Pathetic Fallacy Research Articles

The Who/Whom Puzzle: On The Preservation Of An Archaic Feature

It is commonly assumed that the English interrogative/relative pronounwhom is parallel to him and them in manifesting objective pronominal Case. We argue instead that whom is not Case-marked along with these pronouns. Rather, its Case marking follows a different paradigm. Whom in modern English derives from a set of extra-grammatical rules called 'grammatical viruses'. Speakers call upon such rules to check Case and (possibly) agreement features which the normal system of syntax cannot check, but which prestige usage demands. Sentences with whom are typical of sentences resulting from grammatical viruses. Such virus-licensed products have a 'prestige' status, they are not typical of child language, and theintuitions about their use are strikingly different from intuitions about the use of other grammatical elements that they are traditionally claimed to work along the lines of. In the latter instance, intuitions about the use of whom differ markedly from intuitions about the use of ACC personal pronouns. A common rule for determining whether “who” or “whom” isright is to substitute “she” for “who”, and “her” for “whom”,and see which sounds the better. Take the sentence, “He met awoman who they said was an actress”. Now if “who” is correctthen “she” can be used in its place. Let us try it. “He met a womanshe they said was an actress”. That instantly rings false. It can't beright. Hence the proper usage is “whom”. In certain cases grammatical correctness must often be subordinated to aconsideration of taste. For instance, suppose that same person had met aman whom they said was a street cleaner. The word “whom” is too austereto use in connection with a lowly worker, like a street cleaner, and its use is known as False Admiration or Pathetic Fallacy. Thurber (1931, p. 101) discussed.

Bone Dance: New and Selected Poems, 1965–1993 by Wendy Rose

Reviews 125 The Sound ofRattles and Clappers: A Collection ofNew California Indian Writing. Edited by Greg Sarris. (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1994. 161 pages, $30.00/$14.95.) The Sound ofRattles and Clappers may be technically “new” writings from California, but little of it says anything new. Most of the work in the first threequarters of the book recounts the same whining “personal” histories of the abuse ofancestors bywhite invaders thatwe can read in any and all anthologies of literate English-speaking Native American writers. These “histories” pass themselves off as poetry because they are written in short lines and appear in vertical columns on the page. The quality of these verbal verticalities, even when they invoke a “native” response to nature and the resurrection and reinvention of native culture is, however, simply unremarkable. That said, it can be noted that in spite ofits redundancies this collection is sprinkled with occasional pleasing images such as Stephen Meadows’s “A chainsaw dismembers the silence/of awhite afternoon”andJanice Gould’s “to touch you everywhere I am/open.”James Luna’slack offluency in English, his prolific use of clichés, i.e. “around wood stoves containing glowing embers” and mundane little diary entries lend a certain “charm”to the collection that one would hesitate to call art. Unfortunately, too, the pathetic fallacy is kept abundantly alive and well in these “poems” as in Meadows’s “Above Suicide Creek/the trees felled/one by one/can be heard to scream.” The strongest material in the book is the editor’s own. Greg Sarris can tell a pretty good story. PENELOPE REEDY The Redneck Review ofLiterature, Idaho Bone Dance: New and Selected Poems, 1965-1993. By Wendy Rose. (Tucson: Uni­ versity of Arizona Press, 1993. 108 pages, $19.95/$10.95.) Bone Dance serves best as a Wendy Rose sampler because it contains samples from each of her seven previous books of poems along with seven poems from a new volume, Now PoofSheIs Gone. It also profiles her struggle to find poetic voice and personal and cultural identity from her younger years to the present. Her search takes her many places, including California, Connecti­ cut, New York, New Hampshire; it takes her from scientific encounters gener­ ating from her original academic discipline, anthropology, (which sharpens her focus on the treatment of Indian skeletons and the fragmenting of a culture symbolized by museums’ classification and shelving of “bones”and by the commercial market for Indian skeletons) to the prejudice she encounters 126 Western American Literature in “Incident at a Hamburger Stand: Iowa City”; and it takes her into the movement of indigenous people around the earth. The introduction Rose has written for this volume briefly outlines, through mention of the inclusions, this search for identity—not merely as Hopi or Miwok or English or Prussian but as a human being in her particular circumstance. Familiar poems from earliervolumes such asLongDivision: A TribalHistory, Lost Copper, Halfbreed Chronicles, and Going to War with All My Relations (not against but with) enrich the present volume. Existence in this world is a struggle (an almost victorious struggle) to move from fragmentation to heal­ ing wholeness. Love and beauty almost overcome the stress of thejourney, as in the final section from NowPoofSheIs Gone, where one finds even more hints of almost mythic survival of the individual as in the poems “Do You See Her Alone on the Mountain” and “Coarsegold Morning.” Even in these later poems, however, one finds forest fires, “angry moths,” and the woman in “Forty, Trembling”who ... is not of this world and no one rides to the rescue. Bone Dance is a good sampler because it may entice the reader to enjoy other poems that kept this present sparse selection company in earlier vol­ umes. JAMES R. SAUCERMAN NorthwestMissouri State University Ravensong. By Lee Maracle. (Vancouver: Press Gang Publishers, 1993. 199 pages, $12.95.) When a flu epidemic hits her native village on British Columbia’s west coast, 17-year-old Stacey risks her coveted dream of attending university to stay in the village and nurse the ill. For days and nights on end, she drips fluids, one drop at a time, into the mouths...

