Search Results for "college"

10 Most Popular MOOCs (Massive Open Online Courses) Getting Started in June: Enroll Free Today

june 2016 moocs

Like every­thing else these days, edu­ca­tion has become a 24/7 affair. Yes, things are slow­ing down on col­lege cam­pus­es this sum­mer. But, on the inter­net, it’s full steam ahead. This June alone, over 300 free MOOCs (Mas­sive Open Online Cours­es) are get­ting under­way. They’re all neat­ly cat­a­logued by the edu­ca­tion web site Class Cen­tral, which also tracks the most pop­u­lar MOOCS offered each month. What’s hot in June? Find the top 10 below. And don’t hes­i­tate to enroll in any of the cours­es. They’re all free.

Per­son­al Finance Plan­ning
Pur­due Uni­ver­si­ty via edX
Man­age your mon­ey more effec­tive­ly by learn­ing prac­ti­cal solu­tions to key invest­ment, cred­it, insur­ance and retire­ment ques­tions.
Book­mark | Next Ses­sion : 15th Jun, 2016

Nutri­tion and Health: Food Safe­ty
Wagenin­gen Uni­ver­si­ty via edX
Learn about bac­te­ria, pes­ti­cides and health haz­ards present in food.
Book­mark | Next Ses­sion : 1st Jun, 2016

Islam Through Its Scrip­tures
Har­vard Uni­ver­si­ty via edX
Learn about the Quran, the cen­tral sacred text of Islam, through an explo­ration of the rich diver­si­ty of roles and inter­pre­ta­tions in Mus­lim soci­eties.
Book­mark | Next Ses­sion : 1st Jun, 2016

His­to­ry of Graph­ic Design
Cal­i­for­nia Insti­tute of the Arts via Cours­era
This con­densed sur­vey course focus­es on four major areas of design and their his­to­ry: Typog­ra­phy, Image-Mak­ing, Inter­ac­tive Media, and Brand­ing.
Book­mark | Next Ses­sion : 20th Jun, 2016

Big Data: Data Visu­al­i­sa­tion
Queens­land Uni­ver­si­ty of Tech­nol­o­gy via Future­Learn
Data visu­al­i­sa­tion is vital in bridg­ing the gap between data and deci­sions. Dis­cov­er the meth­ods, tools and process­es involved.
Book­mark | Next Ses­sion : 27th Jun, 2016

Micro­eco­nom­ics: When Mar­kets Fail
Uni­ver­si­ty of Penn­syl­va­nia via Cours­era
Per­fect mar­kets achieve effi­cien­cy: max­i­miz­ing total sur­plus gen­er­at­ed. But real mar­kets are imper­fect. This course will explore a set of mar­ket imper­fec­tions to under­stand why they fail and to explore pos­si­ble reme­dies, includ­ing antitrust pol­i­cy, reg­u­la­tion, and gov­ern­ment inter­ven­tion.
Book­mark | Next Ses­sion : 6th Jun, 2016

Sin­gle Page Web Appli­ca­tions with Angu­lar­JS
Johns Hop­kins Uni­ver­si­ty via Cours­era
Do you want to write pow­er­ful, main­tain­able, and testable front end appli­ca­tions faster and with less code? Then con­sid­er join­ing this course to gain skills in one of the most pop­u­lar Sin­gle Page Appli­ca­tion (SPA) frame­works today, Angu­lar­JS
Book­mark | Next Ses­sion : 20th Jun, 2016

Machine Learn­ing: Clus­ter­ing & Retrieval
Uni­ver­si­ty of Wash­ing­ton via Cours­era
A read­er is inter­est­ed in a spe­cif­ic news arti­cle and you want to find sim­i­lar arti­cles to rec­om­mend. What is the right notion of sim­i­lar­i­ty? More­over, what if there are mil­lions of oth­er doc­u­ments?
Book­mark | Next Ses­sion : 15th Jun, 2016

Intro­duc­tion to Engi­neer­ing
Uni­ver­si­ty of Texas at Arling­ton via edX
The appli­ca­tion of knowl­edge to design and build devices, sys­tems, mate­ri­als and process­es in engi­neer­ing.
Book­mark | Next Ses­sion : 8th, Jun, 2016

Social Norms, Social Change
Uni­ver­si­ty of Penn­syl­va­nia via Cours­era
This is a course on social norms, the rules that glue soci­eties togeth­er. It teach­es how to diag­nose social norms, and how to dis­tin­guish them from oth­er social con­structs, like cus­toms or con­ven­tions.
Book­mark | Next Ses­sion : 20th Jun, 2016

For a com­plete list of cours­es start­ing in June, click here.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

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Learn Calligraphy from Lloyd Reynolds, the Teacher of Steve Jobs’ Own Famously Inspiring Calligraphy Teacher

The sto­ry has, over time, solid­i­fied into one of the columns of Steve Jobs lore: in the ear­ly 1970s, the man who would found Apple left for Reed Col­lege. But before long, not want­i­ng to spend any more of his par­ents’ mon­ey on tuition (and per­haps not tem­pera­men­tal­ly com­pat­i­ble with the struc­ture of high­er edu­ca­tion any­way), he offi­cial­ly dropped out, couch-surfed through friends’ pads, lived on free meals ladled out by Hare Krish­nas, con­tin­ued to audit a vari­ety of class­es, and gen­er­al­ly lived the pro­to­type tech­no-neo-hip­pie lifestyle Sil­i­con Val­ley has con­tin­ued relent­less­ly to refine.

