for such a hierarchy of being is confused and depends for its apparent strength on an illicit mixing together of ontological and what may be loosely (...) called methodological claims. Because of this and other confusions, the argument is difficult to state concisely. For convenience I will first use Marjorie Grene's formulation. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:June 25, 2012 (9:21 pm) E:\CPBR\RUSSJOUR\TYPE3201\russell 32,1 060 red.wpd russell: the Journal of Bertrand Russell Studies n.s. 32 (summer 2012): 83–6 The Bertrand Russell Research Centre, McMaster U. issn 0036-01631; online 1913-8032 ibliographies, rchival nventories, ndexes A BIBLIOGRAPHY OF PATRICIA RUSSELL Kenneth Blackwell Russell Archives/Russell Research Centre / McMaster U. Hamilton, on, Canada l8s 4l6 [email protected] B ertrand Russell took his own advice not to marry a woman novelist, (...) but he did marry women who wrote for publication. His third wife, Patricia Russell (née Marjorie Spence, then Patricia Helen Spence, and, after divorcing Russell, Mrs. P.yH. Spence) was no exception. Having studied history at Oxford, she did a great deal of research for Russell and some actual writing. She did some public speaking during the ccny case in 1940, and in 1946 she organized a major meeting in Cambridge for the Save Europe Now organization. Later in the 1940s she began employment in town planning, and brief mentions of that topic show up in Authority and the Individualz (1949). The Bodleian Library, Oxford, has a box of her papers, placed, at her instructions, under a very lengthy embargo. On one occasion while they were in America there was an employment opportunity for her. It involved her writing skills, and her husband drafted the following testimonial. With its strikeouts, it is unWnished in the form in which it survives, and we cannot be sure it was sent. It is dated December 6, 1941. My wife, Patricia Helen Russell, has, throughout the last ten years acted both as my collaborator and as my secretary. In the latter capacity she has drafted and written, on my behalf, letters on a great variety of subjects, and has shown great skill in doing so, both as regards literary style and grasp of the matter concerned. As regards collaboration: In “Freedom and Organization, 1814–1914”, she did a very large part of the research and a considerable part of the actual writing. In “The Amberley Papers”, which was published under our joint names, she did considerably more than half the work, not only as regards detail, but also as regards the general plan. In addition to this work on books, she has written magazine articles on my behalf, sometimes in part, sometimes wholly. Her purely secretarial work has been very extensive and always admirable. (ra1 142.079883) books By “the last ten years” Russell is dating the start of their collaboration to 1932. This is consistent with the acknowledgements he makes to her in several books on which she collaborated with him in various ways, in addition to her title-page June 25, 2012 (9:21 pm) E:\CPBR\RUSSJOUR\TYPE3201\russell 32,1 060 red.wpd 84 kenneth blackwell 1 See Brett Lintott, “Russell’s Aborted Book on Fascism”, Russellz 28 (2008): 39–64. credit in The Amberley Papers. They even planned a joint work, on the rise of Nazism and Fascism,1 but after some years it was discontinued. She contributed much to the unpublished book manuscript, “The Problems of Democracy”, written in 1941–42. Freedom and Organization, 1814–1914. London: George Allen & Unwin; New York: W.xW. Norton, 1934. Preface, p. viii: “Throughout the writing of this book, the work has been shared by my collaborator, Peter Spence, who has done half the research, a large part of the planning, and small portions of the actual writing, besides making innumerable valuable suggestions.” (The Wrst edition omitted “valuable” and an erratum slip was inserted.) In Praise of Idleness and Other Essays. London : George Allen & Unwin; New York: W.xW. Norton, 1935. Preface, p. 6: “I have also to acknowledge the assistance of Peter Spence in suggesting and discussing many of the subjects.” The Amberley Papers: the Letters and Diaries of Lord and Lady Amberley. Edited by Bertrand and Patricia Russell. 2 vols. London: Leonard & Virginia Woolf at the Hogarth Press; New York: W.yW. Norton & Company, 1937. The preface is signed “B.R.” above “P.R.” From Russell’s letter to The Times Literary Supplement, 20 March 1937: “Your reviewer treats the work as more mine and less my wife’s... (shrink)

My education in political poetry begins with William Blake’s remark about John Milton in The Marriage of Heaven and Hell: “The reason Milton wrote in fetters when he wrote of Angels & God, and at liberty when of Devils & Hell, is because he was a true Poet and of the Devil’s party without knowing it.”1 The statement is usually taken as a charming misreading of Milton or as some sort of hyperbole. We find it lumped with other readings which (...) supposedly view Satan as the hero of Paradise Lost, such as Percy Bysshe Shelley’s in A Defence of Poetry, although neither Blake nor Shelley says anything of the kind.2I consider Blake’s statement simply accurate. I think it the best single thing anybody has ever said about Paradise Lost. If not clear as a bell, then at least as compressed as diamonds. The insouciant opening gesture takes for granted what to Blake is obvious” that the poetry qua poetry is better, more exciting, more energetic in the sections dominated by Stan, worse, duller, less poetic in the sections dominated by God. As a lover of poetry Blake has evidently struck a perplexity. Why does Milton’s Satan excite me and this God bore me even though he plainly intends me to adore