Generosity Of Spirit Research Articles

Autonomy Re-Imagined

Iwould like to extend the concept of dignity, a term usually understood with regard to individuals, to family and kinship relationships. At stake in this extension is our freedom not to fall prey to drives that prevent us from being able to express our desire, pursue it, and rationally evaluate it. This understanding of dignity is a re-interpretation of its meaning that can only be made with the help of psychoanalytic theory, and more especially, the interventions that have been made in that body of theory by feminist analysts and theorists. Psychoanalysis defends dignity as the moral mandate in which all of us are viewed as subjects who, in principle, can articulate their desire as well as morally evaluate their ends. The articulation of desire has always been assumed as necessary for moral freedom and responsibility. Indeed, much political philosophy takes it for granted that we act as actively desiring subjects who simply shape our own lives.1 Of course, some of the earliest critiques of canonical political theory offered by feminists argued that it was easy to make this assumption because the subjects in the purview of the theory were not all human beings, but straight white men of a certain class background.2 As I have defined it within the legal sphere (Cornell, Imaginary), the imaginary domain is the moral and psychic right to represent and articulate the meaning of our desire and our sexuality within the ethical framework of respect for the dignity of all others. This domain is imaginary in the sense that it is irreducible to actual space. But it is also imaginary in a psychoanalytic sense: our assumed identities have an imaginary dimension since they are shaped through our identification with primordial others. Without these identities, we cannot envision who we are. Our identifications with others as they have imagined and continue to imagine us thus form our self-image. These identifications color the way in which we envision ourselves, but they do not determine the reach of our imagination in dreaming up who else we might be. We must thus distinguish the imaginary from the radical imagination in which we envision new worlds and configure what has otherwise remained invisible. The radical imagination demands some degree of psychic separation. Otherwise our dreams of who we might become, both individually and collectively, would be captured by unconscious claims on us. Another reason for my psychoanalytic conception of the imaginary is that I defend feminism as an ego ideal. We form ego ideals by envisioning ourselves either through real or imagined others. Since ego ideals are formed through our primordial, pre-oedipal identifications, they carry with them unconscious material that we cannot fully elucidate. Indeed, we can never exactly know how these ideals are formed out of our identifications. Because we are not conscious of how our identifications have shaped these ideals, it is thus futile to think there is an easily accessible genealogical path that, if followed, will return us to the psychic origins of our identifications. What this means, interestingly enough, is that we cannot simply debunk ego ideals without at the same time appealing to some other ideal, even if that ideal is that we should ideally be suspicious of all ego ideals. Such suspicion is undoubtedly an ego ideal of how we should be. We imagine either that we reach an ideal or that we can become what the ideal holds out for us as a possibility. Feminism envisions how we might be as free and equal persons in our day-to-day lives. As an ego ideal, it cannot be imposed. Nor can we say that one must act or be a certain way in order to be a feminist. To make such impositions undermines the power of feminism as an ego ideal. To understand feminism psychically is to defend its spirit of generosity because each woman or man will internalize it as an ideal in her or his own way. This

