The erudition of our readers (and my fellow bloggers) often astounds me. Some people may simply have good memories, but I don’t. I rely on my notes. So I’m curious: how do you take notes?

Over the years I’ve come up with my own system of taking reading notes which works for me, but it is very labor intensive: When reading a book I use small removable stickies to mark sections of text I think are important, then, after I’m done reading, I go back and type the relevant sections into my computer. Sometimes I copy verbatim, other times I just write the page number and make parenthetical comments, and sometimes I do a mix of the two.

This system works because I’m a fast typer, although when writing my dissertation at the New York Public Library I noticed a man who used the same system using the hunt-and-peck method of typing, one finger at a time …

But the real secret to this system is putting all my notes inside software that lets me do full-text search of my own notes. Some people use very structured data, and prefer software that lets them code each note with keywords, etc. but, personally, I’ve found that full-text is better, allowing me to make connections I might not otherwise have noticed.

Since I started teaching, however, my system has been hard to keep up. For one thing, I simply don’t have the time to review my readings so carefully and type them up. Also, I am trying hard to read more Chinese language texts, but the difficulty I face in taking notes often prevents me from getting very far. So I just ordered the IRISPen scanner with Chinese OCR support. It hasn’t come yet, but I hope that when it does it will help me overcome both problems, and return to using the note-taking system I’m comfortable with. I’ve long ago learned that new gadgets rarely live up to the hype, but as I prepare my lecture notes for class tomorrow I find myself wishing I’d ordered it much earlier!

(NOTE: IRIS offers an IRISPen Express with Chinese OCR support via their online store, even though their web page only lists the much more expensive “Executive” version as offering Chinese OCR support. Since I haven’t used the product yet, I can’t vouch for it, although I’ve heard good things from other users.)

UPDATE: Fifty ways to take notes online.

UPDATE: My IRISPen came. I posted my initial reactions here.

Share This

Here’s a quick and dirty way to get your course online using free web tools:

• Upload your syllabus to writely.com and make it public.
• Upload your course documents to a folder on box.net and share the folder.
• Create a discussion group for your class on Google Groups.
• Post your class list to Google Spreadsheets (although you might want to keep that private).
• Create a unique del.icio.us tag for URLs you want to share with your class.

I’ve noticed that most people do just about everything in either Word or Excel. These tools let you move that data online without having to change a thing. Once online you can continue to edit it online, share it publicly, or privately share it with a group of collaborators. I find myself using Writely and Google Spreadsheets more and more for any kind of task that would have previously required mailing the same document back and forth several times. Having tried about a dozen different services for running online discussions (such as forums, Yahoo Groups, etc.) I finally settled on Google Groups as the one that is easiest to use for both teachers and students. And Box.net seems like the easiest way to share documents for download. I just wish there was something to make it just as easy for students to submit their homework online.

Del.icio.us is the odd one out. Although I find it very easy to use and now can’t live without it, I’ve not been very successful at getting other people to understand how to use it, or why they might wish to do so. Not sure why that is…

UPDATE: One of my biggest problems doing a course syllabus is moving things around and then remembering which week is which date. I just figured out that Google Spreadsheets lets you do formulas in the date field! That means you can take the starting week and then just add 7 for each week. This way, even if you move things around the dates will still be correct! From now on I’m doing my course outline in a spreadsheet!

UPDATE: The new beta version of Google Groups adds a bunch of great new features.

UPDATE: Google has now merged Writely and Spreadsheets into “Google Docs” and has created a special web page for educators explaining the educational uses of a wide variety of Google products.

Share This

Well, I went to the European Anthropology conference and it was really good. Smallish, with perhaps five hundred delegates- with plenary sessions and workshops, the latter being a kind of succession of panel , often with a continuity of themes participants, creating a different and more coherent experience than at the AAAs. And I kind of got the answer to the question I raised the other week, about the rationale for a specifically Europe focused association. The stated aim was for a professional association across the expanded Europe. Another aim, officially unstated but one mentioned in conversation by some delegates, was as an explicit alternative to the apparent American hegemony of the AAA. This was not unexpected. It was however intriguing, especially in relation to some of the topics which came up at the conference, which included conspiracy theories and our current favourite, neo-liberalism.

