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Alain de Botton Presents Ten Virtues for the Modern Day

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At the end of my col­lege years, I found I need­ed to take one final polit­i­cal sci­ence course to com­plete my major. I chose a small sum­mer ses­sion on the sub­ject of virtue. Hav­ing enrolled with no idea what to expect, I fin­ished the quar­ter less changed by the assigned read­ings and class­room dis­cus­sions than by the very — and very unusu­al — task of hav­ing to think about virtue at all. Jokes about the dis­tance of virtue from mod­ern col­lege stu­dents’ minds write them­selves, but Alain de Bot­ton, a man giv­en to much thought and writ­ing about such lost top­ics, sus­pects that the same con­di­tion afflicts all of us. Hence his intro­duc­ing, under the ban­ner of his insti­tu­tion The School of Life, the Virtues Project. It emerges into an unre­cep­tive envi­ron­ment. As de Bot­ton puts it in this intro­duc­to­ry post, “In the mod­ern world, the idea of try­ing to be a ‘good per­son’ con­jures up all sorts of neg­a­tive asso­ci­a­tions: of piety, solem­ni­ty, blood­less­ness and sex­u­al renun­ci­a­tion, as if good­ness were some­thing one would try to embrace only when oth­er more dif­fi­cult but more ful­fill­ing avenues had been exhaust­ed.”

“Through­out his­to­ry,” he con­tin­ues, “soci­eties have been inter­est­ed in fos­ter­ing virtues, in train­ing us to be more vir­tu­ous, but we’re one of the first gen­er­a­tions to have zero pub­lic inter­est in this.” In order to bring that num­ber up, de Bot­ton and The School of Life have enu­mer­at­ed ten sim­ple but uni­ver­sal virtues — resilience, empa­thy, patience, sac­ri­fice, polite­ness, humor, self-aware­ness, for­give­ness, hope, and con­fi­dence — and embed­ded them in a man­i­festo, of which you can down­load a hand­some PDF ver­sion. This pro­vides the foun­da­tion­al text of the Virtues Project, a com­po­nent of de Bot­ton’s larg­er mis­sion, laid out in his recent book Reli­gion for Athe­ists, to repur­pose for mod­ern soci­ety the ele­ments of faith that have demon­strat­ed prac­ti­cal val­ue through­out his­to­ry. Since my adult life, which effec­tive­ly began as that last poli-sci course end­ed, has chiefly pre­sent­ed the chal­lenge of win­ning and main­tain­ing my own self-respect, I’ll be com­mit­ting these ten virtues to mem­o­ry, and no doubt watch­ing for the Virtues Pro­jec­t’s lec­tures and pub­lic events to come.

via Andrew Sul­li­van

Relat­ed con­tent:

Alain de Bot­ton Wants a Reli­gion for Athe­ists: Intro­duc­ing Athe­ism 2.0

Socrates on TV, Cour­tesy of Alain de Bot­ton (2000)

Alain de Bot­ton Pro­pos­es a Kinder, Gen­tler Phi­los­o­phy of Suc­cess

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

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Mathemusician Vi Hart Explains the Space-Time Continuum With a Music Box, Bach, and a Möbius Strip

Vi Hart, the Khan Acad­e­my’s res­i­dent “Recre­ation­al Math­e­mu­si­cian” turns the space-time con­tin­u­um into some­thing that can be played for­wards, back­wards, upside down, in a cir­cle, and on a Möbius strip.

How you ask?

Music. You know, that stuff that Shake­speare rhap­sodized as the food of love?

The fast-talk­ing Hart has way too much to prove in her less than eight minute video to waste time wax­ing poet­ic. To her, even the most elu­sive con­cepts are explain­able, rep­re­sentable. She does man­age to cre­ate some unin­ten­tion­al­ly love­ly lit­tle melodies on a music box that reads holes punched through the nota­tions on a tape print­ed with a musi­cal stave.

It took sev­er­al view­ings for me to wrap my mind around what exact­ly was being demon­strat­ed, but I think I’m begin­ning to grope my way toward what­ev­er dimen­sion she’s cur­rent­ly inhab­it­ing. See if you can fol­low along and then weigh in as to what you think the math­e­mat­i­cal­ly-inclined Bach might be doing in his grave as Hart blithe­ly feeds one of his com­po­si­tions through her music box, upside down, and back­wards.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How a Bach Canon Works. Bril­liant.