God and scorn Satan? The answer could have been that Milton “wrote in fetters” where constrained by theology and the danger of lapsing into inadvertent sacrilege, but “at liberty” otherwise. Other critics have claimed that it is impossible to make God talk successfully in a poem, but the Book of Job is enough to refute that position. Why did Milton choose to make God talk at all? Dante cleverly avoided that difficulty.The second half of Blake’s sentence not only solves the Paradise Lost problem but proposes a radical view of all poetry which might be summarized as follows: All art depends on opposition between God and the devil, reason and energy. The true poet is necessarily the partisan of energy, rebellion, and desire, and is opposed to passivity, obedience, and the authority of reason, laws, and institutions. To be a poet requires energy; energetic subjects make the best material for poems; the truer the poetry, the more it will embody the truths of Desire. But the poet need not think so. He can be of the devil’s party without knowing it. 1. William Blake, “The Marriage of Heaven and Hell,” Complete Poems, ed. Alicia Ostriker , p. 182.2. Let one instance serve: Marjorie Hope Nicolson wonders whether the members of the “‘Satanic School’ of Milton criticism” have read past books 1 and 2 of Paradise Lost . Alicia Ostriker, professor of English as Rutgers University, is the author of Stealing the Language: The Emergence of Women’s Poetry in America. Her most recent book of poetry is Imaginary Lover. (shrink)

W. H. Auden, the sometimes Greta Garbo of twentieth-century poetry, once told Stephen Spender that he liked America better than England because in America one could be alone. Further, in his introduction to The Criterion Book of Modern American Verse Auden remarked that while in England poets are considered members of a “clerkly caste,” in America they are an “aristocracy of one.” Certainly it does seem to be the individual poet—Whitman, Williams, Olson, Plath, O’Hara, Ginsberg—who has altered the landscape of (...) American poetry and prosody, not the group. And most American literary “movements,” as Robert Creeley has pointed out, are simply comprised of a few people who on occasion drink together, and who are as likely as not to end the evening in violent argument over an aesthetic or political point. Yet the notion of schools or movements remains, in mainstream historical criticism at least, a vital one. How many introductions to anthologies of American poetry, for example, continue to use such rubrics as the Transcendentals, the Populists, the Black Mountain poets, the Beats, the New York group? And while established poets often rebel from any sense that they are part of a larger community, which by definition is self-limiting, they are often complicit in their initial categorization. For poets as well as critics the idea of a school is often a useful fiction serving as both a kind of protective hothouse and a platform for getting a hearing.The most recent “group” of American poets—the first since the anthology wars of the early sixties really to be of more than passing interest and perhaps to be actually capable of bringing about a major shift of attention in American poetry and poetics—is the so-called “Language” school. Individual volumes by poets often considered part of this group number well into three figures now and there have been important journals and anthologies produced in a serious and sustained fashion by these writers. Yet in part because of what seems the essentially hermetic character of the project , there has been little notice of this activity by academic critics or reviewers.1 What I’d like to do here is briefly map a few major aspects of the territory, describing some of the practical and theoretical questions which seem to occupy many of these writers in their ongoing critique of the “workshop poem.” 1. Two important exceptions are discussions of some of this work in Stephen Fredman, Poet’s Prose: The Crisis in American Verse and Marjorie Perloff’s review “The Word as Such: L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E Poetry in the Eighties,” American Poetry Review 13 : 15-22. All further references to Perloff’s article, abbreviated “WS,” will be included in the text. For a discussion of the various Language poetry journals and anthologies, see my chapter “American Poetry, 1940s to the Present” in American Literary Scholarship: An Annual/1983, ed. Warren French , pp. 349-74. Lee Bartlett, an associate professor of English, has directed the University of New Mexico’s creative writing program for five years. Coeditor of the critical journal American Poetry, his Talking Poetry: Conversations in the Workshop with Contemporary Poets will be published this fall. Currently he is writing a biography of William Everson. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Journal of the History of Ideas 61.1 (2000) 153-156 [Access article in PDF] JHI 2000 Donald R. Kelley It was just sixty years ago that this Journal first made its appearance. Two hundred thirty-nine issues later it continues in a world transformed by war, overpopulation, cultural shocks, scientific and technological transformations, globalization, the avalanche of information produced by electronic exchange, and "the acceleration of just about everything." Yet despite (...) these factors and the strains of postmodernism and cultural alterity, 1 it has not entirely lost touch with its intellectual innocence, faith in humanistic learning, and reliance on enlightened reason. This continuity itself may seem something of a novelty in an age of distrust of history and "rage against reason," but for some of us it reflects the critical spirit and intellectual context out of which such ostensibly subversive attitudes emerge, and reemerge. To some extent, moreover, the diversity of opinions about intellectual traditions is the result of specializations, and special interests, which have changed the climate of opinion since the time of Arthur O. Lovejoy, principal founder of the JHI. Lovejoy's vision was super- as well as inter-disciplinary; that is, he intended to include in the agenda of "history of ideas" particular areas of history of philosophy, literature, art, science, social science, etc., as well as the larger intellectual and cultural areas into which these disciplinary histories extend. 