Gender and the architectonics of metaphor: Ruskin's pathetic fallacy inthe Ethics of the dust

(1993). Gender and the architectonics of metaphor: Ruskin's pathetic fallacy in the Ethics of the dust. Prose Studies: Vol. 16, No. 2, pp. 41-61.

Electronic Space in Contemporary Australian Art: Practice and Theory

Australian artists are obsessed by space. Those who are of European origin have been involved to an exceptional degree with the problem of siting themselves, geographically and psychologically, within the daunting scale and, in European terms, the inhospitable nature of the land [1]. Writer Ross Gibson has examined how post-Renaissance concepts of mapped and 'vacant' or 'empty' territory affected the specific character of Australian colonialization. (The 'vacuum' of Australia's interior drew explorers in from the coastline with the illusory promise of fecund earth.) Gibson described white Australian history and cultural myth as displaying in consequence recurrent, almost mesmerized preoccupation with geography [2]. Early settlers romanticized both the European colonialization and the land itself. In ethical and psychological terms, this eventually proved to be an unsatisfactory obscuration of the realities of settlement. Thus, in the 1970s a re-evaluation of such romanticization took place [3]. As a result of their need to locate themselves spatially, European Australian artists frequently engaged the tradition of landscape painting instead of developing a convincing visual vocabulary appropriate to the urban sites inhabited by the majority of the population. (Other art forms, such as sculpture, also suffered.) Landscape painters followed the Romantic and then the Impressionist schools and finally the Expressionist-Surrealism of the 1940s for which Australian art has become known internationally. Promoted as the essential character of Australian consciousness, the work of painters such as Sidney Nolan and Albert Tucker filled the landscape with personalized introversion in an anxious pathetic fallacy [4]. It was not until the 1970s that another reconsideration of landscape painting took place, despite the fact that since the 1960s Australian artists had had much closer contact with

Clio, fallacies, and homosexuality.

Major fallacies occur in historical writing on male homosexuality. These include: the assertion of controversial assumptions as proven; attributing complex phenomena to a single cause; semantic distortion; ethnocentricism; and anachronism. History itself is fallaciously conceived as historical "forces" (historicism) and intrinsic "will" (the pathetic fallacy). Finally there is "tunnel history," viewing events outside of a broad historical context.

