I Bet You Thought Neil DeGrasse Tyson Was the World’s Richest Astrophysicist

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I like my progressive/arena/opera rock the way I like my education: Far-reaching in the realms of content and style, influenced by timeless masters of the past, and damn groovy. I write of the latter in reference to an integral part of the CC105 curriculum; that is, learning to bump to Professor Alan Marscher’s sweet, sweet tunes.

Another artist, however, which I have always considered a worthy listen is the band Queen. One of the finest and most legendary acts to emerge from the domain of 20th century British rock wizardry, Queen endures as a sound that is simultaneously accessible and complex. This sound owes its success to, most notably, the honest flamboyance of the late Freddie Mercury, and the talent and creative fire of lead guitarist Brian May. May’s solos and riffs complement Mercury’s marching staccatos in a special way that gives Queen its intoxicating signature layered sound.

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And just to reiterate, May, now at age 66, is the one responsible for all the milky solos heard on your favorite Queen tracks. Take, for example, the aristocratic echoes on “Killer Queen”, or the warm wahs of “Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy”–both were seamlessly weaved into grooviness by our English gentleman’s own nimble fingers.

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But, in the style of the Core, May has also extended his energies across multiple intellectual dimensions. At the same time that the release of the “Queen II” LP in March 1974 began to pull Queen into the limelight, May had been in the process of pursuing his PhD in astrophysics at Imperial College London. Due to the new demands of his band, he abandoned his scientific studies–only to return to school to complete his doctoral studies more than 30 years later. In 2008, May graduated from Imperial College (the graduation ceremony was held in the Royal Albert Hall, at which, ironically, the original Queen lineup never played). Only a month after completing his doctorate, he was even appointed as Chancellor of Liverpool John Moores University.

"Don't stop me nooooooow, I'm havin' such a good time."

“Don’t stop me nooooooow, I’m havin’ such a good time.”

May’s PhD thesis, A Survey of Radial Velocities in the Zodiacal Dust Cloud, is available for purchase on Amazon.com. If you would prefer a sample of his work that’s a little less dense, May also co-authored a book, Bang! The Complete History of the Universe, along with astrophysicists Patrick Moore and Chris Lintott. The book’s introduction reads:

So let us look back to the very start of the Universe – just after the Big Bang itself. It is tempting to picture the Universe suddenly bursting out in a vast ocean of space, but this is completely misleading. The true picture of the Big Bang is one in which space, matter and, crucially, time were born. Space did not appear out of ‘nothingness’; before the moment of creation there was no ‘nothingness’. Time itself had not yet begun, and so it does not even make sense to speak of a time before the Big Bang. Not even a Shakespeare or an Einstein could explain this in plain English, though the combination of the two might be useful!

Sounds to me like something to consider reading next year in CC105, as the Core explores the nature of the universe and the meaning of life. Then again, maybe this Monty Python skit that Professor Marscher shared with the class this fall satisfied everyone’s existential qualms.

Either way, Brian May’s interdisciplinary success is an inspiring testament to the Core’s dedication to liberal education. Also, note May’s spooky resemblance to Sir Isaac Newton.

A Classics Lecture


One of the greatest things about Core (you know, besides everything) is that it doesn't just promote itself, it's also interested in making sure you know about all kinds of events in other departments that could intrigue you, discussions you might not be a part of otherwise. This week, we have just such an opportunity. This Wednesday, the 5th, from 5-7pm the Classics Department has invited Michael Silk from King's College in London to come give a lecture entitled "Euripides, Pindar, and Others: What makes Poetry Poetic". It's located in the School of Theology (745 Commonwealth Ave) in room 409. There will be refreshments, good company, and knowledge so feel free to stop on by and listen. Bring a friend, enjoy yourself, and let us know what you think afterwards.

Was Shakespeare a scientist?

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A recent article by Dan Falk of The Telegraph puts forth this important question by highlighting that:

 The genius from Stratford-upon-Avon has worn many hats over the years, with imaginative scholars casting him as a closet Catholic, a mainstream Protestant, an ardent capitalist, a Marxist, a misogynist, a feminist, a homosexual, a legal clerk and a cannabis dealer – yet the words “Shakespeare” and “science” are rarely uttered in the same breath.