A presentation by Kathleen Reedy on popular conspiracy theories in Syria got me thinking. It emerged from the discussion that in many ways conspiracy theories are like social theory. They do the same things. And whether or not we categorize something as conspiracy theory or not is a matter of the politics of to what we are willing to accord credibility. This insight brings me back to neo-liberalism, or rather, to anthropological takes on it. We are very keen to accord neo-liberallism conspiratorial power to wholly re-form multiple world orders in its own image; indeed, the opening speech at the conference made this explicit claim.

The conference itself was partly informed brought into being in response to an American conspiracy. Strangely, this self conscious rejection of such hegemonic ordering does not seem to lead to radically divergent anthropologies.. The preoccupations of papers seem on a par with the range of offerings at a triple A meeting. Is this a victory for hegemony and evidence of the neo-liberal reach, creating, as Hardt and Negri might have it, the possibility for the replication globally of the same few core institutional forms? Or is it simply the reality that we comprise the same scholarly community within and outside Europe, that the boundary is not so much between European anthropology and the US axis but elsewhere, perhaps imposed by the de facto alliance of European and North American influenced anthropological forms? Which leads to another question: whether the apparent uniformity of the product and preoccupations of anthropology now are an indication of a crisis of the anthropological imagination, on both sides of the Atlantic?

Share This

In the course of advising a student the topic of Burning Man came up. The folk-notion guiding burning man, of course, is that it is a total revolt against our empty modern age and that it provides an opportunity for people to experience ‘their real selves’ and otherwise recover the authentic core of human experience—found, for instance, in primordial ‘tribal’ activities like fire eating and dancing without your shoes on—which has been denied to them by the commodity-padded iron cage of modernity that they live in.

As the following paragraph might suggest, I think of Burning Man as the ultimate in bourgeois extravagance—building a space complete with cars and water and music in the desert like that requires a mastery of technology which is nothing if not modern. Enthusiasm for all things “tribal” seems to me to invoke the most exoticizing of ‘noble savage’ tropes. And of course these days Burning Man requires a ticket, has a department of motor mutant vehicles, and even has Burning Man Cops. Worst of all it sinks people’s energy into endeavors which are often politically quietistic. Painting yourself blue and taking a lot of acid and then going back to your day job does not count as smashing capitalism, at least not to me.

That said, I think doing an ethnography OF ‘the Burning Man theory of subjecitvity’—the culturally specific notions of authenticity and revolt that it embodies—would be fascinating. The entire thing is extremely Durkheimian both in its ‘annual collective effervesence in the outback’ sense but also in the sense that the US alterno scene has a genealogies connection to Durkheim (via notions of potlatch, the college de sociologie, etc. etc.).

But whatever. Perhaps its unfair of me to have this opinion of Burning Man. To each his own. But in my support I offer a random smattering of links to help deflate the tendency to write Burning Man as the Ultimate Postmodern Revolt:

*Here’s a Bad Subjects article on Burning Man from 1995—very early.

*Achtung Hippie!: Reflections On The Burning Man Scam and a follow up article from the same blog.

*Confessions of a Burning Man is a new documentary I’d be interested in seeing—has anyone else seen this?

More links or ideas would be great—feel free to let me (or Burning Man) have it!

UPDATE: Here are some links from readers—

• Burning Man: A Working-Class, Do-It-Yourself Affair by Chris Carlsson, Processed Worlds 2.005 04/05

Share This

My intellectual training in anthropology was veddy veddy British—I managed to get a BA in anthropology without reading anything by Boas (much less Benedict!) but I did read all of The Andaman Islanders (excepting the ‘technical appendix’). As a graduate student, I studied at a department notorious for bucking the Boasian tradition and I worked with someone who was a protege of Leslie White. So perhaps you can just write off my enthusiasm for the Boasians as the zeal of a lately-converted convert.

That said, I do think the ‘retroboasian’ (neoboasian?) turn exemplified by the AAA special issue on A New Boasian Anthropology: Theory For the 21st Century and Regna Darnell’s book Invisible Genealogies is extremely fruitful and right-headed. So it was with great interest that I noticed recently that Michel Verdon has set himself up as The Great Antiretroboasian. His work (as far as I know) consists of two articles, The World Upside Down: Boas, History, Evolutionism, and Science and Boas and Holism: A Textual Analysis. Has anyone read these pieces? I know that some retroboasians frequent SM and I’d be interested in seeing what they have to say. My own impression of Verdon’s work is that it’s quite gallic in its opposition to this recent work. But it also, given the very quick reading of it that I’ve done, seems to be operating with a different jargon than that used by retroboasians, and one that seems cryptic to me.