85,000 Clas­si­cal Music Scores (and Free MP3s) on the Web

A Big Bach Down­load – All Bach Organ Works for Free

Ayun Hal­l­i­day took piano lessons for years. All that remains are the open­ing bars to Hel­lo Dol­ly. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

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MAKERS Tells the Story of 50 Years of Progress for Women in the U.S.

Among the many thou­sands of items in my news­feed yes­ter­day, three popped out and stuck with me: First, a con­ser­v­a­tive pan­el called Inde­pen­dent Women’s Forum con­vened to dis­cuss their sense that “con­ser­v­a­tive lead­ers and fun­ders… don’t take women’s issues seri­ous­ly.” Pan­el mod­er­a­tor Christi­na Hoff Som­mers joked, “I’m not sure what’s worse: con­ser­v­a­tives ignor­ing women’s issues or con­ser­v­a­tives address­ing them.” The tone was light, but the sense of frus­tra­tion these women feel with their male col­leagues was very clear.

Sec­ond­ly, a UK come­di­an, Michael J. Dolan pub­lished a soul-search­ing piece much dis­cussed state­side in which he admits he was “a misog­y­nist come­di­an.” Dolan claims that, like racist come­di­ans of old, “Those ped­dling misog­y­ny, homo­pho­bia or oth­er vari­eties of hate to drunks who don’t know bet­ter are going to find them­selves out of favour.” And final­ly, for­mer pres­i­dent Jim­my Carter wrote an edi­to­r­i­al to announce that he is sev­er­ing his six-decade-long ties with the South­ern Bap­tist Con­ven­tion because of their view that women should be “sub­servient” to men. “It is sim­ply self-defeat­ing,” wrote Carter, “for any com­mu­ni­ty to dis­crim­i­nate against half its pop­u­la­tion.”

I men­tion these exam­ples because they seem to be part of a gen­er­al trend of cul­tur­al reassess­ment, after sev­er­al dis­mal­ly low points in the dis­cus­sion of gen­der equal­i­ty this past year, about the con­tin­ued institutionalization—in pol­i­tics, reli­gion, the work­place, and enter­tain­ment—of dam­ag­ing atti­tudes toward half of the human species. While it some­times seems that social change takes place at a glacial pace, with sev­er­al steps back for every step for­ward, there are always strong under­cur­rents of progress that aren’t read­i­ly appar­ent until some­one takes the time to orga­nize them into nar­ra­tives.

This is pre­cise­ly what the film­mak­ers of MAKERS aim to do. A “mul­ti-plat­form video expe­ri­ence” from AOL and PBS, the project show­cas­es “hun­dreds of com­pelling sto­ries from women of today and tomor­row… both known and unknown.” Unlike world­wide, pol­i­cy-based efforts like the just-end­ed 2013 Glob­al Mater­nal Health Con­fer­ence, MAKERS restricts its focus to women in the U.S. and, it seems, relies pri­mar­i­ly on indi­vid­ual women with promi­nent pub­lic roles—journalists, activists, writ­ers, and celebri­ties, or at least that’s the sense one gets from their intro­duc­to­ry video (above), which might open them up to charges of elit­ism. But there is more to the project than celebri­ty pro­files. In their own words, the pro­duc­ers of MAKERS describe the project thus:

MAKERS orig­i­nat­ed from a very clear premise: over the last half cen­tu­ry, the work of mil­lions of women has altered vir­tu­al­ly every aspect of Amer­i­can cul­ture. MAKERS fea­tures ground­break­ing women who have sparked change, been first in their fields and paved the way for those that fol­lowed. This ini­tia­tive also extends to pro­file hun­dreds of sto­ries of women who are dri­ving social change today.

Delve into the wealth of short doc­u­men­tary videos on the MAKERS YouTube chan­nel and you’ll see that there are dozens of women pro­filed who aren’t celebri­ties in the con­ven­tion­al sense. Sure, we’ve got stars of the screen and the pow­er cen­ters of gov­ern­ment and the cor­po­rate world, e.g. Ellen DeGeneres, Hilary Clin­ton, and Yahoo CEO Maris­sa May­er, but there are also less­er known “mak­ers,” like 15-year-old Tavi Gevin­son, founder and edi­tor-in-chief of webzine Rook­ie. Gevin­son is a prodi­gy who has built her own online media empire, begin­ning at the age of 11, when her fash­ion blog Style Rook­ie became one of the most pop­u­lar of its kind. Watch her (below) dis­cuss her own approach to typ­i­cal teenage inse­cu­ri­ties in an excerpt from her longer pro­file.