In Memoriam: Natascha Artin Brunswick, Editor Emeritus

Natascha (Jasny) Artin Brunswick died February 3, 2003, in Princeton, New Jersey, at the age of 93. I first met Natascha in 1946 when she joined the group around Richard Courant at New York University. I was a graduate student at the time. In 1948, when the New York University journal Communications on Pure and Applied Mathematics was founded, Natascha became the technical editor, and she continued as editor until 1991. In 1956, when the SIAM journal Theory of Probability and Its Applications was founded, she became the primary translation editor, and she continued in this position until 1999. She did everything by hand, without computers. In addition she taught mathematics and Russian and translated works from French, Russian, and German for several other journals. Natascha Jasny was born in St. Petersburg, Russia, on June 11, 1909. After the Bolshevik takeover, the family moved south and, in 1922, fled again, settling finally in Hamburg, Germany. There, after finishing high school at age 16, Natascha studied mathematics at the University of Hamburg, taking courses from Emil Artin, whom she married in 1932, and others including von Neumann and Cassirer. In Hamburg, the Artin children Karin and Michael were born; Tom was born later in the United States. In 1937 Professor Artin was dismissed from the university because of the racial laws, and he and his family were allowed to leave, arriving in the United States in the summer of 1937. In 1938 they moved to Bloomington, Indiana. Natascha, although formally an enemy alien, taught Russian in the U.S. Army Special Training Program and later at the University of Indiana. In 1946 Professor Artin received an appointment at Princeton University, New Jersey, and the family moved there. He and Natascha were divorced in the 1950s, and in 1959 she married Mark Brunswick, the composer and professor of music at City College. Throughout her long life, Natascha continued to be active, doing volunteer work at the Princeton Museum, travelling, attending concerts and theatre, and entertaining. In recent years she had two exhibitions in Hamburg of her photographs of the city taken in the 1930s. These were discovered and assembled by her son Tom a few years ago. They are now in the permanent collection of the Museum fur Kunst und Gewerbe. Natascha was a very special person, full of warmth, charm, humor, and generosity of spirit. She put people at ease immediately and was a wonderful friend to many. She was also an excellent cook and a most gracious hostess. In addition to her three children, she is survived by seven grandchildren and nine great-grandchildren.

Ralph P. Shutt

Ralph P. Shutt

Stranger from Paradise: A Biography of William Blake (review)

In Stranger from Paradise, G. E. Bentley shapes the elements of William Blake's life, poetry, and designs into an evolving counterpoint between the generosity of spirit that came of Blake's powerful conviction about his visions and his resistance to the truisms of the fashionable artists and their patrons at the turn of the eighteenth into the nineteenth centuries. Blake emerges from a life of perpetual disappointments with the commercial world to attain the understanding that he, not his successful contemporaries, was the fortunate one: he communed with spirits who commanded that he "be an artist & nothing else. In this there is felicity," leading Blake to state, "I wish to do nothing for profit. I wish to live for art—I want nothing whatever. I am quite happy—" (413).

Peter A. Kollman (1944–2001)

Peter A. Kollman (Figure 1)(Figure 1) died earlier this year after a brief but inspirational struggle with cancer at the age of 56. Although his career was foreshortened, his contributions to the application of quantum and molecular mechanics calculations to address important chemical and biological problems will live on in the students he trained and the AMBER suite of programs that he produced. His booming voice, unbridled enthusiasm for science, generosity of spirit, and friendship will all be missed.Figure 1Peter KollmanView Large Image | View Hi-Res Image | Download PowerPoint SlideI came to know Peter Kollman during his first sabbatical. I had moved to Oxford for graduate school and Peter had come to immerse himself in structural biology. His interests were drawn to extending detailed computational chemistry tools to study biological macromolecules. This was 1978, and the era of distributed computing had not yet arrived. Instead, the computer that we used was centralized and filled a very large room. The staff could be watched mounting magnetic tapes on large drives. Even in Oxford, air-conditioning was required. Punch cards were the norm, although the first terminals were becoming more common. Peter dashed off an early version of what would ultimately become AMBER, and I set out to calculate the energy landscape of an interacting pair of helices in vacuo. We learned several things: the computers were not fast enough, there were too many variables to manage, and a CalComp plotter drawing stereo images was a tough way to analyze the results. To his credit, Peter was not deterred. I sought out simpler problems that might lead to completion of my degree.Peter went on to build an incredibly productive research and training program. Through over 400 publications, Peter and his students and collaborators helped us to understand the behavior of water, alkanes, peptides, nucleic acids, proteins, and pharmaceuticals. Perhaps he is best known for his scholarly contributions to the field of Free Energy Perturbation calculations. While several scientists understood that it would be easier to simulate the alchemical transformation of a hydrogen atom to a methyl group attached to a complex macromolecular system in two or more distinct conformations, Peter foresaw the power of this method to address important medicinal and biochemical problems. To paraphrase one of his colleagues, I knew that Free Energy Perturbation calculations were important and wrote two papers on this subject; Peter wrote fifty. Encapsulated within this observation is Peter's enthusiasm for his work. This enthusiasm was effectively transmitted to his students who now hold important academic and industrial positions. Peter's enthusiasm was evident in all aspects of his life. He was a devoted husband and father to his children and step-children. Whether it was basketball, tennis, or ping pong, he loved to compete and he always wanted to play. I had the pleasure of playing with Peter. There was always a kind word for a good shot and enthusiastic support delivered with a booming baritone.Peter developed weight loss earlier this year that he attributed to an overzealous exercise program. A visit to his doctor and follow up tests led to a more insidious conclusion, a cancer of uncertain origin that had spread to his liver and bones. For all of Peter's work on the mechanism of action of DNA intercalaters, his disease had progressed too far to benefit from chemotherapy. We discussed the medical options. Peter reached the brave conclusion that the rigors of aggressive chemotherapy would not enhance the quality of his life. Instead, he decided to spend what time he had left with his family and friends. Peter told me more than once that he had no regrets. He had the good fortune to work on problems he loved with colleagues that he enjoyed. At a time when many of us would focus on all that we had not made time for, Peter displayed a rare sense of contentment as he listened to the music he loved and sent out a few extra e-mail messages. In the last few weeks of his life, the bone pain from his tumor required morphine. When discussing mundane subjects, he had a difficult time staying focused. But, when his thoughts turned to science, he was as lucid as ever. Science clearly held a privileged spot in Peter's mind, a spot that was not subject to ephemeral or biochemical distraction.I will miss him greatly.[One of Dr. Kollman's last papers appears on pp. 905–916 of this issue.]