CC201 delves a little into this, and indeed, the science of Shakespeare’s texts is not obvious. The closest we get to science fiction is Milton’s Paradise Lost and Satan’s journey through space. Still, Dan Falk writes that Shakespeare’s plays are:

 Full of references to the Sun, Moon, stars, comets, eclipses and heavenly spheres – but these are usually dismissed as strictly old-school, reflecting the (largely incorrect) ideas of ancient Greek thinkers such as Aristotle and Ptolemy. Although Copernicus had lifted the Earth into the heavens with his revolutionary book in 1543 – 21 years before Shakespeare’s birth – it supposedly took decades for the new cosmology to reach England; and anyway, the idea of a sun-centred universe only became intellectually respectable with the news of Galileo’s telescopic discoveries in 1610. By then, Shakespeare was ready for retirement in Warwickshire.

 Giving examples from the plays themselves, the article proposes different readings:

 Donald Olson of Texas State University has argued that the star observed by Prince Hamlet shining “westward from the pole” was inspired by Shakespeare’s boyhood memory of Tycho’s star – reinforced, perhaps, by a reference to it in Holinshed’s Chronicles 15 years later. (At the very least, Shakespeare would have seen the next supernova, “Kepler’s star”, in 1604.) One might note that Brahe observed the stars from the Danish island of Hven, a stone’s throw from the castle of Elsinore, Shakespeare’s setting for Hamlet.

 Astronomer Peter Usher, recently retired from Penn State University, takes the story further, arguing that Hamlet can be read as an allegory of competing cosmological world views. The evil Claudius stands in for his namesake, the ancient astronomer Claudius Ptolemy, while Rosencrantz and Guildenstern represent Brahe, and Prince Hamlet is Thomas Digges. When Hamlet envisions himself as “a king of infinite space”, could Shakespeare be alluding to the new, infinite universe described – for the first time – by his countryman, Digges?

 Are there Core texts whose scientific elements you think deserve more attention? Let us know!

Call Me Burroughs: A Life

In the 1930's, William S. Burroughs spent a good four years in our beautiful city of Boston.

Bookforum recently reviewed Barry Miles' biography of the author, titled Call Me Burroughs: A Life. Here is an extract:

William S. Burroughs lived the kind of life few contemporary American novelists seek to emulate. A roll call of his sins: He was a queer and a junkie before being either was hip; he was a deadbeat father and an absent son; he was a misogynist, a gun lover, and a drunk; he was a guru of junk science and crank religion; he haunted the most sinister dregs of Mexico City, Tangier, Paris, London, and New York; he was an avant-garde writer with little affection for plot and none at all for epiphany; he wore his Americanness like a colostomy bag, shameful but essential. When he died at age 83 in 1997, his last words were: "Be back in no time." At least he wasn't a liar.

A worthy listen is Burroughs' own spoken word album, Call Me BurroughsIt is available on Amazon, and probably elsewhere in the deeper recesses of the web. Do check it out!

Also, a valuable film is David Cronenberg's Naked Lunch, based on Burroughs' novel of the same name. The trailer:

What do you think of the Beat generation? Let us know!

Virtues and Virtual Reality

Do you remember a few years ago after the last Harry Potter book had long since been read and the last movie installment's tickets long lost? The anticipation had died down, and, despite the attempts to replicate the success of the Potter series, nothing seemed to be able to renew that excitement and anticipation that used to have people lining up for hours outside of bookstores to pick up something they'd pre-ordered anyway. Then, in a last ditch effort to stretch the world of Harry Potter for as much as possible, JK Rowling released Pottermore, bringing up all the past excitement and frenzy.

That might not have been the best use for the powers of the internet. Pottermore never really took off, and today it is almost forgotten completely. Well, here's a new attempt to combine the worlds of literature and internet gaming. Now, Jane Austen's novels can come to life in the new multi-player game Ever, Jane that Jezebel so beautifully brought our attention to. All those dreams you've had where you live the life of Elinor or Marianne, Emma, Elizabeth, or even Austen herself are about to be fulfilled in a game that will, if the current information is to be believed, not include any sort of violence outside the realm of gossip. As the campaign's about page says:

"Ever, Jane is a virtual world that allows people to role-play in Regency Period England. Similar to traditional role playing games, we advance our character through experience, but that is where the similarities end. Ever, Jane is about playing the actual character in the game, building stories. Our quests are derived from player's actions and stories. And we gossip rather than use swords and magic to demolish our enemies and aid our friends."