Anoth­er mak­er with a deeply inspir­ing sto­ry that you won’t hear in the dai­ly news cycle is Kather­ine Switzer, the first woman to enter the Boston Marathon in 1967. She did so by sign­ing the form with her ini­tials, mak­ing marathon offi­cials think she was a man. Below, Switzer recounts the curios­i­ty, bile, and dis­turbing­ly vio­lent harass­ment she faced dur­ing the race. It wasn’t until five years lat­er that the race was offi­cial­ly opened to women. By that time, Switzer was an activist for female run­ners.

The MAKERS project pro­files dozens of oth­er women—like civ­il rights lawyer and founder of Children’s Defense Fund Mar­i­an Wright Edel­man—who nor­mal­ly fly under the mass-media radar, but whose pres­ence in the cul­ture has an enor­mous impact. Keep your eye on PBS listings—on Feb­ru­ary 26th, they will air a three-hour doc­u­men­tary called MAKERS: Women Who Make Amer­i­ca, which promis­es to tell the “remark­able sto­ry for the first time” of the sweep­ing progress Amer­i­can women have made over the last half-cen­tu­ry.

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Wash­ing­ton, DC. Fol­low him @jdmagness.

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Richard Ford Reads Raymond Carver’s ‘The Student’s Wife’; One of 14 Podcasts of Famous Writers Reading a Favorite Story

The Guardian recent­ly asked a group of dis­tin­guished authors to read one of their favorite short sto­ries. The result­ing pod­cast series began appear­ing on the news­pa­per’s Web site last Fri­day and will con­tin­ue through the 4th of Jan­u­ary. A few of the writ­ers chose wide­ly rec­og­nized mas­ter­pieces. Many select­ed more obscure works. So far, there are pod­casts of Zadie Smith read­ing “Umber­to Buti” by Giuseppe Pon­tig­gia, Ruth Ren­dell read­ing “Canon Alber­ic’s Scrap­book” by M.R. James, Simon Cal­low Read­ing “The Christ­mas Tree” by Charles Dick­ens, and Nadine Gordimer read­ing “The Cen­taur” by José Sara­m­a­go.

The Amer­i­can writer Richard Ford (The Sports­writer, Inde­pen­dence Day, Rock Springs) chose to read “The Stu­den­t’s Wife” by his late friend Ray­mond Carv­er. The sto­ry was first pub­lished in Amer­i­ca in 1976, in Carver’s debut short sto­ry col­lec­tion, Will You Please Be Qui­et, Please. It exem­pli­fies Carver’s direct, eco­nom­i­cal style. But don’t make the mis­take of call­ing Carv­er a “min­i­mal­ist” around Ford. He describes the sto­ry, and the rich­ness of Carver’s writ­ing, in The Guardian:

Its ver­bal resources are spare, direct, rarely poly­syl­lab­ic, restrained, intense, nev­er melo­dra­mat­ic, and real-sound­ing while being obvi­ous­ly lit­er­ary in intent. (You always know, plea­sur­ably, that you’re read­ing a made short sto­ry.) These affect­ing qual­i­ties led some dun­der­heads to call his sto­ries “min­i­mal­ist”, which they are most assured­ly not, inas­much as they’re full-to-the-brim with the stuff of human inti­ma­cy, of long­ing, of bare­ly unearth­able humour, of exquis­ite nuance, of pathos, of unlooked-for dred, and often of love–expressed in words and ges­tures not fre­quent­ly asso­ci­at­ed with love. More than they are min­i­mal, they are replete with the renew­ings and the fresh aware­ness­es we go to great lit­er­a­ture to find.

You can lis­ten to Ford’s read­ing of “The Stu­den­t’s Wife” below, and fol­low the rest of the sto­ries as they appear through Jan. 4, along with intro­duc­tions by the authors who select­ed them, at The Guardian.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The New Yorker’s Fic­tion Pod­cast: Where Great Writ­ers Read Sto­ries by Great Writ­ers

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A Year of Grateful Dead Tunes Up in a Mashup

Even­tu­al­ly some­one had to do it.