Opinions, anyone?

Share This

Speaking of anthropometry, this is a fun game: you are presented with pictures of Chinese, Japanese, and Koreans and asked to identify which is which. I got two thirds of them correct, which is much better than the average of one third. It would be much tougher, I’m sure, if the game had not included hair styles, makeup, and clothing as part of the pictures. If you’ve lived in Asia for a while, those give you a lot of clues.

Share This

Update: Image above from last week’s Independent. You might have read about this here. Yes, this is supermodel Kate Moss painted black to draw attention to the crisis in Africa. The issue was guest edited, I believe, by Giorgio Armani.

I’ve been tracking Kate Moss for years as part of a project I have been calling “Some Muddles in the (Super) Models.” Currently, it’s one of those manuscripts that sits around as a draft, picking up tidbits here and there. My ‘take,’ and the problem I’m interested in in, has to do with the ‘muddling’ status of celebrities in our understandings of the relationship of persons and things. The ‘super-models’ the figure of the celebri-oddity (celebrity commodity, with apologies to David Bowie) problematizes are just those of ‘gift’ (personified object) and ‘commodity’ (objectified person). It can be boiled down to a fairly simple question: Is “Kate Moss” really a person? Kate makes a good meme for tracking because she keeps reappearing in moral debates: about models being too skinny for example, about their off-runway behavior and the example it sets, and now, about the appropriateness of certain forms of identification for calling attention to a global crisis.

Separately, and in respect of HIV in particular, I’m trying to generate some ideas about the form in which moral concern is expressed in the contemporary world of fashion, self-marketing, self-branding, MySpace, and the democratization of mass mediation (viz., the web, as for example SM itself)... I’m just kind of nonplussed by this image and by others I have recently called attention to here.

Share This

I recently queried the Linguistic Anthropology e-mail list, Linganth, for suggestions as to popular films with language related themes. Most professors teaching linguistic anthropology in the United States rely on a few tried-and-true films in their classes: American Tongues, Crosstalk, and a few TV documentaries about animal communication and the evolution of language. Unfortunately, these films don’t really hold up in Taiwan, where watching films is difficult without subtitles and subtitled films are limited to a few famous documentary films and mainstream hollywood fare (including classics). For this reason I wanted to have a good list of mainstream films I might consider for use in my classes.

I was treated with a wealth of materials, including three articles on the subject from the Anthropology News SLA column, written by Mark Peterson (with contributions from the Anthrosource e-mail list), materials from Hal Schiffman’s course “Language and Popular Culture,” and many additional suggestions from list members, which I’ve included below the fold.

One topic which is quite popular with the linguistic anthropologist crowd is Star Trek, so I it is worth mentioning a new documentary film about people who speak Klingon. Unfortunately, I don’t think Star Trek is very popular with my students, who grew up on steady diet of Japanese anime. Perhaps I need to compile a list of linguistically interesting anime? (more…)

Share This

In the century or so that anthropology has been around it’s often found itself on shifting ground in terms of it’s disciplinary relations. The discipline itself is saddled with a commitment to holism which many are uneasy about, and it’s external relations have changed as well. I spent the other day hunting down the original version of Edmund Leach’s paper known as either “Genesis as Myth” or “Levi-Strauss in the Garden of Eden”—it originally appeared in the Transactions of the New York Academy of Science, an institution that today that I doubt would treat structural studies of myth as on par with biochemistry. Some of cultural anthropology’s adjoining disciplines are old neighbors: linguistics, geography, history, sociology, comparative religion, psychology. Others liasons—with literary criticism or cultural studies—are more recent. Given our discipline’s incredible mutability it’s not surprising that we read very widely and have done for some time.

The other day at a party I managed to have a word or two with Roger Ames, one of the major forces in that corner of philosophy that is interested in bringing East Asian philosophers into dialogue with continental philosophy. One thing he said to me which really struck me (one of many—he’s a very interesting and person) was that Eastern (read ‘Chinese’) philosophy had never given up on Wisdom, while the Western tradition had taken a pass on widsom and settled for the lesser goal of knowledge. I was struck by this because it is, to a certain extent, true. We have plenty of what we call ‘sapiential texts’ in the Western tradition, of course, but these are typically considered to be ‘religious’ rather than ‘philosophical.’