Musical Design in Aeschylean Theater by William C. Scott

Reviews 277 William C. Scott. Musical Design in Aeschylean Theater. Hanover and London: University Press of New England, 1984. Pp. xxi + 228. $20.00. Aristotle, a reader, thinker, and teacher who may have gone to the theater only occasionally, knew the famous fifth-century tragedies more from their scripts than from contemporary revivals. He accordingly valued most highly what was intrinsic to the written word-plot, char­ acter, diction, and thought-downplaying what he could not see in the script itself. Opsis (spectacle in general, costumes and props in particular) may have its attractions, but it depends more on the skill of the stage manager than on the author. And he likens mousike (music, song, and dance) to a condiment that is to be taken only in moderation. Although Aristotle's type of dramatic criticism has prevailed long after Galileo challenged his physics, recent classical scholarship has gone beyond the printed page in order to understand . the original dramatic experience as a unity. Building on the antiquarian studies of Pickard­ Cambridge and others which examined the what (as Aristotle would call it) of tragedy in general, we may now ask the why of particular plays. Aeschylus has benefited most from this, thanks largely to 0. Tap­ lin's magisterial Stagecraft of Aeschylus (Oxford, 1977) but also to a series of articles on the dramatic significance of clothing and props in the Oresteia by Goheen, Macleod, and Tarkow. The role of mousike has also been studied in this regard, but with less success. Whereas stage action and props, even without explicit stage directions, can be conjured up from the text, all that the text offers as guidance for the original dance and music is the meter, with an occasional reference to the nature of the song in the words themselves (cf. "I'm singing in the rain") . Of the musical rhythm and the notes that deter­ mine the ultimate character of the musical experience, we are largely ignorant (pp. 22-23) . Scott has no difficulty demonstrating (ch. 1) that the music formed an intrinsic and important element of the Oresteia's meaning. Perhaps most telling are the several references to nomos, which can refer either to societal law and order or to a particular type of melody. The chorus' use of nomos anomos (the nomos that is no nomos) to describe Cassandra's song of the dread House of Atreus (Ag. 1 142) clearly, as with other instances of nomos, has to be understood equivo­ cally (see T. J. Fleming, Classical Journal, 72 [1977], 222-33 ) . Sticking largely to meter, then (which he occasionally refers to as "music") , Scott takes us through every choral · song in the Oresteia, trying to make as much dramatic sense as possible from these lines. (Chs. 1-3 are on the Oresteia; ch. 4 contains a briefer survey of the four other Aeschylean plays.) Analysis takes the form of (a) metrical schema (explained for the Greekless reader in an oversimplified way in the introduction, pp. xv-xxi) , (b) "Meter," and (c) "Form." Both meter and form are examined in two ways, in terms of the dramatic context of the ode in question and in terms of the trilogy as a whole. By and large, the former analysis comes off better, particularly in the analysis of form, for Scott is keenly sensitive to variations from the canonical strophe>-antistrophe pattern: aa ' bb' . . • . Briefly, and at the risk of over 278 Comparative Drama simplifying Scott's detailed account, the canonical pattern represents the musical order (nomos) that often cannot be attained because of the breakdown in order (the other meaning of nomos) in society and (thanks to the pathetic fallacy) the cosmos. Thus, at the beginning of Eumenides, the chorus of Furies have two entrance songs, each disorderly and each characterized by excited iambodochmiac meters. The second parodos, being completely astrophic and sung severally, frustrates the audience's expectation for a balanced antistrophe. Another passage of great complexity is the kommos of Choephoroi, in which the chorus sing. antiphonally with themselves, Electra, and Orestes in an elaborate pattern (schematized on pp. 85-88). In trying to use musical form to answer the main question of the kommos­ whether...

The discipline of crevices: poems of Yosemite by June Dwyer

Reviews 55 writers of “formulary” Westerns, are particularly useful. One wonders, how­ ever, why such writers as Wright Morris and Edgar Watson Howe were omitted while much less notable authors are discussed. Most entries close with a mention of one or two notable secondary works on the author or topic discussed, although none are suggested for such authors as McMurtry, Fred­ erick Manfred, Conrad Richter, John Steinbeck, or Owen Wister. The editors’ emphases are also intriguing: Zane Grey is given 12 pages; Frederick Faust (Max Brand), Ernest Haycox, and Clarence Mulford, 5-6 pages; and Frederick Glidden (Luke Short) and Wister more than 4 pages. But Cather is limited to 2/2 pages, Steinbeck to 2, and Wallace Stegner to less than 2. Also included in the volume are brief discussions of five pertinent topics. The material presented on “House Names” and “Pulp and Slick Western Stories” is very useful, much more so than accounts on “Historical Personali­ ties,” “Native Americans,” and “W'omen on the Frontier.” Still, all these topical entries will be of use to general readers, if less so for specialists in the history and literature of the West. While a few errors crop up here and there, this volume contains far fewer mistakes than most fact-filled volumes like this. All in all, this encyclopedia is a handy sourcebook for biographical and bibliographical information about nearly all major western writers of fiction. While it isless evaluative and analytical than some recent reference works, it is especially thorough on listings of notable western fiction and provides more information on western films than is found in any other bibliographical work on western fiction. All specialists in western literature should have this volume in their collection. RICHARD W. ETULAIN University ofNew Mexico the discipline of crevices: poems of Yosemite. By June Dwyer. (Yosemite National Park, CA: Yosemite Natural History Association, 1982. 64 pages, $3.95.) June Dwyer, her introducer claims, has broken through : “Virtually all of Yosemite’spoetry . .. has been overinflated and dull — until June Dwyer’s.” I wish I could whole-heartedly agree. June Dwyer writes in several very different styles, as if groping for the one that will be her own. Some work much better than others. Her best stance, for my money, is a wryness, a sprightliness, that reminds of Dickinson. In the poem “Red,” for instance, she puzzles over the way a flower, picked, has lost its brilliance : It can’t have been the red sowhat’sabout a color to— well, in effect, electrify? It had to be some current in the dye... . 56 Western American Literature Dwyer is frequently strong when she turns to the darker aspects of the natural scene. “I’ve watched the cougar stalk / He steps prepared,” she says in “California Poppy.” Climbing a peak, she remarks: “So near the heavens may be hell for you.” One piece contains a sort of invocation: “For all animals caught by the throat mid-day in mid-trail.” As is sometimes the case in this rhyme-wary era, the attempt to use fixed forms brings this poet some of her best lines: the constraints of rhyme and meter forcing the mind to look beyond the obvious, conventional wording. The most nearly satisfying whole poem in the book, I think, is the last in the sonnet-sequence “Summer.” The poem “Night” begins It is the hour when dark may bring to light A reappraisal of familiar things: and ends with the resonant couplet And be the silver surface as it may The savage may decide to have its way. This is valuable work. The bad news is that these insights, these little jolts of well-worked language, are swamped by a much larger mass of unprofitable material. June Dwyer the competent poet is crowded out by Dwyer the sentimentalist on the one hand and Dwyer the chaotic on the other. She is lavish with personifi­ cation ;every once in a while she gets away with it. I rather liked, for instance, her address to El Capitan: “How shall old rivalry . . . resolve / while You stand forwarding that massive claim?” But mostly we get the failed personifi­ cation that Ruskin labeled the Pathetic Fallacy. Dwyer’s claim...

