Hear What the Language Spoken by Our Ancestors 6,000 Years Ago Might Have Sounded Like

As schol­ars of ancient texts well know, the recon­struc­tion of lost sources can be a mat­ter of some con­tro­ver­sy. In the ancient Hebrew and less ancient Chris­t­ian Bib­li­cal texts, for exam­ple, crit­ics find the rem­nants of many pre­vi­ous texts, seem­ing­ly stitched togeth­er by occa­sion­al­ly care­less edi­tors. Those source texts exist nowhere in any phys­i­cal form, com­plete or oth­er­wise. They must be inferred from the traces they have left behind—signatures of dic­tion and syn­tax, styl­is­tic and the­mat­ic pre­oc­cu­pa­tions….

So it is with the study of ancient lan­guages, but since oral cul­tures far pre­date writ­ten ones, the search for lin­guis­tic ances­tors can take us back to the very ori­gins of human cul­ture, to times unre­mem­bered and unrecord­ed by any­one, and only dim­ly glimpsed through scant archae­o­log­i­cal evi­dence and observ­able aur­al sim­i­lar­i­ties between vast­ly dif­fer­ent lan­guages. So it was with the the­o­ret­i­cal devel­op­ment of Indo-Euro­pean as a lan­guage fam­i­ly, a slow process that took sev­er­al cen­turies to coa­lesce into the mod­ern lin­guis­tic tree we now know.

The obser­va­tion that San­skrit and ancient Euro­pean lan­guages like Greek and Latin have sig­nif­i­cant sim­i­lar­i­ties was first record­ed by a Jesuit mis­sion­ary to Goa, Thomas Stephens, in the six­teenth cen­tu­ry, but lit­tle was made of it until around 100 years lat­er. A great leap for­ward came in the mid-nine­teenth cen­tu­ry when Ger­man lin­guist August Schle­ich­er, under the influ­ence of Hegel, pub­lished his Com­pendi­um of the Com­par­a­tive Gram­mar of the Indo-Euro­pean Lan­guages. There, Schle­ich­er made an exten­sive attempt at recon­struct­ing the com­mon ances­tor of all Indo-Euro­pean lan­guages, “Pro­to-Indo-Euro­pean,” or PIE, for short, thought to have orig­i­nat­ed some­where in East­ern Europe, though this sup­po­si­tion is spec­u­la­tive.

To pro­vide an exam­ple of what the lan­guage might have been like, Schle­ich­er made up a fable called “The Sheep and the Hors­es” as a “son­ic exper­i­ment.” The sto­ry has been used ever since, “peri­od­i­cal­ly updat­ed,” writes Eric Pow­ell at Archae­ol­o­gy, “to reflect the most cur­rent under­stand­ing of how this extinct lan­guage would have sound­ed when it was spo­ken some 6,000 years ago.” Hav­ing no access to any texts writ­ten in Pro­to-Indo-Euro­pean (which may or may not have exist­ed) nor, of course, to any speak­ers of the lan­guage, lin­guists dis­agree a good deal on what it should sound like; “no sin­gle ver­sion can be con­sid­ered defin­i­tive.”

And yet, since Schleicher’s time, the the­o­ry has been con­sid­er­ably refined. At the top of the post, you can hear one such refine­ment based on work by UCLA pro­fes­sor H. Craig Melchert and read by lin­guist Andrew Byrd. See a trans­la­tion of Schle­icher’s sto­ry, “The Sheep and the Hors­es” below:

A sheep that had no wool saw hors­es, one of them pulling a heavy wag­on, one car­ry­ing a big load, and one car­ry­ing a man quick­ly. The sheep said to the hors­es: “My heart pains me, see­ing a man dri­ving hors­es.” The hors­es said: “Lis­ten, sheep, our hearts pain us when we see this: a man, the mas­ter, makes the wool of the sheep into a warm gar­ment for him­self. And the sheep has no wool.” Hav­ing heard this, the sheep fled into the plain.

Byrd also reads anoth­er sto­ry in hypo­thet­i­cal Pro­to-Indo-Euro­pean, “The King and the God,” using “pro­nun­ci­a­tion informed by the lat­est insights into PIE.”

See Powell’s arti­cle at Archae­ol­o­gy for the writ­ten tran­scrip­tions of both Schleicher’s and Melchert/Byrd’s ver­sions of PIE, and see his arti­cle here to learn about the arche­o­log­i­cal evi­dence for the Bronze Age speak­ers of this the­o­ret­i­cal lin­guis­tic com­mon ances­tor.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2017.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Lis­ten to The Epic of Gil­gamesh Being Read in its Orig­i­nal Ancient Lan­guage, Akka­di­an

Hear Homer’s Ili­ad Read in the Orig­i­nal Ancient Greek

Hear What Homer’s Odyssey Sound­ed Like When Sung in the Orig­i­nal Ancient Greek

Was There a First Human Lan­guage?: The­o­ries from the Enlight­en­ment Through Noam Chom­sky

What Ancient Greek Music Sound­ed Like: Lis­ten to a Recon­struc­tion That’s “100% Accu­rate”

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

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Marc Maron Wraps Up the WTF Podcast: Watch His Final Interview with Barack Obama