Per­haps the least like­ly of those class­es was one on cal­lig­ra­phy, taught by Trap­pist monk and cal­lig­ra­ph­er Robert Pal­ladi­no. More than thir­ty years lat­er, deliv­er­ing a now-famous Stan­ford com­mence­ment speech, Jobs recalled his time in the cal­lig­ra­phy class: “None of this had even a hope of any prac­ti­cal appli­ca­tion in my life. But 10 years lat­er, when we were design­ing the first Mac­in­tosh com­put­er, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first com­put­er with beau­ti­ful typog­ra­phy.”

And what of the cal­lig­ra­phy teacher who made that pos­si­ble? “Pal­ladi­no, who died in late Feb­ru­ary at 83, joined the Trap­pist order of monks in New Mex­i­co in 1950, accord­ing to a 2003 pro­file in Reed Mag­a­zine,” writes the Wash­ing­ton Post’s Niraj Chok­shi. “Just 17 at the time, his hand­writ­ing attract­ed the atten­tion of the monastery scribe, who worked with him on his art. Five years lat­er, Pal­ladi­no moved to Lafayette, Ore., where local artists brought news of a skilled ama­teur to Lloyd Reynolds, an icon in the field and the cre­ator of Reed’s cal­lig­ra­phy pro­gram.”

Now you, too, can receive instruc­tion from Reynolds, who in 1968 starred in a series on the Ore­gon Edu­ca­tion Tele­vi­sion Ser­vice’s pro­gram Men Who Teach, shoot­ing twen­ty half-hour broad­casts on ital­ic cal­lig­ra­phy and hand­writ­ing. Eight years lat­er — about the time Jobs co-found­ed Apple with Steve Woz­ni­ak — he re-shot the series in col­or, and you can watch that ver­sion almost in its entire­ty with the playlist at the top of the post. (Reed has also made some relat­ed instruc­tion­al mate­ri­als avail­able.) You may feel the temp­ta­tion to turn all of Reynolds’ lessons on the art of writ­ing toward your goal of becom­ing the next Steve Jobs. But try to resist that impulse and appre­ci­ate it for its own nature, which Jobs him­self described as “beau­ti­ful, his­tor­i­cal, artis­ti­cal­ly sub­tle in a way that sci­ence can’t cap­ture.”

We’ll add these vin­tage lessons to our col­lec­tion, 1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Steve Jobs on Life: “Stay Hun­gry, Stay Fool­ish”

Steve Jobs Nar­rates the First “Think Dif­fer­ent” Ad (Nev­er Aired)

Steve Jobs Mus­es on What’s Wrong with Amer­i­can Edu­ca­tion, 1995

The Art of Hand­writ­ing as Prac­ticed by Famous Artists: Geor­gia O’Keeffe, Jack­son Pol­lock, Mar­cel Duchamp, Willem de Koon­ing & More

Font Based on Sig­mund Freud’s Hand­writ­ing Com­ing Cour­tesy of Suc­cess­ful Kick­starter Cam­paign

One of World’s Old­est Books Print­ed in Mul­ti-Col­or Now Opened & Dig­i­tized for the First Time

Dis­cov­er What Shakespeare’s Hand­writ­ing Looked Like, and How It Solved a Mys­tery of Author­ship

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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Sir Ian McKellen Releases New Apps to Make Shakespeare’s Plays More Enjoyable & Accessible

tempest app

FYI: Ian McK­ellen, who first made his rep­u­ta­tion per­form­ing at the Roy­al Shake­speare Com­pa­ny in the 1970s and 80s, has just released the first of a series of iPad apps meant to make Shake­speare’s plays more acces­si­ble, espe­cial­ly for high school and col­lege stu­dents.

As McK­ellen explains above, Shake­speare’s plays were orig­i­nal­ly meant to be seen per­formed live in a the­atre, not read as books. And so these apps fea­ture actors per­form­ing dra­mat­ic scenes from the plays, while text scrolls by. They’ve just launched the first of 37 apps. It’s devot­ed to The Tem­pest, runs $5.99 on iTunes, and frankly seems well worth the price. Bene­dict Cum­ber­batch likes it. See below.

The app also includes these fea­tures:

  • The full text of The Tem­pest as pub­lished in the First Folio.
  • A full dig­i­tal ver­sion of Arden Shake­speare The Tem­pest.
  • The abil­i­ty to switch between three dif­fer­ent lev­els of notes depend­ing on the lev­el of reader’s needs.
  • A full break­down and expla­na­tion of every char­ac­ter and all of their lines across every scene.
  • A linked his­tor­i­cal time line of Shake­speare’s life, his plays, his the­atres, and con­tem­po­rary con­text to put it all into per­spec­tive.
  • Video expla­na­tions and dis­cus­sions by both Sir Ian McK­ellen and Pro­fes­sor Sir Jonathan Bate on char­ac­ters, themes, and the mean­ing of the play.
  • A full “play at a glance” with illus­tra­tions and sum­maries to explain the play’s plot with key quotes and events.
  • A his­to­ry of all the major pro­duc­tions of The Tem­pest from the 17th cen­tu­ry to the present day.
  • The option to make notes, copy and high­light text that can be col­lect­ed, cor­re­lat­ed and export­ed for lat­er use.
  • The option to search the play’s full text and essays.

Keep your eye on Heuris­tic Shake­speare’s iTunes site for new Shake­speare apps down the line.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Ian McK­ellen Stars in King Lear

Sir Ian McK­ellen Puts on a Daz­zling One-Man Shake­speare Show

A 68 Hour Playlist of Shakespeare’s Plays Being Per­formed by Great Actors: Giel­gud, McK­ellen & More

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Brian Eno Creates a List of His 13 Favorite Records: From Gospel to Afrobeat, Shoegaze to Bulgarian Folk

vu by vu

For most of us, mak­ing a list of our favorite albums involves no small amount of nos­tal­gia. We remem­ber high­lights from high school and col­lege: songs on con­stant rota­tion after breakups and dur­ing sum­mers of bliss. More so than any oth­er media we con­sume, music—from clas­si­cal to the most com­mer­cial pop—feels deeply per­son­al.