Serendib (review)

Book Reviews245 Tiberghien has found her own way through the practice of silent prayer. Her experience may simply broaden the spiritual knowledge of others as they foUow their own paths. She encourages each ofus to seek our destiny, which she defines as "a simple word, asking only that we live each present moment as it comes. It means being who we are meant to be." Reviewed by Mary Isca Serendib by Jim Toner University of Georgia Press, 2000 Cloth, $24.95 War-torn Sri Lanka is an unlikely place for a white, upper-middle-class father and son to come to terms with each other. Nevertheless, the poverty that requires many Sri Lankans to live close to the earth lends Toner and his father the opportunity to return to some emotional basics. Whereas affluent America offers material comforts to distract the soul, Sri Lanka affords no such dubious luxuries. Serendib begins with a telephone call from the author's father, informing his son that his arrival in Sri Lanka where his son is a Peace Corps volunteer is imminent. While Toner worries about soldiers barely out of childhood toting automatic weapons, classrooms without books and the social tensions between the Buddhist Sinhalese and the Hindu Tamals, his father wonders whether he should wear his Hush Puppies or his wing tips. "Listen, I know the Hush Puppies may not be the most practical choice. But they sure are comfortable as sUppers, and my bunions, jeeze, they're acting up these days, and so ... " And so the First World is about to meet the Third World, and a father is about to discover his son who mentally invites his clueless father to "Come, spend seven hundred uninterrupted hours with the last of your seven kids, the one you vaguely know and who vaguely knows you. . . . Come to where every one of your demons is waiting to ambush you." This is not the stuff of which travel brochures are made. In less skiUed hands, this combination of foreign travel and intergenerational rapprochement would muddy up the narrative waters. But Toner manages to weave these two strains together so that they are truly inseparable . His father's reactions to Sri Lanka's poverty, violence and—most importantly —huge generosity, graduaUy brings out a generosity of spirit his son has either ignored, or that has been buried under years of suspicion and 246Fourth Genre privilege. Or both. Toner's recognition of this part of his father leads to a new vision ofwho this old guy in wing tips reaUy is. Toner's father does not immediately adjust to the new landscape, however. It is his transformation from privileged American to adaptable traveler that aUows Toner the opportunity to see his father as a complex individual, and notjust as a figure to be rebeUed against. Serendib is fflled with scenes that both lay bare and redefine the relationship between father and son. Some of the most telling scenes happen early on after Dad arrives in the capital, Columbo. To give his father a taste ofthe real Sri Lanka, Toner takes him from the comfort of his air-conditioned hotel room and Scotch on the rocks to eat at a local kadee. There, five soldiers with machine guns smoke Marlboros at a nearby table and leer at Toner's wife. A beer bottle is thrown. A soldier saunters over and blows smoke in Toner's face. "In the corner his mates whooped and raised their machine guns, and to me this whole scene was descending into nightmare in which we three whites would soon be forced at gun-point to lick a boot." They leave without eating. Toner realizes that his petulance almost caused his wife, his father, and himself bodily harm. He keeps his radar out for the rest of the journey. That radar, too, detects changes in his father, who begins to surprise him. Dad adapts to outhouses without toilet paper, to buses so fuU of passengers they seem to defy certain laws of physics, and to both Buddhist and Hindu ritual far removed from his familiar and comforting Irish Catholicism. Writers worth reading take risks. What Toner risks is sentimentality. This is perhaps inherent...

