Alice Sprawls at the LRB:

What is strange about such images isn’t just the extrapolation from fact to fiction, or from bits of fictionalised fact to consummate fiction, or their indiscriminate blending of sources, or the way they alter and animate portraits that are known to us – filling out a dress, making a sitter stand – but the extent to which they are a product of, and perpetuate, a wild biographical knowledge, where unproved or contested facts are written into the story, and even when disproved retain a charge stronger than argument. We see this here: look closely at Patrick’s left hand, which appears to be resting on his infamous pistol. Gaskell reported that Patrick liked to fire his gun out of the bedroom window ‘to work off his volcanic wrath’. He contested this – he had carried one since the Luddite riots only for protection – but later writers took up the pistol as evidence of his uncontrollable anger, his unsociability and supposed neglect of his children. The story becomes a symbol; the symbol works its way back into the picture.

Lots of cavalier things are done with portraits. Images of Charlotte are used to represent Emily and Anne. The surviving part of a group painting by Branwell that almost certainly depicts Anne is often claimed to show Emily. George Richmond’s drawing of Charlotte, taken from life, was later copied by printmakers: engraving reverses the image but not everyone worried about that. A print of the Richmond portrait was the basis for a new painting (is it still right to say ‘of her’?) by J.H. Thompson, which is now the cover of the Penguin Classics edition of Gaskell’s Life. What relationship does this woman bear to the original?

more here.

Charles Darwent at Literary Review:

Of the many descriptions of Alexander Calder in Jed Perl’s new biography of him, the most telling and unexpected is this: Calder was a ‘burly man with the soul of a nightingale’. The burliness comes as no surprise. Shut your eyes and think of Calder and you will very probably see him as he appears in Jean Painlevé’s 1955 film Le Grand Cirque Calder, plaid-shirted and growling in ostentatiously bad French. (If you haven’t seen Calder operating his toy circus, you should. You can find Painlevé’s film on YouTube.) Calder looks like an amiable lumberjack, or an oversized child: the circus, begun in 1927 when he was just short of thirty and living in Paris, could as easily have been a vieux garçon’s train set. No, it is the second part of the description, of Calder as a soulful nightingale, that pulls one up short – the more so on finding that the words were written by Joan Miró.

Miró’s description suggests the need for a good biography of Calder. During his life, Calder was the victim of mistaken identity. To an extent he remains one forty years later. Despite thoughtful recent exhibitions of his work, such as those at Pace in London in 2013 and at the Tate in 2015, the amiable lumberjack and his art have somehow come to be confused with each other. Where Miró is witty, Calder is merely humorous; if the Spaniard’s work paints him as the master of uncanny opposition, the American’s shows him to be a tinkerer – a merry fellow, whose swaying mobiles could be hung over the cribs of Brobdingnagian infants.

more here.

Brianna Rennix & Nathan J. Robinson in Current Affairs:

You are on an asteroid careening through the cosmos. Aboard the asteroid with you are nine hundred highly-skilled physicians, who have been working on developing a revolutionary medication that will cure every disease in the known universe. The asteroid’s current trajectory is taking it straight toward the Planet of Orphans, where all intergalactic civilizations have dumped their unwanted offspring, of which there are now 100 trillion, all living, breathing, and mewling. If you detonate the asteroid, all of the doctors will die, along with the hope for curing every disease in the universe. If you do not detonate the asteroid, the doctors will have time to develop the cure and send it hurtling toward the Healing Planet before you crash into and destroy the Planet of Orphans. Thus you face the crucial question: how useful is this hypothetical for illuminating moral truths?

The “Trolley Problem” is a staple of undergraduate moral philosophy. It is a gruesome hypothetical supposedly designed to test our moral intuitions and introduce the differences between Kantian and consequentialist reasoning. For the lucky few who have thus far managed to avoid exposure to the Trolley Problem, here it is: a runaway trolley is hurtling down the track. In the trolley’s path are five workers, who will inevitably be smushed to a gory paste if it continues along its present course. But you, you have the power to change things: you happen to be standing by a switch. If you give the switch a yank, the trolley will veer onto a different track. On this track, there is only one worker. Do you pull the switch and doom the unsuspecting proletarian, or do you refrain from acting and allow five others to die?