The Pathetic Fallacy in Hellenistic Pastoral

Thee, shepherd, thee the woods, and desert caves And all their echoes mourn.Milton,LycidasWebster's Third International Dictionary defines the ‘pathetic fallacy’ as ‘the ascription of human traits or feelings to inanimate nature.’ While this definition is in substance what John Ruskin meant when he first spoke of the pathetic fallacy more than a century ago, the great critic intended not merely to describe a movement in art, but to denounce that movement:All violent feelings … produce in us a falseness in all our impressions of external things, which I would generally characterize as the ‘Pathetic fallacy.’… The temperament which admits the pathetic fallacy, is … that of a mind or body in some sort too weak to deal fully with what is before them or upon them; borne away, or over-clouded, or over-dazzled by emotion …Ruskin rejected the pathetic fallacy when artists reduced it to a stock attribute of nature which neither they nor their public believed to reflect the truth. When, however, the pathetic fallacy did convey the artist's true feelings about nature — as groundless in reality as that feeling might have been — the artist was somehow less culpable: the truth of the sentiment mitigated the violation of empirical Truth.

Producing narrative maps with multidimensional scaling techniques

In the study of narrative fiction, very little attention has been given to the author's "conceptual map" of the physical space which his characters inhabit. Discussions of pathetic fallacy (Brooks, 1972, 29-46) and extractions of biographical details on the author (cf. Rickard, 1956, 107-113) have almost defined the limit of interest in this area. A few exceptional works have discussed spatial representation in literature and its possible significance (Matore, 1962, 203-235; Lotman, 1965), but none have attempted to draw maps apart from the practitioners of the "literary guide-book" genre (cf. Lea, 1925, facing p. 314). Yet we all have private maps of the world in which we live, and some authors have gone so far as to present us with maps of the imaginary countries that they portray (Tolkein, Faulkner in Absalom, Absalom! spring to mind); even psychological maps are not unknown, witness Mlle de Scudery's Carte du Tendre. If we could create maps from narratives, there are two problems which could be addressed: the question of the relation between fictional maps and contemporary notions of geography and topography, and the more literary question of the function in the narrative of the representation of physical space. It has long been clear that there are useful analogies to be drawn between the highlighting techniques used in portraying the static moments in painting and lyric poetry (cf. Kroeber, 1975); it seems that equal insight might be obtained by analogies between the dynamic scenes of topography and narrative.

