“Research assistant” is a term used to describe student researchers across a variety of contexts and encompasses a wide array of duties, rewards, and costs. As critical/qualitative scholars situated in a discipline that rarely offers funded research assistantships to graduate students, we explore how we have engaged in faculty-student research in one particularly understudied context: the independent study. Using narrative writing and reflection within a framework of collaborative autoethnography, the first three authors reflect as three “generations” of protégés who were (...) each mentored through independent studies during their MA programs by the fourth author. We explore the environmental context, mentor facets, and protégé facets that highlight the light and shadow, or successes and struggles, of our mentoring relationships. Reflecting on our own experiences of collaborative research through independent studies, we suggest a model of feminist research mentorship that may be enacted across disciplines. (shrink)

AI/ML increasingly impacts the ability of humans to have a good life. Various sets of indicators exist to measure well-being/the ability to have a good life. Students play an important role in AI/ML discussions. The purpose of our study using an online survey was to learn about the perspectives of undergraduate STEM students on the impact of AI/ML on well-being/the ability to have a good life. Our study revealed that many of the abilities participants perceive to be needed for having (...) a good life were part of the well-being/ability to have a good life indicator lists we gave to participants. Participants perceived AI/ML to have and continue to have the most positive impact on the ability to have a good life for disabled people, elderly people, and individuals with a high income and the least positive impact for people of low income and countries from the global south. Regarding indicators of well-being and the ability to have a good life given to participants, we found a significant techno-positive sentiment. 30% of respondents selected the purely positive box for 28 of the indicators and none did so for the purely negative box. For 52 indicators, the purely negative was below 10% (not counting the 0%) and for 10 indicators, none selected purely negative. Our findings suggest that our questions might be valuable tools to develop an inventory of STEM and other students’ perspectives on the implications of AI/ML on the ability to have a good life. (shrink)

Im Rahmen des George-Kreises wurde das Idealbild einer guten Ordnung nicht im Bereich des Utopischen belassen, sondern in der Lebens- und Forschungspraxis der Kreismitglieder zu verwirklichen versucht. Der Autor Prof. Bertram Schefold ist Inhaber des Lehrstuhls für Wirtschaftswissenschaften an der Johann-Wolfgang-Goethe-Universität, Frankfurt. Mehrfach Berater des Deutschen Bundestages zu energiepolitischen Fragen und geschäftsführender Herausgeber der Reihe 'Klassiker der Nationalökonomie'.

Background: Many people with aphasia and people without brain injury talk to themselves in their heads, i.e., have “inner speech.” Inner speech may be more preserved compared with spoken speech for some people with aphasia and may serve a variety of functions (e.g., emotion regulation), which motivates us to provide a high-fidelity characterization of it. Researchers have used multiple methods to measure this internal phenomenon in the past, which we combine here for the first time in a single study. -/- (...) Aims: We compare performance between individuals with and without aphasia on inner speech tasks that assess inner speech “inthe- moment” to general subjective impressions of inner speech to tease apart the relationship of aphasia severity to inner speech. Methods and Procedures: Twenty people with mild-moderate aphasia and twenty neurotypical controls completed several inner speech tasks, including objective silent rhyme judgements (picture, written, and auditory), subjective reports of inner speech during naming, and subjective rating scales about inner speech experience more generally. -/- Outcomes and Results: In-the-moment inner speech during silent rhyming tasks was associated with aphasia severity only for picture and written rhyming but not auditory rhyming. In-the-moment inner speech reports during silent naming were not associated with aphasia severity, nor were the subjective ratings about general inner speech experience. Individuals with and without aphasia demonstrated a variety of subjective general inner speech experiences, demonstrating heterogeneity of this phenomenon more broadly. -/- Conclusions: Methods of measuring inner speech complement each other and speak to different facets of the inner speech phenomenon, and clinicians and researchers must carefully choose the method(s) that will provide the information about inner speech that they desire. (shrink)