More here. [Thanks to Tom Jacobs.]

Matthew Plunkett in McSweeney's:

Most people don’t believe me when I tell them I write 100,000 words every day of my life. If I’m being totally honest, 100,000 is probably just a baseline number. Some days I exceed a half million words. It’s just what I do. I’m a professional writer. So, if you want to know how you might achieve a similar output as me, here you go.

People ask me all the time, “Hey, how do you do it?” First lesson of writing: never answer direct questions. Not from the guy at the supermarket. Not from the police officer at your car window. Not from your children crying for their supper. Remember, you are on a deadline.

If you want to crank out words at a high volume, dispel yourself of such quaint, artificial notions as “morning” or “days.” They are artificial constructs designed by those who want to slow down your writing. If you’re sleeping, you aren’t writing. I haven’t slept more than 25 minutes at a clip since my sophomore year of college. It’s a small price to pay to hit your daily word goals.

More here.

Scott Atran in Aeon:

Whether alt-Right or radical Islam, the values of liberal and open democracy increasingly appear to be losing ground around the world to those of narrow, xenophobic ethno-nationalisms and radical ideologies. Our research team at Artis International and the Centre for the Resolution of Intractable Conflict at Oxford University has found that these forces are clobbering free societies today much like fascists and communists did back in the 1920s and ’30s. In Hungary, we find that youth strongly support the government’s call for restoring ‘national cohesion’, lost with the fall of Miklós Horthy’s fascist and pro-Nazi regime; the call to root out ‘cosmopolitan’ and ‘globalist’ values is strong. In Iraq, we find that nearly all of the young people we have interviewed who are coming out from under Islamic State rule in Mosul initially welcomed it for stability and security amid the chaos following the US invasion – until they were alienated by the ever-increasing brutality.

According to the World Values Survey, the majority of Europeans do not believe that living in a democratic country is ‘absolutely important’ for them. This includes most young Germans under age 30, and especially their elders in former communist East Germany who, in September, voted into Parliament the Right-wing populist party Alternative for Germany. Last April, Marine Le Pen’s hard-Right National Front and Jean-Luc Mélenchon’s hard-Left Unbowed France together captured nearly half of the French vote of people age 18-34 in first-round national elections. And in the US, political scientists Roberto Foa and Yascha Mounk find that nearly half of American citizens lack faith in democracy; more than one-third of young high-income earners actually favour army rule, presumably to halt rising social unrest linked to income inequality, job insecurity, and persistent failures in racial integration and cultural assimilation in an age of identity politics.

More here.

John Check at Open Letters Monthly:

Johannes Vermeer (1632–1675) may nowadays be the most well-known genre painter, but in his time he was far from the only such artist or the most famous. He was instead a member of a small band renowned for producing masterpieces for discerning patrons. Gerard ter Borch and Gerrit Dou, for instance, were early figures in the history of genre painting. Waiboer credits ter Borch with introducing “many new subjects, compositions and motifs readily adopted by younger artists.” Dou, meanwhile, was celebrated for the fineness of his brushwork, a perfectionist who achieved his miraculous results by lavishing untold hours on his canvasses. He was so meticulous, according to Ole Borch, a Danish botanist and chemist who visited his studio, that a viewer could examine a work of Dou’s—the work Borch had in mind depicted a sick woman in her bedroom—and “count the threads in the bed curtain.” The visiting botanist even records this priceless fact: the artist was “in the habit” of wearing three pairs of glasses to achieve his finest effects. “This,” writes Blaise Ducos, “is a rare description of a work in the painter’s studio, and indeed of the painter’s working method.”

Few records exist of these artists meeting or exchanging letters, but it is highly likely that they encountered one another’s work at auctions, in the workshops of artists, or in the homes of collectors. They must have made sketches of memorable paintings, the better to retain their compositional details, even if the sketches themselves do not survive. Artists traveled extensively within the Dutch Republic, especially those living in the province of Holland, where the towns were close to one another, travelling by coach, on foot, or by an efficient and reliable system of barges called trekschuiten. Throughout their lives, they tended to reside in different places; peregrinating as they did, they absorbed new influences all the while influencing others.

more here.