The Loom of Latin

The Loom of Latin Michael C. J. Putnam Let me begin with a bit of autobiography which I happily share with others in this room, including past, present and future presidents of our learned society. I came of age in the Harvard of the Fifties where it was my good fortune to study with two extraordinary teachers, J. P. Elder and Cedric Whitman. They served as notable models for the combination of philological rigor with imaginative insight they displayed in their scholarly writing—Elder in a series of sharply etched, brilliant essays on Catullus, Horace and Lucretius, Whitman through his reading of Sophocles but especially in the chapters on "Fire and Other Elements " and "Achilles" in his landmark book on Homer. After my return to pursue graduate work it was also my privilege to become the friend of Reuben Brower whose books, beginning with The Fields of Light, not to speak of his generosity of spirit and humanity as a pedagogue, served as models for a host of young educators-to-be. What we learned to combine, first by osmosis, then by scrutiny of its intellectual background and prized texts, was the best of New Criticism with the training required of a philologist, to become, literally, lovers of words. The two were in important ways complementary. The bibles of New Criticism, works such as I. A. Richards' Practical Criticism and Seven Types of Ambiguity by his student William Empson, allowed us to put our education to use, strengthening our understanding of the richness of meaning contained in our chosen works of genius. To view literature whole was a fundamental ambition, whether we discovered this unity through tracing strands of imagery, from observing figuration at work, or in the search for ring-composition. What we eschewed was the rigidity with which the New Critics tended to interpret writing in vacuo, apart from the various contexts which gave it birth.1 Intellectual setting was crucial, signifying not only position vis-à-vis the output of a single author but placement [End Page 329] within the sweep of ancient literature and the works it influenced. Here in the background were John Livingston Lowes, on Coleridge's sources, and Caroline Spurgeon on Keats' use of Shakespeare—the theoretical beginnings, as it were, of the exploration of allusion which has become and will, I dare say, continue to be such a vital critical tool. There were many other powerful aids available to us for eliciting meaning, a few of which I will single out. For those interested in variations of style as representative of varied realities Erich Auerbach's Mimesis (1946) was a beacon. There was also psychology, especially the work of Jung and his followers. I remember the potent impression caused by my first reading of Maud Bodkin's Archetypal Patterns in Poetry and of Northrop Frye, writing first on Blake (1947), then, ten years later, Anatomy of Criticism. There were also many influential works emanating from historians of religion and myth. I think particularly of Joseph Campbell's The Hero with a Thousand Faces, published a year before I entered college. What we did not fully sense until some time had passed was that we were at the beginning of a renaissance in the study of Latin literature and, in particular, in the rethinking of the accomplishments of some of its major poets. Let me use Virgil as an example. The Virgil we were born into was the product of two main interpretative sources. The first was his designation as a chauvinistic glorifier of empire, a view propounded with authority in the pages of Richard Heinze's Virgils epische Technik (1903). His was a Virgil that had already fitted comfortably with English and German readers of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The second Virgil was the creator of a hero perceived as passive in his responses, proto-Christian in his ethics, ever responding with sympathy to the world around him. This was the stoic Aeneas which T. S. Eliot put before us at the end of the second World War in What is a Classic? (1945) and which we also find five years later in Viktor Pöschl's Die Dichtkunst Virgils...

