Smarty Pants From The American Scholar

So much of the story we hear about China today concerns Covid-19, or the economy—how over the past few decades, it has risen from poverty and ruin to become a global powerhouse. But there’s a story beneath the surface, of the artistic avant-garde that resisted rule from above and inspired generations of ordinary Chinese citizens to seek freedom of expression. From their countryside re-education posts to the abandoned warehouses of Beijing and the short-lived Democracy Wall, Chinese artists flourished at the edge of acceptability—until the entire edifice came crashing down with the Tiananmen Square massacre. Madeleine O’Dea joins us to talk about her book, The Phoenix Years, which follows the lives of nine contemporary Chinese artists to tell the story of how art shaped a nation.Visit the episode page for portraits and archival images of the artists and their work.Go beyond the episode:Madeleine O’Dea’s The Phoenix Years: Art, Resistance, and the Making of Modern ChinaPeruse

On February 1st, the Burmese military detained high-ranking officials of the National League for Democracy and the leader of the country, Aung San Suu Kyi. It was a coup, haunted by memories of past coups: 1962, when the military first seized power, and then 1988, when student-led protests against that government led to another coup that killed at least 6,000 people. In 2007, hundreds of thousands of monks protested in what became known as the Saffron Revolution, and the military cracked down again, arresting hundreds of people, some of whom still remain in prison. Despite that bloody history, today tens of thousands of people are returning to the streets as part of the so-called Civil Disobedience Movement. It feels like we're all waiting to see what will happen next. Is this the end of Myanmar's decade-long experiment with democracy, or could it be the catalyst for a new movement? To give us a better picture of where things stand, and how they've gotten to this point, we're joined by Columbia University ant

As we in the United States approach a full year of spending even more time than usual at home, and away from friends and family, we’re all a little bit lonely. But even though it might feel as if your immediate family and your pets are the only signs of life in your house—you're not as alone as you might think. The modern American house is a wilderness: thousands of species of insects, bacteria, fungi, and plants lurk in our floorboards, on our counters, and inside our kitchen cabinets—not to mention the microbes that flavor our food itself. The trouble with wilderness, however, is that we always want to tame it. Cleaning, bleaching, sterilizing, and killing the organisms in our houses has had unintended—and dangerous—consequences for our health and the environment. Biologist Rob Dunn, a professor in the department of applied ecology at North Carolina State University, joins us to impart some advice about how to graciously welcome these unbidden guests into our homes. This episode originally aired in 2018.Go

Every family has things they don’t talk about: those regrettable beliefs espoused by your great-grandmother, or why your uncles don’t speak to each other anymore. Sometimes these are remnants of the old social order, things that were considered shameful 50 years ago that are perfectly normal today (or the opposite). And sometimes, members of your family just happened to be small-time mobsters. The acclaimed writer Russell Shorto, author of such histories as Amsterdam and The Island at the Center of the World, always knew his grandfather and namesake was involved with the Italian mafia, but Shorto never quite got around to digging up the whole tale until now. He joins us on the podcast to discuss his new memoir, Smalltime: A Story of My Family and the Mob.  Go beyond the episode:Russell Shorto’s Smalltime: A Story of My Family and the MobInspired to dig up your own family dirt? Shorto developed an online course called Tell Your Family StoryItching for a history of the big-time mafia? Check out Thoma

The tiny village of Gapun in Papua New Guinea is home to an equally tiny language called Tayap. No more than a few hundred people have lived in Gapun, so no more than a few hundred people have ever spoken this isolate language, unrelated to any other on the planet. Our guest this episode, the anthropologist Don Kulick, has been visiting the village since 1985, at one point living there for 15 months to document the Gapun way of life, eat a lot of sago palm pudding, and study Tayap—which, even when he arrived more than 30 years ago, was dying. Today, only about 40 people speak it, and Kulick predicts that the language will be “stone cold dead” in less than 50 years. How did that happen? Perhaps more importantly, what cultural and economic losses paved the way? The answer might lie in the backward way we’ve been framing language death. This episode originally aired in 2019.Go beyond the episode:Don Kulick’s A Death in the RainforestKulick returned to Gapun one year—proudly bearing a copy of his new diction