2 These days, however, all these disciplinary traditions have their own more specialized journals and do not need to seek a vehicle in publications of more general interest. What remains then, for the most part, is the interdisciplinary arena in which larger questions of human experience should be posed--and for Lovejoy, as for so many epigones and critics, the main "larger question" is not only one of value but also of specifically historical inquiry. 3 [End Page 153]The first issue of the JHI appeared under the editorship of Lovejoy (with Philip Wiener, who did most of the editorial work, as "managing editor"), assisted by a committee that included two historians, three philosophers, four literary scholars, and one political theorist; namely, Crane Brinton, Gilbert Chinard, Morris Cohen, Francis Coker, Richard McKeon, Perry Miller, Marjory Nicolson, J. H. Randall, J. Salwyn Schapiro, and Louis Wright. The first volume featured contributions from each of these, including Wiener, except for Miller (vol. 2), Shapiro (vol. 3), McKeon (vol. 8), and Coker. 4 During the first five years there were also reviews of books by Dilthey (by Horace L. Friess), Croce (Schapiro), Mannheim (Randall), Perry Miller (Herbert W. Schneider), Van Wyck Brooks (Miller) and Alfred Kazin (F. O. Matthiessen). In this period the disciplinary distribution of articles was not markedly different from that of the past five years, nor was the ranking of fields by number of submissions. 5 Most important, the original interdisciplinary thrust of Lovejoy's agenda, if not his attachment to the spiritualist currency of "unit-ideas," has survived growing specialization.At first the history of ideas was pursued largely in the shadow of the history of philosophy; for in this field, according to Lovejoy, "is to be found the common seed-plot, the locus of initial manifestation in writing, of the greater number of the more fundamental and pervasive ideas, and especially of the ruling preconceptions, which manifest themselves in other regions of intellectual history." 6 Lovejoy's concern was always with concepts, especially "-isms," and yet in some ways he anticipated the "linguistic turn" of the later years of this century, pointing out in particular "the role of semantic shifts, ambiguities, and confusions, in the history of thought and taste," for "nearly all of the great catchwords have been equivocal--or rather, multivocal." 7 If ideas could be given stable definitions, they were nonetheless often, in the context of language, in conflict, even in the mind of a single thinker; for such was the "anomaly of knowledge." 8 So Lovejoy was at pains to distinguish the various meanings of [End Page 154] catch-words like "nature," "perfectibility," "romanticism," "progress," and "pragmatism," not to mention more inflammatory terms of wartime ideological debate.But... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy and Rhetoric 33.2 (2000) 116-136 [Access article in PDF] Being, Time, and Definition: Toward a Semiotics of Figural Rhetoric Carol Poster For if History in the transferred sense of particular books called "histories," is rather apt to be false: nothing but History in the wider and higher sense will ever lead us to the truth. The Future is unknown and unknowable. The Present is turning to Past (...) class='Hi'>even as we are trying to know it. Only the Past itself abides our knowledge. --George Saintsbury, A Letter BookDefining and classifying figures of speech and thought have been among the more important tasks of rhetoricians and grammarians for more than two millennia. The inventional focus, however, of much modern rhetorical theory has tended to relegate figuration either, on the one hand, to the domains of literary criticism or linguistics (the heirs of ancient grammar) or, on the other hand, to an ancillary position. The concomitant marginalization of the study of figures has had a significant effect upon contemporary scholarship in historical rhetoric. Many of the seminal scholarly works on the history of rhetoric have denigrated or minimized the importance of figural rhetoric. As Brian Vickers (1990, 294-95) has mentioned, George Kennedy and numerous other historians of rhetoric (e.g., Clarke 1996, 34) tend to condemn the teaching of figural rhetoric as dreary, tedious, and otiose. Often, the very periods themselves in which the study of the figures was pursued most vigorously and extensively are omitted from or condemned by modern scholarly discussion. As Marjorie Curry Woods has pointed out (1995, 73-78), biases against the medieval period, especially as found in Charles Sears Baldwin (1928) and Kennedy (1963, 1980) have in many ways defined the contours of our discipline, especially our attitudes toward the study of figures and tropes. Late antiquity and the Middle Ages, the periods of "decline" so deplored by Baldwin, Vickers, Kennedy, and others, were those in which figural rhetoric flourished, and both the sheer [End Page 116] volume of extant figural treatises and the continuity of figural