Where Do Great Ideas Come From? Neil Gaiman Explains

neil gaiman

Image via Flickr Com­mons

Every cre­ative writer gets asked the ques­tion at least once at a social event with non-writ­ers: “Where do you get your ideas?” To the asker, writ­ing is a dark art, full of mys­ter­ies only the ini­ti­at­ed under­stand. To the writer—as Neil Gaiman tells us in an essay on his web­site—the ques­tion miss­es the point and mis­judges the writer’s task. “Ideas aren’t the hard bit,” he says.

Cre­at­ing believ­able peo­ple who do more or less what you tell them to is much hard­er. And hard­est by far is the process of sim­ply sit­ting down and putting one word after anoth­er to con­struct what­ev­er it is you’re try­ing to build: mak­ing it inter­est­ing, mak­ing it new.

Some­times hard­est of all is the “sim­ply sit­ting down” and writ­ing when there’s noth­ing, no ideas. The work’s still got to get done, after all. Gaiman used to treat the ques­tion face­tious­ly, answer­ing with one of a few wag­gish and “not very fun­ny” pre­pared answers. But peo­ple kept ask­ing, includ­ing the sev­en-year-old class­mates of his daugh­ter, and he decid­ed to tell them the truth, “I make them up, out of my head.” It’s not the answer most want­ed to hear, but it’s the truth. As he inar­guably shows, ideas are like opin­ions: “Everyone’s got an idea for a book, a movie, a sto­ry, a TV series.” And they can come from any­where.

Gaiman, feel­ing that he owed his daughter’s class­mates a thought­ful, detailed answer, respond­ed with the below, which we’ve put into list form.

  • Ideas come from day­dream­ing. “The only dif­fer­ence between writ­ers and oth­er peo­ple,” says Gaiman, “is that we notice when we’re doing it.”
  • Ideas come from ask­ing your­self sim­ple ques­tions, like “What if…?” (“you woke up with wings?… your sis­ter turned into a mouse?.…), “If only…” (“a ghost would do my home­work”) and “I won­der….” (“what she does when she’s alone”), etc…. These ques­tions, in turn, gen­er­ate oth­er ques­tions.
  • Ideas are only start­ing points. You don’t have to fig­ure out the plot. Plots “gen­er­ate them­selves” from “what­ev­er the start­ing point is.”
  • Ideas can be peo­ple (“There’s a boy who wants to know about mag­ic”); places (“There’s a cas­tle at the end of time, which is the only place there is”); images (“A woman, sift­ing in a dark room filled with emp­ty faces.”)
  • Ideas can come from two things “that haven’t come togeth­er before.” (“What would hap­pen if a chair was bit­ten by a were­wolf?)

Grant­ed some of Gaiman’s exam­ples may be more intrigu­ing or fan­tas­tic than what you or I might pro­pose, but any­one can do these exer­cis­es. The idea, how­ev­er, is just the start­ing point. “All fic­tion,” he writes, “is a process of imag­in­ing.” So what comes next? “Well,” says Gaiman, “then you write.” Yes, it is that sim­ple, and that hard.

Tell us, read­ers, do you find any of Gaiman’s idea sources help­ful? Where do you get your ideas?

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Rod Ser­ling: Where Do Ideas Come From?

Neil Gaiman Gives Grad­u­ates 10 Essen­tial Tips for Work­ing in the Arts

Writ­ing Tips by Hen­ry Miller, Elmore Leonard, Mar­garet Atwood, Neil Gaiman & George Orwell

Read Neil Gaiman’s Free Short Sto­ries Online

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Ed Wood’s Plan 9 From Outer Space: “The Worst Movie Ever Made,” “The Ultimate Cult Flick,” or Both?