Back in 2015, Pres­i­dent Oba­ma joined Marc Maron on the WTF pod­cast, mark­ing the first time a sit­ting pres­i­dent took part in this new kind of broad­cast­ing for­mat. It was a water­shed moment—a moment when pod­cast­ing went main­stream and became, soon enough, a big busi­ness. A decade lat­er, and after near­ly 1,700 episodes, Marc Maron has decid­ed to bring WTF to an end, say­ing: “It real­ly comes down to the fact that we’ve put up a new show every Mon­day and Thurs­day for almost six­teen years and we’re tired. We’re burnt out. And we are utter­ly sat­is­fied with the work we’ve done. We’ve done great work.” On Mon­day, Maron dropped his final episode, bring­ing things full cir­cle and talk­ing once again with Barack Oba­ma. If you’re going to leave your audi­ence, espe­cial­ly dur­ing these dystopi­an times, it’s nice to leave them with some per­spec­tive and hope, and that’s what Oba­ma does best. Watch the final episode above.

Boomer lives. Mon­key and Lafon­da. Cat angels every­where.

Relat­ed Con­tent 

An Ani­mat­ed Marc Maron Recalls Inter­view­ing a Shirt­less Iggy Pop in LA Garage

Stream Marc Maron’s Excel­lent, Long Inter­view with The Band’s Rob­bie Robert­son

The 1976 Synth Album That Promised to Help Your Plants Grow: Discover Mother Earth’s Plantasia

In 1973, Peter Tomp­kins and Christo­pher Bird’s The Secret Life of Plants became a best­seller. Draw­ing from the results of sci­en­tif­ic stud­ies about whose replic­a­bil­i­ty we may now feel cer­tain doubts, the book sug­gest­ed that emo­tion, and indeed sen­tience, belong not just to humans and ani­mals, but also to, say, the pot­ted fern in your liv­ing room. Many of Tomp­kins and Bird’s read­ers must have owned such a plant, and prob­a­bly a vari­ety of oth­ers besides, giv­en the nine­teen-sev­en­ties’ fad for domes­tic veg­e­ta­tion. Though ridiculed in the major media, The Secret Life of Plants proved suf­fi­cient­ly in tune with its time to inspire a fea­ture-length doc­u­men­tary film with a high-tech sound­track by none oth­er than Ste­vie Won­der.

Did Won­der ever hear the album Moth­er Earth­’s Plan­ta­sia? Sub­ti­tled Warm Earth Music for Plants… and the Peo­ple Who Love Them, the album also fea­tures elec­tron­ic com­po­si­tions — exclu­sive­ly elec­tron­ic com­po­si­tions, in fact, per­formed entire­ly with a Moog syn­the­siz­er. Its com­pos­er Mort Gar­son had been a ver­sa­tile pro­fes­sion­al in the world of what was then called “easy lis­ten­ing,” and worked on the writ­ing, arrange­ment, or pro­duc­tion of pop­u­lar songs like Bren­da Lee’s “Dyna­mite,” Ruby & The Roman­tics’ “Our Day Will Come,” The Sand­pipers’ “Guan­tanam­era,” and Bill With­ers’ “Three Nights and a Morn­ing.” Upon meet­ing Robert Moog him­self at a con­ven­tion in 1967, Gar­son seems to have under­gone a con­ver­sion, becom­ing one of the first com­posers to ded­i­cate him­self to explor­ing the musi­cal poten­tial of the then-nov­el syn­the­siz­er tech­nol­o­gy.

The music Gar­son went on to make with his Moog reflects the zeit­geist: there was Elec­tron­ic Hair Pieces, with ver­sions of num­bers from the musi­cal Hair, a series of twelve discs based on the signs of the zodi­ac, and even the score that accom­pa­nied the Apol­lo 11 moon land­ing broad­cast. Of par­tic­u­lar inter­est to ear­ly elec­tron­ic music buffs is Black Mass, for which Gar­son took the pseu­do­nym Lucifer, and which ought to be worth adding to one’s library with Hal­loween com­ing up.

Moth­er Earth­’s Plan­ta­sia was released in 1976, three years before the Secret Life of Plants movie, though released may not be the right word: it could only be obtained free with pur­chase of either a house­plant from a shop called Moth­er Earth on Mel­rose Avenue in Los Ange­les or a Sim­mons mat­tress from Sears. As music YouTu­ber David Hart­ley explains in his lat­est video, Gar­son was asked to cre­ate an album of music con­ducive to plant growth by Moth­er Earth­’s own­ers, Lynn and Joel Rapp.

For decades there­after, Moth­er Earth­’s Plan­ta­sia could pre­sum­ably be encoun­tered by seri­ous crate-dig­gers: the Phar­cyde, for exam­ple, sam­pled one of its tracks on “Guestlist” in 2000. But it was only in the twen­ty-tens, after the estab­lish­ment of YouTube and its obscure-music-upload­ing cul­ture, that the album found an audi­ence appre­cia­tive enough to inspire a prop­er release. (Its redis­cov­ery played out sim­i­lar­ly to that of Mariya Takeuchi’s “Plas­tic Love,” the gold­en tip of the Japan­ese city pop revival.) Its tracks even­tu­al­ly even appeared in ad cam­paigns for Tur­b­o­Tax and the French super­mar­ket chain Inter­marché. To lis­ten­ers today, they may sound uncan­ni­ly like video game music as it would take shape in the eight­ies, albeit with a soft-edged ana­log tex­ture. As far as whether it actu­al­ly helps plants grow, even Joel Rap­p’s lin­er notes can only man­age the promise that “it could­n’t pos­si­bly hurt.” But I can report that it does a decent job putting my infant twins to sleep.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How the Moog Syn­the­siz­er Changed the Sound of Music