But there are many oth­er ways to relate to music. Bri­an Eno’s jour­ney through the world of record­ed sound, for exam­ple, more resem­bles that of a 19th cen­tu­ry explor­er. He grav­i­tates toward the cul­tur­al­ly exot­ic, makes stu­dious obser­va­tions, and advances hypothe­ses and the­o­ries. In read­ing through an inter­view he gave to The Qui­etus for their “baker’s dozen” series—in which they ask famous artists to name their top 13 albums—one theme emerges in the way Eno talks about music: dis­cov­ery.

And as Eno reminds us in his com­men­tary on his first pick—a gospel record by Rev­erend Maceo Woods and The Chris­t­ian Taber­na­cle Choir—one pre­cur­sor to dis­cov­ery is curios­i­ty, unbound­ed by prej­u­dice or pre­con­cep­tion. It’s an approach that has enabled him to cre­ate some of the most con­sis­tent­ly inter­est­ing records decade after decade (hear 150 Eno tracks here), and to remain rel­e­vant long after most of his ’70s peers have dis­ap­peared.

Eno first heard, or mis­heard, the gospel group on U.S. radio. To his ears, the refrain “sur­ren­der to His will” sound­ed like “sur­ren­der to the wheel,” a cryp­tic phrase that pro­voked all sorts of asso­ci­a­tions. But even after he learned the real lyric, he was hooked on the group’s sound, and want­ed to know more, though he him­self is entire­ly non-reli­gious.

“Why am I so moved by a music based on some­thing that I just don’t believe in?,” Eno asked him­self. His response ranges into philo­soph­i­cal ter­ri­to­ry, then ends on an unex­pect­ed­ly upbeat note. If it sur­pris­es you that one of Eno’s favorite albums is an obscure record by an ama­teur gospel group, take a look at the rest of his picks. We’d expect the Vel­vet Under­ground to appear—giv­en his famous com­ment about their mas­sive influ­ence—and they do. The rest is a col­lec­tion of wild cards. See the eclec­tic list below and stop by The Qui­etus to read Eno’s thought­ful, can­did com­men­tary on each album.

 

The Dynam­ic Rev­erend Maceo Woods and The Chris­t­ian Taber­na­cle Choir in Con­cert, by Rev­erend Maceo Woods and The Chris­t­ian Taber­na­cle Choir

Farid El Atra­che, by Farid El Atra­che

Umut, by Arif Sag

“Go Where I Send Thee,” The Gold­en Gate Quar­tet (sin­gle)

Fresh, by Sly and the Fam­i­ly Stone

Plan­ta­tion Lul­la­bies, Me’Shell Nde­geO­cel­lo

The Vel­vet Under­ground, by The Vel­vet Under­ground

Ear­ly Works, by Steve Reich

Afro­disi­ac, by Fela Ran­some-Kuti & The Africa ‘70

Glid­er, by My Bloody Valen­tine

Heart­land, by Owen Pal­lett

Grande Liturgie Ortho­doxe Slave, by Chœur Bul­gare Sve­toslav Obreten­ov

Court and Spark, by Joni Mitchell

via The Qui­etus

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Bowie Lists His 25 Favorite LPs in His Record Col­lec­tion: Stream Most of Them Free Online

Tom Waits Makes a List of His Top 20 Favorite Albums of All Time

Kurt Cobain Lists His 50 Favorite Albums: Fea­tures LPs by David Bowie, Pub­lic Ene­my & More

Hear 150 Tracks High­light­ing Bri­an Eno’s Career as a Musi­cian, Com­pos­er & Pro­duc­er & Stream His 2015 John Peel Lec­ture

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

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Hear What It Sounds Like When Philosopher Daniel Dennett’s Brain Activity Gets Turned into Music

The refine­ments of med­ical imag­ing tech­nolo­gies like fMRI have giv­en neu­ro­sci­en­tists, psy­chol­o­gists, and philoso­phers bet­ter tools with which to study how the brain responds to all sorts of stim­uli. We’ve seen stud­ies of the brain on Jane Austen, the brain on LSD, the brain on jazz improv…. Music, it seems, offers an espe­cial­ly rich field for brain research, what with its con­nec­tion to lan­guage, bod­i­ly coor­di­na­tion, math­e­mat­ics, and vir­tu­al­ly every oth­er area of human intel­li­gence. Sci­en­tists at MIT have even dis­cov­ered which spe­cif­ic regions of the brain respond to music.

And yet, though we might think of music as a dis­crete phe­nom­e­non that stim­u­lates iso­lat­ed parts of the brain, Brownell pro­fes­sor of phi­los­o­phy Dan Lloyd has a much more rad­i­cal hypoth­e­sis, “that brain dynam­ics resem­ble the dynam­ics of music.”

He restates the idea in more poet­ic terms in an arti­cle for Trin­i­ty Col­lege: “All brains are musical—you and I are sym­phonies.” Plen­ty of peo­ple who can bare­ly whis­tle on key or clap to a beat might dis­agree. But Lloyd doesn’t mean to sug­gest that we all have musi­cal tal­ent, but that—as he says in his talk below—“everything that goes on in the brain can be inter­pret­ed as hav­ing musi­cal form.”