Gifts of Humiliation: Charis and Tragic Experience in Alcestis

Charis is always what bears charis. (Soph. Aj. 522) Not for many does charis breed charis. (Anaxandrides fr. 69 PCG II) A gift that does nothing to enhance solidarity is a contradiction. --Mary Douglas on Marcel Mauss Whether or not in the spring of 438 B.C.E. Euripides anticipated that his festival audience would find his production of Alcestis to be a thought-provoking pro-satyr play, its twentieth-century "readerly audiences" most certainly have. The play has prompted a steady stream of critical studies on a broad range of themes and issues. The trends in the most recent century's approaches to Alcestis are not necessarily tidy, but one critic has summarized them as having three movements: interest prior to World War I in the play's lighter, comic elements; emphasis on Euripides' use of folktale elements, beginning in the 1920s; and exploration of the play's more sinister elements since World War II. 1 My analysis here references this scholarly tradition in the service of an ethical-sociological reading focused on the issue of "charis," a theme interwoven in the play's complex narrative levels of irony and fairy tale, tragedy and satyr drama, and dark and light characterization. I argue that it is possible to view Alcestis' offer to die for Admetus as a kind of gift, a gift that in turn effectively devalues the kinds of gifts Admetus [End Page 179] is able to give. In his attempts to restore the efficacy of his own level of traditional aristocratic gift giving, he is driven to extremes. He offers not to remarry; misleads Heracles about the death of his wife; and renounces his father. These acts, however, further lower his standing. Admetus' attendance at the funeral and homecoming then lead to an experience of tragic understanding, an anagnorisis that offers him perspective on the relative merits of his honor code and complicates the reconciliation scene at the play's end. Charis and Gift Giving Charis has a root meaning of "something which delights" (cf. khairo). In usage, charis more typically conveys two ideas: a "favor" that one does for another, and a feeling of "gratitude" that one has for receiving a favor. 2 The term thus lends itself to a sociological inquiry involving the cultural logic of "gift giving." For example, as part of a study of violent social relations in the context of honor/shame societies, William Miller has discussed the problem of "requiting the unwanted gift." Another member of the recipient's society may have chosen to give him such a gift not in the spirit of generosity but, on the contrary, as a way to shame him, providing him, as it were, with a "gift of humiliation." 3 The notion of gift giving as a sociological institution was pioneered by Marcel Mauss. Working within a framework formulated by Emile Durkheim, Mauss posited the idea that gift giving is not identified with "charity," for it typically implies the expectation by both giver and recipient of a return gift; more importantly, gifts belong to a larger dynamic that establishes social rank and assigns identity. 4 The sociologist [End Page 180] Pierre Bourdieu has argued that in gift-exchange cultures, individuals who offer gifts think simultaneously on two levels of engagement: they give in a fashion that serves to exploit and dominate the recipient, yet their words and posture can convey altruism and concern. Bourdieu has been criticized for universalizing observations made during fieldwork among the Kabyle in Africa; but his principle that primitive honor societies lack institutional means for economic relationships, and that individuals thus employ elaborate schemes of manipulating codes of honor to further their needs and ambitions, 5 speaks to the heart of the social logic which Euripides' Alcestis thematizes and renders theatrical. 6 [End Page 181] This reading of the play thus follows the work of other classical scholars who have analyzed the dynamics of gift exchange in Greek society...

In memoriam: Mara Selvini-Palazzoli, M.D. (1916-1999).