Graph­ic Shows the House Plants That Nat­u­ral­ly Clean the Air in Your Home, Accord­ing to a NASA Study

Moog This!: Hear a Playlist Fea­tur­ing 36 Hours of Music Made with the Leg­endary Ana­log Syn­the­siz­er

Plants Emit High-Pitched Sounds When They Get Cut, or Stressed by Drought, a New Study Shows

Wendy Car­los’ Switched on Bach Turns 50 This Month: Learn How the Clas­si­cal Synth Record Intro­duced the World to the Moog

A Shaz­am for Nature: A New Free App Helps You Iden­ti­fy Plants, Ani­mals & Oth­er Denizens of the Nat­ur­al World

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Mark Twain Wrote the First Book Ever Written With a Typewriter

My Pen­guin Clas­sics copy of Mark Twain’s Life on the Mis­sis­sip­pi sits alone atop an over­full shelf. There is a book­mark on page 204, exact­ly halfway through, torn from an in-flight duty-free catalog—whiskey and fan­cy pens. It tells me “hey, you for­got to fin­ish this, you [var­i­ous obscen­i­ties].” And I shrug. What can I say? I went to grad school, where I learned to read ten books at once and nev­er fin­ish one. Good thing Mark Twain didn’t write that way, or we might not have Life on the Mis­sis­sip­pi.

Twain was a dili­gent and con­sci­en­tious writer with a mem­o­ry like a bear trap, or at least that’s what he want­ed us to think. But some­where in his rem­i­nis­cence he may have been con­fused. Twain wrote in his 1904 auto­bi­og­ra­phy that his first nov­el writ­ten on a type­writer—the first type­writ­ten nov­el at all—was Tom Sawyer.

Was this so? Twain pur­chased his first type­writer (which prob­a­bly looked like the Sholes and Glid­den seen here) in 1874 for $125. In 1875, he writes in a let­ter to the Rem­ing­ton com­pa­ny that he is no longer using his type­writer; it cor­rupts his morals because it makes him want to swear. He gives the infer­nal machine away, twice. It returns to him each time.

The year after Twain’s moral trou­ble with his Rem­ing­ton, Tom Sawyer is pub­lished from hand­writ­ten man­u­script, not typed. Then, sev­en years lat­er, Life on the Mis­sis­sip­pi (1883) comes to the pub­lish­er in type­script. Twain did not type it himself—he had pre­sum­ably renounced the act—but he dic­tat­ed the mem­oir to a typ­ist from a hand­writ­ten draft. Now, I can hear you quib­bling…  Life on the Mis­sis­sip­pi isn’t a nov­el at all! Well, okay, fair enough. Let’s just say it’s the first type­writ­ten book and call it a day, eh? Go read this excel­lent New York­er piece on the ear­ly life of the type­writer and leave me alone. I’ve got a book to fin­ish.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2013.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

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Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mark Twain Makes a List of 60 Amer­i­can Com­fort Foods He Missed While Trav­el­ing Abroad (1880)

Dis­cov­er Friedrich Nietzsche’s Type­writer, the Curi­ous “Malling-Hansen Writ­ing Ball” (Cir­ca 1881)

Mark Twain & Helen Keller’s Spe­cial Friend­ship: He Treat­ed Me Not as a Freak, But as a Per­son Deal­ing with Great Dif­fi­cul­ties

The Only Footage of Mark Twain: The Orig­i­nal & Dig­i­tal­ly Restored Films Shot by Thomas Edi­son

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. 

Every Filmed and Televised Performance by Joy Division (1978–79)

Bri­an Eno once said of the Vel­vet Under­ground that their first album sold only 30,000 copies, but every­one who bought one start­ed a band. Joy Divi­sion’s debut Unknown Plea­sures sold only 20,000 copies in its ini­tial peri­od of release, but the T‑shirt embla­zoned with its cov­er art — an image of radio waves ema­nat­ing from a pul­sar tak­en from an astron­o­my ency­clo­pe­dia — has long since con­sti­tut­ed a com­mer­cial-semi­otic empire unto itself. That speaks to the vast sub­cul­tur­al influ­ence of the band, despite their only hav­ing been active from 1976 to 1980. When we speak of the genre of post-punk, we speak, in large part, of Joy Divi­sion and the artists they influ­enced.

Less than a year after the 1979 release of Unknown Plea­sures, Joy Divi­sion’s lead singer Ian Cur­tis com­mit­ted sui­cide. The band had already record­ed Clos­er, their sec­ond and last album (at least before the sub­se­quent, more suc­cess­ful ref­or­ma­tion as New Order). Scant though it may be, their stu­dio discog­ra­phy has only drawn more and more crit­i­cal acclaim over the decades.

Still, fans who weren’t around to wit­ness the rise of Joy Divi­sion first-hand will sus­pect they’ve missed out on some­thing essen­tial. “Live, Joy Divi­sion were heavy,” remem­bers band his­to­ri­an Jon Sav­age. “Per­form­ers — and David Bowie is a good exam­ple – know exact­ly what to give and what to with­hold, but Ian Cur­tis didn’t have that stage­craft. He just came on and gave every­thing.”

