Recipient of Choice Magazine's 1996 Outstanding Academic Book Award Author Raymond Morrow outlines and recounts the development of the major tenets of critical theory, exemplifying them through the works of two of their most influential, recent adherents: Jürgen Habermas and Anthony Giddens. Beginning with a comprehensive yet meticulous explication of critical theory and its history, the author next discusses it within the context of a research program; his work concludes with an examination of empirical methods. Emphasizing the connections between (...) critical theory, empirical research, and social science methodology, Morrow's volume offers refreshing insights on traditional and current material. (shrink)

Clear and helpful explanation of the details of each book in the Bible. Additional chapters provide background information to aid understanding. Ideal reference source for anyone studying or using the Bible.

Recent methodology in Gospel research is casting light not only on church history, but also on the growth of theology and faith in the first century.

The readers/hearers of the Fourth Gospel are not meant simply to learn from its scenes; they must encounter Jesus and be challenged by him, so they are led to perceive God's ways rather than fitting Jesus into their own preconceived needs.

An alternative to Aggleton & Brown's interpretation is presented suggesting that the perirhinal cortex and hippocampus mediate different attribute information, but use the same processes, supporting the idea of parallel processing based on attribute (visual object and spatial location) rather than process characteristics (item recognition and familiarity).

With the Supreme Court’s landmark _Brown_ decisions of 1954 and 1955, American education changed forever. But _Brown_ was just the beginning, and Raymond Wolters contends that its best intentions have been taken to unnecessary extremes. In this compelling study, a scholar who has long observed the traumas of school desegregation uncovers the changes and difficulties with which public education has dealt over the last fifty years—and argues that some judicial decisions were ill-advised. Dealing candidly with matters usually considered taboo (...) in academic discourse, Wolters argues that the Supreme Court acted correctly and in accordance with public sentiment in _Brown_ but that it later took a wrong turn by equating desegregation with integration. Retracing the history of desegregation and integration in America’s schools, Wolters distinguishes between several Court decisions, explaining that while _Brown_ called for desegregation by requiring that schools deal with students on a racially nondiscriminatory basis, subsequent decisions—_Green, Swann, Keyes_—required actual integration through racial balancing. He places these decisions in the context of educational reform in the 1950s that sought to encourage bright students through advanced placement and honors courses—courses in which African American and Hispanic students were less likely to be enrolled. Then with the racial unrest of the 1960s, the pursuit of academic excellence yielded to concerns for uplifting disadvantaged youths and ensuring the predominance of middle-class peer groups in schools. Wolters draws on rich historical records to document the devastating consequences of requiring racial balance and sheds new light on America’s legal, social, and cultural landscapes. He reexamines the educational theories of Kenneth Clark and James Coleman, and he challenges statistics that support the results of racial balancing by describing how school desegregation and integration actually proceeded in several towns, cities, and counties. _Race and Education_ is a bold challenge to political correctness in education and a corrective to the now widely accepted notion that desegregation and racially balanced integration are one and the same. It is essential reading for scholars of law and education and a wake-up call for citizens concerned about the future of America’s schools. (shrink)

A research forum published in Business & Society in 1995 (Issue 2) analyzed whether Fortune magazine's annual Reputation Survey (FRS) is viable as a corporate social performance (CSP) research database. We examine plausible alternative interpretations for a number of assertions and conclusions by the forum authors, including the premise for Brown and Perry's proposed transformation: that the Fortune data are confounded by the presence of a financial "halo," which biases ratings of nonfinancial attributes. Finally, we examine the appropriate roles (...) of the two primary corporate rating systems in the context of CSP. (shrink)