To demon­strate his the­o­ry, Lloyd chose not a musi­cian or com­pos­er as a test sub­ject, but anoth­er philosopher—and one whose brain he par­tic­u­lar­ly admires—Daniel Den­nett. And instead of giv­ing us yet more col­or­ful but baf­fling brain images to look at, he chose to con­vert fMRI scans of Dennett’s brain—“12 giga­bytes of 3‑d snap­shots of his cranium”—into music, turn­ing data into sound through a process called “soni­fi­ca­tion.” You can hear the result at the top of the post—the music of Dennett’s brain, which is appar­ent­ly, writes Dai­ly Nous, “a huge Eno fan.”

In his paper “Mind as Music,” Lloyd argues that the so-called “lan­guage of thought” is, in fact, music. As he puts it, “the lin­gua fran­ca of cog­ni­tion is not a lin­gua at all,” an idea that has “after­shocks for seman­tics, method, and more.” Sev­er­al ques­tions arise: I, for one, am won­der­ing if all our brains sound like Dennett’s abstract ambi­ent score, or if some play waltzes, some operas, some psy­che­del­ic blues.…

You can learn much more about Lloyd’s fas­ci­nat­ing research in his talk, which sim­pli­fies the tech­ni­cal lan­guage of his paper. Lloyd’s work goes much fur­ther, as he says, than study­ing “the brain on music”; instead he makes a sweep­ing­ly bold case for “the brain as music.”

via Dai­ly Nous

Relat­ed Con­tent:

This is Your Brain on Jazz Impro­vi­sa­tion: The Neu­ro­science of Cre­ativ­i­ty

The Neu­ro­science of Drum­ming: Researchers Dis­cov­er the Secrets of Drum­ming & The Human Brain

New Research Shows How Music Lessons Dur­ing Child­hood Ben­e­fit the Brain for a Life­time

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

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New LSD Research Provides the First Images of the Brain on Acid, and Hints at Its Potential to Promote Creativity

Talk to near­ly any vet­er­an of six­ties coun­ter­cul­ture, and you’re bound to hear a sto­ry or three about an acid trip. Some of those trips were bad, man, full of night­mare hal­lu­ci­na­tions and severe anx­i­ety. In oth­er accounts, how­ev­er, LSD gets cred­it for open­ing up the mind, releas­ing old pat­terns of thought, and free­ing up latent cre­ative ener­gy. From Ken Kesey to R. Crumb, these sto­ries abound. Are they cred­i­ble? Now that sci­en­tists have once again begun to study the drug—first syn­the­sized in 1938 and used in exper­i­ments in the 50s and 60s until it was banned near­ly everywhere—they are find­ing con­crete answers using the lat­est in brain imag­ing tech­nol­o­gy.

LSD Scans

And it appears that LSD—-in a con­trolled lab­o­ra­to­ry set­ting at least—“can be seen as revers­ing the more restrict­ed think­ing we devel­op from infan­cy to adult­hood.” So reports The Guardian in regard to exper­i­ments recent­ly con­duct­ed by neu­rophar­ma­col­o­gist David Nutt, for­mer “drugs advi­sor” for the British gov­ern­ment. Nutt gave vol­un­teer sub­jects an injec­tion of LSD, then cap­tured the first images ever record­ed of the brain on acid. You can see dra­mat­ic ani­ma­tions of those scans in the video at the top of the post, com­par­ing the brains of test sub­jects on the drug and those on place­bo, and see some sta­t­ic images above. The study, says Nutt, “is to neu­ro­science what the Hig­gs boson was to par­ti­cle physics.” In an inter­view with Nature, he describes LSD research as a “way to study the bio­log­i­cal phe­nom­e­non that is con­scious­ness.”

What the sub­jects expe­ri­enced won’t nec­es­sar­i­ly sur­prise any­one who has been on one of those leg­endary, mind-alter­ing trips: researchers found, writes The Guardian, that “under the drug, regions [of the brain] once seg­re­gat­ed spoke to one anoth­er,” pro­duc­ing hal­lu­ci­na­tions, “feel­ings of one­ness with the world,” and “a loss of per­son­al iden­ti­ty called ‘ego dis­so­lu­tion.’” How­ev­er, pri­or to this study, Nutt says, “we didn’t know how these pro­found effects were pro­duced.” There has been pre­cious lit­tle data, because “sci­en­tists were either scared or couldn’t be both­ered to over­come the enor­mous hur­dles to get this done.”

Work­ing with the Beck­ley Foun­da­tion, which stud­ies psy­choac­tive drugs and pro­motes pol­i­cy reform, Nutt and his col­league Robert Carhart-Har­ris crowd­fund­ed their study; in the video above, you can hear them both describe the goals and ratio­nale of their research. What they even­tu­al­ly found, The Guardian reports, was that “under the influ­ence, brain net­works that deal with vision, atten­tion, move­ment and hear­ing became far more con­nect­ed, lead­ing to what looked like a ‘more uni­fied brain.’”

But at the same time, oth­er net­works broke down. Scans revealed a loss of con­nec­tions between part of the brain called the parahip­pocam­pus and anoth­er region known as the ret­ro­s­ple­nial cor­tex.