Michael David Mur­phy cre­at­ed Tun­ing ’77, a “seam­less audio super­cut of an entire year of the Grate­ful Dead tun­ing their instru­ments, live on stage.” The mix uses every pub­licly avail­able record­ing from 1977, and it’s real­ly all a pre­lude to this: 8,976 Free Grate­ful Dead Con­cert Record­ings in the Inter­net Archive. You can lis­ten to Tun­ing ’77 here or below. It runs 92 min­utes.

via Boing­Bo­ing

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Beatboxing Bach’s Goldberg Variations

It might not sur­pass Glenn Gould’s record­ing of Bach’s Gold­berg Vari­a­tions from 1981. (Watch him per­form it here). But this clip, fea­tur­ing teenage pianist Kadar Qian and beat­box extra­or­di­naire Kevin Olu­so­la of Pen­ta­tonix, has a charm of its own. The clip comes from From the Top, a non-prof­it whose YouTube chan­nel presents out­stand­ing per­for­mances from the coun­try’s best young clas­si­cal musi­cians.

If you want your own copy of the Gold­berg Vari­a­tions, you can instant­ly down­load The Open Gold­berg Vari­a­tions, the first Kick­starter-fund­ed, open source record­ing of Bach’s mas­ter­piece. It’s avail­able entire­ly for free. Also don’t miss the Com­plete Organ Works of J.S. Bach. They’re free too!

via Boing­Bo­ing

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Pier Paolo Pasolini Talks and Reads Poetry with Ezra Pound (1967)

Here’s a col­li­sion of cul­tur­al fig­ures you don’t see every day: Salo, or the 120 Days of Sodom direc­tor Pier Pao­lo Pasoli­ni sit­ting down with mod­ernist poet Ezra Pound. Though only eight min­utes in length and per­haps not sub­ti­tled with ide­al flu­en­cy, this clip nonethe­less hints at the kind of con­ver­sa­tion, or con­ver­sa­tions, you’d like to have been in the room for. Here Pound and Pasoli­ni dis­cuss the lin­guis­ti­cal­ly exper­i­men­tal Ital­ian lit­er­ary move­ment “neoa­van­guardia,” which count­ed among its adher­ents Umber­to Eco, Edoar­do San­guineti, and Amelia Rossel­li. Pasoli­ni, not just a film­mak­er but a poet and all-around man of let­ters him­self, would nat­u­ral­ly know to bring this sub­ject up, since the group famous­ly looked to Anglo­phone mod­ernists like Pound him­self (as well as T.S. Eliot) for their inspi­ra­tion.

Pound came to Italy in 1924, by which point he already held expa­tri­ate sta­tus. Born in 1885 in what we now know as Ida­ho, he moved to Lon­don ear­ly in the 20th cen­tu­ry. Hor­ri­fied and dev­as­tat­ed by the First World War, he moved to Paris in 1921 before land­ing in the small Ital­ian town of Rapal­lo three years lat­er. He there pro­ceed­ed to tar­nish his rep­u­ta­tion by endors­ing the fas­cism of Mus­soli­ni and even Hitler. Pasoli­ni shows inter­est not in polit­i­cal ques­tions, but artis­tic ones: about the avant-garde, about Pound’s beloved 14th- and 15th-cen­tu­ry painters, and about his Pisan Can­tos. Pasoli­ni actu­al­ly dons his glass­es and per­forms a read­ing from that work as Pound gazes on. We then see the 82-year-old poet tak­ing his leave, lean­ing on his cane, mov­ing halt­ing­ly through the rus­tic Ital­ian coun­try­side that spreads out behind him.

via Bib­liok­lept

Relat­ed con­tent:

Ezra Pound’s Fiery 1939 Read­ing of His Ear­ly Poem, ‘Ses­ti­na: Altaforte’ 

Rare Ezra Pound Record­ings Now Online

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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After a Tour of Slavoj Žižek’s Pad, You’ll Never See Interior Design in the Same Way

How to react to celebri­ty aca­d­e­m­ic Slavoj Žižek? You could see him as a wild-eyed vision­ary and grow infat­u­at­ed with his pow­er­ful-sound­ing ideas about pow­er, vio­lence, cin­e­ma, psy­cho­analy­sis, and per­ver­sion. Or you could see him as a Pied Piper for delu­sion­al grad­u­ate stu­dents and grow enraged at his per­pet­u­a­tion of fash­ion­able non­sense. But you’d do best, I would argue, to take him sim­ply as a source of enter­tain­ment. How could you do oth­er­wise, watch­ing the above clip from Astra Tay­lor’s doc­u­men­tary Žižek! (pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured on Open Cul­ture here)? In these three min­utes, the sweat­ing Sub­lime Object of Ide­ol­o­gy author gives us a tour of his pad, spend­ing much time and excite­ment on his kitchen repur­posed as a clos­et: clothes and sheets in the cup­boards, socks in the draw­ers. “I am a nar­cis­sist. I keep every­thing,” he pro­nounces, hav­ing moved onto the shelves and shelves of his own work, from the pam­phlets of his “dis­si­dent days” to his lat­est books in Japan­ese trans­la­tion.