At the same time, there has always been a current in the ‘Western Tradition’ of ‘applied’ or perhaps ‘sapiential’ work—think of Aristotle, for instance, or the ‘Mirrors for Princes’ literature from (iirc) the Renaissance. Although we don’t talk about it much, many social scientists have the sense that their study makes them wise of more deeply human—I think, for instance, of the absorption of phenomenologists and other European thinkers into the American sociological tradition that produced books like Kurt Wolf’s Surrender and Catch. And of course anthropology as a discipline is fixated on the way that one’s personal perspective is altered and enriched by the experience of culture shock fieldwork.

For complex reasons I have no interest in attempting to knit together the Western and Chinese philosophical traditions (for a start, I’m not interested in the boundary maintenance needed to stabilize either as a canon). But I am always interested in the way that issues fall between the cracks of disciplines or, perhaps , get divided up between them. Thinking about the fate of wisdom in the philosophical tradition and its (re)location in social science really did make my brain open up for a moment, though.

Any thoughts?

Share This

When Strong’s guest blogging period ended we didn’t want him to go – so now Strong is number eight in the roster of full-time Savage Mind bloggers! Welcome aboard!

Share This

I’ve been too busy to actually sit down and read Paul Raffaele’s Smithsonian article on getting “up close and personal with New Guinea natives who say they still eat their fellow tribesmen” until now. What finally prompted me to do so was this recent article in The Age responding to a “60 Minutes” segment about Raffaeles and the boy Wa-Wa. (I discovered both articles via the unflagging anthro-blogging of Anthropologi.info.)

I was amazed by how cliche ridden Raffaele’s article is. It was startlingly reminiscent of the kinds of articles National Geographic published a century ago: The intrepid explorer ventures into a dangerous and unknown territory for the sole purpose of making contact with natives who practice bizarre and grotesque rituals and are deeply suspicious of the explorer whose humanity they question (but finally accept). The experience causes tears to well up in Raffaele’s eyes.

Responding to the “60 Minutes” version of the story, Sarah Hewat writes:

Before we go pointing the finger, let’s look for the primitive fetishist within. Those who saw the 60 Minutes report perhaps did not notice the shorts being worn by members of the “forgotten” tribe, and the black plastic bags they were holding? And did audiences notice that they were speaking Bahasa Indonesia, rather than, as was claimed, an ancient dialect?

Now, I wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn that people are still accused of witchcraft and killed (even eaten) for the crime. But one would like some good-old-fashioned ethnographic understanding of the practice rather than the raw exoticism that Raffaele offers up. In India, witchcraft accusations are closely related with the marginalization of the Adivasi population, battles over land, and gender relations. In short, they are a thoroughly modern phenomenon. But Raffaele portrays these practices as some kind of enduring primitive trait, and I find that pretty hard to stomach.

Share This

I tend to think of culture as collated qualia, the systematic structuring of sensory perception(s) into ‘meaningful’ relations. While obviously cultures consist in diverse narrative, symbolic, textual, institutional, and interactional modes and media, I am rather more attracted to analyses of “form” over and above those of “norm.” This is probably true for a lot of us. We gravitate to the ritualized, the ceremonial, the dressed-up. The beautiful (or the monstrously ugly).

It’s unsurprising then that one of my very favorite books in the history of anthropology is Andrew and Marilyn Strathern’s amazing Self-Decoration in Mount Hagen (1971). I have had to purchase my own copy because too often, library-held editions have been brutalized by people cutting out the full-color plates in the back. To my mind, if one wanted to get a feel for social life in highland New Guinea—for the vibe which animates it—this volume is a stellar guide. It is one of the most serious and comprehensive studies of adornment that I know of. It carefully records ways in which social form is encoded in structured relations between, for example, colors or bush materials. I recall myself seeing a koi wal (feather plaque from Hagen) for sale once in Goroka market and knowing something about it (for example, its name) precisely because of this text.

The color plates of throngs of greased and shining bodies, or spectacularly feathered warriors and wig-wearers, are simply dazzling.