That sort of inten­si­ty, Sav­age adds, is “not infi­nite­ly repro­ducible”; even at the time, it seems that those who wit­nessed Joy Divi­sion in con­cert under­stood that their pecu­liar­ly com­pelling ener­gy was dri­ving toward some kind of final com­bus­tion. You can get a taste of it in the col­lec­tion of the group’s every tele­vised per­for­mance, orig­i­nal­ly aired on BBC2 and Grana­da TV in 1978 and 1979, at the top of the post; just above, we have a 70-minute com­pi­la­tion of all their filmed live shows. Much of it con­sists of footage shot over two nights at the Apol­lo The­atre in 1979, which the uploader describes as of poor qual­i­ty — but “accord­ing to peo­ple who were there, the gig’s qual­i­ty was poor in per­son too.” As much as gen­er­a­tions of fans have done to mythol­o­gize the band’s brief exis­tence over the past 45 years, here is evi­dence that even Joy Divi­sion had an off night once in a while.

Relat­ed con­tent:

75 Post-Punk and Hard­core Con­certs from the 1980s Have Been Dig­i­tized & Put Online: Fugazi, GWAR, Lemon­heads, Dain Bra­m­age (with Dave Grohl) & More

The His­to­ry of Rock n Roll in 10 Songs: A List Cre­at­ed by Leg­endary Rock Crit­ic Greil Mar­cus

Radio­head Cov­ers The Smiths & New Order (2007)

Hear the 50 Best Post-Punk Albums of All Time: A Nos­tal­gia-Induc­ing Playlist Curat­ed by Paste Mag­a­zine

Hear a 9‑Hour Trib­ute to John Peel: A Col­lec­tion of His Best “Peel Ses­sions”

An Ani­mat­ed His­to­ry of Goth

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

The Aberdeen Bestiary, One of the Great Medieval Illuminated Manuscripts, Now Digitized in High Resolution & Made Available Online

For thou­sands of years, ordi­nary peo­ple all over the world not only worked side-by-side with domes­tic ani­mals on a dai­ly basis, they also observed the wild fau­na around them to learn how to nav­i­gate and sur­vive nature. The close­ness pro­duced a keen appre­ci­a­tion for ani­mal behav­ior that informs the folk tales of every con­ti­nent and the pop­u­lar texts of every reli­gion. Our delight in ani­mal sto­ries sur­vives in children’s books, but in grown-up lan­guage, ani­mal com­par­isons tend to be nasty and dehu­man­iz­ing. The demean­ing adjec­tive “bes­tial” con­veys a typ­i­cal atti­tude not only toward peo­ple we don’t like, but toward the ani­mal world as well. Orwell’s Ani­mal Farm and Kafka’s Meta­mor­pho­sis have become the stan­dard ref­er­ences for mod­ern ani­mal alle­go­ry.

Ear­ly lit­er­a­ture shows us a range of dif­fer­ent atti­tudes, where ani­mals are treat­ed as equals, with char­ac­ter traits both good and bad, or as noble mes­sen­gers of a god or gods rather than live­stock, mov­ing scenery, or exploitable resources.

We might refer in an east­ern con­text to the Jata­ka Tales, fables of the Buddha’s many rebirths in the human and ani­mal worlds that pro­vide their read­ers with moral lessons. In the Chris­t­ian west, we have the medieval bestiary—compendiums of ani­mals, both real and mythological—that intro­duced read­ers to a moral typol­o­gy through “read­ing” what ear­ly Chris­tians thought of as the “book of nature.”

The most lav­ish of them all, the Aberdeen Bes­tiary, which dates from around 1200, was once owned by Hen­ry VIII. Now, the Uni­ver­si­ty of Aberdeen has dig­i­tized the text and made it freely avail­able to read­ers online. Begin­ning with the key cre­ation sto­ries from the book of Gen­e­sis, the book then dives into its descrip­tions of ani­mals, begin­ning with the lion, the pard (pan­ther), and the ele­phant.

You’ll notice that these are not ani­mals that your typ­i­cal medieval Euro­pean read­er would have encoun­tered. One impor­tant dif­fer­ence between the bes­tiary and the fable is that the for­mer draws many of its beasts from hearsay, con­jec­ture, or pure fic­tion. But the intent is part­ly the same. These “were teach­ing tools,” notes Claire Voon at Hyper­al­ler­gic, and the Aberdeen Bes­tiary con­tains illus­trat­ed “lengthy tales of moral behav­ior.”

Like the sto­ries of Aesop, the bes­tiary presents impor­tant lessons, mix­ing in the fab­u­lous with the nat­u­ral­ist. As Voon describes the Aberdeen Bes­tiary:

The illus­tra­tions are impres­sive­ly var­ied, depict­ing com­mon ani­mals from tiny ants to ele­phants, as well as fan­tas­tic beasts, from the leocro­ta to the phoenix. Even the moral qual­i­ties of the hum­ble sea urchin are hon­ored with para­graphs of dis­cus­sion. Beyond this array of crea­tures, the bes­tiary details the appear­ances and qual­i­ties of var­i­ous trees, gems, and humans. Some of these may seem com­i­cal to 21st-cen­tu­ry eyes: a swarm of bees, for instance, resem­bles an order­ly line of shut­tle­cocks stream­ing into their hives. Yet oth­er paint­ings are impres­sive for their near-accu­ra­cy, such as one image of a bat that shows how its mem­bra­nous wings con­nect its fin­gers, legs, and tail. All of these rich details would have helped read­ers bet­ter under­stand the nat­ur­al world as it was defined at the time of the book’s cre­ation. 