plan-9

I had an ado­les­cent fas­ci­na­tion with Ed Wood. I mean that lit­er­al­ly: I spent a siz­able chunk of my ado­les­cence watch­ing the films of, read­ing about, and even read­ing the books by writer-direc­tor (and occa­sion­al cross-dress­er) Edward D. Wood Jr. What, I asked, could have dri­ven the man to make, and keep on mak­ing, the films that would ulti­mate­ly define the cat­e­go­ry, quite pop­u­lar dur­ing my teen years, of “so bad it’s good” cin­e­ma? None of his numer­ous, all unabashed­ly low-bud­get pic­tures have done more for that form than 1959’s Plan 9 from Out­er Space, a breath­less, near­ly bud­get­less tale in which Wood throws togeth­er aliens, zom­bies, loom­ing nuclear anni­hi­la­tion, and Bela Lugosi. Well, he almost throws in Bela Lugosi: as depict­ed in Tim Bur­ton’s 1994 biopic Ed Wood, he char­ac­ter­is­ti­cal­ly spliced in exist­ing footage of the by-then deceased icon of hor­ror film, cast his wife’s chi­ro­prac­tor (instruct­ed to hold a cape over his face) as a dou­ble, billed Lugosi as the star, and hoped for the best.

You can watch the fruit of that and oth­er high­ly unortho­dox film­mak­ing efforts on the part of Wood and his faith­ful bunch of long-suf­fer­ing col­lab­o­ra­tors at the top of the post. Just below, we have a clip from Ed Wood, which in large part deals with how its inde­fati­ga­ble pro­tag­o­nist, played by a whole­some­ly gung-ho John­ny Depp, came to make Plan 9 in the first place. This mon­tage recre­ates the shoot­ing of sequences Wood’s fans will have long since burned into their visu­al mem­o­ry: George “The Ani­mal” Steele as Swedish ex-wrestler Tor John­son ris­ing inept­ly from the grave, Bill Mur­ray as would-be trans­sex­u­al Bun­ny Breck­en­ridge affect­less­ly giv­ing his hench­man orders to exe­cute the title plan, a trio of toy fly­ing saucers low­ered on fish­ing wire into a mod­el Hol­ly­wood. In 1980, Michael and Har­ry Medved dubbed Plan 9 “worst movie ever made,” ini­ti­at­ing its ascent from decades of obscu­ri­ty to the sta­tus of, as John Wirt puts it, “the ulti­mate cult flick.” Crit­ics tend to regard Ed Wood as a “good” movie, and Wood’s projects, espe­cial­ly Plan 9, as “bad” movies, yet both enter­tain at very high lev­els indeed, mak­ing us ask an impor­tant ques­tion, anoth­er one I asked myself in the thick of my Wood peri­od: what makes a movie “good” or “bad,” any­way?

Plan 9 from Out­er Space can always be found in our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Tro­ma Enter­tain­ment, the Mak­er of Acclaimed B‑Movies, Puts 150 Free Films on YouTube

Six Ear­ly Short Films By Tim Bur­ton

Tim Bur­ton Shoots Two Music Videos for The Killers

Bela Lugosi Dis­cuss­es His Drug Habit as He Leaves the Hos­pi­tal in 1955

Tim Burton’s The World of Stain­boy: Watch the Com­plete Ani­mat­ed Series

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, Asia, film, lit­er­a­ture, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on his brand new Face­book page.

Great New Archive Lets You Hear the Sounds of New York City During the Roaring 20s

NewYorkNoiseComplaints

The French refer to the decade between 1920 and 1929 as les Années folles, “the crazy years,” which is apt when you con­sid­er how the French mid­dle and upper class­es gen­er­al­ly loos­ened their brassieres and defined mod­ern bohemia, à la Coco Chanel.

But the Amer­i­can moniker — the Roar­ing 20s — fits too. Near­ly every­thing about that decade roared: cars, jazz, man­u­fac­tur­ing, con­struc­tion.

Din, in fact, came to define the age, par­tic­u­lar­ly in big cities and espe­cial­ly in New York. An unnamed Japan­ese vis­i­tor was quot­ed upon his vis­it to that city in 1920: “My first impres­sion of New York was its noise. When I know what they mean, I will under­stand civ­i­liza­tion.”

A Prince­ton his­to­ry pro­fes­sor took that chal­lenge at face val­ue, while cap­tur­ing a broad­er indus­tri­al era. The Roar­ing Twen­ties is an audio (and to some extent video) archive of what New York City sound­ed like from 1900 to 1933. Pro­fes­sor Emi­ly Thomp­son and design­er Scott Mahoy have cre­at­ed a love­ly site that’s fun to explore. The archive includes a beau­ti­ful 1933 map of New York City loaded with links to noise com­plaints (screen­shot at top), com­plete with doc­u­men­ta­tion. New York had long been a place where peo­ple from all over the world lived on top of one anoth­er, but noise lev­els were shifting—getting loud­er and more var­ied, that is—and the city was inun­dat­ed with com­plaints about fer­ry whis­tles, radio shops, street traf­fic, the clat­ter of restau­rant dish­wash­ing, and all man­ner of con­struc­tion.