A Lucretian Version of Pastoral

On the infrequent occasions when De Rerum Natura is discussed in terms of pastoral, it is assumed that Lucretius describes the typical locus amoenus familiar since Plato's Phaedrus, and critics concentrate either on tracing his Hellenistic sources or on the basic contrast between luxury and simplicity. But there is more to Lucretian pastoral, just as there is more to Lucretius' atomic universe, than meets the eye. The essence of his pastoral is original, centered around animals rather than shepherds, and his use of pastoral pervades the poem and is integral to its design.The most inclusive definition of pastoral possible is Empson's, the expression of the complex through the simple. It is more useful, however, to think of pastoral as the expression of an unfulfillable longing for a simpler and happier life, which may include a return from the city to the country, from politics to the land, from the Iron Age to the Golden Age, from war to peace, from vice to virtue, or from adulthood to childhood. Traditional pastoral is usually set in the country among shepherds and flocks, and man and nature interact harmoniously according to what has been called since Ruskin the ‘pathetic fallacy’. Plato ‘creates’ pastoral by contrasting city and country in the Phaedrus. Roman poetry uses elements of the urban-rural contrast not only in pastoral poetry as such but in satire, elegy and epic as well. The varied directions in which individual poets take the generic pastoral form are as interesting as the persistence of the form itself, and Lucretius' version, occurring as it does in a didactic epic, is extremely individual when viewed both from within and without the classical tradition of pastoral.

The Two Main Problems of Philosophy

One of the main problems is of course the mind-body problem. It'snot really a question as to how there can be such disparate things as protons and electrons on the one hand, and such things as desires on the other, cohabiting the same universe and apparently having quite a lot to do with each other. For, provided that we are not squeamish about committing the pathetic fallacy, we can attribute desires to any kind of servomechanism, we can claim that the ordinary water closet, for example, wants to remain full at all times and when necessary acts so as to fulfil that desire. The question, as I see it, is rather, how there can be such a thing as consciousness of desire existing in universelargely unconscious.

The Truth of the Pathetic Fallacy

The Truth of the Pathetic Fallacy

The challenge of logotherapy

"Every age has its own neurosis, and every age needs its own psychotherapy to cope with it." In these words Viktor Frankl strikes the keynote of the new therapy that he brings to the neurotic condition of our time. Dr. Frankl is head of neurol ogy in the Vienna Poliklinic and Professor in the Medical Faculty, University of Vienna. His diagnosis of our age is that many today suffer a loss of the meaning of life. Such a loss results in a profound emptiness and futility, which he calls the "existential vacuum."1 How shall we cope with this loss of meaning, which robs life of its value and purpose? First of all, the remedy must be appropriate to the need. And this is where many remedies fail. One remedy today that is often applied and applauded is psychoanal ysis. Whenever a person is unhappy or perplexed he may be referred to psychoanal ysis. But psychoanalysis is a specific treatment for specific neuroses and not a cure all for every condition. And it is open to misunderstandings that often lead to fallacies, such as the pathetic fallacy that reduces every distress to illness to be treated as a pathology. But loss of meaning is a spiritual problem to be met on its own ground, not to be pushed to the couch or regressed to infantile neuroses. Psychoanalysis has emerged from important discoveries of Freud about the dy namic nature of the unconscious. They are historical, and they are dated. We build on the foundation of the past, even as we are obliged to move beyond it and correct its errors. Freud was a child of nineteenth-century science cast in lines of rigid determinism. This rigid determinism is what the newer science of our time has

Ancient Pastoral and the Pathetic Fallacy

human situation never received a specific title in ancient rhetoric. If nature manifested itself emphatically by doing the impossible (brambles bearing violets, stags grazing in air), the figure could be considered adynaton, although this term has a much wider connotation.1 The expression entered our critical vocabulary in 1856, and the circumstances of its introduction are well known. John Ruskin coined the phrase to indicate a weakness in subjective poets who were unable to see reality as it was and instead projected their own feelings into it.2 Today the term, which has lost its pejorative meaning, is often interchangeable with personification and merely signifies the imparting of human feelings and powers to natural objects.3 The origins of the pathetic fallacy probably lie in a primitive homeopathy or what Levy-Bruhl called la loi de participation, wherein man regarded himself as part of his natural surroundings.4 The bond of sympathy between nature and human beings has always been a dominant motif in early literature, particularly in epic. In The Epic of Gilgamesh, which antedates Homer by at least fifteen hundred years, there is the lament for Enkidu in which all nature weeps for the dead warrior:

Toward a Sociology of Toys: Inanimate Objects, Socialization, and the Demography of the Doll World