rhetoric from the Hellenistic period through such contemporary semipopular books as Arthur Quinn's Figures of Speech: 60 Ways to Turn a Phrase (1982) and William Espy's The Garden of Eloquence: A Rhetorical Bestiary (1983) demand attention from the historical scholar. Along with the trivialization of figures in contemporary rhetoric has come a drastic oversimplification of the semiotics of figural terminology, which, in turn, contributes to the trivialization of many recent accounts of figures. To recover a more complex understanding of the semiotics of figural terms, we must start with a historical understanding of figuration, because rhetorical terms are encased in numerous historical strata that determine our understandings of them. 1 As Richard Rorty (1984, 49-75) argues concerning the historiography of philosophy, rational and historical reconstruction are mutually interdependent. A brief history of figural rhetoric From antiquity through the present, lists of figures have either occupied substantial sections of general treatises on rhetoric or grammar or have been the subject of specifically figural handbooks. Use of what we might term highly figured speech appears to predate the development of theoretical models for analysis of figures by many centuries. The Homeric epics, which were to provide the standard examples of rhetorical figures for many subsequent centuries, use patterns of speech later to be named and classified as rhetorical figures, but neither figural terminology nor self-conscious reflection upon figures qua figures appears in the epics. Similarly, although Gorgias was renowned for his use of the "Gorgianic" figures that later took his name, there is no evidence that he attempted systematic catologuing or development of specialized terminology for the figures. The testimonia describing his use of poetic words and figures (DK82a1, DK82a2, DK82a4, DK82a32--translated in Sprague 1972) do not attribute to him any invention of technical terminology.The question of invention of specific terminology for rhetorical figures is part of a more general historical question of the development of rhetoric as a self-conscious field. As Thomas Cole (1991) and Edward Schiappa (1991) have pointed out, the first... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy and Literature 25.1 (2001) 1-13 [Access article in PDF] From Postmodernism to Postmodernity: The Local/Global Context Ihab Hassan I What Was Postmodernism? What was postmodernism, and what is it still? I believe it is a revenant, the return of the irrepressible; every time we are rid of it, its ghost rises back. Like a ghost, it eludes definition. Certainly, I know less about postmodernism today than I did (...) thirty years ago, when I began to write about it. This may be because postmodernism has changed, I have changed, the world has changed.But this is only to confirm Nietzsche's insight, that if an idea has a history, it is already an interpretation, subject to future revision. What escapes interpretation and reinterpretation is a Platonic Idea or an abstract analytical concept, like a circle or a triangle. Romanticism, modernism, postmodernism, however, like humanism or realism, will shift and slide continually with time, particularly in an age of ideological conflict and media hype.All this has not prevented postmodernism from haunting the discourse of architecture, the arts, the humanities, the social and sometimes even the physical sciences; haunting not only academic but also public speech in business, politics, the media, and entertainment industries; haunting the language of private life styles like postmodern cuisine--just add a dash of raspberry vinegar. Yet no consensus obtains on what postmodernism really means.The term, let alone the concept, may thus belong to what philosophers call an essentially contested category. That is, in plainer language, if you put in a room the main discussants of the concept--say Leslie Fiedler, Charles Jencks, Jean-François Lyotard, Bernard Smith, Rosalind Krauss, Fredric Jameson, Marjorie Perloff, Linda Hutcheon and, just to [End Page 1] add to the confusion, myself--locked the room and threw away the key, no consensus would emerge between the discussants after a week. But a thin trickle of blood might appear beneath the sill.Let us not despair: though we may be unable to define or exorcise the ghost of postmodernism, we can approach it, surprising it from various angles, perhaps teasing it into a partial light. In the process, we may discover a family of words congenial to postmodernism. Here are some current uses of the term: 1. Frank Gehry's Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao (Spain), Ashton Raggatt McDougall's Storey Hall in Melbourne (Australia), and Arata Isozaki's Tsukuba Center (Japan) are considered examples of postmodern architecture. They depart from the pure angular geometries of the Bauhaus, the minimal steel and glass boxes of Mies van der Rohe, mixing aesthetic and historical elements, flirting with fragments, fantasy, and even kitsch. 2. In a recent encyclical, titled "Fideset Ratio," Pope John Paul II actually used the word postmodernism to condemn extreme relativism in values and beliefs, acute irony and skepticism toward reason, and the denial of any possibility of truth, human or divine. 3. In cultural studies, a highly politicized field, the term postmodernism is often used in opposition to postcolonialism, the former deemed historically feckless, being unpolitical or, worse, not politically correct. 4. In Pop culture, postmodernism--or PoMo as Yuppies call it insouciantly--refers to a wide range of phenomena, from Andy Warhol to Madonna, from the colossal plaster Mona Lisa I saw advertising a pachinko parlor in Tokyo to the giant, cardboard figure of Michelangelo's David--pink dayglo glasses, canary shorts, a camera slung across bare, brawny shoulders--advertising KonTiki Travel in New Zealand. What do all these have in common? Well, fragments, hybridity, relativism, play, parody, pastiche, an ironic, anti-ideological stance, an ethos bordering on kitsch and camp. So, we have begun to build a family of words applying to postmodernism; we have begun to create a context, if not a definition, for it. More impatient or ambitious readers can consult Hans Bertens' The Idea of the Postmodern, the best and fairest [End Page 2] introduction I know to the topic. But now I must make my second move or feint to approach postmodernism from a different perspective. II Postmodernism/Posmodernity. I make this move by... (shrink)