CityNoiseSourcesShot

Sen­si­tiv­i­ty to the city’s vol­ume was high. The city’s Noise Abate­ment Com­mis­sion mea­sured the “deaf­en­ing effect” of sound in Times Square. The women’s cafe­te­ria in the New York Life Insur­ance build­ing was designed with state-of-the-art acoustics to keep the noise of the city out and the sound of office work­ers in.

Cort­landt Street in low­er Man­hat­tan was lined with radio shops, each broad­cast­ing dif­fer­ent music. Don’t miss that video, which you’ll find by scan­ning the Space tab map.

You can also move through time on the site, lis­ten­ing to the city’s cacoph­o­ny from the ear­ly 1900s up to the 1930s, or browse a menu of noise sources from home sounds to the noise of the har­bors and rivers. Again, you can vis­it the The Roar­ing Twen­ties site here.

via i09

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Alan Lomax’s Music Archive Hous­es Over 17,400 Folk Record­ings From 1946 to the 1990s

Cor­nell Launch­es Archive of 150,000 Bird Calls and Ani­mal Sounds, with Record­ings Going Back to 1929

The Chal­lenge of Archiv­ing Sound + Vision in the 21st Cen­tu­ry

Kate Rix writes about edu­ca­tion and dig­i­tal media. Fol­low her on Twit­ter.

Ingmar Bergman Names the 11 Films He Liked Above All Others (1994)

bergman favorites

Image via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

You may remem­ber our Octo­ber post on Ing­mar Bergman’s eval­u­a­tion of his equal­ly titan­ic col­leagues in cin­e­ma, from Jean-Luc Godard (“affect­ed”) to Alfred Hitck­cock (“infan­tile”). Though the Bergman faith­ful and fans Andrei Tarkovsky often find much to dis­agree about, the Swedish direc­tor of pic­tures like Wild Straw­ber­ries and Per­sona had the absolute high­est praise for the Russ­ian direc­tor of pic­tures like Andrei Rublev and Solaris. (Watch Tarkovsky’s major films free online here.) “When film is not a doc­u­ment, it is dream,” said Bergman. “That is why Tarkovsky is the great­est of them all. He moves with such nat­u­ral­ness in the room of dreams. He does­n’t explain. He is a spec­ta­tor, capa­ble of stag­ing his visions in the most unwieldy but, in a way, the most will­ing of media. All my life I have ham­mered on the doors of the rooms in which he moves so nat­u­ral­ly.”

And now we have a few more words the old­er mas­ter spoke about the younger, whom he phys­i­cal­ly out­lived — but, by his own admis­sion, could­n’t artis­ti­cal­ly out­do — thanks to a cer­tain Tyler Har­ris, who post­ed them to My Cri­te­ri­on. In his remarks there, Bergman con­tin­ues with the metaphor of Tarkovsky an an inhab­i­tant of a realm of dreams: “Sud­den­ly, I found myself stand­ing at the door of a room the keys of which had, until then, nev­er been giv­en to me,” Bergman said of first watch­ing Andrei Rublev, which he named at the Göte­borg Film Fes­ti­val 1994 as a favorite. “I felt encour­aged and stim­u­lat­ed: some­one was express­ing what I had always want­ed to say with­out know­ing how.” He also select­ed Fed­eri­co Fellini’s La Stra­da, which prompt­ed a back­ground sto­ry about his ill-fat­ed col­lab­o­ra­tion with Felli­ni and Aki­ra Kuro­sawa under leg­endary pro­duc­er Dino de Lau­ren­ti­is. Kuro­sawa’s own Rashomon, which you can watch free online, also appears on this favorites list of Bergman’s, which runs, alpha­bet­i­cal­ly, as fol­lows:

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Ing­mar Bergman Eval­u­ates His Fel­low Film­mak­ers — The “Affect­ed” Godard, “Infan­tile” Hitch­cock & Sub­lime Tarkovsky

Mar­tin Scors­ese Reveals His 12 Favorite Movies (and Writes a New Essay on Film Preser­va­tion)

Ing­mar Bergman’s Soap Com­mer­cials Wash Away the Exis­ten­tial Despair

Stan­ley Kubrick’s List of Top 10 Films (The First and Only List He Ever Cre­at­ed)

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, Asia, film, lit­er­a­ture, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­lesA Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on his brand new Face­book page.