Incred­i­bly ornate and bear­ing the marks of dozens of scrib­al hands, the book, his­to­ri­ans believe, was orig­i­nal­ly pro­duced for a wide audi­ence, then tak­en by Henry’s librar­i­ans from a dis­solved monastery. Nev­er ful­ly com­plet­ed, it remained in the Roy­al Library for 100 years after Hen­ry. “I doubt if the Tudor mon­archs took it out for a reg­u­lar read,” says Aberdeen Uni­ver­si­ty pro­fes­sor Jane Ged­des. Now an open pub­lic doc­u­ment, it returns to its “orig­i­nal pur­pose of edu­ca­tion,” writes Voon, “although for us, of course, it illu­mi­nates more about the past than the present.” See the high res scans here.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2017.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Medieval Mas­ter­piece, the Book of Kells, Is Now Dig­i­tized and Avail­able Online

The Medieval Man­u­script That Fea­tures “Yoda”, Killer Snails, Sav­age Rab­bits & More: Dis­cov­er The Smith­field Dec­re­tals

How to Make a Medieval Man­u­script: An Intro­duc­tion in 7 Videos

When Medieval Man­u­scripts Were Recy­cled & Used to Make the First Print­ed Books

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. 

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Mark Twain Makes a List of 60 American Comfort Foods He Missed While Traveling Abroad (1880)

Think­ing of tak­ing a trip abroad? Or maybe relo­cat­ing for good? Amer­i­cans would do well, even 150 years hence, to attend to Mark Twain’s satir­i­cal account of U.S. trav­el­ers jour­ney­ing through Europe and Pales­tine, The Inno­cents Abroad. The “Amer­i­cans who are paint­ed to pecu­liar advan­tage by Mr. Clements” (sic), as fel­low Amer­i­can satirist William Dean How­ells wrote at the time, still roam the Earth—including trav­el­ers like one who “told the Eng­lish offi­cers that a cou­ple of our gun­boats could come and knock Gibral­tar into the Mediter­ranean Sea.” The tact­less­ness and bel­liger­ence Twain skew­ered do not feel his­tor­i­cal­ly so far from home.

Twain’s portraits—“somewhat car­i­ca­tured… or care­ful­ly and exact­ly done”—proved so pop­u­lar with read­ers that he fol­lowed up with an unof­fi­cial sequel, 1880s A Tramp Abroad, a some­what more seri­ous fic­tion­al­ized trav­el­ogue of Amer­i­cans jour­ney­ing through Europe; this time but two, Twain and his friend “Har­ris.” In the pre­vi­ous book, com­plained How­ells, the read­er learns “next to noth­ing about the pop­u­la­tion of the cities and the char­ac­ter of the rocks in the dif­fer­ent local­i­ties.” Here, with­out his com­e­dy troupe of trav­el­ing com­pan­ions, Twain directs his focus out­ward with minute descrip­tions of his sur­round­ings. He is, as usu­al, supreme­ly curi­ous, often per­plexed, but most­ly delight­ed by his expe­ri­ences. Except when it comes to the food.

Grow­ing “increas­ing­ly tired of an abun­dance of what he described as ‘fair-to-mid­dling’ food,” writes Lists of Note, Twain com­ments: “The num­ber of dish­es is suf­fi­cient; but then it is such a monot­o­nous vari­ety of UNSTRIKING dish­es […] Three or four months of this weary same­ness will kill the robustest appetite.” Hav­ing nev­er spent so long a time away, I can­not speak to Twain’s gus­ta­to­ry ennui, but I can relate, as no doubt can you, read­er, to miss­ing one or two famil­iar com­fort foods (as well as “sin­cere and capa­ble” ice water). Twain, per­haps not as adven­tur­ous an eater as he was a traveler—and in that sense also very much a mod­ern American—made “an enor­mous list of the foods he’d missed the most, of which were to be con­sumed when he arrived home.”

The list, below, is itself a kind of trav­el­ogue, through the vari­eties of 19th cen­tu­ry Amer­i­can cui­sine, East, West, North, and South, includ­ing such del­i­ca­cies as “’Pos­sum” “Can­vas-back-duck from Bal­ti­more,” “Vir­ginia bacon, broiled,” “Prairie hens, from Illi­nois,” and “Brook trout, from Sier­ra Nevadas.” While we might pine for a region­al del­i­ca­cy or favorite processed food, Twain con­jured up in his mind’s gut a whole con­ti­nent of food to come home to. What kinds of food do you find your­self miss­ing when you trav­el? And how long a list might you find your­self mak­ing after sev­er­al months tramp­ing around in for­eign lands? Tell us in the com­ments sec­tion below. For now, here’s Twain’s list:

