Over 80 years after The Sound and the Fury made its debut on the literary stage, the novel which would go on to become one of the classics of 20th-century American literature is finally being…
Summer’s here and time for summer reading at the beach, in a hammock or on the porch. Books are great for passing the time on lazy summer afternoons. And according to Ohio State researchers, the books you read from childhood on can also change who you are.
They do this by a process the researchers called experience taking. More than just understanding a character, it’s taking a little of them inside of you and changing yourself in the process. It’s not something that you plan on, it happens spontaneously. Good writing helps, but there’s much more involved.
In the middle of reading the New York Magazine article, Happy Birthday iPhone: You’re Ruining Everything, I was brought to a screeching halt by a very brief mention of an invented game called “Phonestack”. Phone what? A brilliant game (some call it social engineering masquerading as a bar game) that I think could completely recivilize dinner and social gatherings.
Here’s the deal:
1) As you arrive, each person places their phone facedown in the center of the table.
2) As the meal goes on, you’ll hear various texts and emails arriving… and you’ll do absolutely nothing.
3) You’ll face temptation—maybe even a few involuntary reaches toward the middle of the table—but you’ll be bound by the single, all-important rule of the phone stack.
Whoever picks up their phone is footing the bill.
Nothing like a financial incentive to instill etiquette.
If you can sustain your interest in what you’re doing, you’re an extremely fortunate person. What you see very frequently in people’s professional lives, and perhaps in their emotional life as well, is that they lose interest in the third act. You sort of get tired, and indifferent, and, sometimes, defensive. And you kind of lose your capacity for astonishment — and that’s a great loss, because the world is a very astonishing place.
What I feel fortunate about is that I’m still astonished, that things still amaze me. And I think that’s the great benefit of being in the arts, where the possibility for learning never disappears, where you basically have to admit you never learn it.