But it’s his poster of Josef Stal­in that real­ly draws your atten­tion — just as Žižek meant it to. If he did­n’t, he would­n’t have hung it in his entry­way, mak­ing it the first sight every guest gets of his home. Here he describes it not as a procla­ma­tion of Stal­in­ism, exact­ly, but as — in line with every­thing else he does — a provo­ca­tion. “This is just for peo­ple who come to be shocked and hope­ful­ly to get out,” he explains. “My big wor­ry is not to be ignored, but to be accept­ed. Of course, it’s not that I’m sim­ply a Stal­in­ist. That would be crazy, taste­less, and so on. But obvi­ous­ly there is some­thing in it that it’s not sim­ply a joke. When I say the only change is that the left appro­pri­ates fas­cism and so on, it’s not a cheap joke. The point is to avoid the trap of stan­dard lib­er­al oppo­si­tions: free­dom ver­sus total­i­tar­i­an order, and so on, to reha­bil­i­tate notions of dis­ci­pline, col­lec­tive order, sub­or­di­na­tion, sac­ri­fice, all that. I don’t think this is inher­ent­ly fas­cist.”

via Bib­liok­lept

Relat­ed con­tent:

Žižek!: 2005 Doc­u­men­tary Reveals the “Aca­d­e­m­ic Rock Star” and “Mon­ster” of a Man

Exam­ined Life Drops Aca­d­e­m­ic Celebri­ties Into the Real World (2008)

Der­ri­da: A 2002 Doc­u­men­tary on the Abstract Philoso­pher and the Every­day Man

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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Noam Chomsky Spells Out the Purpose of Education

E + duc­ere: “To lead or draw out.” The ety­mo­log­i­cal Latin roots of “edu­ca­tion.” Accord­ing to a for­mer Jesuit pro­fes­sor of mine, the fun­da­men­tal sense of the word is to draw oth­ers out of “dark­ness,” into a “more mag­nan­i­mous view” (he’d say, his arms spread wide). As inspi­ra­tional as this speech was to a sem­i­nar group of bud­ding high­er edu­ca­tors, it failed to spec­i­fy the means by which this might be done, or the rea­son. Lack­ing a Jesuit sense of mis­sion, I had to fig­ure out for myself what the “dark­ness” was, what to lead peo­ple towards, and why. It turned out to be sim­pler than I thought, in some respects, since I con­clud­ed that it was­n’t my job to decide these things, but rather to present points of view, a col­lec­tion of methods—an intel­lec­tu­al toolk­it, so to speak—and an enthu­si­as­tic mod­el. Then get out of the way. That’s all an edu­ca­tor can, and should do, in my hum­ble opin­ion. Any­thing more is not edu­ca­tion, it’s indoc­tri­na­tion. Seemed sim­ple enough to me at first. If only it were so. Few things, in fact, are more con­tentious (Google the term “assault on edu­ca­tion,” for exam­ple).

What is the dif­fer­ence between edu­ca­tion and indoc­tri­na­tion? This debate rages back hun­dreds, thou­sands, of years, and will rage thou­sands more into the future. Every major philoso­pher has had one answer or anoth­er, from Pla­to to Locke, Hegel and Rousseau to Dewey. Con­tin­u­ing in that ven­er­a­ble tra­di­tion, lin­guist, polit­i­cal activist, and aca­d­e­m­ic gen­er­al­ist extra­or­di­naire Noam Chom­sky, one of our most con­sis­tent­ly com­pelling pub­lic intel­lec­tu­als, has a lot to say in the video above and else­where about edu­ca­tion.

First, Chom­sky defines his view of edu­ca­tion in an Enlight­en­ment sense, in which the “high­est goal in life is to inquire and cre­ate. The pur­pose of edu­ca­tion from that point of view is just to help peo­ple to learn on their own. It’s you the learn­er who is going to achieve in the course of edu­ca­tion and it’s real­ly up to you to deter­mine how you’re going to mas­ter and use it.” An essen­tial part of this kind of edu­ca­tion is fos­ter­ing the impulse to chal­lenge author­i­ty, think crit­i­cal­ly, and cre­ate alter­na­tives to well-worn mod­els. This is the ped­a­gogy I end­ed up adopt­ing, and as a col­lege instruc­tor in the human­i­ties, it’s one I rarely have to jus­ti­fy.