Nutt and his col­leagues have more spe­cif­ic exper­i­ments planned, he tells Nature, “to look at how LSD can influ­ence cre­ativ­i­ty, and how the LSD state mim­ics the dream state.” And just as the drug was test­ed decades ago as a ther­a­py for addic­tions and psy­chi­atric dis­or­ders, Nutt hopes he can con­duct sim­i­lar tri­als. But his research has an even larg­er scope: As Aman­da Feild­ing, direc­tor of the Beck­ley Foun­da­tion, puts it, “We are final­ly unveil­ing the brain mech­a­nisms under­ly­ing the poten­tial of LSD, not only to heal, but also to deep­en our under­stand­ing of con­scious­ness itself.” We look for­ward to Nut­t’s fur­ther research find­ings. Per­haps some­day, LSD will be avail­able with a pre­scrip­tion. Until then, it’s prob­a­bly wise not to try these exper­i­ments at home.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Woman Takes LSD in 1956: “I’ve Nev­er Seen Such Infi­nite Beau­ty in All My Life,” “I Wish I Could Talk in Tech­ni­col­or”

Artist Draws Nine Por­traits on LSD Dur­ing 1950s Research Exper­i­ment

Ken Kesey Talks About the Mean­ing of the Acid Tests in a Clas­sic Inter­view

R. Crumb Describes How He Dropped LSD in the 60s & Instant­ly Dis­cov­ered His Artis­tic Style

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

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Monty Python’s John Cleese Worries That Political Correctness Will Lead Us into a Humorless World, Reminiscent of Orwell’s 1984

As with all of our polit­i­cal debates, those over “polit­i­cal cor­rect­ness” have become even more polar­ized, vit­ri­olic, and out­sized than when I was in col­lege at the height of the first cul­ture wars, when it often seemed to me like just new eti­quette for increas­ing­ly plu­ral­ist cam­pus­es and work­places. Now, peo­ple use the phrase to refer to any call for basic human decen­cy and intel­lec­tu­al honesty—and use it to dis­miss such calls out of hand. On the oth­er hand, many efforts at curb­ing or crit­i­ciz­ing cer­tain kinds of speech can seem gen­uine­ly, unnec­es­sar­i­ly, repres­sive. Whether it’s an illib­er­al col­lege group pres­sur­ing their uni­ver­si­ty to dis­in­vite enter­tain­ers or shut down debates, or fanat­i­cal gun­men threat­en­ing, and tak­ing, the lives of jour­nal­ists or blog­gers, the stakes over what can and can’t be said have grown expo­nen­tial­ly.

Have we reached a cri­sis of “Orwellian” pro­por­tions in the U.S.? I’d hes­i­tate to say so, giv­en the overuse and abuse of Orwell’s name and ideas as a catch-all for soci­etal dys­func­tion. We have ral­lies in which tens of thou­sands gath­er to cheer for the demo­niza­tion and slan­der of entire peo­ple groups. It hard­ly seems to me that anyone’s los­ing their free­dom of speech any time soon. But John Cleese in the Big Think video above makes an argu­ment about a par­tic­u­lar kind of polit­i­cal cor­rect­ness that he defines as “the idea that you have to be pro­tect­ed from any kind of uncom­fort­able emo­tion.” Describ­ing this kind of speech polic­ing as patho­log­i­cal, Cleese refers to a the­o­ry of a psy­chi­a­trist friend, Robin Skin­ner, that peo­ple who can’t con­trol their own emo­tions “have to start to con­trol oth­er people’s behav­ior.”

Cleese does­n’t blan­ket­ly impugn the motives of all activists for polit­i­cal­ly cor­rect speech. He notes a sim­i­lar tra­jec­to­ry as I have when it comes to col­lege cam­pus­es. “Polit­i­cal cor­rect­ness,” he says, “has been tak­en from being a good idea, which is ‘let’s not be mean, and par­tic­u­lar­ly to peo­ple who are not able to look after them­selves very well,’ to the point where any kind of crit­i­cism of any indi­vid­ual or group can be labeled cru­el.” Per­haps he’s right. (And Cleese is by no means the first com­ic to say so—and to swear off col­lege cam­pus­es.) In any case, his obser­va­tions about the nec­es­sary rela­tion­ship of com­e­dy to crit­i­cism or offense are dead on, as well as his con­clu­sion that once the humor’s gone, so “goes a sense of pro­por­tion, and… you’re liv­ing in 1984.” I can’t think of a book, or a soci­ety, with less humor in it.

One point of inter­est: Polit­i­cal Cor­rect­ness means a great many things to a great many peo­ple. For some it is about agency and self-deter­mi­na­tion, and right­ing his­tor­i­cal wrongs so as not to per­pet­u­ate them in the present. For oth­ers, it tends more toward a patron­iz­ing activist cru­sade on behalf, as Cleese says in his def­i­n­i­tion of the term, of “peo­ple who are not able to look after them­selves.” While he calls a lit­tle of this lat­ter atti­tude a good thing, George Car­lin saw it as con­de­scend­ing and disin­gen­u­ous. By no means a respecter of any par­ty ide­ol­o­gy, Car­lin described even seem­ing­ly innocu­ous forms of polit­i­cal­ly cor­rect lan­guage as fas­cism mas­querad­ing as man­ners.

In my expe­ri­ence, few peo­ple can make argu­ments against polit­i­cal­ly cor­rect lan­guage with­out occa­sion­al­ly falling into the trap of prov­ing its point. But Car­lin and Cleese make thought­ful cas­es, espe­cial­ly when they use humor—as Car­lin did over an entire career of rail­ing against the speech police. In his bit above on the increas­ing insis­tence on ungain­ly euphemisms and puffed-up jar­gon, he demon­strates what Cleese calls the effec­tive anti­dote to a polit­i­cal move­ment run riot: a sense of proportion—as well as a sense of com­pas­sion.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Slavoj Žižek Calls Polit­i­cal Cor­rect­ness a Form of “Mod­ern Total­i­tar­i­an­ism”

John Cleese on How “Stu­pid Peo­ple Have No Idea How Stu­pid They Are” (a.k.a. the Dun­ning-Kruger Effect)

What “Orwellian” Real­ly Means: An Ani­mat­ed Les­son About the Use & Abuse of the Term

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

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5 Books You Can Read Again .… and Again and Again: Here’s Our Picks, Now Yours

absalom
Recent­ly, a Metafil­ter user asked the ques­tion: which books do you reread again and again, and why— whether for “com­fort, dif­fi­cul­ty, humour, iden­ti­fi­ca­tion, what­ev­er”? It got me think­ing about a few of the ways I’ve dis­cov­ered such books.