Things do not begin to live except in the middle.--Gilles Deleuze, DialoguesA Land of UnlikenessThe English novel The Go-Between begins a tale of memory and loss with two sentences a historian could love: "The past is a foreign country. They do things differently there." The novel's narrator should know: he is a librarian, someone who, as the memory ghost of his twelve-year-old self will remind him, spends his days cataloguing the relics of the book-past. And many who now live with (...) the past for a living might nod in recognition: the metaphor slips on comfortably, like a well-worn shoe. The past can feel like a place as much as it does a time -- a foreign place, outside the doors of the familiar, beyond the gate and the gatekeepers of the now.Especially beyond the pale is the Middle Ages, definitional whipping boy for generations of citizens of the present who have needed an "all-purpose alternative" against which to define themselves. The difference of medieval doing is embedded already in the names we still give the time: the "Middle Ages" makes parenthetical death of the interval between Classical life and its humanist "rebirth." "Premodern" gives life only in anticipation of the modern, directing the period toward a telos of recognizability in the now that the premodern, as such, will always fail to satisfy.The Middle Ages were invented to be a foreign country. The indigenous peoples are dead, and they didn't even know they were medieval -- they thought they were living in modern times. They thought it was now: "There is no other age than ours," Raymond de l'Aire of Tignac told the inquisitors nosing for heresy in his town around 1320.But this is "now," and there are elements about the "Middle Ages" that feel foreign -- foreign in this modern, postmodern, or maybe even post-postmodern land we still call "now." Everyone who has ever read a medieval book cold or taught one to cold undergraduates has felt this foreignness intimately in his or her suddenly awkward flesh. All those quotations, all that Catholicism, all those arguments and counterarguments; not to mention those old words, weird verb forms, erratic spelling, and all that damn Latin.There's no question that the Middle Ages is an other, perhaps even a foreign place, someplace, as the etymology indicates, beyond our own doors . What are we doing when we go there? What happens to "here" and "there" when we go? The question isn't whether medieval people did things differently than we do now; the question is what we as putative nonmedievals are going to do with the difference. What stories do we tell ourselves about it? What do they do to and for us?When medievalists talk about medieval otherness, it can feel like a slap in the face; it can feel like a come-on; it can of course be both at once. Take, for example, Paul Zumthor's monumental Essai de poétique médiévale. Published in 1972, the Essai set medieval poetry in dialogue with what was then high literary theory. The dialogue made the foreignness of medieval poetry accessible to a mid-1980s graduate student like me; it taught me that medieval texts could be active participants in the theoretical discussions I was learning to have with friends, professors, and texts. Returning to the Essai now with the theory-midwifed births of "New Philology" and "New Medievalism" in the past, I was surprised to find that this text that I thought bridged temporal gaps begins by blowing up more bridges than it builds. "We are cut off from the Middle Ages by a divide that we should not attempt to ignore, but that we should rather see as an impassible abyss," Zumthor announces in his second paragraph. Why, then, even write the book, students I once read this with wanted to know, and it's a good question.. (shrink)

This past summer, I was having lunch in Toronto with Dr. Raymond Macken, general editor of the critical edition of the Opera Omnia of Henry of Ghent, and author of the Preface to this excellent translation of several important quodlibetal questions of Henry on a topic that has long proved itself fraught with difficulties for scholars of Henry's thought. Macken held this very work in his hand and said, "English is the new Latin. We must provide more and more (...) translations of Henry's work for students of his ideas." In spite of a veritable renaissance in Latin studies, in the United States in particular, the remark seems as justified as it is melancholic. (shrink)

The infancy narratives of Matthew and Luke pose in an acute form the question of the historical value of the Gospels. Raymond Brown suggests that redaction criticism can bypass this question by spelling out the theological message intended by the evangelists. But his own exegesis suggests this is to misunderstand the genre of this literature. Brown’s indifference to historicity would be justified only if the evangelists were writing something resembling allegory, a form of narrative in which the (...) literal sense of the story is the clothing of a spiritual message. But Brown’s exegesis suggests that the evangelists do not regard the literal sense of these stories as dispensable; they regard their theological message as resting on a foundation of historical fact. It follows that if interpreters focus on the intention of the evangelists, they cannot avoid addressing the question of historicity. (shrink)