The (Beautiful) Physics of Adding Cream to Your Coffee

Here’s a quick sce­nario for you. You’ve poured your­self a fresh cup of black cof­fee, and you want to keep it hot until you’re ready to drink it. Are you mak­ing a mis­take by adding cream to that cof­fee? Does cof­fee with cream cool faster than black cof­fee left alone? Intu­ition says yes. The laws of physics lead to a dif­fer­ent con­clu­sion.

Last year, the web site Mod­ernist Cui­sine gave three rea­sons why “cof­fee with cream cools about 20% slow­er than black cof­fee” alone. To sum­ma­rize:

1) Black cof­fee is dark­er, and dark col­ors emit heat faster than light col­ors. As such, “by light­en­ing the col­or of your cof­fee, you slow the rate at which it cools,” if only slight­ly.

2) The Ste­fan-Boltz­mann Law (appar­ent­ly) says that hot­ter sur­faces radi­ate heat faster— than cool­er ones. So if you add cream to a cup of black cof­fee, it might low­er the tem­per­a­ture of that cup of cof­fee. How­ev­er that cup could still cool at a slow­er rate than a cup of hot black cof­fee.

3) Final­ly, and per­haps most impor­tant­ly, “adding cream thick­ens the cof­fee (adds vis­cos­i­ty), so it evap­o­rates slow­er.” And, in turn, less heat gets car­ried away by the evap­o­ra­tion.

To top things off, Mod­ernist Cui­sine also pro­duced a video show­ing cream being poured into cof­fee in super slow motion. Even if you don’t care to con­sid­er the physics of cof­fee & cream, it’s pret­ty cool to watch an aver­age cup of joe get­ting turned into a roil­ing sea.

via Petapix­el

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Physics of Cof­fee Rings Final­ly Explained

Hon­oré de Balzac Writes About “The Plea­sures and Pains of Cof­fee,” and His Epic Cof­fee Addic­tion

“The Vertue of the COFFEE Drink”: London’s First Cafe Cre­ates Ad for Cof­fee in the 1650s

Black Cof­fee: Doc­u­men­tary Cov­ers the His­to­ry, Pol­i­tics & Eco­nom­ics of the “Most Wide­ly Tak­en Legal Drug”

Free Online Physics Cours­es

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Cancer Patients’ Extreme Makeovers Let Them To Forget Their Illness ‘If Only For A Second’

The sea­son of giv­ing can be an unseem­ly time for non­prof­its. As New Year’s approach­es, every char­i­ta­ble insti­tu­tion down in Char­i­ta­ble Insti­tu­tionville must bang its tar-tin­ker and blow its hoo-hoover, in hope of dona­tions.

No doubt they’re all deserv­ing, but the onslaught of requests can leave sup­port­ers feel­ing a bit Grinchy. When that hap­pens, I rec­om­mend the video above, which doc­u­ments a hoax of Borat-like pro­por­tions. The per­pe­tra­tor is the Mimi Foun­da­tion, a Bel­gium-based group that offers psy­cho­log­i­cal coun­sel­ing, beau­ty treat­ments, and hair­style tips to peo­ple with can­cer.

The unsus­pect­ing vic­tims? Twen­ty can­cer patients who took it on good faith that they were being treat­ed to stan­dard makeovers, the sort of pro­fes­sion­al artistry that cre­ates an illu­sion of health, what many think pass­es for nor­mal­cy. All the Mimi Foun­da­tion asked for in return was that the recip­i­ents keep their eyes closed as the mag­ic was being worked.

Mean­while, pho­tog­ra­ph­er Vin­cent Dixon crouched behind a one-way mir­ror, poised to cap­ture each sit­ters’ reac­tion to his or her trans­for­ma­tion.

One does­n’t want to say too much. The end results are not what you think, unless you were think­ing of one of those over-the-top bizarre Amer­i­ca’s Next Top Mod­el pho­to chal­lenges.