ALMOST from the moment of birth and for many years thereafter, children are in frequent and intense contact with toys in great variety, of diverse type, complexity, and composition. These toys are, from a very early age, an important part of the child's experientially perceived reality, operating in several related ways over and above their more manifest recreational purpose.' For example, they function as socializing mechanisms, as educational devices, and as scaled down versions of the realities of the larger adult-dominated social world.2 Furthermore, some toys are also companions to their child-masters. The pathetic fallacy 3 seems a misnomer when applied to the personification of a doll, a stuffed animal, or the like, by its child possessor. It does not take precise observational techniques to become aware of the relationship which such toys bear to the children who both personify and care for them. The fastidiously groomed doll, the conscientiously tended teddy bear, the earnestly and tenderly nursed patient are not exceptions but standard operational procedures for children implicated in these intimate, toy-populated worlds. They make up social milieux in which, unlike the everyday world of adults, the actors are inanimate toys rather than persons; but, like persons, such toys have identities imputed or assigned to them through a social process.4

The Death of Ophelia

ERTRUDE'S account of the death of Ophelia in Hamlet IV. vii. i67-i84 appears in Qi (in characteristically mangled form), Q2 and F, and must therefore belong to the original final draft of the play. Even so, there are reasons for believing that it was something of an after-thought, prompted by a melancholy recollection rather than by immediate dramatic needs. It has often been remarked that there is a link between this speech and the death of a Tiddington spinster, Katherine Hamlett, who was accidently drowned in the Avon on I7th December 1579. The apparent similarity is one that should not be pressed too far. The ill-starred Katherine went merely to fetch a pail of water, and there is nothing to suggest that attempted to hang fantastic garlands on willow-trees. Her death occurred in the very dead of winter, whereas Ophelia died in late spring. And the Avon at Tiddington can hardly be said to resemble a brook. On the other hand, the willow-lined stream, the crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples, even the liberal shepherds and cold maids, carry us deep into the heart of Shakespeare's Warwickshire, and the supposition that, preoccupied as he was with the name of Hamlet, his thoughts strayed to the fate of Katherine Hamlett and thence to other memories of his Stratford boyhood, merely invokes a process that is a commonplace of associational psychology. The vital point is that Ophelia's death, like Katherine's, is here presented as accidental. Of this there can be no possible doubt. She tried to climb a tree, the branch snapped, fell into the brook, was incapable of saving herself, and was consequently drowned. Shakespeare's expressive use of Arcadian pathetic fallacy emphasizes the accident. The sliver was envious, and so malignant; garments were reluctant yet, in the end, were compelled to do that which was furthest from their wishes. There is a wealth of tragic irony here, with, as it were, a projection of Desdemona's misfortunes at the hands of Iago and Othello in terms of inanimate objects. The amazing thing is that, a mere dozen lines after the Queen's speech, Act V begins with a longish exchange between the Clowns which makes it perfectly clear that responsible opinion holds that she drown'd selfe wittingly. Later is denied full burial rites because her death was doubtfull and Hamlet himself makes the position painfully clear when he immediately recognizes that the maimed rites

Epilepsy and Related Disorders

This work is published in two volumes with numerous illustrations and tables. The author has an engaging style, and the apostrophe, simile, and pathetic fallacy are woven into the text in an entertaining manner. It would make instructive reading for the stilted "subject-predicate" school of medical writers. The opening chapters deal with the early writings on epilepsy and explore the evolving concepts of causation. The various convulsive disorders are then classified and described. There is a chapter on the "Borderlands of Epilepsy" which includes migraine, syncope, carotid sinus syndrome, narcolepsy, hysteria, vertigo, and sleep disorders—the relationship of these to epilepsy it extremely tenuous. Other chapters consider sources of seizures, genetics of epilepsy, acquired epilepsy, electrobiology, and therapeutics. There is an interesting chapter on epileptics of worth and fame. The final chapters are a sympathetic look at the social, emotional, and legal problems of this disorder. The appraisal of the book

Perry's Two Theories of Value

Previous articleNext article No AccessDiscussionPerry's Two Theories of ValueCharles H. Monson, Jr.Charles H. Monson, Jr. Search for more articles by this author PDFPDF PLUS Add to favoritesDownload CitationTrack CitationsPermissionsReprints Share onFacebookTwitterLinkedInRedditEmail SectionsMoreDetailsFiguresReferencesCited by Ethics Volume 69, Number 2Jan., 1959 Article DOIhttps://doi.org/10.1086/291200 Views: 6Total views on this site Copyright 1959 University of ChicagoPDF download Crossref reports no articles citing this article.

Ruskin on the Pathetic Fallacy, or on How a Moral Theory of Art May Fail

Ruskin on the Pathetic Fallacy, or on How a Moral Theory of Art May Fail

Introduction: Why We Are Often Blinded to "Obvious" Facts

Introduction: Why We Are Often Blinded to "Obvious" Facts