Family ProcessVolume 38, Issue 4 p. 391-398 IN MEMORIAM: Mara Selvini-Palazzoli, M.D. (1916–1999)† Carlos E. Sluzki MD, Carlos E. Sluzki MDSearch for more papers by this author Carlos E. Sluzki MD, Carlos E. Sluzki MDSearch for more papers by this author First published: 28 July 2004 https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1545-5300.1999.00391.x † Editor's Note: Family therapy has suffered yet another loss, this time one of its world-famous, charismatic clinicians. In July, Mara Selvini-Palazzoli died at the age of 82 in Milan, Italy. In respect for her many contributions to the field, and in lieu of the usual Editorial, we present the following tributes from just a few of her many admirers. I thank Carlos E. Sluzki for his generosity of spirit (and time) and for his invaluable help in gathering in the following tributes. — Carol M. Anderson Read the full textAboutPDF ToolsRequest permissionExport citationAdd to favoritesTrack citation ShareShare Give accessShare full text accessShare full-text accessPlease review our Terms and Conditions of Use and check box below to share full-text version of article.I have read and accept the Wiley Online Library Terms and Conditions of UseShareable LinkUse the link below to share a full-text version of this article with your friends and colleagues. Learn more.Copy URL Share a linkShare onFacebookTwitterLinkedInRedditWechat Volume38, Issue4Winter, 1999Pages 391-398 RelatedInformation

Opportunities and challenges for psychiatry.

Opportunities and challenges for psychiatry.

The Content of Science, The Methodology of Science and Hempel's Models of Explanation and Confirmation

Peter Hempel’s generosity of spirit and sympathetic warmth are, of course, legendary. Let me add to the many examples others have related of how his life so deeply and positively affected their own by telling of my first meeting with him. In the middle of my first semester as a graduate student in theoretical physics at Princeton the growing awareness that I was not cut out for the life of a researcher into relativistic quantum field theory flashed into brilliant illumination: I needed out – and quickly! I crossed the short distance from Palmer Laboratory to McCosh Hall where Peter’s office was located and called on him to ask if there was any possibility whatever that I might be considered for transfer into the philosophy program – despite the facts that I had little formal training at all in philosophy and had made no formal application to the program. At best I expected some advice on how to start the procedures rolling so that I could apply for such a change of program, and, perhaps, some encouragement that there might be some possibility that I would be successful in my application. Needless to say it was with utter astonishment that I listened to his response to my sad tale of failure as a physicist and desire to change my field of studies: Of course, he said, I was welcome to the philosophy program. But didn’t I want to sit in on a few seminars first to make sure that this was a change I really wanted to make! The warmth of this initial welcome into the philosophy program was matched by the continuing support and encouragement that

:Francis Drake: The Lives of a Hero

This biography presents Drake through the accounts of friends and enemies on both the national and personal level. From his family's fierce love of Protestantism, and their early poverty which drove him to sea while still a boy, until his death at sea in 1596, it was a life of drama in which opportunism, courage, greed, religion and national policy all played a part, alongside the sailing skill and navigational brilliance of the first man to sail all the way around the world. His naval battles and audacious piratical raids on Spain's empire and shipping are described using eye-witness accounts from both Spanish and English and his stormy personal relationships reveal a man whose distrust of colleagues contrasted with a generosity of spirit which was a source of wonder to his enemies.

Reports and Communications

With deep sadness we note the sudden death of the author on 3 July 1995 Professor Muir was a pioneer in social science computer simulation A selfless colleague, he contributed his programs for analyzing small-group interaction and other topics to the public domain, with no thought of personal gain His important work and gen erosity of spirit will be much missed —Ed.

Response to Peter J. Hill

Lack of information is doubtless a serious impediment to the effective operation of religious authority in modern society. The implications for the role of religious authority are, however, mixed. Sometimes an expanded role would be called for. In other instances, no change is required; in others, increased reliance on voluntarism to enforce ethical norms would be indicated. The thrust of Jewish economic precepts is not to extend government privilege to particular groups, such as tariffs, quotas and price-support programs. These precepts are transcendent duties, prescribed for all in a non-discriminatory manner. They define the ground rules of economic participation and are designed to promote harmonious social relations and generosity of spirit. Jewish economic precepts should therefore not give rise to a significant rent-seeking problem.