Dixon’s images record the shock and invol­un­tary spon­tane­ity. The video, called “If Only for a Sec­ond, shows those ini­tial respons­es blos­som­ing into …well, let’s just say the Mimi Foun­da­tion, assist­ed by a pha­lanx of styl­ists, achieved their goal.

H/T Alan Gold­wass­er

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Come­di­an Tig Notaro’s “Tru­ly Great” Can­cer Stand-up Set Now Avail­able on Louis C.K.’s Web­site

Life in 4,748 Self-Por­traits

Ayun Hal­l­i­day’s heart grew three sizes today. Fol­low her @AyunHallliday

Hear King Edward VIII Explain Why He Abdicated The Crown For Love, 77 Years Ago Today

Sev­en­ty-sev­en years ago, in a move unprece­dent­ed since the Glo­ri­ous Rev­o­lu­tion of 1688, King-Emper­or Edward VIII abdi­cat­ed the throne. Today’s audi­ences will rec­og­nize the episode from The King’s Speech: less than a year after hav­ing ascend­ed to the British king­ship in Jan­u­ary of 1936, Edward became roman­ti­cal­ly entan­gled with a yet-to-be-divorced Amer­i­can socialite named Wal­lis Simp­son. As long as the King’s liaisons remained dis­creet, the cou­ple was afford­ed a respectable amount of pri­va­cy by the roy­al fam­i­ly and the British media. Things grew more com­pli­cat­ed, how­ev­er, when Simp­son divorced her sec­ond hus­band in Octo­ber of 1936, and the pair decid­ed to mar­ry, come hell or high water.

A King of the Unit­ed King­dom of Great Britain and North­ern Ire­land being wed­ded to a twice-divorced Amer­i­can socialite would have caused a furor. As the head of the Church of Eng­land, Edward could not mar­ry a divorced woman whose for­mer hus­band (let alone hus­bands) remained alive. Simpson’s first divorce proved even more problematic—it was grant­ed based on “emo­tion­al incom­pat­i­bil­i­ty,” and may not have been rec­og­nized under both Church and Eng­lish law. The King’s mar­riage to Simp­son also raised the pos­si­bil­i­ty of an Amer­i­can Queen, a sac­ri­le­gious idea in the eyes of his sub­jects.

Faced with a choice between the crown and his love, Edward VIII chose to step down. On Decem­ber 10, 1936, the King signed the fol­low­ing dec­la­ra­tion of abdi­ca­tion:

Edward_abdication

In the audio clip at the top of the post, Edward VIII takes to the radio waves to declare his abdi­ca­tion on Decem­ber 11. Brim­ming with hard­ly-con­tained emo­tion, Edward attempts to explain his rea­sons to the British peo­ple (read the full tran­script here):

“You all know the rea­sons which have impelled me to renounce the Throne. But I want you to under­stand that in mak­ing up my mind I did not for­get the coun­try or the Empire which as Prince of Wales, and late­ly as King, I have for twen­ty-five years tried to serve. But you must believe me when I tell you that I have found it impos­si­ble to car­ry the heavy bur­den of respon­si­bil­i­ty and to dis­charge my duties as King as I would wish to do with­out the help and sup­port of the woman I love.”

For those who had doubts about Simpson’s true feel­ings for the King (some sus­pect­ed her of car­ing only about the king’s mon­ey), the next 35 years would pro­vide suf­fi­cient proof. The pair remained mar­ried until Edward’s death in 1972.

Ilia Blin­d­er­man is a Mon­tre­al-based cul­ture and sci­ence writer. Fol­low him at @iliablinderman.

Gustave Doré’s Exquisite Engravings of Cervantes’ Don Quixote

QuixoteandPanza

In a now defunct list­ing from Bau­man Rare Books for an 1868 edi­tion of Miguel de Cer­vantes’ Don Quixote with illus­tra­tions by Gus­tave Doré, we find the fol­low­ing unat­trib­uted quo­ta­tion: “in every Eng­lish-speak­ing home where they can spell the word ‘art,’ you will find Doré edi­tions.” It’s odd that the homes should be “Eng­lish-speak­ing” when Doré’s illus­tra­tions were orig­i­nal­ly an 1860 French com­mis­sion, but the quote at least demon­strates the enor­mous pop­u­lar­i­ty of Doré’s Quixote. His ren­der­ings were so influ­en­tial they deter­mined the look of Quixote and San­cho Pan­za in many sub­se­quent illus­trat­ed ver­sions, stage and film pro­duc­tions, and read­ers’ imag­i­na­tions.