Gaming has become more and more complex over the past decade expanding from the standard story lines that require minimal attention to detail and are frequently based in violence of some sort (shooting games, war games) to more complex, subtle virtual realities that rely on intricacy rather than violence or excitement. Of course these games have existed in Myst or Civilization, but never has human interaction on such a personal level formed as much a part of the basics as in Ever, Jane. We know we haven't even played the game yet, but we're intrigued as to how closely this world will resemble the real one.

But what's your opinion of this promise, Core scholars? Do you think this is simply another role-playing game that will find itself swallowed by the depths of the internet or do you think this one has some valid points of interest meriting excitement? And could this game perhaps create more interest in the books in a world increasingly less interested in literature? Let us know below.

Blood Making Its Comeback


Few people were as obsessed with blood as the Ancient Romans. Their main form of entertainment, for instance, involved the violent, dramatic deaths of gladiators, and of course their empire was filled with the blood of enemies. These days, it's a bit less acceptable to force people to fight for the death so you can eat a hot dog and cheer with your buddies. Our closest equivalent is probably pro-wrestling or boxing where people only die intermittently (I'm sure the Romans would call us wimps).
But do not despair! Blood has not disappeared from our culture. Simply think of your favorite TV show. Is it Dexter? Walking Dead? That miniseries Spartacus? Perhaps you're more of a feature length film type person then. Well, American Psycho's on Netflix now as well as Tucker and Dale vs Evil (no one said blood can't be hilarious). Even theaters have taken up the trend so that productions of Titus Andronicus, for example, may resemble more of a Holi celebration where all the colors have been replaced with red. We know, it's disappointing the deaths aren't real, but thank goodness the buckets and buckets of specialized blood more than make up for it.

But wait. Specialized blood? Isn't it all just corn syrup and food coloring? Hitchcock may have used chocolate syrup in Psycho, yes, but there have been some improvements since then. In order to get to the bottom of the now complex process of putting blood on the stage, Core's very own Kyna Hamill interviewed a certified fight instructor Casey Kaleba of the SAFD asking questions that range from costume designers' feelings about blood onstage to what has inspired his (Casey's) use of blood these days. The interview is wonderfully macabre and also takes the reader behind the scenes where the shock of Lady Macbeth's bloody hands becomes the decision the director, Casey, and the stage manager came to whether the blood will "spurt, drip, spatter, seep, smear, track, reveal, course, creep, pour, soak, leak, dry, crack, scab". Yum.
So there you have it. We no longer watch the gladiators tear each other to pieces, but fortunately we have plenty of specialists to make sure our bloodlust doesn't go unfulfilled. Thank goodness for that.

Paintings come alive in Tagliafierro’s ‘Beauty’

Italian animator Rino Stefano Tagliafierro breathes life into dozens of classical paintings in his captivating short, Beauty:

The film, Tagliafierro writes, is "a path of sighs through the emotions of life. A tribute to the art and her disarming beauty."

Among the numerous paintings are works of Rubens and Rembrandt, whom we study in CC202, and Vermeer, who has featured on this blog before!

See the full list of paintings used in the short here.

Analysis paralysis and Children’s Literature

We're sure, as a kid, you read Margaret Wise Brown's adorable book Goodnight Moon. Doesn't the above picture just take you back to when your parents would read to you every night before bed while you were tucked in cozy under the dinosaur or Superman or Disney princess or whatever (we don't judge) sheets? Of course, snuggling under any kind of sheets, toy trucks or Barbies, sounds awesome. Nothing beats the snow like a good blanket and a good book.

And perhaps you should consider giving Goodnight Moon another read. Yes, you may think you're too old, but we're here to tell you you'd be wrong. As this article from McSweeney's (a publishing company based out of San Francisco) website explains, Goodnight Moon is not just the story of a small bunny going through his bedtime rituals, but actually an acutely poignant and subtle commentary on the materialism of the Cold War era.