Unspecific evidence calls for imprecise credence. My aim is to vindicate this thought. First, I will pin down what it is that makes one's imprecise credences more or less epistemically valuable. Then I will use this account of epistemic value to delineate a class of reasonable epistemic scoring rules for imprecise credences. Finally, I will show that if we plump for one of these scoring rules as our measure of epistemic value or utility, then a popular family of decision (...) rules recommends imprecise credences. In particular, a range of Hurwicz criteria, which generalise the Maximin decision rule, recommend imprecise credences. If correct, the moral is this: an agent who adopts precise credences, rather than imprecise ones, in the face of unspecific and incomplete evidence, goes wrong by gambling with the epistemic utility of her doxastic state in too risky a fashion. Precise credences represent an overly risky epistemic bet, according to the Hurwicz criteria. (shrink)

Inference to the Best Explanation (IBE) and Bayesianism are our two most prominent theories of scientific inference. Are they compatible? Van Fraassen famously argued that they are not, concluding that IBE must be wrong since Bayesianism is right. Writers since then, from both the Bayesian and explanationist camps, have usually considered van Fraassen’s argument to be misguided, and have plumped for the view that Bayesianism and IBE are actually compatible. I argue that van Fraassen’s argument is actually not so misguided, (...) and that it causes more trouble for compatibilists than is typically thought. Bayesianism in its dominant, subjectivist form, can only be made compatible with IBE if IBE is made subservient to conditionalization in a way that robs IBE of much of its substance and interest. If Bayesianism and IBE are to be fit together, I argue, a strongly objective Bayesianism is the preferred option. I go on to sketch this objectivist, IBE-based Bayesianism, and offer some preliminary suggestions for its development. (shrink)

Matti Eklund (2017) has argued that ardent realists face a serious dilemma. Ardent realists believe that there is a mind-independent fact as to which normative concepts we are to use. Eklund claims that the ardent realist cannot explain why this is so without plumping in favor of their own normative concepts or changing the topic. The paper first advances the discussion by clarifying two ways of understanding the question of which normative concepts to choose: a theoretical question about which concepts (...) have the abstract property of being normatively privileged and a further practical question of which concepts we are to choose even granting some concepts are thus privileged. I argue that the ardent realist’s best bet for answering the theoretical question while avoiding Eklund’s dilemma is to provide a real definition of this property. I point out the difficulties for providing such a definition. I then argue that even with an answer to the theoretical question, the ardent realist faces a further dilemma in answering the practical question. In sum, though I see no knock-down argument against ardent realism, it may nonetheless die a death by a thousand cuts. I close by considering a deeper reason for why ardent realism is so difficult to defend: every argument starts somewhere. It is unclear how there can be an Archimedean point that makes no reference to any normative concepts that can nonetheless be employed to convince everyone to adopt ours. I then briefly propose two options for someone still inclined towards realism: (i) accept that our normative concepts are normatively privileged without attempting to explain why this is so, or (ii) be less ardent and accept a perspective-dependent account of normativity. (shrink)

In some circles, faith is said to be one of three theological virtues, along with hope and agape. But not everyone thinks faith is a virtue, theological or otherwise. Indeed, depending on how we understand it, faith may well conflict with the virtues. In this chapter we will focus on the virtue of humility. Does faith conflict with humility, or are they in concord? In what follows, we will do five things. First, we will sketch a theory of the virtue (...) of humility. Second, we will summarize a common view of faith, arguably held by Thomas Aquinas among others, and we will argue that Thomistic faith is not an intellectual virtue and that it conflicts with humility in the domain of inquiry. Third, we will plump for an older view of faith, one that predates Aquinas by at least 1500 years, Markan faith. Fourth, we will argue that Markan faith is an intellectual virtue and it is in concord with humility in the domain of inquiry. Fifth, we will argue that Markan faith, unlike Thomistic faith, is a personal virtue and that it is in concord with humility in the domain of personal relationships, both human-human and human-divine. (shrink)

It is tempting to analyse causality in terms of just one of the indicators of causal relationships, e.g., mechanisms, probabilistic dependencies or independencies, counterfactual conditionals or agency considerations. While such an analysis will surely shed light on some aspect of our concept of cause, it will fail to capture the whole, rather multifarious, notion. So one might instead plump for pluralism: a different analysis for a different occasion. But we do not seem to have lots of different concepts of (...) cause – just one eclectic notion. The resolution of this conundrum, I think, requires us to accept that our causal beliefs are generated by a wide variety of indicators, but to deny that this variety of indicators yields a variety of concepts of cause. This focus on the relation between evidence and causal beliefs leads to what I call epistemic causality. Under this view, certain causal beliefs are appropriate or rational on the basis of observed evidence; our notion of cause can be understood purely in terms of these rational beliefs. Causality, then, is a feature of our epistemic representation of the world, rather than of the world itself. This yields one, multifaceted notion of cause. (shrink)