Per­haps the most suc­cess­ful illus­tra­tor of the 19th cen­tu­ry, the dap­per Doré was also at work on a momen­tous commission—this time from an Eng­lish publisher—to illus­trate the Bible. He went on to edi­tions of Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Par­adise Lost, The Divine Com­e­dy, Poe’s The Raven, and many oth­er famous works of lit­er­a­ture. But his Don Quixote may be the lit­er­ary com­mis­sion for which he’s best remem­bered.

QuixoteCaged

Doré appar­ent­ly entered a crowd­ed field when he took on Cer­vantes’ foun­da­tion­al text. For a lit­tle con­text, Bau­man Rare Books also quotes a cer­tain schol­ar sur­named “Ray,” who offers this pré­cis of the edition’s cre­ation:

Don Quixote was a text cal­cu­lat­ed to test even Doré. He was match­ing him­self against Coypel and Tony Johan­not, not to men­tion the Span­ish illus­tra­tors of the great Ibar­ra edi­tion pub­lished in Madrid in 1780. He met the chal­lenge superbly… At first he intend­ed only 40 designs, but Cer­vantes’ book cap­tured his imag­i­na­tion, and he arranged for a major work… Don Quixote and San­cho Pan­za reached their defin­i­tive ren­der­ing in Doré’s designs.

Doré end­ed up com­plet­ing over 200 illus­tra­tions for his edi­tion. You can see a cou­ple of those “defin­i­tive,” and exquis­ite, engrav­ings above and below. The edi­tors of Bib­liokept main­tain a sep­a­rate site post­ing all of the Doré Quixote illus­tra­tions. Project Guten­berg has an Eng­lish full text Quixote with the illus­tra­tions scanned in, and the Uni­ver­si­ty of Buf­fa­lo has an exten­sive search­able dig­i­tal col­lec­tion of Doré illus­tra­tions. And if you just have to con­form to the tastes of “every Eng­lish-speak­ing home where they can spell the word ‘art’ ” and own a Doré Quixote of your own, you can pur­chase a re-cre­ation of an 1870 edi­tion for only three month­ly install­ments of $125. It’s a “pub­lish­ing trea­sure.” Prince­ton Uni­ver­si­ty has more infor­ma­tion on the engrav­ings.

QuixoteHanging

via Bib­liokept

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Gus­tave Doré’s Dra­mat­ic Illus­tra­tions of Dante’s Divine Com­e­dy

Sal­vador Dalí’s 100 Illus­tra­tions of Dante’s The Divine Com­e­dy

Hen­ri Matisse Illus­trates 1935 Edi­tion of James Joyce’s Ulysses

See Pablo Picasso’s Spare, Ten­der Illus­tra­tions For a Lim­it­ed Edi­tion of Aristo­phanes’ Lysis­tra­ta (1934)

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Google’s Moving Ad About 1947 Partition of India & Pakistan Tops 10 Million Views

Recent­ly, Wired writer Steve Sil­ber­man (aka @stevesil­ber­man) shot us a note on Twit­ter, say­ing, “@openculture, do not miss this bril­liant ad. Most touch­ing movie (in 3 mins!) I’ve seen in years.” Released on Novem­ber 13th, the video has already clocked over 10 mil­lion views. But chances are you haven’t seen it. And that’s because it’s tar­get­ed to the web-enabled mid­dle class of India and Pak­istan. As The Dawn, Pak­istan’s old­est Eng­lish news­pa­per, describes it, the Google-cre­at­ed ad enti­tled “Reunion “por­trays two child­hood friends, now elder­ly men, who haven’t seen each oth­er since they were sep­a­rat­ed by the 1947 par­ti­tion that cre­at­ed India and Pak­istan from the old British empire in South Asia. Par­ti­tion sparked a mass exo­dus as mil­lions of Mus­lims and Hin­dus fled across the new bor­ders amid reli­gious vio­lence.” Now Google search prod­ucts are help­ing to bring old friends and neigh­bors back togeth­er.