Writ­ing an essay or book about a nov­el is one good way to find out how well it holds up under mul­ti­ple read­ings. You stare at plot holes, implau­si­ble char­ac­ter devel­op­ment, incon­sis­tent chronolo­gies, and oth­er lit­er­ary flaws (or maybe fea­tures) for weeks, months, some­times even years. And you also live with the lan­guage that first seduced you, the char­ac­ters who drew you in, the images, places, atmos­pheres you can’t for­get….

But read­ing alone can mean that blind spots nev­er get addressed. We hold to our bias­es, pos­i­tive and neg­a­tive, despite our­selves. Anoth­er great way to test the dura­bil­i­ty of work of fic­tion is to teach it for years, or oth­er­wise read it in a group of engaged peo­ple, who will see what you don’t, can’t, or won’t, and help bet­ter your appre­ci­a­tion (or deep­en your dis­like).

Hav­ing spent many years doing both of these things as a stu­dent and teacher, there are a few books that sur­vived semes­ter after semes­ter, and still sit promi­nent­ly on my shelves, where at any time I can pull them down, open them up, and be imme­di­ate­ly absorbed. Then there are books I read when younger, and which seemed so mys­te­ri­ous, so pos­sessed of an almost reli­gious sig­nif­i­cance, I returned to them again and again—looking for the most enchant­ed sen­tences.

If I had to nar­row down to a short list the books I con­sis­tent­ly reread, those books would come out of all three expe­ri­ences above, and they would include, in no nec­es­sary order—

Absa­lom, Absa­lom!, by William Faulkn­er: I’ve writ­ten sev­er­al essays on this nov­el, over the course of sev­er­al years, and I love it as much or more as when I first picked it up. It’s a book that becomes both more grim and more dark­ly humor­ous as time goes on; its ver­tig­i­nous nar­ra­tive strat­e­gy cre­ates an inex­haustible num­ber of ways to see the sto­ry.

Wuther­ing Heights, by Emi­ly Bronte: I read this nov­el as a child and under­stood almost noth­ing about it but the ghost­ly set­ting of “wiley, windy moors” (as Kate Bush described it) and the furi­ous emo­tion­al inten­si­ty of Heath­cliff and Cather­ine. These ele­ments kept me com­ing back to dis­cov­er just how much Bronte—like Faulkner—encircles her read­er in a cyclone of pos­si­bil­i­ty; mul­ti­ple sto­ries, told from mul­ti­ple char­ac­ters, times, and places, swirl around, nev­er set­tling on what we most want in real life but nev­er get there either—simple answers.

Song of Solomon, by Toni Mor­ri­son: Morrison’s nov­el extracts from the 20th cen­tu­ry African Amer­i­can expe­ri­ence a tale of pro­found indi­vid­ual strug­gle, as char­ac­ters in her fic­tion­al fam­i­ly fight to define them­selves against social inequities and to tran­scend oppres­sive iden­ti­ties. Their fail­ures to do so are just as poignant as their suc­cess­es, and char­ac­ters like Pilate and Milk­man achieve an almost arche­typ­al sig­nif­i­cance through the course of the nov­el. Mor­ri­son cre­ates mod­ern myth.

The Yid­dish Police­man’s Union, by Michael Chabon. I taught this nov­el for years because it seemed like, and was, a great way to intro­duce stu­dents to the com­pli­ca­tions of plot, the joys of spec­u­la­tive fic­tion, and the empa­thet­ic imag­in­ing of oth­er peo­ple and cul­tures that the nov­el can enable. I can think of many ways some crit­ics might find Chabon’s book polit­i­cal­ly “prob­lem­at­ic,” but my con­sis­tent enjoy­ment of its wild-eyed sto­ry has nev­er dimin­ished since I first picked up the book and read it straight through in a cou­ple of days, ful­ly con­vinced by its fic­tion­al world.

Labyrinths, by Jorge Luis Borges. The Argen­tin­ian writer’s best-known col­lec­tion of sto­ries and essays requires patient reread­ing. My first encounter with the book ear­ly in col­lege pro­voked amaze­ment, but lit­tle com­pre­hen­sion. I still can’t say that I under­stand Borges, but every time I reread him, I seem to dis­cov­er some new alcove, and some­times a whole oth­er room, filled with inscrutable, mys­te­ri­ous trea­sures.

This list is not in any way com­pre­hen­sive, but it cov­ers a few of the books that have stayed with me, each of them for well over a decade, and a few of the rea­sons why. What books do you reread, and why? What is it about them that keeps you return­ing, and how did you dis­cov­er these books? While I stuck with fic­tion above, I could also make a list of philo­soph­i­cal books, as well as poet­ry. Feel free to include such books in the com­ments sec­tion below as well.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The 10 Great­est Books Ever, Accord­ing to 125 Top Authors (Down­load Them for Free)

Vladimir Nabokov Names the Great­est (and Most Over­rat­ed) Nov­els of the 20th Cen­tu­ry

Read 700 Free eBooks Made Avail­able by the Uni­ver­si­ty of Cal­i­for­nia Press

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

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A Massive 800-Track Playlist of 90s Indie & Alternative Music, in Chronological Order

800 indie tracksIn the time it’s tak­en me to grow out of my way­ward 90s youth and into most­ly sol­id cit­i­zen adult­hood, cul­tur­al mem­o­ries of that decade have crys­tal­ized around a few gen­res that have seen some renew­al of late. I’m more than pleased to find cur­rent musi­cians reviv­ing shoegaze, 90s elec­tron­i­ca, and neo-soul. And with so many artists who peaked twen­ty or so years ago still releas­ing records or get­ting back togeth­er for impres­sive reunions, it often seems like the music I grew up with nev­er left, even if a whole raft of stars I couldn’t pick out of a line­up have emerged in the mean­time.