I allude to Marilyn Strathern’s later reflections on ‘the ethnographic moment,’ that encounter that lives on as an image in your mind, guiding your analysis because it is so phenomonally real or present long-after the fact. She writes: “It is worth remarking… that special knowledge which inheres, say, in theological or scientific expertise has never held quite the place in anthropological accounts as materials which appear esoteric because they require revealing (beg immediate interpretation). An initial surprise becomes a suspension, a dazzle, and some kinds of ‘special knowledge’ are more likely to dazzle than others” (Property, Substance, and Effect, pp. 10-11).

One can see, reflecting on a text like Self-Decoration, how Hageners might indeed have that effect. The language feels appropriate, and Strathern narrates an interruption: of her pursuit of rudimentary research in gardens and on genealogies by her first sight of mounted pearl shells. Star-struck: the glimmering white center of the ruddy mounting board dazzles also Hageners.

For me, what begged interpreting was the emotional quality of a ceremonial exchange I witnessed. The occasion was a gift of cash in the name of an elderly man to his mother’s kin, and in particular to her brother. The gift giver clutched the recipient to him in a submissive gesture and cried sorrowfully, wailing the word ‘mother’ over and over. It is one image I cannot remove from memory, and I return to it again and again when I think about highlands sociality.

Dazzled and mesmerized. Thought it was a tremendously demanding experience, I am frequently grateful that my research in New Guinea yielded the sort of encounter that animates and moves one’s thought, even years later.

Share This

This strikes me as a rather silly/heavy photo: Gwyneth Paltrow with face paint embracing the cause of AIDS in Africa. When I first encountered the “I AM AFRICAN” campaign, it was Brazilian supermodel Giselle making the statement. There is a news story about the campaign—designed to promote a charity that will pay for anti-retrovirals in poor countries—here. Yesterday, thumbing through GQ magazine, I saw Sting proclaiming “I AM AFRICAN,” with golden dust scattered across his face. It’s around.

Earlier on SM, I asked what kinds of persons and publics HIV (as a virus laden with meaning) summons. Here’s one: the sympathetic celebrity in ‘cross-cultural,’ possibly ‘cross-racial,’ drag. To me, this campaign echoes Kenneth Cole’s “We All Have AIDS” campaign for awareness. Some kind of shift has occured, we’re not in the 80s anymore, or even the 90s. People now identify with the virus, people who may or may not have it. Clearly the goal of these campaigns is to combat the stigma associated with HIV so that people might more readily get tested and seek treatment. These days, as one friend reported to me, people without HIV are even wearing “HIV+” t-shirts at international conferences. Is HIV fashionable? And what configuration of fashion/celebrity/global concern has yielded this image? What has made HIV safe for this sort of identification? What does it mean? A few more questions here: to what extent does this imagery hail a public that already has HIV in it? Is the infected public imagined to be elsewhere or is it imagined to be ‘here’? How are people with HIV addressed? To my mind these are important questions for thinking about HIV prevention because campaigns and images like this one exist in a field of messages that also includes calls to get tested and to use condoms, among other things.

Share This

I have been working through some ‘ancient’ anthropological topics with students, in particular, variations in kinship terminologies cross-culturally, an area of research founded principally by L. H. Morgan in his Systems of consanguinity and affinity in the human family (1871), and molded into an evolutionary ‘grand theory’ in his Ancient Society (1877). Starting out a course on kinship with Victorian anthropology is, I realize, a risky gambit. In a response paper, one student suggested that the view from the windows of 19th-century anthropology was ‘rather grey.’ What could be more arcane than revisiting Iroquois or Crow-Omaha kinship terminologies? Whether or not they are a boring topic, varieties of kinship terminologies are also not easy to wrap one’s head around. To the extent that they divide up a seemingly commonsensical world in an apparently non-commensensical way (for those of us reared in so-called ‘descriptive’ systems, the ‘classificatory’ can be jarring), they challenge our assumptions quite directly. Of course, recognition of this difference is what ignited anthropological interest in the subject and has sustained it through the years. But how to give these topics a contemporary twist?

We have also visited, among other things, Trautmann’s work, especially his recent article on “The Whole History of Kinship Terminology…” There, Trautmann criticizes contemporary models of transformations in kinship terminology, and in doing so suggests that comparative kinship studies might be one avenue into studying the very longue duree of human history. A broadly regional and deeply historical comparative framework may yield advances in ethnological history: ”...the deep history that lies between, say, the end of the last ice age and the beginning of the Victorian era, is not thickly populated by anthropologists, especially cultural anthropologists… For all the contemporary commitment of cultural anthropology to history, the deeper past is greatly neglected.” Trautmann suggests that attention to this sort of history would help correct biases built into certain functionalist or synchronic accounts.