Cyn­ics may be quick to judge this a sac­cha­rine, manip­u­la­tive ad. But oth­ers are see­ing in it some­thing else — a sign that “per­son­al con­nec­tions between Indi­ans and Pak­ista­nis run deep.” Even if their gov­ern­ments gain some­thing from keep­ing the con­flict alive, every­day peo­ple in India and Pak­istan are increas­ing­ly ready to put his­to­ry aside.

Note: If you click CC at the bot­tom of the video, you can use cap­tions to trans­late the film into nine lan­guages, includ­ing French, Malay­alam and Urdu. It is pre­set to Eng­lish.

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The Clash Mauls a Teddy Bear and Plays Two Songs on The Tom Snyder Show (1981)

The Clash’s San­din­ista!, their fourth and penul­ti­mate stu­dio album (let’s not talk about Cut the Crap) inspired crit­i­cal rhap­sodies and rose to the top of lists every­where in 1981. When I encoun­tered it almost ten years lat­er as a young fan, I didn’t give it much of a chance, except for a song with the same name as my belea­guered hometown’s NBA team. In hind­sight, it was my loss, but it’s also true that near­ly every gen­er­a­tion of Clash fans, includ­ing the very first, has put their fin­ger on the band’s moment of either “sell­ing out” or sharply declin­ing. Maybe for me it was what a Rolling Stone review called San­din­ista!’s “main­stream moves” and “stu­dio sophis­ti­ca­tion.” Maybe it was the “whiff of grandeur” of the triple album. I think it also had to do with what Tom Sny­der, in his 1981 inter­view with the band above, says of them in his intro­duc­tion: they pre­ferred to be iden­ti­fied “not so much as a Rock and Roll group but as a ‘News-giv­ing group.’”

It was hard­ly news when I heard it, and I didn’t much care for top­i­cal songs any­way. But I’ve always admired Joe Strummer’s sin­cer­i­ty and sense of polit­i­cal urgency. I don’t know how seri­ous­ly Strum­mer takes Snyder’s “News-giv­ing” open, but he rolls with it, and the band turns on the charm offen­sive, alter­nate­ly cud­dling and abus­ing a ted­dy bear (against Snyder’s protes­ta­tions), pro­fess­ing their sin­cere loy­al­ty to their fans, and cov­er­ing the host with mer­chan­dise. It’s a fun eight and half min­utes. Then they do two songs, “The Mag­nif­i­cent Sev­en” (above), from San­din­ista!, and “This is Radio Clash” (below), which doesn’t appear on any of their stu­dio albums. Behind Mick Jones’ wall of amps, pio­neer­ing graf­fi­ti artist Futu­ra 2000 spray-paints some uniden­ti­fi­able words, and beneath the whole affair is what Dan­ger­ous Minds calls “an under­cur­rent of con­trolled may­hem.” This kind of TV just doesn’t hap­pen any­more.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Audio Ammu­ni­tion: Google’s New Doc­u­men­tary Series on The Clash and Their Five Clas­sic Albums

Rare Live Footage Doc­u­ments The Clash From Their Raw Debut to the Career-Defin­ing Lon­don Call­ing

Mick Jones Plays Three Clas­sics by The Clash at the Pub­lic Library

The Clash: West­way to the World (The 2002 Gram­my Win­ning Film)

The Clash Live in Tokyo, 1982: Watch the Com­plete Con­cert

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

View Bill Gates’ Mobile Library: The Books & Courses That Help Him Change The World

Step­ping down as Microsoft’s chief exec­u­tive offi­cer in 2000 had giv­en Bill Gates some extra time, which the auto­di­dact imme­di­ate­ly expend­ed by attempt­ing to learn… well, every­thing. Per­haps Gates threw him­self at learn­ing to make up for aban­don­ing col­lege for greater pursuits—he attend­ed Har­vard but left after two years’ study to pur­sue his pas­sion for com­put­ers. What­ev­er his rea­sons, Gates has begun to assid­u­ous­ly learn all he can about the world, and is record­ing his edu­ca­tion process for pos­ter­i­ty on his web­site, The Gates Notes. As the video above explains, Microsoft’s founder has lis­tened to hun­dreds of hours of uni­ver­si­ty lec­tures from The Teach­ing Com­pa­ny; he got hooked after lis­ten­ing to Robert Whap­les’ Mod­ern Eco­nom­ic Issues and breez­ing through Tim­o­thy Tay­lor’s Amer­i­ca and the New Glob­al Econ­o­my. His num­ber one pick? Big His­to­ry which is taught by David Chris­t­ian and, Gates says, “is still my favorite course of all. The course is so broad that it syn­the­sizes the his­to­ry of every­thing includ­ing the sci­ences into one frame­work.”