Practical philosophy and ethics -- Practical tortise raising -- Truth, beauty, and goodness -- Dilemmas: dithering, plumping, and grief -- Group minds and expressive harm -- Trust, cooperation, and human psychology -- Must we weep for sentimentalism? -- Through thick and thin -- Perspectives, fictions, errors, play -- The steps from doing to saying -- Success semantics -- Wittgenstein's irrealism -- Circles, finks, smells, and biconditionals -- The absolute conception: Putnam vs. Williams -- Julius Caesar and George Berkeley play leapfrog (...) -- The majesty of reason -- Fiction and conviction. (shrink)

The present publication forms part of a projected book that F. P. Ramsey drafted but never completed. It survived among his papers and ultimately came into the possession of the University of Pittsburgh in the circumstances detailed in the Editor's Introduction. Our hope in issuing this work at this stage - some sixty years after Ramsey's premature death at the age of 26 - is both to provide yet another token of his amazing philosophical creativity, and also to make available (...) an important datum for the still to be written history of the development of philosophical analysis. This is a book whose appearance will, we hope and expect, be appreciated both by those interested in linguistic philosophy itself and by those concerned for its historical development in the present century. EDITORS'INTRODUCTION 1. THE RAMSEY COLLECTION Frank Plump ton Ramsey was an extra ordinary scholarly phenomenon. Son of a distinguished mathematician and President of Magdalene College, Cambridge and brother of Arthur Michael, eventual Archbishop of Canterbury, Ramsey was closely connected with Cambridge throughout his life, ultimately becoming lecturer in Mathematics in the University. Notwithstanding his great mathematical talent, it was primarily logic and philosophy that engaged his interests, and he wrote original and important contributions to logic, semantics, epistomology, probability theory, philosophy of science, and economics, in addition to seminal work in the foundations of mathematics. (shrink)

Transitive extensional well founded relations provide an intuitionistic notion of ordinals which admits transfinite induction. However these ordinals are not directed and their successor operation is poorly behaved, leading to problems of functoriality. We show how to make the successor monotone by introducing plumpness, which strengthens transitivity. This clarifies the traditional development of successors and unions, making it intuitionistic; even the (classical) proof of trichotomy is made simpler. The definition is, however, recursive, and, as their name suggests, the plump (...) ordinals grow very rapidly. Directedness must be defined hereditarily. It is orthogonal to the other four conditions, and the lower powerdomain construction is shown to be the universal way of imposing it. We treat ordinals as order-types, and develop a corresponding set theory similar to Osius' transitive set objects. This presents Mostowski's theorem as a reflection of categories, and set-theoretic union is a corollary of the adjoint functor theorem. Mostowski's theorem and the rank for some of the notions of ordinal are formulated and proved without the axiom of replacement, but this seems to be unavoidable for the plump rank. The comparison between sets and toposes is developed as far as the identification of replacement with completeness, and there are some suggestions for further work in this area. Each notion of set or ordinal defines a free algebra for one of the theories discussed by Joyal and Moerdijk, namely joins of a family of arities together with an operation s satisfying conditions such as x ≤ sx, monotonicity or s(x ∨ y) ≤ sx ∨ sy. Finally we discuss the fixed point theorem for a monotone endofunction s of a poset with least element and directed joins. This may be proved under each of a variety of additional hypotheses. We explain why it is unlikely that any notion of ordinal obeying the induction scheme for arbitrary predicates will prove the pure result. (shrink)

There are a number of different versions of Reductive Nominalism, versions distinguished by the way in which each accounts for facts about having and sharing properties. This chapter discusses three broad varieties of Reductive Nominalism: Predicate Nominalism, Class Nominalism, and Resemblance Nominalism. Class Nominalism identifies properties with classes or sets. Resemblance Nominalists come in two sub‐varieties, depending on whether they take the resemblance relation to hold between particular properties (called 'tropes') or particular things that have properties (ordinary particulars). Trope Theory (...) comes in two varieties depending on whether one plumps for universals. It should not be difficult to see that Extreme Resemblance Nominalism is faced with Class Nominalism's extensionality problems, both the problem of contingent predication and the co‐extensive property problem. Resemblance Nominalists can reply by insisting on a distinction between a priori or conceptual equivalence and metaphysical equivalence. The chapter focuses on the extensionality problems for Class Nominalism. (shrink)