Radish­es. Baked apples, with cream
Fried oys­ters; stewed oys­ters. Frogs.
Amer­i­can cof­fee, with real cream.
Amer­i­can but­ter.
Fried chick­en, South­ern style.
Porter-house steak.
Sarato­ga pota­toes.
Broiled chick­en, Amer­i­can style.
Hot bis­cuits, South­ern style.
Hot wheat-bread, South­ern style.
Hot buck­wheat cakes.
Amer­i­can toast. Clear maple syrup.
Vir­ginia bacon, broiled.
Blue points, on the half shell.
Cher­ry-stone clams.
San Fran­cis­co mus­sels, steamed.
Oys­ter soup. Clam Soup.
Philadel­phia Ter­apin soup.
Oys­ters roast­ed in shell-North­ern style.
Soft-shell crabs. Con­necti­cut shad.
Bal­ti­more perch.
Brook trout, from Sier­ra Nevadas.
Lake trout, from Tahoe.
Sheep-head and croak­ers, from New Orleans.
Black bass from the Mis­sis­sip­pi.
Amer­i­can roast beef.
Roast turkey, Thanks­giv­ing style.
Cran­ber­ry sauce. Cel­ery.
Roast wild turkey. Wood­cock.
Can­vas-back-duck, from Bal­ti­more.
Prairie hens, from Illi­nois.
Mis­souri par­tridges, broiled.
‘Pos­sum. Coon.
Boston bacon and beans.
Bacon and greens, South­ern style.
Hominy. Boiled onions. Turnips.
Pump­kin. Squash. Aspara­gus.
But­ter beans. Sweet pota­toes.
Let­tuce. Suc­co­tash. String beans.
Mashed pota­toes. Cat­sup.
Boiled pota­toes, in their skins.
New pota­toes, minus the skins.
Ear­ly rose pota­toes, roast­ed in the ash­es, South­ern style, served hot.
Sliced toma­toes, with sug­ar or vine­gar. Stewed toma­toes.
Green corn, cut from the ear and served with but­ter and pep­per.
Green corn, on the ear.
Hot corn-pone, with chitlings, South­ern style.
Hot hoe-cake, South­ern style.
Hot egg-bread, South­ern style.
Hot light-bread, South­ern style.
But­ter­milk. Iced sweet milk.
Apple dumplings, with real cream.
Apple pie. Apple frit­ters.
Apple puffs, South­ern style.
Peach cob­bler, South­ern style
Peach pie. Amer­i­can mince pie.
Pump­kin pie. Squash pie.
All sorts of Amer­i­can pas­try.
Fresh Amer­i­can fruits of all sorts, includ­ing straw­ber­ries which are not to be doled out as if they were jew­el­ry, but in a more lib­er­al way. 
Ice-water—not pre­pared in the inef­fec­tu­al gob­let, but in the sin­cere and capa­ble refrig­er­a­tor.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2016.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Explore an Online Archive of 12,700 Vin­tage Cook­books

The Only Footage of Mark Twain: The Orig­i­nal & Dig­i­tal­ly Restored Films Shot by Thomas Edi­son

Mark Twain Drafts the Ulti­mate Let­ter of Com­plaint (1905)

Mark Twain Cre­ates a List of His Favorite Books For Adults & Kids (1887)

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. 

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When David Bowie Starred in—and Created Music for—a Dystopian Cyberpunk Video Game: Discover Omikron: The Nomad Soul (1999)

When it was announced that SARS-CoV­‑2, the virus at the cen­ter of the COVID-19 pan­dem­ic, had evolved into an even more con­ta­gious vari­ant called Omi­cron, pub­lic reac­tions var­ied. For those of us with long mem­o­ries of com­put­er and video gam­ing, it brought to mind a title we had­n’t thought about in quite some time: Omikron: The Nomad Soul, released for Win­dows in 1999 and the Sega Dream­cast in 2000. More than a few gamers know it as the debut of con­tro­ver­sial design­er David Cage, whose stu­dio Quan­tic Dream has gone on to pro­duce var­i­ous games of con­sid­er­able cin­e­mat­ic and emo­tion­al ambit (if also an often frus­trat­ing eccen­tric­i­ty). But it made a wider cul­tur­al impact at the time by incor­po­rat­ing the per­for­mance of none oth­er than David Bowie.

Or rather, it incor­po­rat­ed per­for­mances, plur­al, by David Bowie: in the game, he used motion cap­ture tech­nol­o­gy to play both Boz, the whol­ly dig­i­tal leader of an ancient reli­gious order, and the lead singer of the band The Dream­ers, whose con­certs (shown in the video above) the play­er can view here and there around the dystopi­an cyber­punk city of Omikron.

Orig­i­nal­ly, the devel­op­ers had only gone to Bowie in order to license his songs for the game’s sound­track, but, as explained in the mrixrt video below, the project so appealed to his technophil­ia that he pro­posed a much deep­er involve­ment. That includ­ed record­ing a set of orig­i­nal songs, lat­er includ­ed on his album Hours… (which is itself notable in the his­to­ry of tech­nol­o­gy and cul­ture for being one of the first down­load­able releas­es by a major artist).

Among its many nov­el qual­i­ties, includ­ing pio­neer­ing the “open world” envi­ron­ment now stan­dard in big-bud­get games, Omikron grants the play­er — as the tit­u­lar “nomad soul” — the abil­i­ty to inhab­it the bod­ies of a host of oth­er char­ac­ters (includ­ing one played by Bowie’s wife Iman). It isn’t hard to imag­ine the con­cep­t’s appeal for a per­former who made his name with fre­quent changes of iden­ti­ty — and who even sug­gest­ed, at one point, that he leave that name behind in the real­i­ty of the game, re-emerg­ing into pub­lic life as David Jones. By the time he died, the bet­ter part of two decades lat­er, his role in gam­ing was most­ly for­got­ten, but one of the many trib­utes paid to him includ­ed a free re-release of Omikron. Those who took the chance to revis­it the game would have remem­bered the feel­ing it first gave them that its dig­i­tal world con­tin­ued even when they weren’t play­ing — accom­pa­nied by a sense that, some­how, Bowie con­tin­ues to live with­in it.