As an artist and activist, Betty Yu has spent her career focusing on the community around her: Sunset Park, Brooklyn, where she was born and raised. Whether, as a member of the Chinatown Arts Brigade, engaging art galleries on their role in gentrification, or projecting tenants’ life stories on the sides of buildings slated for redevelopment, Yu’s work has stressed the connection between art and social change. But what happens when Covid-19 makes interacting with your neighbors life-threatening? Yu, who first began turning the camera on her parents’ family life in 2019, joins us on the podcast to talk about getting even more personal in the pandemic. Go beyond the episodeBetty Yu’s website features a selection of film and videos exploring her family historyIn our Winter 2021 issue, we ran a photograph from (Dis)Placed in Sunset Park, an ongoing multimedia installation about urban gentrification, which includes this short video about Yu's own storyIntimate / Distant, an interactive project documenting sev

Giorgio Vasari has been variously called the father of art history, the inventor of artistic biography, and the author of “the Bible of the Italian Renaissance”—a little book called The Lives of the Artists. It’s a touchstone for scholars looking to get a peek at life in Michelangelo’s day, and quite fun, too, depending on whose wildly embellished life you’re reading. Ingrid Rowland joins us on the podcast to tell the story of the man behind the men of the Renaissance that we know so well—and, of course, to gossip a bit about Florentine egos, and even a few naughty monkeys. Visit the episode page for a slideshow of Vasari’s work.Go beyond the episode:Ingrid Rowland and Noah Charney’s The Collector of Lives: Giorgio Vasari and the Invention of ArtPage through a scanned 1568 copy of The Lives of the Artists on Archive.org (beautiful even if you don’t read Italian)Explore the Palazzo Vecchio, which includes dozens of Vasari’s works, on the Google Art Project

The Snow Maiden—not to be confused with the Snow Queen, Snow White, or Frosty the Snow Man—is a popular Slavic folktale about an elderly couple and a miraculous child born from snow. In addition to being a charming story about the passing of seasons, it references a number of folk rituals, from jumping over fires on the summer solstice to mock funerals marking the Yuletide. Philippa Rappoport, a lecturer in Russian culture at George Washington University, explains how folktales and rituals overlap, and reads aloud her own version of this wintry tale. This episode originally aired in 2018.This is our last episode of the year, and we want to hear from you about what you’d like to hear in 2021! If there are any subjects or guests you would especially like to have on the show, send us an email at podcast@theamericanscholar.org. And, of course, help us find more listeners by rating us on iTunes and telling all your friends.Go beyond the episode:Read six versions of “The Snow Maiden,” classified by f

The phrase “Russian spies” conjures up all sorts of Cold War thrills: hidden cameras, dastardly poisons, The Americans, John le Carré. But from the 17th to the 19th century, the best Russian spies were pencil-pushing bureaucrats along the long border with China, as Georgetown historian Gregory Afinogenov argues in his new book, Spies and Scholars. These career apparatchiks succeeded at gathering intelligence on the Qing dynasty from their quotidian positions at diplomatic offices, religious missions, and frontier outposts, though they never seemed to get much credit for their work. The irony is that while the intelligence they shared bought Russia greater prestige among European powers, these encounters with European ideals of intellectualism also radically changed what kind of “intelligence” was considered worthwhile.Go beyond the episode:Gregory Afinogenov’s Spies and Scholars: Chinese Secrets and Imperial Russia’s Quest for World PowerItching to learn Manchu? Check out the Manchu Studies Group, which inclu

The most unusual brains are not the largest, nor the ones that can remember the most digits of the number pi. What fascinates Helen Thomson—a neuroscientist by training, a journalist by trade—are the brains that see auras, feel another’s pain, or play music around the clock. In her new book, Unthinkable, she travels the globe to find out what life is like for these people who perceive a completely different world than she does. How does a man who believes he’s a tiger live in a human community? How can a father who believes that he’s dead go to dinner with his kids? What’s it like to be lost in your own living room? Thomson joins us on the podcast with answers that might teach you something about your own noggin. This episode originally aired in 2018.Go beyond the episode:Helen Thomson’s UnthinkableRead her interview with a dead man—or at least, a man who thinks he’s deadScientific American lists 10 of the biggest ideas