This piece, included in the drift special issue of continent. , was created as one step in a thread of inquiry. While each of the contributions to drift stand on their own, the project was an attempt to follow a line of theoretical inquiry as it passed through time and the postal service(s) from October 2012 until May 2013. This issue hosts two threads: between space & place and between intention & attention . The editors recommend that to experience the (...) drifiting thought that attention be paid to the contributions as they entered into conversation one after another. This particular piece is from the BETWEEN SPACE & PLACE thread: April Vannini, Those Between the Common * Laura Dean & Jesse McClelland, Ballard: A Portrait of Placemaking * Amara Hark Weber, Crossroad * Isaac Linder & Berit Soli-Holt, The Call of the Wild: Terro(i)r Modulations * Ashley D. Hairston, Momma taught us to keep a clean house * Sean Smith, The Garage (Take One) * * * * Momma taught us to keep a clean house. Dust the wood furniture every two weeks. Clean the bathrooms once a week. Wipe down the baseboards once a season (Those damn baseboards. I still got bruises on my knees from scrubbing those things). Sweep away the cobwebs—and pray that those spiders are either dead or delirious (Livin in the country don’t mean you like bugs, especially the ones with too many legs ). Didn’t matter that the house was full of stuff: Great-Grandma’s heirloom dresser, that weird Mammy salt shaker and matching Uncle Tom pepper grinder (Where the hell did Momma get those P.O.S.’s?), the outdated drapes from Belks, Dad’s favorite wooden TV tray, and that uuuuugly love seat that some crazy uncle thought was a glorious find from the Salvation Army (Momma tried to make it pretty with some pillows, but no amount of love could help that seat). Spring Cleaning meant pullin all that furniture away from the walls and holdin your breath to see what time collected in the crevices. Then you gotta be careful not to breathe out too heavy cause the dust would go flying fore you got a chance to catch it. If you didn’t, you’d quickly find out if you’re allergic to dust. Quarter cup of lemon Lysol in a bucket of steaming water and an old wash rag. Maybe two. A dust towel and citrus-scent Pledge. Me and my brothers would fight over who cleaned what. Somehow the twins always got the easy stuff: vacuuming or moving dirt around with the feather-duster. Finishing in enough time to fly down the street on their bikes with the neighborhood kids. Older sister never got off that easy. Each of my stubby fingers morphed into plump, lemon-fresh golden raisins by the time that whole damn house was done. I would finish just in time to sit with Nadine on the porch, counting the seconds til the sun turned off and the fireflies fluttered on. The craziest thing: despite all that cleaning, the house still smelled like Momma’s cookin. That Old House. Might have been some of Grandma’s and Great-Grandma’s cookin mixed in there too. Pork chops. Ham hock soaked in collards. Pinto beans and mustard greens. Corn bread and my Auntie’s famous macaroni and cheese. Didn’t matter if the oven was cold and the valve of the gas stove had been shut for days. A stranger woulda thought someone’d been slavin away in that kitchen for a week straight. No Sweet Citrus & Zest Fabreze back then. Lysol would mask the odors for a little while. Not long enough to overpower the 50 years of goodness marinated in buttermilk, kneaded with lard, and fried in Crisco that’d been embedded in the wallpaper and window treatments. All that grime—dead skin, hair follicles, Carolina clay, carpet lint, yippee-little-dog fur—was evidence of life. We were a socially-awkward newly-minted teenager, two rowdy twin boys, a multi-tasking mother, and a road-warrior father. Eventually a strangely-feline Yorkie was added to the mix. And don’t forget about the stray distant relative stopping by unannounced. No corner of that damn house was unmarked. Hand-sewn pillows in the living room that we were forbidden to breathe on somehow had tiny burnt orange paw prints on them (sneaky little dog). It drove Momma crazy. And tore up my fingernails. They still won’t grow back right. Wipe all that shit off just for it to build up again. But that house was inherited and fully paid for. No reason to move. I did move. I was ready to move on. Move up. Move out. Over that small town. Into the big city. Here the streets take on the smells of Momma’s house. Plus piss, shit, and unbathed skin. A hot day means everything cooks and stews in its own juices, making the stench 10x more intense. The apartment is another story. 11 floors up. Big, east-facing windows. Great view of the skyline dotted with some green foliage. And the great lake. Immaculate. Odorless. Not even a trace of tobacco from the previous tenant’s bad habits. No lingering scent of lemon Lysol. No street stench seeping through the window panes. No stray cat hairs. Or dog fur. Not a speck of dust. Futon. Throw pillows. Photos. Knickknacks. Bowls of fresh citrus. Cursedly-assembled desk set from IKEA. Yet the void is too big to fill. Too clean. (shrink)