continent. 1.2 (2011): 136-140. In early 2011, Cow Heavy Books published The Official Catalog of the Library of Potential Literature , a compendium of catalog 'blurbs' for non-existent desired or ideal texts. Along with Erinrose Mager, I edited the project, in a process that was more like curation as it mainly entailed asking a range of contemporary writers, theorists, and text-makers to send us an entry. What resulted was a creative/critical hybrid anthology, a small book in which each page opens (...) to a new iteration of textual desire. These texts explore the material possibilities of the book. Somewhat parallel to the call of N. Katherine Hayles who, in her book Writing Machines , urges literary theorists to take up the practice of Medium Specific Analysis (to account for the way the medium in which it is presented conditions or at least bears on a literary text). I see in the imagined works of The Official Catalog a call for the innovative writers of today to become Medium-Responsive. This would mean thinking through the specific (materially constrained) possibilities offered by the media in which texts are presented, and in thinking of the literary text as a kind of art in the greater context of other arts and the book as a medium situated within the context of many other media. In doing so, the contemporary writer refutes the chorus of critics who lament the death of the book by consistently reinvigorating literary innovation. The following are selections from The Official Catalog of the Library of Potential Literature that show possible paths for (thinking about) new writing that engages with its medium. —Ben Segal, Editor THE CUBE Even the most radical non-linear texts have tended to exploit or subvert only the sequential possibilities of print—from the continuous loop of Joyce's Finnegans Wake to the shuffled cards of Marc Saporta's Composition No. 1 —but The Cube takes such multiplicities to an entirely new level. Set in a grid, the book's words can be read conventionally, across the page, as well as down each column—with either route making complete grammatical sense. But they can also be read as stacked strata and mined like lexical core samples through the layered pages of the book. Each path tells the same story from a different perspective (the narrative, naturally, hinges on the potential outcomes of a throw of cubed dice). By opening up the z-axis to reading in this way, The Cube recognizes the book as a three-dimensional sculptural space. Taking its lead from Armand Schwerner's (If Personal) and Raymond Queneau's Cent mille milliards de poèmes , The Cube reads like a experiment by Christian Bök precision printed by Emily McVarish. Craig Dworkin is the editor, most recently, of The Consequence of Innovation: 21st Century Poetics (Roof Books, 2008), The Sound of Poetry/The Poetry of Sound , with Marjorie Perloff (U. Chicago Press, 2009), and Against Expression: An Anthology of Conceptual Writing , with Kenneth Goldsmith (Northwestern UP, 2010). He teaches at the University of Utah. HE GOES In He Goes , we read notes, letters and e-mails from a scholar father to his novelist daughter. We read of the father's musings on Beckett, on Pinter, on Anne Frank; his description of a woman hanging laundry from a line. We read about his journey toward dying, followed by a brief, third person account of his death, and his obituary. Then a long series of blank pages that demand to be read in real time, non-sentence by non-sentence, blank page by blank page. Finally—and it is here that this peculiar little book begins to soar—the dead father writes to his as-of-yet-still-living daughter. He does not write from death. He does not write from life. The words unprint, unstamp, unkindle. Still, they require no translation. The father "writes" (for lack of a better word) about the serendipitous, the commonplace; he recommends another book. He jokes. He asks his daughter how her stomach is. He says forget about presence in absence, darling; screw words as memorial and the guys in garbage cans and loss as redemption and I can't go on I must go on. He goes, "Love, Fodder." He goes, "incidentally." He goes, "I thought you might like to know." Elizabeth Graver is the author of a story collection, Have You Seen Me? , and three novels: Unravelling ; The Honey Thief ; and Awake . Her work has been anthologized in Best American Short Stories , Best American Essays , and Prize Stories: the O. Henry Awards . She teaches at Boston College. THE PAPER ARCHIVIST A stunning package and a triumph of imagination, The Paper Archivist at times looks to be less a book than an abstract expressionist painting. Softly bound, its contents unfold to a single sheet of uneven thickness and texture—a canvas splattered with colored lines, stickers, broken sentences, and nonsense pictographs. But by following the directions to