Carl F. Gould: a life in architecture and the arts

Architect Carl F. Gould (1873-1939) was one of the major shapers of modern Seattle. In the early part of the century he was responsible for some of the city's most distinguished homes and public buildings. He and his partner Charles Herbert Bebb developed the University of Washington campus plan and designed and executed many of its finest buildings, including the renowned Suzzallo Library and the Henry Art Gallery. Gould founded the university's Department of Architecture; was active in the Washington State Chapter of the American Institute of Architects and the Seattle Fine Arts Society (and its successor the Seattle Art Institute); and was a member of the city's first planning commission. In this first biography of Gould the architect, teacher, civic leader, and family man, authors T. William Booth and William H. Wilson trace his life and work during almost thirty years of architectural practice in Seattle. Utilizing numerous drawings held in family, university, and Seattle Art Museum collections, the authors explore the full range of Gould's work, from student Beaux-Arts projects to over 150 extant buildings, and other important though unbuilt projects. Gould's homes and commercial buildings are profusely illustrated. Booth and Wilson follow the evolution of Gould's ideas through his publications, lecture notes, correspondence, diaries, speeches, and public activities. Gould moved from New York to Seattle in 1908, when the city was undergoing vigorous expansion in population, industry, and civic awareness. Well traveled and educated, the 34-year-old Gould brought with him a cosmopolitan sensibility, a gregarious nature, a highly developed civic consciousness, and talent. In the first years of his practice, domestic structures in traditional style formed the major portion of his work. His noble interiors, naturally lighted and elegantly proportioned, remain among the most satisfactory of living spaces. Essentially a regionalist and traditionalist in the design of homes, in the last decade of his life Gould embraced modernism for commercial structures. These affirm his skill in utilizing new concepts and materials. His consummate achievement in the modern idiom was the Seattle Art Museum in Volunteer Park. This book explores Gould's intellectual and aesthetic commitment to ideas he considered essential to the life of architecture. He advocated the concept of beauty as fundamental in architecture, comprising elements of balance, site appropriateness, suitability for the client, generosity of spirit, and a human response of ease and delight in the entire architectural ensemble. Gould worked in the great age of the generalist--he concerned himself with site, landscape, and interior design as well as with the architectural envelope. Throughout his career he searched for elements of an American and regional style. This biography reviews Gould's life and career, capturing the setting in which he worked and thrived, and the vision and sense of obligation that supported his private and public actions.

National Radicalization in Estonia: Legislation on Citizenship and Related Issues

There is certainly some sound logic in the observation by Trivimi Velliste, the former Foreign Minister of Estonia: “The safer Estonians feel about their independence, the more convinced they are that no one will enslave them again [and] the more likelihood they will be more generous [about Russians in Estonia].” The sad conclusion of this article is, however, that the gain of Estonians’ security has not given way to a spirit of generosity but to a more restrictive and irrational citizenship policy.

The German School at Middlebury College: New Technology and Old Generosity of Spirit

The German School at Middlebury College: New Technology and Old Generosity of Spirit

The Catholic Side of Henry James (review)