Steven Beller at Eurozine:

Since the mid-1980s a revisionist trend changed the history of the empire from one in which nations freed themselves from imperial servitude, to one in which the empire had offered peace and prosperity to the ‘small nations’ of the region, while at the same time, ironically, encouraging the development of national culture, and identity, for the component national groups. This ‘revisionist’ historiographical view is now so established that it is difficult really to see it as revisionist any more. One of the best examples of the current, positive view of The Habsburg Empire is the book of the same name by Pieter Judson, who does bring new perspectives, at the level of local and popular history, to the larger theme. Yet when Judson calls his book a ‘new history’, his central idea, that the empire was a remarkably resilient polity, which was doing quite well for its populace right up until 1914, before all its (and their) good work was destroyed by the First World War, is not that new at all. Alan Sked was writing much the same in the late 1970s, but now it is the conventional wisdom. Several decades have passed in which a multinational, quasi-federal polity (the European Union) has shown how effective it can be in providing peace and prosperity. It is no coincidence that historical research confirmed the same about the Habsburg Empire. By now, Judson’s views are the established academic consensus.

In the most recent period, however, there has been a change in the political weather concerning the European Union. With right-wing, authoritarian nationalist governments in Poland and Hungary, Brexit, and a surging nationalist far-right in most states in Europe (even when those parties are still, fortunately, in a minority), nationalism has taken centre stage once more. The supranational institutions of the multinational European Union no longer look as inevitable as they once did. It is not quite the same as before.

more here.

Philip Hoare at The New Statesman:

In The Soul of an Octopus (2015) Sy Montgomery’s love letter to the animal – the result of her long-time study of octopuses in the New England Aquarium in Boston – the author observed the apparent bonds these captive cephalopods established with some of their keepers and visitors, and how they expressed their literal distaste for others by squirting water at them. Montgomery noted that the animals used their arms to taste during interactions with humans, and took against visitors who smoked because they could sense it on their skin.

Inevitably, we project our characteristics on to these creatures (of which there are more than 300 species). Coleridge’s Ancient Mariner imagines the eerie deep where, “Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs/Upon the slimy sea”, while during an extended stay on Guernsey, Victor Hugo observed, “all ideals being admitted, if terror be the object, the octopus is a masterpiece. Its most terrible quality is its softness”, he declared in Toilers of the Sea (1866). “It draws you to it, and bound, ensnared, powerless, you slowly feel yourself emptied into that frightful pond, which is the monster itself.” Counterpoint that tactile terror with the octopus’s role in a celebrated erotic woodcut by Hokusai from 1814, depicting a female pearl diver being pleasured by those wandering arms.

Jacqueline Ardam in Avidly:

I teach college English, which means that I spend a lot of time telling people not to write papers about “the human condition.” The human condition, I tell my students, is vague. What about the human condition are you interested in? I ask. Bodies? Money? Desire? Work? Power? These are things that we could make arguments about. The human condition is not. I give my students a handout of writing tips, a series of “dos and don’ts” I’ve honed over the course of a decade in college classrooms. Many of the “don’ts” regard specificity. Don’t write about society. Be more specific. Don’t tell me about gender norms. Be more specific. Don’t write about the human condition. Be more specific. I hold to these rules tightly; I think they are good rules, and they certainly lead to more exacting student writing. But when I read that Kazuo Ishiguro won the Nobel Prize for literature last week, my first thought was: Ishiguro won the Nobel Prize because he writes about the human condition.

Nichlas Wade in The New York Times:

Two years ago, archaeologists excavating an ancient grave at Pylos in southwestern Greece pulled out a grime-encrusted object, less than an inch and half long, that looked like some kind of large bead. They put it aside to focus on more prominent items, like gold rings, that also were packed into the rich grave. But later, as a conservator removed the lime accretions on the bead’s face, it turned out to be something quite different: a seal stone, a gemstone engraved with a design that can be stamped on clay or wax.