The book opens as a young bunny prepares for sleep in his bedroom....As symbolic items such as a “balloon” and a “telephone” are described, our protagonist bunny, oppressively tucked into bed, resists the confines of sleep. Brown gives particular attention to a large number of animals that populate the room: “two kittens with mittens” and a “little mouse.” The room also contains a picture of a “cow jumping over a moon” and “bears on chairs.” Here, Brown twists our preconceptions of settings—where the internal now is wild, but the external (“the moon” and “the stars”) serene. The room full of raging wildlife mirrors the little bunny’s desire to throw off his sheets and play.

As you can clearly see, you've been looking at the book all wrong.

The endless hilarity of this fake Sparknotes aside, there's something incredibly familiar about the humor of this article. We at Core know the importance of a good old-fashioned close reading and are, frequently we admit, guilty of analysis paralysis (the beautiful, magical official phrase for over-analysis). Goodnight Moon is perhaps an extreme example. Brown obviously did not intend an adorable bunny's bedtime to be any sort of allegory, but intention can be tricky. How can any reader actually know the writer's full intentions for the interpretation of a book? How can the writer even be sure for that matter? A lot happens to any book between the first inkling of inspiration to the final ok; not all of that can be cognizant.

But that's just our ruminations. Perhaps, again, we've subjected ourselves to sweet, sweet analysis paralysis. Let us know if you think there are some other kids' books out there with hidden messages we didn't pick up when we were younger, or if you have anything to say about the sticky wicket that is intention. At least there's one thing we can all agree on though: there's nothing quite like putting a little thought into your humor.

Odysseus to Telemachus

Brodsky (left). Source: bit.ly/Kb5fcB

Brodsky (left). Source: bit.ly/Kb5fcB

Welcome back after the break!

In relation to CC101's study of The Odyssey is a poem by celebrated Russian poet laureate Joseph Brodsky, titled Odysseus to Telemachus:

My dear Telemachus,
The Trojan War
is over now; I don't recall who won it.
The Greeks, no doubt, for only they would leave
so many dead so far from their own homeland.
But still, my homeward way has proved too long.
While we were wasting time there, old Poseidon,
it almost seems, stretched and extended space.

I don't know where I am or what this place
can be. It would appear some filthy island,
with bushes, buildings, and great grunting pigs.
A garden choked with weeds; some queen or other.
Grass and huge stones . . . Telemachus, my son!
To a wanderer the faces of all islands
resemble one another. And the mind
trips, numbering waves; eyes, sore from sea horizons,
run; and the flesh of water stuffs the ears.
I can't remember how the war came out;
even how old you are--I can't remember.

Grow up, then, my Telemachus, grow strong.
Only the gods know if we'll see each other
again. You've long since ceased to be that babe
before whom I reined in the plowing bullocks.
Had it not been for Palamedes' trick
we two would still be living in one household.
But maybe he was right; away from me
you are quite safe from all Oedipal passions,
and your dreams, my Telemachus, are blameless.

Here is a valuable video of Brodsky himself reading the poem:

From Massachusetts to Georgia: Christmas Spirit

Massachusetts is a proud state. And why shouldn't it be? We've told you before about it's excellent public education; you all know about the wonderful colleges. Mass also has incredibly low obesity rates, depression rates, even unemployment rates when compared to the rest of the country. Did you know it also gave origin to perhaps the quintessential Christmas song?

That's right, "Jingle Bells" was written in Medford, Massachusetts.

And Savannah, Georgia is trying to steal the credit.

Well, not exactly trying to steal credit. The matter is a bit more complicated than that. This article, which draws on the expertise of Core's very own Kyna Hamill, explains the matter fully, but in summary, the song was first written in Medford but published in Savannah so both cities feel the need to take credit. We at Core are inclined to agree with Professor Hamill though:

" But our claim is of course that the landscape is, that the authenticity is that it’s in the landscape of Medford"

Makes sense. Georgia is usually pretty warm in the winter. Seems difficult to imagine the landscape of Savannah inspiring the lyrics "Dashing through the snow in a one-horse open sleigh". No matter if Medford has claim to the song, the song immortalizes the snowy landscape we studying in Mass know all too well.

But of course, as the article explains, both cities seem to have equal claims, although none of the cities' historians would see it like that. What do you think? Should the credit be shared or does it belong more to Savannah or Medford? Tell us below!