Book Reviews 227 (92). Ultimately, however, as Dawidoff notes, James rejects the conventional endings of popular and canonical fiction, just as Strether moves beyond the roles conventional society expects of him. Dawidoff s analysis of Strether—his self-deceptions, his generosity of spirit, his idealism, charm, and protective self-deprecating irony—is very fine. Dawidoff is also very good on the differences between the "sacred rage" of older New England, represented by Waymarsh, and the genteel tradition of Woollett, a "degenerate morality" (97), that identifies moral goodness with sexual purity but that permits ' 'the idealization of what was illicit' ' (111) to sanction material gain and worldly ambition. In illuminating detail he shows how James's novel unravels "the whole fabric of high-toned, American, genteel deceit" (84). What is missing in the chapter is any discussion of Strether's growing awareness of the darker realities of European civilization that also shape his judgments of American culture. Dawidoff says nothing of the ruthless predatory forces Strether first senses in Gloriani's garden as "something covertly tigerish___a waft from the jungle" and later feels more keenly in his awareness of "something ancient and cold" in Madame de Vionnef s sudden announcement, "We're marrying Jeanne." Not only must Strether "throw off the retarding orthodoxies' ' (130) about America, as Dawidoff says, but he must "[fight] against a superstitious valuation of Europe," a responsibility that James defined as part of the "complex fate" of being an American. How Strether's growing understanding of European society affects his evolving perceptions of America and helps to explain his decision to return to Woollett is part of Dawidoff s subject that he does not explore. Dawidoff s treatment of The Ambassadors reflects the preoccupation in recent criticism with the homosexual elements in James's fiction and in his friendships with younger men. Recalling James's passionate letters to the sculptor Hendrik Anderson, Dawidoff locates the erotic center of the novel in Strether's infatuation with Chad, first revealed in the scene where the two meet at the theater in Paris. The reader who does not feel in this passage and elsewhere the "obsessive, enraptured love" (121) for Chad that Dawidoff imputes to Strether will resist the idea that unrequited love for Chad is ' 'the secret heart' ' of the book. Such a reading has to slight the scenes where Strether delights in having Madame de Vionnet all to himself, is preoccupied with her impressions of him, and seems pleased not only to live through Chad but to displace him. Whether intended or not, the chapter on James, given to a single novel, has the effect of distilling the novelist in his work and thus freeing him from the inner conflicts, disillusionments, and pessimism that burdened the other two writers. While Adams and Santayana remain defined and confined by their attitudes and views, James seems to transcend his complex fate by transforming it in the lives of his characters. Elsa Nettels College of William and Mary Edwin Sill Fussell. The Catholic Side of Henry James. New York: Cambridge U P, 1993.166 pp. $40.00. Although various critics have explored the religious "side' ' of James's fiction—perhaps Quentin Anderson's brilliant, obsessive book is the most well-known one—they have not looked closely at the various references to Catholicism in the letters, the play Guy Domville, and the fiction. I am grateful to Fussell, one of our most subtle readers of American literature, for his close reading of the Catholic elements. Fussell does not believe that James embraced Catholicism, but he does demonstrate in a careful manner the ' 'fascination' ' the religion held for him. He gives us at the beginning 228 The Henry James Review a ' 'Calendar: Chief Items of Catholic Interest in Henry James." The calendar is especially interesting because it lists such obscure items as James's reviews of Parkman's Jesuits in North America (1867) and Wallon's Jeanne d'Arc (1875) as well as "The Great Good Place" (1900) and The Golden 5ow/(1904). It demonstrates that James referred to Catholic elements throughout his entire career. Fussell's statement that a Catholic "side" does not mean that James was a "closet" believer is...

Reports and Communications

With deep sadness we note the sudden death of the author on 3 July 1995 Professor Muir was a pioneer in social science computer simulation A selfless colleague, he contributed his programs for analyzing small-group interaction and other topics to the public domain, with no thought of personal gain His important work and gen erosity of spirit will be much missed —Ed.

The Ballad and the Plough. A Portrait of Life in the Old Scottish Farmtouns

era of the great farms of Scotland is over now. They flourished for nearly eighty years from the mid 19th century, and those years are renowned for the strength of their characters and the legendary status of their stories. Probably the finest and richest aspect of bothy life was the ballad. Often sentimental, sometimes simplistic, they nevertheless give unrivalled detail about a vanished way of life and work.Quoting generously from the ballads, David Kerr Cameron has written a book rich in anecdote and insight. working day was hard and long, and mealtimes consisted mainly of porridge and potatoes. Yet laughter and generosity of spirit were commonplace. For these communities, horses were as important as people, and tens of thousands of noble Clydesdales helped to cultivate the land. Ploughmen, dairymaids, bailiffs and shepherds all appear in the pages of this unique testament to the Scottish countryside. Together with Willie Gavin, Crofter Man and The Cornkister Days, this volume forms a remarkable trilogy on life in rural Scotland.