John Baldessari is one of America's best-known conceptual artists, noted for pieces that pushed the boundaries of art, language, and the idea of the image. His 1971 work, I Will Not Make Any More Boring Art, commissioned by the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design in Halifax, Canada, is perhaps his most famous; it was executed long-distance, for the cost of a postage stamp. Sierra Bellows, who wrote about the artist for our Winter 2021 issue, joins us on the podcast to discuss this seminal work as “an emblem of the Covid era”—particularly poignant given that Baldessari died in January 2020, just before the pandemic began.Go beyond the episode:Read Sierra Bellow’s essay, “Long-Distance Punishment,” from our Winter 2021 issueWatch John Baldessari’s 1971 video edition of the piece and the 2012 short film A Brief Introduction to John BaldessariView more of Baldessari’s works on his website, or at MOMARead Calvin Tomkins’s 2010 New Yorker profile of the artistTune in every week to catch interviews with the liveli

A few years ago, Witold Rybczynski, one of The American Scholar's frequent contributors, happened to be coming to town for—of all things—a chair symposium. Not really having considered the chair as more than a functional object, we arranged to meet up at the Smithsonian American Art Museum to track down some classics of global chairmaking. And, of course, to sit in them.Go beyond the episode:Witold Rybczynski’s Now I Sit Me DownOn his blog, Rybczynski reviews quite a lot of chairsWatch a video on the making of Arne Jacobsen’s Series 7 chair from 1955Scope out Mies van der Rohe’s Barcelona chair from 1929 at MOMA, or buy your own for the low, low price of $5507!Tune in every week to catch interviews with the liveliest voices from literature, the arts, sciences, history, and public affairs; reports on cutting-edge works in progress; long-form narratives; and compelling excerpts from new books. Hosted by Stephanie Bastek.Subscribe: iTunes • Feedburner • Stitcher • Google Play&n

Humans have been accompanied by horses for thousands of years. They’ve carried us across the plains, farmed our fields, marched us into battle, fed us, clothed us, soothed us—in short, done so much to make life a little easier. But the horse is tucked away in our history, always present but never quite center stage. Susanna Forrest’s book, The Age of the Horse, puts Equus caballus squarely in the spotlight, from our first encounters to the dazzling array of skills we’ve developed alongside them. This episode originally aired in 2017.Go beyond the episode:Susanna Forrest’s The Age of the HorsePeruse her blog about horse history and newsOur host has definitely read every horse book on this listMove over, Secretariat: the best horse movie of all time is Spirit: Stallion of the Cimmaron (2002)For a dark, dreamy twist on equine friendship, watch Horse Girl (2020), starring Alison BrieTune in every week to catch interviews with the liveliest voices from literature, the arts, sciences, history, and public

Between 1947 and 1956, at least 77 recorded witchcraft trials took place in West Germany. Wonder doctors and faith healers walked the land, offering salvation to the tens of thousands of sick and spiritually ill wartime survivors who flocked to them. People hired exorcists and made pilgrimages to holy sites in search of redemption. The Virgin Mary appeared to these believers thousands of times. Monica Black, a historian at the University of Tennessee, found these stories and many others in newspaper clippings, court records, and other archives of the period that testify to West Germany’s supernatural obsession with ridding itself of evil—and complicate the conventional story of its swift rise from genocidal dictatorship to liberal, consumerist paradise. Black joins us on the podcast to describe the spiritual malaise lurking in the shadows: the unspoken guilt and shame of a country where Nazis still walked free.Go beyond the episode:Monica Black’s A Demon-Haunted LandThere’s a three-part, five-hour documentary

When disaffected teens in East Berlin first heard the Sex Pistols on British military radio in 1977, they couldn’t have known that those radio waves would spark a revolution. In the DDR, or East Germany, everyday life was obsessively planned and oppressively boring. To be punk was to be an individual, someone who wasn’t having any of the state’s rules. That didn’t exactly endear punks to the Stasi, the DDR’s dreaded secret police. Punks lost their jobs and families, were spied on for years by their own friends, had their homes searched and trashed by the police, and were even thrown in prison for dissidence. But every time the state cracked down, the punks only fanned the flames of resistance, ultimately firing up a nationwide, mainstream protest movement. American writer, translator, and former Berlin DJ Tim Mohr joins us on the podcast to tell the story of how punk rock brought down the Wall. This episode originally aired 29 years to the day after it came tumbling down, November 9, 2018.Go beyond the e