The seal stone’s image, a striking depiction of one warrior in battle with two others, is carved in remarkably fine detail, with some features that are barely visible to the naked eye. The image is easier to appreciate in a large-scale drawing of the original. “The detail is astonishing, especially given the size. Aesthetically, it’s a masterpiece of miniature art,” said John Bennet, director of the British School at Athens, an archaeological institute. “The stunning combat scene on the seal stone, one of the greatest masterpieces of Aegean art, bears comparison with some of the drawings in the Michelangelo show now at the Metropolitan Museum of Art,” said Malcolm H. Wiener, an expert on Aegean prehistory and a trustee emeritus of the Met. The seal stone comes from an untouched shaft grave near the ancient palace of Pylos. The grave was discovered in May 2015 by Jack L. Davis and Sharon R. Stocker, archaeologists at the University of Cincinnati who had been digging at Pylos for more than 25 years. “It was after cleaning, during the process of drawing and photography, that our excitement slowly rose as we gradually came to realize that we had unearthed a masterpiece,” they wrote in the journal Hesperia.

More here.

by Scott F. Aikin and Robert B. Talisse

Thanksgiving is nearly upon us, a time when family gathers to reflect together on the year that is nearly completed. Thanksgiving is the least commercialized of the national holidays in the US. It is also the most humane and civilized.

Despite its pensive ambitions, however, Thanksgiving is a notorious site of familial angst. Consequently, early in November newspapers, magazines, websites, and television programs begin offering advice on "surviving" Thanksgiving. The genre focuses largely on strategies for managing political disagreement over the dinner table. This trend hit a high mark last year, in the wake of the election of Donald Trump. Writing for Food section of The Washington Post, Maura Judkis composed a guide for "Surviving Thanksgiving when you hate how your family voted," which concludes by asking whether respectful and illuminating conversation about politics over Thanksgiving dinner among politically opposed family members is even possible. "Do such families exist?," Judkis asked. In The Wall Street Journal, Elizabeth Bernstein consulted experts on empathy in offering her "Thanksgiving Day family peace plan," which includes advice on how to "see each family member as a well-rounded being" and to remain kind and calm. In Fortune, the etiquette expert Daniel Post Senning proposed five strategies for avoiding politics at Thanksgiivng dinner, which included the recommendation to "prepare yourself mentally" and "don't get drawn in." Matt Miller and Sammy Nickalls posted at Esquire a piece on "How to Talk Politics over the Holidays Without Being a Dick" that acknowledges that "we can't avoid" talking politics over the holidays, and so we must devise ways to prevent them from "turning into screaming matches." And CBS News ran a piece by Mary Brophy Marcus about how to "avoid a family blowup"; Marcus advised family members to "set ground rules," to "limit time with difficult people," and if necessary to "stay home."

A new succession of posts and columns is soon to appear. These will offer sensible advice about how to conduct oneself in political discussion on Thanksgiving. Of course we should strive to remain calm, respectful, and attentive in a political debate among family. Surely we should avoid shouting matches, and we most certainly need to listen to one another. Remaining civil in a heated political debate is no easy achievement, and rarely do we find ourselves dining with those to whom we are politically opposed. So perhaps an early-November reminder to start mentally preparing is necessary.

But wait a minute. Isn't it odd that we should need for the advice of strangers for dealing with family members? And isn't the oddness punctuated by the fact they we're seeking advice for managing a dinner whose purpose is to bring family together?

Read more »

by Amanda Beth Peery

Everyone wants to be happy. The key to life is happiness. Do what makes you happy. This message is everywhere, the great happiness cliché, plastered across blogs, books, and billboards. Happiness has become the universal currency of life: we know we've done well if we end up with a lot of it. But why are we so convinced that happiness should be our goal? Aren't there other things to live for?

"Happiness" is used as a vague catch-all, standing in for any type of fulfillment and any "positive emotion." It's associated with satisfaction of desires and even a mild anti-consumerism ("money can't buy happiness"). Although happiness might seem like something everyone should want, it's actually a very particular value, and it shouldn't be everyone's ultimate goal.