Gibbard accuses me of having an “extreme” view of property rights, even though he agrees that liberty is a good thing. But is it good enough to justify excluding handouts to the poor? He thinks not. I argue that the “social contract” idea of justice, which he in general shares, would underwrite the sort of strong property rights I plump for—noting that voluntary assistance to the poor (or anyone) is, after all, not only perfectly acceptable but much to be (...) commended. I believe I agree entirely with Laurence Thomas, who argues that although decency calls for assisting the poor, we are not literally bound to do that. Contra Peter Vallentyne, I argue that liberty doesn’t permit the exceptions to the acquisition principle that he proposes: when we prevent someone from an acquiring that would harmno one, we do him a harm, which is forbidden by the liberty principle. The arguments, though, rather defy brief summary. (shrink)

alone, in a reclining posture in his drawing-room. He was lean, ghastly, and quite of an earthy appearance. … He was quite different from the plump figure which he used to present … He seemed to be placid and even cheerful … He said he was just approaching to his end … I had a strong curiosity to be satisfied if he persisted in disbelieving a future state even when he had death before his eyes. I was persuaded from (...) what he said, and from his manner of saying it, that he did persist. I asked him if it was not possible that there might be a future state. He answered it was possible that a piece of coal put upon the fire would not burn; and he added that it was a most unreasonable fancy that we should exist for ever … I asked him if the thought of annihilation never gave him any uneasiness. He said not the least; no more than the thought that he had not been, as Lucretius observes. … He said he had no pain, but was wasting away. I left him with impressions which disturbed me for some time. (shrink)

The cloister of the Poor Clares St.-Elisabethsdal in Boxtel, in the present-day province of Brabant, the Netherlands, is one of the monasteries created during the new wave of Observant Clarissan monastic foundations in the Northern Low Countries between ca. 1460 and 1513. It was established after Wamel, Haarlem, Veere, Delft, Brielle, Gouda and Alkmaar.1 But it was not the first Clarissan settlement in what is currently the Netherlands. More than a century before, Willem van den Bossche, lord of Erp, (...) enabled through his last will d.d. 28 augustus 1335 the foundation of a convent of Poor Clares in the town of 's-Hertogenbosch,2... (shrink)

Varda's longtime moniker, "Grandmother" of the French New Wave, conjures the image of a "little old woman, pleasantly plump and talkative"–a description that Varda herself uses in Les Plages d'Agnès. In The Cinema of Agnès Varda: Resistance and Eclecticism, Delphine Bénézet contends that this persona is merely one of many alter egos that Varda puts forward in her attempt to debunk "the myth of the all mighty male auteur". Furthermore, Bénézet's exploration of Varda's oeuvre reveals that the filmmaker's work (...) has always been anything but antiquated. Since her first feature film, La Pointe Courte, Varda's innovative approach to filmmaking has been a testament to the limitless possibilities of the... (shrink)

