Course No. 528 (10 lectures, 45 minutes/lecture) Taught by Timothy Taylor Macalester College M.Econ., Stanford University 1. Before Economics—Mercantilists and Physiocrats 2. Adam Smith and the Birth of Economics 3. The Dismal Science—Thomas Robert Malthus and David Ricardo 4. John Stuart Mill and Utilitarianism 5. Karl Marx and Socialism 6. Alfred Marshall and Marginalist Thought 7. The Socialist Calculation Debate 8. Joseph Schumpeter and Entrepreneurialism 9. John Maynard Keynes and the Keynesian Revolution 10. Milton Friedman and the Rebirth of Classical Economics
"Written in an engaging and lively style, Edward's analyses of the fiction are eminently readable... Durham's theoretical prose requires of readers an effort that is generously rewarded by the pleasure afforded by the display of complex intellectual debate." -the Comparist ..."quite impressive in its close and clever analyses of theories of play in the five novels." -Choice
If you’re like many people, you might associate debate with either a high school or college club or a TV political “debate” that features two or more candidates talking over each other. But if a club or political showmanship is your only association with debating, you’re missing out on an exhilarating intellectual pursuit that can help you in all aspects of your daily life, from making business decisions to engaging friends at cocktail parties.
The notion that our society, its education system and its intellectual life, is characterised by a split between two cultures – the arts or humanities on one hand, and the sciences on the other – has a long history. But it was C. P. Snow's Rede lecture of 1959 that brought it to prominence and began a public debate that is still raging in the media today. This 50th anniversary printing of The Two Cultures and its successor piece, A Second Look (in which Snow responded to the controversy four years later) features an introduction by Stefan Collini, charting the history and context of the debate, its implications and its afterlife...
Shakespeare, Nietzsche wrote, was Montaigne’s best reader—a typically brilliant Nietzschean insight, capturing the intimate relationship between Montaigne’s ever-changing record of the self and Shakespeare’s kaleidoscopic register of human character. And there is no doubt that Shakespeare read Montaigne—though how extensively remains a matter of debate—and that the translation he read him in was that of John Florio, a fascinating polymath, man-about-town, and dazzlingly inventive writer himself.