fold, dip, smell, rub, scratch, and tear the sheet according to the contingencies of the weather and using only the objects at hand, the reader slowly brings the forces hidden in the noise into a glorious sculptural convergence, processing a different story and shape each time. This is the rare book that continues to stir, whirl, and pop on every new reading. Sean Higgins blogs at BOMBlog where he is responsible for the column Volumes and Territories, as well as Ghost Island , a fledgling collaborative intellectual collective. THE SLOW BOOK The Slow Book , written by an anonymous author at the dawn of literacy, on a minor planet (otherwise notable only as the source of that exceptionally hardy, not very tasty grain called “shef” sowed on hostile planets as an early step to colonization), and encoded into a series of punctures on a strip of copper coiled inside a clever device, something between a player piano and an old-fashioned film projector, is being released into print, as was the author’s intention, at a rate of one word per century (local time). Each word is, across the Forty Galaxies, agreed to be uncannily apt for the century in which it appears—even “of,” in a century during which the highest value was attached to fidelity, whether to ideals, worlds, or romantic love; even “the,” which governed two centuries, one extraordinarily materialistic, during which advances in propulsion and navigation accelerated the exchange of exceptional objects between the remotest planets of the Forty, and one in which the central concern, both of philosophers and the common man, was whether, in an age of rapidly proliferating hypothetical worlds, anyone or anything concretely existed at all. Even those words published long before interstellar contact can be seen in retrospect to have transgalactic pertinence. As a result, attempts to abstract the machine from its publishers, Hobson & Hui, in order to “predict the future” for insight or gain by “fast- forwarding” the copper strip have been many and ingenious. While, in centuries of skepticism (“maybe”), or of unrest (“go”) the book has been nearly forgotten, in others it seems to haunt every thought, every deed, despite the fact that the subject of The Slow Book is still unclear. So far only a few sentences exist in print; everyone knows them, can quote them, offer the standard exegeses and assorted heresies; yet certainties are the stuff of adolescence; mature readers are forced to acknowledge that these sentences are probably only a preamble to the main argument. They contain no proper nouns, nor can we identify any definite theme. There is even disagreement about their tone, whether coolly ironic, as some insist, or ardent. The appearance of an unusual grammatical case, sometimes called the future pluperfect continuous, used to describe events that at some future point will have always been true (but are not yet)—hitherto known to appear only in the synthetic dogmas of the Thanatographical Society, and in certain highly circumscribed religious contexts—has suggested to some scholars that the Slow Book was originally intended for ritual use, but the proximity of the usage to a term designating a small hand plow that, as Pott and Mielcke have convincingly shown, would have borne a distinctly obscene double meaning in its culture of origin in the author’s time, argues otherwise. It is likewise unclear whether the situation that seems to be—with teasing incompleteness—sketched out in these few lines is intended as an illustration of general principles, a case study, a dramatic scene, or an extended metaphor. In short, we have no idea what The Slow Book is about. In our own time, we believe that it is almost certainly a work of fiction, but that may be because we live in the century of “if”. In each age, perhaps, we see the book we most need to read. Some have dared to suggest that the metal strip is blank until, with millennial fanfare, it advances into its new position, that no ur-text exists, that the book itself is brought into being—written—by our need. But that is exactly the sort of thing we would believe, in 7645. Shelley Jackson is the author of the story collection The Melancholy of Anatomy , the novel Half Life , and hypertexts including Patchwork Girl . The recipient of a Howard Foundation grant, a Pushcart Prize, and the 2006 James Tiptree Jr Award, she has also written and illustrated several children's books, including The Old Woman and the Wave ; Sophia, the Alchemist's Dog ; and Mimi's Dada Catifesto . Her stories and essays have appeared in Conjunctions , McSweeney's , The Paris Review , and Cabinet Magazine . In 2004 she launched her project SKIN , a story published in tattoos on 2095 volunteers. THE BOOK OF SOUNDS The Book of Sounds is just that: a book of sounds made when letters are construed in new ways to bring forth out of the alphabet new forms of speech. A book meant to be read out loud, The Book of Sounds is not unlike Laurie Anderson's O Superman or Brian Eno's Music for Airports in its attempt to make music out of the most primary and simplest of methods. It breaks language down to its barest bones and makes out of the page a drum that has never before been beaten upon. Peter Markus is the author of a novel, Bob, or Man on Boat (Dzanc Books) as well as two books of short fiction, Good, Brother and The Singing Fish , both of which were published by Calamari Press. A new collection of stories, We Make Mud , is now available from Dzanc Books. PARADISE OF THE BLIND by Celan Solen Although the reclusive Celan Solen published his first and only book in 1963—paying out-of-pocket for a limited edition of the slim collection No One May Have the Same Knowledge Again —he remained