Wher­ev­er Gates trav­els, he is also eter­nal­ly accom­pa­nied by his read­ing bag. Sur­prised that the her­ald of the dig­i­tal age is pack­ing paper­backs? Don’t be. “I’m still pret­ty much an old-school print guy,” Gates writes, “because I like to jot notes in the mar­gins, but I assume I’ll move over to ebooks when anno­ta­tion fea­tures get bet­ter.”

Last week, Gates showed WIRED the con­tents of his decid­ed­ly 20th cen­tu­ry mobile library. The books, which Gates replen­ish­es at an impres­sive rate, encom­pass an admirable breadth of top­ics. As befit­ting the over­seer of the Bill and Melin­da Gates Foun­da­tion, the major­i­ty of Gates’ read­ing con­sists of non-fic­tion (only Gary Shteyn­gart’s recent nov­el made the fic­tion cut this round). His­to­ry, psy­chol­o­gy, sci­ence, sound busi­ness coun­sel, soci­ol­o­gy, eco­nom­ics, and his­to­ry all make up the dizzy­ing array of Gates’ every­day read­ing. Here is a selec­tion from WIRED’s par­tial list, includ­ing Gates’ own com­ments on the impor­tance of each choice:

-Feynman’s Tips on Physics by Richard Feyn­man– A short com­pan­ion book to Richard Feynman’s clas­sic Lec­tures on Physics. Always worth­while to return to the feet of the mas­ter.

-Super Sad True Love Sto­ry: A Nov­el by Gary Shteyn­gart– I don’t read a lot of fic­tion, but I thought this was an inter­est­ing study of the moral impli­ca­tions of tech­nol­o­gy. Will tech­nol­o­gy con­tribute to everyone’s well-being or just make peo­ple more nar­cis­sis­tic?

-The Car­toon Intro­duc­tion to Sta­tis­tics by Grady Klein– Bought this to use with one of my kids. Help­ful in explain­ing a com­pli­cat­ed sub­ject to a teenag­er.

-The Path Between the Seas: The Cre­ation of the Pana­ma Canal by David McCul­lough – I read this to pre­pare for a fam­i­ly vaca­tion to Pana­ma. It’s pure McCul­lough: epic dra­ma, polit­i­cal intrigue, heart­break­ing defeats, and even­tu­al tri­umph.

-The Bet­ter Angels of Our Nature: Why Vio­lence Has Declined by Steven Pinker– One of the most impor­tant books I’ve read. Steven Pinker demon­strates how the world evolved to be far less vio­lent. Coun­ter­in­tu­itive, if you watch the news, but true.

We’ve also used the trusty Con­trol + Scroll func­tion to zoom in and name a few addi­tion­al titles:

An Uncer­tain Glo­ry: India and its Con­tra­dic­tions by Jean Drèze and Amartya Sen

Engi­neers of Vic­to­ry: The Prob­lem Solvers Who Turned The Tide in The Sec­ond World War by Paul Kennedy

The Price of Inequal­i­ty: How Today’s Divid­ed Soci­ety Endan­gers Our Future by Joseph Stiglitz

Why Does Col­lege Cost So Much? By Robert Archibald and David Feld­man

Mon­do Agnel­li: Fiat, Chrysler, and the Pow­er of a Dynasty by Jen­nifer Clark

How Chil­dren Suc­ceed: Grit, Curios­i­ty, and the Hid­den Pow­er of Char­ac­ter by Paul Tough

The One World School­house: Edu­ca­tion Reimag­ined by Salman Khan

Far From The Tree by Andrew Solomon

For the orig­i­nal list, head over to WIRED. For more of Gates’ com­men­tary, check out his site, The Gates Notes, here. You can also con­tin­ue your self-edu­ca­tion by vis­it­ing our lists of Free Online Cours­es, Free eBooks, Free Audio Books, Free Lan­guage Lessons, Free Text­books, and Free MOOCs.

Ilia Blin­d­er­man is a Mon­tre­al-based cul­ture and sci­ence writer. Fol­low him at @iliablinderman.


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