As ever more countries enter the global economy, reshaping the body has become the means by which women are encouraged to enter modernity. Once bodies were local, marked by their own local traditions. Today, variety is replaced by uniformity. The formerly plump Miss Nigeria is superseded by a thin westernized version and sets the trend for how contemporary Nigerian women are to look. Encouraged to see the body as a consuming center, a personal logo that signifies our membership of (...) the global community, bodies across the world are being commercialized and restructured. This development means that we are losing bodies as we lose mother tongue languages. Standardization is supplanting diversity as facsimile bodies become the new calling card of belonging and identity. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Proust and the Phenomenology of MemoryThomas M. Lennon"I still believe that anything that I do outside of literature and philosophy will be so much time wasted." Thus did the twenty-two year old Marcel Proust (1871–1922) write to his father, reluctantly agreeing to consider a career in the foreign service as an alternative to the legal profession otherwise being urged upon him. ("I should vastly prefer going to work for (...) a stockbroker," was his comment.)1 Happily for us all, Proust was obliged to do neither, and in fact was able to do both philosophy and literature. As André Maurois puts it, "[Proust's] great novel is philosophy incarnate."2 Certainly, In Search of Lost Time is saturated with philosophy, the appreciation of which cannot help but enhance our understanding of this great work. The thesis here will be that a loosely phenomenological account of the work's central concept of memory gives us the structure of the work as a whole.The biographical facts suggest such an approach. Proust received a license from the Sorbonne in 1895, and, more importantly, had previously been a student of the philosopher Alphonse Darlu at the Lycée Condorcet. Although he published very little, Darlu was a charismatic, inspirational figure for his students—not least of all for Proust himself, who described him as "the great philosopher whose inspired words, more certain to last than any writing would, gave birth in me as in so many others to thought itself."3 A touching artifact of Proust's time with Darlu is his report card, preserved in the Proust Museum at Illiers-Combray. Not incidentally, it shows a concentration on the classical authors who will be deployed here. We also have a wonderful little text that argues a kind of phenomenalism influenced perhaps by Hume, and certainly by Kant.4 The one author important to our account whose name does not figure as such in any of this material is Malebranche; but we know [End Page 52] that Proust was familiar with the great Oratorian since he quotes him.5 In fact, the only author appearing below who could not have been on Proust's shelf is Kundera, the most philosophical and Proustian of all recent novelists.We begin with a text; it is the most famous of all in French literature, the episode of the madeleine from the Search. The text has become so well known—through hearsay more than from having been read, no doubt—that it has invited "kitchification."6 Even so, it is an exquisite piece of writing, which, in any case, is essential to the thesis here.Many years had elapsed during which nothing of Combray... had any existence for me, when one day in winter as I came home, my mother, seeing that I was cold, offered me some tea, a thing that I did not ordinarily take.... She sent out for one of those plump little cakes called 'petites madeleines'.... I raised to my lips a spoonful of the tea in which I had soaked a morsel of the cake. No sooner had the warm liquid, and the crumbs with it, touched my palate than a shudder ran through my whole body.... And suddenly the memory [le souvenir] returns. The taste was that of the little crumb of 'madeleine' which on Sunday mornings at Combray... my Aunt Léonie used to give me, dipping it first in her own cup of real or lime-flower tea.... Immediately the old grey house upon the street rose up like the scenery of a theatre... in a moment all the flowers in our garden and in M. Swann's park, and the water-lilies on the Vivonne and the good folk of the village and their little dwellings and the parish church and the whole of Combray and of its surroundings, taking their proper shapes and growing solid, sprang into being, town and gardens alike, from my cup of tea.7There are other such episodes of the past springing into being, but not many, and they occur but infrequently, until the very end of this vast work, when they come upon the narrator rapidly and almost... (shrink)

In a secular society, does Christmas mean anything anymore? As we stuff ourselves with plumped-up turkeys, unwrap the latest useless gadget, and gather round the family tree, what real relevance does the festive season have and why do we perpetuate it? The Philosophy of Christmas is designed to be a fun book but one underpinned by an exploration of serious philosophical issues. The way we celebrate Christmas says a lot about the way we relate to each other, our society and (...) values. For instance, did you know that Santa's outfit is only red and white because those are the colours of the Coca Cola company? Already a bestselling author, Stephen Law takes a look at such things as the virgin birth (David Hume's theories on miracles), Bertrand Russell's turkey, the existential angst of Santa, and peace on earth to produce a humourous, varied and thought-provoking collection. (shrink)