in American obscurity for almost three decades. In 1992 a micro-press in Istanbul brought out No One in Turkish. A German translation followed in 1995. Soon it became clear in literary circles Solen was a world-class (if highly unclassifiable) artist—lyrical, dense, enigmatic—who could undo the conventional short story in 397 words by inventing impossible worlds housed in impossible whirls (in “Small Sadnesses,” a single chartreuse tree frog in Borneo unknowingly holds time together by its very presence in the universe, while each letter of its tale refers, not to itself, but to the one preceding it in the alphabet). By his disappearance last year, Solen was considered master by a generation of writers and critics (except, alas, for those gentlemen in the Swedish Academy). Imagine, then, that generation’s delight at the discovery, locked away in the author’s safe-deposit box, of his second and final composition. Had Lynch’s Lost Highway been book instead of film, and had it been penned by Beckett at his least certain, revised by Barthelme at his most formally deranged, and typeset by Derrida at his most semiotically catastrophic, the result might have been something like Paradise of the Blind : interlacing narratives of a man composed of borrowed organs (whose most cheerless and difficult to locate, god, could only have been invented by an empty heart), a nonexistent medieval painting blamed for the ruin of future hope, and the spread of a philosophy that holds earth a mistake constantly recurring in the dream of a fish lying on the floor of the Atlantic (if the fish wakes, our world winks off)—all contained in a text packed with typed-over passages, torn postcards, poems that can be deciphered only when held up to a mirror, pages ornamented with trompe-l'œil paperclips and coffee stains and buzzing houseflies, some busy with illegible runes that dissolve when exposed to light, three that smell like roses or lemons (depending on whether a man or woman is reading), two that stain with the bloody fingerprints of the those who handle them, one that ignites when brushed with breath, thirteen sewn from baby skin, one that moans when touched, and one that screams—yet all without mass, unimaginable, and invisible. Lance Olsen is author of more than 20 books of and about innovative fiction, including, most recently, the novels Calendar of Regrets (2010) and Head in Flames (2009). He teaches experimental narrative theory and practice at the University of Utah. SUPERSTRUCTURE! by Barbara D'Albi As soon as I opened the third drawer of Barbara D'Albi's wooden novel, everything became hopeless. Now in Ithaca, there was no going back. And it wasn't just the intricate series of shelves, hinged doors and locked drawers which D'Albi layered into the book, no, lo, I was constructed anew by the story. Who else but D'Albi to imagine a God who becomes a carpenter and gets killed?! And makes it good! You want stories? D'Albi is a skyscraper, built with planes and levers. Momentarily I wondered where I could shelve this book, and then I thought: no matter; I couldn't put it down. Adam Robinson lives in Baltimore, where he runs Publishing Genius. He is the author of Adam Robison and Other Poems and Say, Poem. (shrink)

Start with descriptive sketches of the epistemologies and ontological underpinnings of the philosophies of Plato, Aristotle, Descartes, Hume, and Kant, as they form the point of departure for the modern reductionistic and mechanistic paradigm of scientific explanation—the thesis is modified in the case of Kant, a transitional figure, who did emphasize the notion of agency, but still as fitted into the Cartesian, dualistic framework—and as they provide the locus of return, with important modifications, to teleological, emergentistic, and holistic frameworks of (...) explanation. Add a pluralistic ontology of "comprehensive entities," which relies heavily on M. Polanyi's conceptions of "personal knowledge," "tacit knowing," and the "unexpected-range-of-possibilities" criterion for assessing degrees of reality of grades of being. Blend the former two ingredients with clear and cogent argumentation as well as a skillful handling of some of the recent sources in biology as they bear on the problem of deciding whether emergence and telism are irreducible features of even a rationally reconstructed framework of experience, and one has the makings of a challenging book by Marjorie Grene. Grene is anything but heavy-handed in her treatment of the devil of reductionism which she has located; but it is doubtful that she has given him his full due—insofar as she has concentrated her fire on an older style of behaviorism and mechanism that itself often has difficulty recognizing its rapidly matured and much more sophisticated progeny, scientific realism.—E. A. R. (shrink)

As Roger Hennessey reminds us, “One of the most famous openings in English literature informs readers that ‘in the last years of the nineteenth century … human affairs were being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than man's yet as mortal as his own’” . So began H. G. Wells's famous War of the Worlds , in which Martians invade the Earth.The general public seems scarcely aware that discussions of extraterrestrial intelligent beings began to appear centuries before 1897, not (...) just in fiction but also in serious writings by leading scientists, philosophers, and religious authors. Well before 1970 such scholars as Pierre Duhem, Arthur Lovejoy, and Marjorie Hope Nicolson had shown that mainline intellectuals for centuries have been writing about extraterrestrials. Between 1982 and 1996, three scholars published detailed and fully referenced books documenting in detail