About 50 books are known to exist in the world that are allegedly bound in human skin—and it’s possible that there are many more. Believe it or not, these dark books were not made by Nazis, serial killers, or occultists, nor were they churned out in a nightmare factory during the French Revolution. No, they were made mostly by doctors in the 19th century. How and why such books came to be is the subject of Dark Archives, by rare-books specialist and UCLA medical librarian Megan Rosenbloom. She’s one of the founders of the Anthropodermic Book Project, whose team has used a simple protein test called peptide mass fingerprinting to confirm that, as of October 2020, 18 books were bound in human skin. What sort of person would do this? How did they get away with it, and what does this ghoulish practice tell us about the clinical gaze? Megan Rosenbloom joins us on the podcast this week to discuss the history of anthropodermic bibliopegy, the evolution of medical ethics and consent, and the controversial question of

Caitlin Doughty is the death professional behind the Internet’s favorite show about death, Ask a Mortician, and founder of the Order of the Good Death, which works to overcome our culture’s anxiety about dying, grief, and the afterlife. She runs her own funeral home, Undertaking LA, which offers alternatives to traditional, formaldehyde-soaked approaches to burial. In her book From Here to Eternity, she travels the world in search of the good death, from Mexico and North Carolina to Japan and Bolivia, learning about the ways in which other cultures have approached the end of life. We originally spoke to her in 2017, digging in to the subjects of corpse interaction, alternatives to the casket, and what death means to her.Go beyond the episode on our website: https://theamericanscholar.org/in-search-of-the-good-death/Caitlin Doughty’s From Here to EternityCheck out Landis Blair’s illustrations for the book on our episode pageAsk a Mortician all about coffin birth, ghost marriage, and the iconic corpse

Magic has gotten a bad rap for the past few hundred years: in our haste to become rational, logical creatures of the Enlightenment, we’ve disavowed magic of all kinds (and burned a few hundred thousand women as witches along the way). Oxford professor of archaeology Chris Gosden wants to change the way we think about magic, starting with its definition: a connection with the universe that allows us to directly influence its workings. Gosden considers it the oldest and most neglected form of human engagement with the world, wrongly condemned by adherents of science and religion. His new book, Magic: A History, runs from the stones of prehistory to the apps on our smartphones to explore practices on every inhabited continent. What might we learn by considering the sentience of trees, or the connections between the living and the dead? Who is excluded from the hierarchies of religion or science? And might a 21st-century magic lead us to a better response to climate catastrophe?Go beyond the episode:Chris Gosden’

What’s spookier than the Tower of London, home to the ghosts of queens and the rest of Henry the VIII’s enemies? How about the half-dozen black ravens that inhabit it—without which, as legend has it, the Tower will crumble and the kingdom will fall? Since there haven’t been dead bodies littering the Tower Green for centuries, someone has to keep the ravens alive—and that person is the Ravenmaster, Christopher Skaife. As a Yeoman Warder, Skaife is one of the custodians of the Tower’s rich history and traditions, and he joins us to offer a bird’s-eye view of his life among the ravens. This episode originally aired in 2018.Go beyond the episode:Christopher Skaife’s The RavenmasterRead an excerpt about the birds’ daily routineFollow Merlina the raven (with help from the Ravenmaster) on TwitterFor more scary tales, read ex-Yeoman Warder Geoffrey Abott’s book, Ghosts of the Tower of LondonFor photographs that Skaife says “come very close to capturing the true majesty and mystery of the

If you’ve ever made a salad from tender greens picked up from the farmers’ market, slurped an oyster cultivated at a regenerative farm, or sliced into a hearty loaf of rye bread—then raise a glass of California wine to James Beard, the dean of American cooking. For more than 35 years and in nearly two dozen cookbooks, Beard swept aside stuffy imported notions of epicurean haute cuisine on the one hand and processed and freezer food on the other to reveal the real flavors that were available to American cooks: ham from Kentucky hogs, old-world loaves from immigrant bakeries, obscure Washington apples. As John Birdsall writes in the first biography of the chef in more than 25 years, Beard “remembered what food tasted like before supermarkets killed off local butchers and produce stands”—and he spent his whole life trying to share that memory with the public. But while he gave home cooks permission to put pleasure and flavor at the center of the American table, Beard kept his own struggles with self-doubt and hi