Chom­sky defines the oppos­ing con­cept of edu­ca­tion as indoc­tri­na­tion, under which he sub­sumes voca­tion­al train­ing, per­haps the most benign form. Under this mod­el, “Peo­ple have the idea that, from child­hood, young peo­ple have to be placed into a frame­work where they’re going to fol­low orders. This is often quite explic­it.” (One of the entries in the Oxford Eng­lish Dic­tio­nary defines edu­ca­tion as “the train­ing of an ani­mal,” a sense per­haps not too dis­tinct from what Chom­sky means). For Chom­sky, this mod­el of edu­ca­tion impos­es “a debt which traps stu­dents, young peo­ple, into a life of con­for­mi­ty. That’s the exact oppo­site of what tra­di­tion­al­ly comes out of the Enlight­en­ment.” In the con­test between these two definitions—Athens vs. Spar­ta, one might say—is the ques­tion that plagues edu­ca­tion­al reform­ers at the pri­ma­ry and sec­ondary lev­els: “Do you train for pass­ing tests or do you train for cre­ative inquiry?”

Chom­sky goes on to dis­cuss the tech­no­log­i­cal changes in edu­ca­tion occur­ring now, the focus of innu­mer­able dis­cus­sions and debates about not only the pur­pose of edu­ca­tion, but also the prop­er meth­ods (a sub­ject this site is deeply invest­ed in), includ­ing the cur­rent unease over the shift to online over tra­di­tion­al class­room ed or the val­ue of a tra­di­tion­al degree ver­sus a cer­tifi­cate. Chomsky’s view is that tech­nol­o­gy is “basi­cal­ly neu­tral,” like a ham­mer that can build a house or “crush someone’s skull.” The dif­fer­ence is the frame of ref­er­ence under which one uses the tool. Again, mas­sive­ly con­tentious sub­ject, and too much to cov­er here, but I’ll let Chom­sky explain. What­ev­er you think of his pol­i­tics, his eru­di­tion and expe­ri­ence as a researcher and edu­ca­tor make his views on the sub­ject well worth con­sid­er­ing.

Josh Jones is a doc­tor­al can­di­date in Eng­lish at Ford­ham Uni­ver­si­ty and a co-founder and for­mer man­ag­ing edi­tor of Guer­ni­ca / A Mag­a­zine of Arts and Pol­i­tics.

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Marilyn Monroe Reads Joyce’s Ulysses at the Playground (1955)

Dur­ing the 1950s, the pio­neer­ing pho­to­jour­nal­ist Eve Arnold took a series of por­traits of Mar­i­lyn Mon­roe. The now icon­ic pho­tos gen­er­al­ly present Mon­roe as a larg­er-than-life celebri­ty and sex sym­bol. Except for one. In 1955, Arnold pho­tographed Mon­roe read­ing a worn copy of James Joyce’s mod­ernist clas­sic, Ulysses. It’s still debat­ed whether this was sim­ply an attempt to recast her image (she often played the “dumb blonde” char­ac­ter in her ’50s films), or whether she actu­al­ly had a pen­sive side. (Her per­son­al library, cat­a­logued at the time of her death, sug­gests the lat­ter.) But, either way, Arnold explained years lat­er how this mem­o­rable pho­to came about:

We worked on a beach on Long Island. She was vis­it­ing Nor­man Ros­ten the poet.… I asked her what she was read­ing when I went to pick her up (I was try­ing to get an idea of how she spent her time). She said she kept Ulysses in her car and had been read­ing it for a long time. She said she loved the sound of it and would read it aloud to her­self to try to make sense of it — but she found it hard going. She couldn’t read it con­sec­u­tive­ly. When we stopped at a local play­ground to pho­to­graph she got out the book and start­ed to read while I loaded the film. So, of course, I pho­tographed her. It was always a col­lab­o­ra­tive effort of pho­tog­ra­ph­er and sub­ject where she was con­cerned — but almost more her input.

You can find more images of Mar­i­lyn read­ing Joyce over at The Retro­naut. Of course, you can down­load your own copy of Ulysses from our Free Ebooks col­lec­tion. But we’d rec­om­mend spend­ing time with this fine­ly-read audio ver­sion, which oth­er­wise appears in our list of Free Audio Books.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The 430 Books in Mar­i­lyn Monroe’s Library: How Many Have You Read?

Stephen Fry Explains His Love for James Joyce’s Ulysses

Hen­ri Matisse Illus­trates 1935 Edi­tion of James Joyce’s Ulysses

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