And yet, though the ven­er­a­tion of 90s music has become a thing in recent years, the per­spec­tive of it by peo­ple per­haps not even born when the decade end­ed tends to be some­what lim­it­ed. Per­haps all of us for­get how strange and eclec­tic 90s music was. Even at the time, pop and alter­na­tive cul­tures were almost instant­ly reduced in films, com­pi­la­tion albums, and more-or-less every show on MTV. It was an era when sub­cul­tures were quick­ly com­mod­i­fied, san­i­tized, and sold back to us in the­aters and on record shelves.

To remind our­selves of just how wide-rang­ing the 90s were, we might turn to the expan­sive “giant 90s alt/indie/etc” playlist here, com­piled by Aroon Korv­na (born in 1982, but pre­co­cious­ly “musi­cal­ly con­scious” dur­ing the decade). The jour­ney begins with the nasal cham­ber pop of They Might Be Giants’ “Bird­house in Your Soul”—a clas­sic of DIY dork-rock—and ends with Jay Z’s “Big Pimpin,” a song herald­ing the tri­umph of radio-ready rap and club hits over the decades’ many quirky rock and hip-hop guis­es.

Hear the playlist in three parts: Part I (1990–94) and II (1995–96) above; Part III (1997–99) below. (If you need Spo­ti­fy’s soft­ware, down­load it here.) Along the way, we run into for­got­ten songs by under-the-radar bands like The Dwarves, Red House Painters, Guid­ed By Voic­es, The Beta Band, and The Micro­phones; left­field choic­es from one-hit won­ders like Ned’s Atom­ic Dust­bin and Infor­ma­tion Soci­ety; the first stir­rings from now-super­stars like Daft Punk and Jack White; and cuts from just about every oth­er artist on col­lege or alter­na­tive radio through­out the decade.

“The inspi­ra­tion for this playlist,” writes Korv­na, “came from see­ing one too many of those nos­tal­gia-bait pieces aimed at my cohort: ‘You total­ly for­got about these 20 amaz­ing hits from the 90’s.… After the 6th or 7th of these arti­cles all list­ing off the same obvi­ous things, you start to think you real­ly have heard every­thing from the 90s. But we all know that’s not true.”

By doing a bit of inter­net research to fill gaps in mem­o­ry, Korv­na com­piled “a mix of things every­one is famil­iar with, and more obscure arti­facts, the sorts of songs you might have only been famil­iar with if you were, say, lis­ten­ing to col­lege rock in 1991.”

If the 90s is to you an unknown coun­try, you’ll find that this three-part Spo­ti­fy playlist offers a com­pre­hen­sive walk-through of the decades’ diverse musi­cal culture—and it does­n’t just play the hits. If you’re a gen­tle­man or lady of a cer­tain age, it will refresh a few mem­o­ries, make you smile and wince with nos­tal­gia, and per­haps fill you with indig­na­tion over all the songs you think need to be on there but aren’t.

Feel free to leave your sug­ges­tions in the comments—or to make your own 90s playlist. And while you’re at it, you might want to take a look at Flavorwire’s sur­pris­ing list of “105 ‘90s Alter­na­tive Bands that Still Exist.”

via Metafil­ter/Medi­um

Relat­ed Con­tent:

1,000 Record­ings to Hear Before You Die: Stream a Huge Playlist of Songs Based on the Best­selling Book

62 Psy­che­del­ic Clas­sics: A Free Playlist Cre­at­ed by Sean Lennon

Radio David Byrne: Stream Free Music Playlists Cre­at­ed Every Month by the Front­man of Talk­ing Heads

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

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Virginia Woolf Offers Gentle Advice on “How One Should Read a Book”

virginia woolf list

I am priv­i­leged to have grown up in a house filled with books. I don’t remem­ber learn­ing to read; I sim­ply recall books—those that felt beneath me, those that seemed for­ev­er beyond com­pre­hen­sion. No one taught me how to read—by which I mean no one told me what to attend to in books, what to ignore; what to love, what to scorn. The shelves in my home, school, and local library were a wilder­ness, and I was left to carve my own paths through their thick­ets.

That all changed when I got to col­lege, then grad­u­ate school, where I found var­i­ous crit­i­cal move­ments, lit­er­ary the­o­ries, and philo­soph­i­cal schools, and was com­pelled to choose between their meth­ods, pol­i­tics, and pro­hi­bi­tions. Read­ing became a stren­u­ous activ­i­ty, a heavy intel­lec­tu­al exer­cise in which I felt those crit­ics and the­o­rists always look­ing over my shoul­der. Those who have done inten­sive study in the human­i­ties may sym­pa­thize: After­ward, I had to relearn how to read with­out an agen­da.

Such is the kind of unfet­tered read­ing Vir­ginia Woolf rec­om­mends in an essay titled “How Should One Read a Book?”, pub­lished in a series called The Com­mon Read­er—a title, in fact, of two col­lec­tions, the first pub­lished in 1925, the sec­ond in 1932. Woolf wrote these essays for lay read­ers, not schol­ars, and many were pre­vi­ous­ly pub­lished in venues like The Nation, Vogue, and The Yale Review. In them, Woolf’s infor­mal inves­ti­ga­tions of writ­ers like Jonathan Swift, Daniel Defoe, Christi­na Ros­set­ti, and Thomas Hardy—writes a 1925 New York Times review—do not “put the author in the atti­tude of a defend­er or an expos­i­tor of cer­tain trends in lit­er­a­ture.”