the history of ideas of extraterrestrial life from antiquity to the late twentieth century . In the last few years at least a half‐dozen authors have sought to repackage this exciting message for the literate public. The most successful of these popularizations is Worlds without End: The Historic Search for Extraterrestrial Life, the most recent book by Roger Hennessey, a retired British schoolteacher and administrator with strong interests in the history of science and technology.The strengths of Hennessey's volume are numerous. He has read and understood both the most authoritative scholarly work in this area and also a significant portion of the vast primary literature. He has surveyed in an engaging, judicious, and balanced manner materials from antiquity to the present and embellished his narrative with seventy‐two well‐chosen illustrations. He has avoided sensationalism even when writing about sensational controversies and eschewed partisanship even while describing individuals who in many cases were nothing if not passionate in their convictions. He has shown sensitivity to the complexities and to the range of issues that arose in the history of this long and continuing debate, which, although focused on distant locales and on possibly nonexistent beings, is capable of revealing much about the nature of terrestrials. He has traced through more than twenty centuries a debate that involved not just scientific but also key religious and philosophical issues, presenting the debate in its full cultural richness. The level of informational accuracy in his book is high . Although his references are significantly fewer in number and less specific than many scholars might prefer, they are at least adequate to assure specialists that he is not presenting as his own the hard‐won research results of others. The overall format of the book is appealing, its bibliography adequate, its index better than one expects in popularizations.Historians of science wishing to enhance a survey course in the history of science with an attractive text that will reveal to students a history filled with striking controversies and colorful figures as well as little‐known facets of the thought of many scientists of distinction may wish to consider using this book. (shrink)

No student or colleague of Marjorie Grene will miss her incisive presence in these papers on the study and nature of living nature, and we believe the new reader will quickly join the stimulating discussion and critique which Professor Grene steadily provokes. For years she has worked with equally sure knowledge in the classical domain of philosophy and in modern epistemological inquiry, equally philosopher of science and metaphysician. Moreover, she has the deeply sensible notion that she should be a (...) critically intelligent learner as much as an imaginatively original thinker, and as a result she has brought insightful expository readings of other philosophers and scientists to her own work. We were most fortunate that Marjorie Grene was willing to spend a full semester of a recent leave here in Boston, and we have on other occasions sought her participation in our colloquia and elsewhere. Now we have the pleasure of including among the Boston Studies in the Philosophy of Science this generous selection from Grene's philosophical inquiries into the understanding of the natural world, and of the men and women in it. Boston University Center for the R. S. COHEN Philosophy and History of Science M. W. W ARTOFSKY April 1974 PREFACE This collection spans - spottily - years from 1946 ('On Some Distinctions between Men and Brutes') to 1974 ('On the Nature of Natural Necessity'). (shrink)

Is life different from the non-living? If so, how? And how, in that case, does biology as the study of living things differ from other sciences? These questions are traced through an exploration of episodes in the history of biology and philosophy. The book begins with Aristotle, then moves on to Descartes, comparing his position with that of Harvey. In the eighteenth century the authors consider Buffon and Kant. In the nineteenth century the authors examine the Cuvier-Geoffroy debate, pre-Darwinian geology (...) and natural theology, Darwin and the transition from Darwin to the revival of Mendelism. Two chapters deal with the evolutionary synthesis and such questions as the species problem, the reducibility or otherwise of biology to physics and chemistry, and the problem of biological explanation in terms of function and teleology. The final chapters reflect on the implications of the philosophy of biology for philosophy of science in general. (shrink)

A scholarly edition of letters by Anne, Viscountess Conway, Henry More, and their friends. The edition presents an authoritative text, together with an introduction, commentary notes, and scholarly apparatus.

The typescript of the following lecture is preserved in the archive of Adolf Portmann, University Library Basel, NL 345. The typescript has the heading “Lecture Three” and the subtitle “The Language of Nature Reread.” As the heading “Lecture Three” suggests, the lecture was part of a series; details about the location and dates of the series are not listed. From the text itself we are informed that the series was devoted to the topic of “man in nature” and the preceding (...) lectures were specifically related to the philosophical biology of Adolf Portmann and the opposition of his approach to the Galilean scientific ontology. “The Language of Nature Reread” continues the topic and focuses on the epistemology of Michael Polanyi, whose theory of tacit knowing is argued to provide a “philosophical accounting” for Portmann’s biological program. (shrink)