Try telling a random person, at least an American, that you don't care about happiness, or that it isn't what you want most in life. They probably won't believe you. If you say you care more about beauty, they'll say, "Beauty is just what makes you happy." If you say you have a burning desire to discover the fundamental nature of the universe, they'll say that scientific discovery is what makes you happy. There's no escaping happiness.

"Happiness" swallows up every other goal and value. It stands for whatever fulfills our most important desires. Seen in this light, happiness seems innocent enough. It's just the word we use for what we want.

But the word "happiness" is not an empty shell. It has specific meanings, and when we're aiming for happiness we're steering in one direction and driving past other roads.

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by Jalees Rehman

Just a few years ago, the onslaught of digital books seemed unstoppable. Sales of electronic books (E-books) were surging, people were extolling the convenience of carrying around a whole library of thousands of books on a portable digital tablet, phones or E-book readers such as the Amazon Kindle. In addition to portability, E-books allow for highlighting and annotating of key sections, searching for keywords and names of characters, even looking up unknown vocabulary with a single touch. It seemed only like a matter of time until E-books would more or less wholly replace old-fashioned physical books. But recent data seems to challenge this notion. A Pew survey released in 2016 on the reading habits of Americans shows that E-book reading may have reached a plateau in recent years and there is no evidence pointing towards the anticipated extinction of physical books.

The researchers Ozgun Atasoy and Carey Morewedge from Boston University recently conducted a study which suggests that one reason for the stifled E-book market share growth may be that consumers simply value physical goods more than digital goods. In a series of experiments, they tested how much consumers value equivalent physical and digital items such as physical photographs and digital photographs or physical books and digital books. They also asked participants in their studies questions which allowed them to infer some of the psychological motivations that would explain the differences in values.

In one experiment, a research assistant dressed up in a Paul Revere costume asked tourists visiting Old North Church in Boston whether they would like to have their photo taken with the Paul Revere impersonator and keep the photo as a souvenir of the visit. Eighty-six tourists (average age 40 years) volunteered and were informed that they would be asked to donate money to a foundation maintaining the building. The donation could be as low as $0, and the volunteers were randomly assigned to either receiving a physical photo or a digital photo. Participants in both groups received their photo within minutes of the photo being taken, either as an instant-printed photograph or an emailed digital photograph. It turned out that the participants randomly assigned to the digital photo group donated significantly less money than those in the physical photo group (median of $1 in the digital group, $3 in the physical group).

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by Misha Lepetic

"Technology is a way of organizing the universe
so that people don't have to experience it."
~ Max Frisch

Last time I set up a discussion around the premise of BitCoin, or more specifically, one of its underlying technologies, known as the blockchain. In the intervening time, I have been half-heartedly attending numerous events here in New York focusing on blockchain, especially in relation to non-financial implementations. I say half-heartedly, because the purported promise of blockchain has been constantly undermined by the quality of discussion at these events. I'll grant that crypto-currencies in general and the concept of blockchain specifically are initially challenging to grasp, but at the same time I left most of these events wondering if the panelists actually knew what they were talking about, or if what they knew was earth-shaking and recondite to the point that it couldn't responsibly be shared with the public.

Of course, this doesn't prevent people from making all sorts of radical claims befitting a technology that is in its infancy and is speculative at best. Consider the case of Democracy Earth, a startup that I heard present at one of these events. Democracy Earth is seeking to ‘disintermediate politics' through the deployment of blockchain. The closing line of the abstract of Democracy Earth's cri de couer states:

We seek nothing less than true democratic governance for the Internet age, one of the foundational building blocks of an achievable global peace and prosperity arising from an arc of technological innovations that will change what it means to be human on Earth.

Go big or go home, as they say. But what do we really talk about when we talk about blockchain? In this piece I won't address the specifics of the technology (there are any number of half-decent explainers out there for that), but rather the complex series of maneuvers in which we implicitly engage when discussing nascent technologies.

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