“How Should One Read a Book?” appears at the end of the sec­ond series of The Com­mon Read­er. The essay “cau­tions,” writes Maria Popo­va, “against bring­ing bag­gage and pre-con­ceived notions to your read­ing” and abjures a for­mal, crit­i­cal approach:

After all, what laws can be laid down about books? The bat­tle of Water­loo was cer­tain­ly fought on a cer­tain day; but is Ham­let a bet­ter play than Lear? Nobody can say. Each must decide that ques­tion for him­self. To admit author­i­ties, how­ev­er heav­i­ly furred and gowned, into our libraries and let them tell us how to read, what to read, what val­ue to place upon what we read, is to destroy the spir­it of free­dom which is the breath of those sanc­tu­ar­ies. Every­where else we may be bound by laws and con­ven­tions — there we have none.

Though her­self a more than able schol­ar and crit­ic, Woolf does not rec­om­mend that her read­ers become so. “The only advice,” she writes, “that one per­son can give anoth­er about read­ing is to take no advice, to fol­low your instincts, to use your own rea­son, to come to your own con­clu­sions.” That said, how­ev­er, she feels “at lib­er­ty to put for­ward a few ideas and sug­ges­tions” that we are free to take or leave. She offers her guide­lines to aid enjoy­ment, not sti­fle it, and to help us sort and sift the “mul­ti­tudi­nous chaos” we encounter when con­front­ed with gen­res, peri­ods, and styles of every type.

“Where,” Woolf asks, “are we to begin?” Below, in brief, find a few of her “ideas and sug­ges­tions,” offered with all of the care­ful caveats above:

  • “Since books have classes—fiction, biog­ra­phy, poetry—we should sep­a­rate them and take from each what it is right that each should give us.”

Most com­mon­ly we come to books with blurred and divid­ed minds, ask­ing of fic­tion that it shall be true, of poet­ry that it shall be false, of biog­ra­phy that it shall be flat­ter­ing, of his­to­ry that it shall enforce our own prej­u­dices. If we could ban­ish all such pre­con­cep­tions when we read, that would be an admirable begin­ning. Do not dic­tate to your author; try to become him. Be his fel­low-work­er and accom­plice. If you hang back, and reserve and crit­i­cise at first, you are pre­vent­ing your­self from get­ting the fullest pos­si­ble val­ue from what you read.

  • “Per­haps the quick­est way to under­stand the ele­ments of what a nov­el­ist is doing is not to read, but to write; to make your own exper­i­ment with the dan­gers and dif­fi­cul­ties of words.”

Recall, then, some event that has left a dis­tinct impres­sion on you — how at the cor­ner of the street, per­haps, you passed two peo­ple talk­ing. A tree shook; an elec­tric light danced; the tone of the talk was com­ic, but also trag­ic; a whole vision, an entire con­cep­tion, seemed con­tained in that moment…. When you attempt to recon­struct it in words, you will find that it breaks into a thou­sand con­flict­ing impres­sions…. Then turn from your blurred and lit­tered pages to the open­ing pages of some great nov­el­ist — Defoe, Jane Austen, Hardy. Now you will be bet­ter able to appre­ci­ate their mas­tery.

  • “We can read [biogra­phies and mem­oirs] with anoth­er aim, not to throw light on lit­er­a­ture, not to become famil­iar with famous peo­ple, but to refresh and exer­cise our own cre­ative pow­ers.”

The greater part of any library is noth­ing but the record of… fleet­ing moments in the lives of men, women, and don­keys. Every lit­er­a­ture, as it grows old, has its rub­bish-heap, its record of van­ished moments and for­got­ten lives told in fal­ter­ing and fee­ble accents that have per­ished. But if you give your­self up to the delight of rub­bish-read­ing you will be sur­prised, indeed you will be over­come, by the relics of human life that have been cast out to moul­der. It may be one let­ter — but what a vision it gives! It may be a few sen­tences — but what vis­tas they sug­gest!

Read the entire­ty of Woolf’s essay here to learn her nuanced view of read­ing. She con­cludes her essay with anoth­er gen­tle swipe at lit­er­ary crit­i­cism and rec­om­mends humil­i­ty in the com­pa­ny of lit­er­a­ture:

If to read a book as it should be read calls for the rarest qual­i­ties of imag­i­na­tion, insight, and judg­ment, you may per­haps con­clude that lit­er­a­ture is a very com­plex art and that it is unlike­ly that we shall be able, even after a life­time of read­ing, to make any valu­able con­tri­bu­tion to its crit­i­cism. We must remain read­ers.

Clear­ly Woolf did not think of read­ing as a pas­sive activ­i­ty, but rather one in which we engage our own imag­i­na­tions and lit­er­ary abil­i­ties, such as they are. But if we are not to crit­i­cize, not draw firm con­clu­sions, morals, life lessons, or philoso­phies from the books we read, of what use is read­ing to us?

Woolf answers the ques­tion with some ques­tions of her own: “Are there not some pur­suits that we prac­tice because they are good in them­selves, and some plea­sures that are final? And is not this among them?”

via Brain­Pick­ings

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Take Vladimir Nabokov’s Quiz to See If You’re a Good Reader–The Same One He Gave to His Stu­dents

Vir­ginia Woolf Writes About Joyce’s Ulysses, “Nev­er Did Any Book So Bore Me,” and Quits at Page 200

An Ani­mat­ed Intro­duc­tion to Vir­ginia Woolf

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

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