So that is one call to give kinship studies a contemporary cast: give kinship a deeper history.

Even so, there are other languages or rhetorics that might make kinship terminologies a hot topic. (I leave aside, for the time being, the sexy and important topics of ‘biotech’ and ‘body’ in contemporary kinship studies.) If, for example, anthropologists of contemporary governments wished to sample of forms of interpellation that precede and exceed the normative force of state power (recalling here the policeman yelling at you on the street), they could do little better than to track the distributions of kin designations in everday practice and in legal discourse. This is precisely what the earlier SM discussion on adoption and ICWA points us toward: divided sovereignties (competing regulations of forms of life) along several axes—the indigenous and liberal, the minority and the majority, ‘kindred’ versus ‘citizens,’ to say nothing of men and women. Beyond the discourse of experts that is a focus of the current analytics of governmentality (whether neo/liberal, totalitarian, or whatever), anthropologists have rich and varied models for how populations are regulated in extra-state circumstances: precisely through the interpellation of subjects in self-perpetuating systems of signification we call kinship terminologies.

It is true that citizens of Melanesian states, for example, are ‘produced’ to some extent by the legacy of foreign rule in the form of the postcolonial state (such as it is in some places). Far more consequential, however, for how people conduct themselves in everyday life and for how they sustain themselves materially are the identities iterated and reiterated in daily, habitual, commonplace encounters with each other. In places like Papua New Guinea’s (PNG) eastern highlands, title to land, for example, is secured only in and through one’s affiliation with a clan that holds in a coprorate fashion the land. ‘Membership’ in a clan is manifest, is elicited, is ‘performed’ through the eventful (ceremonial exchange, committments in battle), but also, and more thoroughly, through the everday modes of address through which people interact (the relatively uneventful). Though I lived in a village, built a house there, ate food there, for my adoptive family, the most important thing I did was to call my kin by their proper terms (e.g., mama, papa, etc. or “ieno” and “ahono” in the local language). Doing so locked me into a structure of social relations that was both utterly constraining, inaugurating all kinds of obligations and protocols pertaining to moral conduct, and enabling. I could engage in action of a consequential sort only by being called into being by ‘reciprocal’ (I mean this in a nontechnical way) address. Kinship terminologies provide examples for two varied interpretations of the productive power of discourses: either the ‘subjection’ favored by Judith Butler and others or the ‘subjectivation’ favored by James Faubion and others. (See their brilliant work in Antigone’s Claim or The Ethics of Kinship.)

Perhaps its a stretch to tie these observations to a previous discussion, but I do wonder sometimes when anthropologists struggle to find languages for thinking about social regulation in the contemporary period (as for example ‘governmentality’) why ‘the market’ springs to mind quite readily while that old workhorse of anthropology—kinship—doesn’t (so often). There are, I imagine, either intricate and important reasons why not, or perhaps simpler ones.

Share This

Unlike Kerim, I am just begining the study of Chinese. This is my first semester of Mandarin and let me tell you something, if you think publishing, teaching, and doing committee work is hard, you should try publishing, teaching, doing committee work, and learning a language that involves memorizing tens of thousands of distinct characters. Actually I don’t think the language itself is that difficulty (yet)—it’s really the writing system that is kicking my ass. But then again we’ve mostly been doing the sounds of the language and noun phrases and have yet to hit such sophisticated linguistic concept as, you know, transitive verbs.

Anyhoo, like many neophyte Chinese speakers I recently came across David Moser’s essay Why Chinese Is So Damn Hard. No surprises if you’ve learned a lot of other languages. But what was a surprise—and delight—was that Moser’s essay and the entire festschrift that it’s from are available online. It just so happens that a good number of the other monographs in the series are also available. They are all part of Victor Mair’s Sinoplatonic Papers series which is making the transition to open access online publication. They all look wonderful and are a perfect example of the sort of playful occasional papers that perfect for open access: a labor of love that bursts with scholarly energy. Or so I imagine—I haven’t had a chance to read all 172!

Share This