At some moment in his life, James Joyce stopped writing Ulysses. If there had been at least one more thing he meant to fuss with or to fix, one more thing he meant to do to the book, he never did it. Ulysses was at that moment complete.The book reads to me as if it’s “harking back in a retrospective sort of arrangement” from that very moment, as if Joyce anticipated coming to it all along.1 Because he knew it would (...) be a moment in which the book he was writing would become the book he had written, that moment backed up into the writing itself, it dictated to him that the narrator’s sentences must be in the past tense. For Joyce, each phrase of Ulysses was over and done with as soon as he found that he could let it stand as it was. I think it’s for this reason that his characters’ actions and words are narrated as if they too were in the past. “Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him by the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned …” . The writing which empowers Buck Mulligan to speak and act had at some moment stopped being a present participle for Joyce and begun to be a noun, a piece of writing, that now-realized thing which had been written. It’s therefore in the past tense that the narrative proceeds.Not that along the way there isn’t interior monologue that offers what a given character thinks, each thought sounding very much as if it’s in the present. “Mr Bloom stood far back, his hat in his hand, counting the bared heads. Twelve. I’m thirteen” . The illusion is that right here, right now, autonomously, Bloom is thinking about how many mourners there are at Dignam’s funeral and is trying to establish their number for himself. And yet while the sentence fragments “Twelve” and “I’m thirteen” interrupt the already completed past-tense narrative, the past-tense sentence which introduces the fragments implies an intelligence that has managed to narrate Bloom’s thoughts before Bloom himself has thought them. To narrate that Bloom is “counting the bared heads” in advance of that counting is paradoxically to review what hasn’t yet happened. It implies a knowledge that looks back on each present moment from a point outside of time. And it’s from precisely this point that the narrating intelligence closes off Bloom’s present-tense thoughts with past-tense news: “The coffin dived out of sight, eased down by the men straddled on the gravetrestles” . James McMichael, professor of English at the University of California, Irvine, is completing a manuscript called Reading “Ulysses.” His most recent book of poems is Four Good Things. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Structure, Change, and Survival: A Response To Winthrop-youngFranco Moretti (bio)Geoffrey Winthrop-Young’s is the sort of review article one dreams of: long, intelligent, and very generous. So, first of all, thanks. And thanks also for the clarity with which disagreements are expressed. In the same spirit, here is a brief response.The first area of disagreement comes early in the article, when Winthrop-Young claims that in the Atlas, “the here and (...) now of a specific location suffers something akin to the fate of a Barthesian myth: its specificity is subordinated to a signifying function as part of an established narrative sequence. But as Moretti chooses not to address the question of how this transformation is achieved, his discussion tends to gloss over the differences between geographical, literary, and imaginary locations” [7]. Frankly, I don’t think this is true. I often do exactly what Winthrop-Young demands, using a sequence of maps to clarify the successive steps by which a geographical space ends up supporting a specific narrative strucure: see the Austen maps that open the book, or the picaresque sequence in the first chapter, or the Balzac and Dickens maps in the second chapter—where I also address the issue in conceptual terms in a section entitled “Stories of the Third.” It’s true that I don’t do so in every case (as perhaps I should), and Winthrop-Young may of course disagree with the way I chart the transformation of space into narrative, but he cannot deny that I am doing so. The fact that those maps compose sequences of increasing complexity (as is particularly clear for Austen and Our Mutual Friend) proves precisely that I am indeed mapping a “transformation” of relatively simple beginnings into a complicated final structure. Incidentally, I do something similar in Modern Epic, where I describe how Joyce’s stream of consciousness “grows” from rather slim paragraphs to the plump ones we read now, or follow the slow rise of Ulysses’s polyphony. Again: my theses may be wrong—but they are an attempt to follow the step-by-step structuration of a text (or genre). This, after all, is the basic test of critical materialism: if we cannot describe the how and the why of the various steps, we are implicitly invoking “creativity” as an explanation for literary products. Which is a bit like invoking God. But on the futility of this, Winthrop-Young and I probably agree.The second disagreement regards the tempo of literary history: does morphological change occur in brief bursts separated by long periods of stasis (as in Eldredge and Gould’s punctuated equilibria)—or is it more evenly distributed across time? Here, Winthrop-Young claims [36, fn 5] that my attempt to see Schwarz’s account of Brazilian modernism and the genesis of magic realism as a single instance of punctuated equilibria is contradicted by historical evidence. He is right. Years ago, I adopted punctuated equilibria because it proved better than any rival theory at explaining the peculiar rapidity of many literary turning points (baroque drama; the rise of the British novel; the modernist season of European literature). From this initial conviction, I was (unconsciously) led to generalize, and to treat every case of major morphological change as an instance of punctuated equilibria. This was silly, and Winthrop-Young is right in criticizing me. However, he would probably agree that a single (or even a few) contrary [End Page 41] instances do not invalidate a theory in its entirety, and that what we most need is to know more about how literary change occurs. Only after such an empirical reconnaissance will the testing of theories be on a truly sound basis. Personally, I wouldn’t be surprised if we discovered that literary change can occur in more than one way, and that we need more than one theory to account for it; still, all I know of literary history suggests that punctuated equilibria will be the theory with greatest explanatory power.The last disagreement concerns literary selection: specifically, whether my view of it is indeed Darwinian, or whether I Lamarck-like “transform the concept of selection from the traditional passive filter... (shrink)