Relat­ed con­tent:

When David Bowie Launched His Own Inter­net Ser­vice Provider: The Rise and Fall of BowieNet (1998)

A Tour of the New David Bowie Archive Fea­tur­ing 90,000 Arti­facts from His Life & Career

How David Bowie Used William S. Bur­roughs’ Cut-Up Method to Write His Unfor­get­table Lyrics

David Bowie Pre­dicts the Good & Bad of the Inter­net in 1999: “We’re on the Cusp of Some­thing Exhil­a­rat­ing and Ter­ri­fy­ing”

The David Bowie Monop­oly Game Is Here: Advance to GO and Col­lect 200 Hunky Dorys!

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Dr. Weil’s 60-Second Technique for Falling Asleep

Give Dr. Andrew Weil three min­utes, and he can teach you a 60-sec­ond tech­nique for falling asleep. Above, the alter­na­tive med­i­cine guru walks you through the 4–7‑8 breath­ing method. As he demon­strates, it “takes almost no time, requires no equip­ment and can be done any­where.” And once you mas­ter it, you can use the 4–7‑8 breath­ing tech­nique (explained and demon­strat­ed in greater detail here ) to low­er your anx­i­ety lev­els (use­ful these days!), nav­i­gate ten­sion-filled moments, and deal with food crav­ings.

Else­where, Weil has said, “If I had to lim­it my advice on health­i­er liv­ing to just one tip, it would be sim­ply to learn how to breathe cor­rect­ly.” Hence why he cre­at­ed an audio record­ing, Breath­ing: The Mas­ter Key to Self Heal­ing, which you can still pur­chase online.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

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!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Peo­ple in the Mid­dle Ages Slept Not Once But Twice Each Night: How This Lost Prac­tice Was Redis­cov­ered

How a Good Night’s Sleep — and a Bad Night’s Sleep — Can Enhance Your Cre­ativ­i­ty

Sleep or Die: Neu­ro­sci­en­tist Matthew Walk­er Explains How Sleep Can Restore or Imper­il Our Health

10 Hours of Ambi­ent Arc­tic Sounds Will Help You Relax, Med­i­tate, Study & Sleep

240 Hours of Relax­ing, Sleep-Induc­ing Sounds from Sci-Fi Video Games: From Blade Run­ner to Star Wars

Einstein’s Divorce Letters and the Cruel List of Marital Demands He Imposed on His First Wife

Albert Ein­stein is the rare fig­ure who’s uni­ver­sal­ly known, but almost entire­ly for his pro­fes­sion­al achieve­ments. Few of us who can explain the the­o­ry of rel­a­tiv­i­ty can also say much about the per­son­al life of the man who came up with it, though that does­n’t owe to a lack of doc­u­men­ta­tion. Thanks to sci­ence YouTu­ber Toby Hendy, we have, for exam­ple, some of the love let­ters he wrote to the women who con­sti­tut­ed a ver­i­ta­ble parade through his life. Also, in anoth­er video for her chan­nel Tibees, Hendy reads the let­ters he wrote in the process of divorc­ing his first wife, the Ser­bian physi­cist and math­e­mati­cian Mil­e­va Mar­ić.

Ein­stein mar­ried Mar­ić in Jan­u­ary 1903, says Hendy, “after they had been togeth­er for around five years. The rela­tion­ship was in its prime, and so was the aca­d­e­m­ic pro­duc­tiv­i­ty. It was in 1905 that Ein­stein would pub­lish his four major papers that would change the face of physics. By 1912, how­ev­er, Ein­stein had start­ed hav­ing an affair with his cousin,” Elsa Lowen­thal.

By 1914, Ein­stein wrote to Mar­ić a let­ter “detail­ing some con­di­tions of them con­tin­u­ing to live togeth­er,” if not quite as man and wife. The con­di­tions read as fol­lows:

CONDITIONS

A. You will make sure:

1. that my clothes and laun­dry are kept in good order;
2. that I will receive my three meals reg­u­lar­ly in my room;
3. that my bed­room and study are kept neat, and espe­cial­ly that my desk is left for my use only.

B. You will renounce all per­son­al rela­tions with me inso­far as they are not com­plete­ly nec­es­sary for social rea­sons. Specif­i­cal­ly, You will forego:

1. my sit­ting at home with you;
2. my going out or trav­el­ling with you.

C. You will obey the fol­low­ing points in your rela­tions with me:

1. you will not expect any inti­ma­cy from me, nor will you reproach me in any way;
2. you will stop talk­ing to me if I request it;
3. you will leave my bed­room or study imme­di­ate­ly with­out protest if I request it.

D. You will under­take not to belit­tle me in front of our chil­dren, either through words or behav­ior.

Though they agreed to put this strin­gent plan into effect, less than two weeks lat­er, he wrote to Elsa, “Yes­ter­day my wife left for good with the chil­dren” — and “you, dear lit­tle Elsie, will now become my wife and become con­vinced that it is not at all so hard to live by my side.”

Ein­stein did mar­ry Lowen­thal in 1919, and the union, though hard­ly char­ac­ter­ized by ide­al faith­ful­ness, did last until her death in 1935. There would be plen­ty of oth­er women, but none who played quite the same role in his life as Mar­ić, not only the moth­er of his chil­dren, but also — accord­ing to some his­to­ri­ans — a col­lab­o­ra­tor on some of his accom­plish­ments in physics. Accord­ing to Lost Women of Sci­ence, “there is lit­tle tan­gi­ble evi­dence to sup­port the claims that Mar­ić was a co-author of Einstein’s first major work. That said, there are plen­ty of per­son­al tes­ti­monies from those who knew Mar­ić and Ein­stein that her involve­ment was like­ly.” One con­di­tion of their divorce set­tle­ment, at any rate, held that Mar­ić receive his Nobel Prize mon­ey, were he to win it, which he went on to do a cou­ple of years lat­er. This makes clear that, what­ev­er the impor­tance of her own sci­en­tif­ic work, she must’ve had a good head on her shoul­ders.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear Read­ings of Albert Einstein’s Love Let­ters (and Chilly Divorce Let­ters) to His First Wife Mil­e­va

Albert Ein­stein Impos­es on His First Wife a Cru­el List of Mar­i­tal Demands

Albert Ein­stein & Sig­mund Freud Exchange Let­ters and Debate How to Make the World Free from War (1932)

Read the Uplift­ing Let­ter That Albert Ein­stein Sent to Marie Curie Dur­ing a Time of Per­son­al Cri­sis (1911)

“Do Sci­en­tists Pray?”: A Young Girl Asks Albert Ein­stein in 1936. Ein­stein Then Responds

Albert Einstein’s Grades: A Fas­ci­nat­ing Look at His Report Cards

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

What’s the Most Banned Book of the 2024–25 School Year?: A Clockwork Orange

If you hap­pen to be a high school stu­dent in Flori­da who’s eager to read A Clock­work Orange, that urge may turn out to be hard­er to sat­is­fy than you imag­ine. Antho­ny Burgess’ har­row­ing, lin­guis­ti­cal­ly inven­tive nov­el of a grim near future has come out on top in PEN Amer­i­ca’s lat­est rank­ing of banned books: that is, books removed or pre­vent­ed even from enter­ing pub­lic school libraries, most com­mon­ly in the state of Flori­da, with Texas and Ten­nessee as run­ners-up. Fur­ther down the list appears anoth­er wide­ly known dystopi­an saga, Mar­garet Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale; Toni Mor­rison’s tale of Depres­sion-era race rela­tions The Bluest Eye; and even such long-pop­u­lar “young adult” stan­dards as Judy Blume’s For­ev­er and Stephen Chbosky’s The Perks of Being a Wall­flower.

Since its pub­li­ca­tion in 1962, “A Clock­work Orange has faced mul­ti­ple book ban­ning attempts due to the sex­u­al vio­lence it depicts,” says Carnegie Mel­lon Uni­ver­si­ty’s Banned Books Project. “In 1973, a book­seller in Orem, Utah, was arrest­ed for sell­ing the nov­el along with two oth­er ‘obscene’ books.”

Bans fol­lowed “in 1976 in Auro­ra, Col­orado, in 1977 in West­port, Con­necti­cut, and in 1982 in Annis­ton, Alaba­ma. As recent­ly as 2019, mem­bers of the Flori­da Cit­i­zens Alliance” — in yet anoth­er exam­ple of the sur­pris­ing ten­den­cy toward cul­tur­al author­i­tar­i­an­ism in the Sun­shine State — “have lob­bied to ban the book along with almost one hun­dred oth­er ‘porno­graph­ic’ nov­els.”

The noto­ri­ety of A Clock­work Orange in this regard prob­a­bly owes some­thing to the steely lurid­ness of Stan­ley Kubrick­’s film adap­ta­tion, which was banned in Eng­land by Kubrick him­self. It makes, in any case, for an iron­ic object of a book ban, giv­en its themes. Burgess was inspired to write this nov­el of juve­nile ultra-delin­quen­cy, as he explains in the inter­view clip above, by “talk in the nine­teen-six­ties of the pos­si­bil­i­ty of get­ting these young thugs and not putting them in jail, because jail is need­ed for pro­fes­sion­al crim­i­nals, but rather putting them through a course of con­di­tion­ing” to make them behave less like organ­isms than machines: the “clock­work oranges” of the title. The state, it seemed, “was all too ready to take over our brains and turn us into good lit­tle cit­i­zens with­out the pow­er of choice” — a process that plau­si­bly begins by restrict­ing the choice of read­ing mate­r­i­al.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Clock­work Orange Author Antho­ny Burgess Lists His Five Favorite Dystopi­an Nov­els: Orwell’s 1984, Huxley’s Island & More

Antho­ny Burgess Names the 99 Best Nov­els in Eng­lish Between 1939 & 1983: Orwell, Nabokov, Hux­ley & More

Why Maya Angelou’s Mem­oir I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings Became One of the Most Banned Books of All Time

The Brook­lyn Pub­lic Library Gives Every Teenag­er in the U.S. Free Access to Cen­sored Books

America’s First Banned Book: Dis­cov­er the 1637 Book That Mocked the Puri­tans

The New York Pub­lic Library Pro­vides Free Online Access to Banned Books: Catch­er in the Rye, Stamped & More

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.


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