This paper analyses the story of the ἀσκóς, which Aiolos presents to Odysseus and discusses its setting and background (Od. 10, 1-79). The general explanation of the ἀσκóς as a piece of wind magic is modified in favour of an Ancient Near Eastern background of the device. The ἀσκóς represents an inflated skin which, as opposed to the Aegean, was a common device to traverse the rivers and canals in the Middle East. Around 700 B.C.E., in the reign of the (...) Assyrian king Sennacherib, a new type of inflated skin was introduced which was much larger and made of cattle hide. Such plump hides are depicted on Neo-Assyrian reliefs where they are presented as fully inflated and lying on rafts. It is argued that the awareness of such hides triggered the story of the ἀσκóς, which transfered the inflated skin into an entirely new setting. (shrink)

The popular expedient of identifying noncognitivism with the claim that moral judgments are neither true nor false leaves open the question of what kind of thing a moral judgment is—an indeterminacy that has led to decades of confusion as to what the noncognitivist is more precisely committed to. Sometimes noncognitivism is presented as a claim about mental states (“Moral judgments are not beliefs”), sometimes as a claim about meaning (“X is morally good” means no more than “X: hurray!”), sometimes as (...) a claim about speech acts (“Moral judgments are not assertions”). Focus on the last two possibilities. The former calls for a translation schema from a propositional surface grammar to a non-propositional deep structure. Such schemata from the noncognitivist are familiar to students of metaethics. (Cf. A.J. Ayer’s claim that in saying “You acted wrongly in stealing that money” one is “not saying anything more than … ‘You stole that money,’ [but] in a peculiar tone of horror.”) It is less widely realized that the noncognitivist is not obliged to offer any such translation schema, for she might instead plump for the last option, of formulating noncognitivism as a theory not of meaning but of use. Perhaps the moral cognitivist is correct about the meaning of moral sentences (there is a wide range of possibilities here) but wrong about the way people use moral sentences: perhaps people do not assert moral sentences, perhaps the nature of acceptance of a moral claim is not belief. (shrink)

The desire to have healthy and happy children is the most basic parental instinct. A parent's moral obligation to care for the child extends before the moment of birth back to the point of conception. In classical Jewish tradition, the Talmud itself offers pregnant women advice on how to improve the well-being of their offspring, such as eating parsley in order to have handsome children, drinking wine in order to bear healthy children, or eating coriander to have especially plump (...) children. We stand on the cusp of a new era today because an explosion of genetic knowledge in recent years has provided us the ability to pursue certain health and wellness advantages even before pregnancy has begun. Technology called preimplantation genetic diagnosis allows parents to screen the DNA of embryos fertilized in vitro and to implant only those embryos that match the parents' desired genetic makeup. This may include selecting only embryos guaranteed not to have a particular genetic disease, only embryos of one particular gender, or eventually even only embryos with a predisposition for certain traits such as height, eye color, or enhanced memory. (shrink)

A collection of before and after photographs of female patients treated using Weir Mitchell’s Rest Cure for neurasthenia shows how important the anorectic body was to the promotion of this specific method of treatment. The photographs document the inevitable weight gain that resulted from the Rest Cure’s prescription of absolute bed rest and the consumption of a high caloric diet requiring the ingestion of several quarts of milk daily. In doing this, the photos served a powerful semiotic function, since the (...) plump individual at the end of the treatment presented a dramatic contrast to the emaciated long-term invalid who had begun it. The after treatment photographs also implied that these women were now capable of discharging their roles as wives and mothers, since an additional benefit of the Rest Cure was that severely underweight patients resumed normal menstrual cycles. However, although the Rest Cure undeniably alleviated some physical symptoms, it did not address underlying issues of what had caused so many of these patients to take to their beds in the first place, often for years at a time. (shrink)