including links to videos, an interview, a concordance, etc
Thanks for Noticing: The Interpretation of Desire
Congratulations on creating a masterpiece!
I read your book with increasing wonder and appreciation. It is better than therapy, as it analyzes sexual-spiritual yearning more thoroughly than any of the therapists with whom I tried to discuss this persistent, insistent, overwhelming issue in my early adult life (age 16 to 45).
In fact, therapists actually refused to directly discuss the topic. Instead they would redirect my focus to what they considered to be "reality."
During those years I had been writing poetry, but after therapy I ceased to do so as I felt it was too self-indulgent. In fact the last line of my last poem was this question: "is poetry sublime or merely masturbation of the mind?"
Thank you for your inspiration and courage!
--With permission, withholding name
Greater Kansas City area
Enjoyed the you tube link.....very nice and professionally done. Congrats!!
Kansas City, MO
The footnotes are themselves worth the price of the book! And they are on the same page as the sonnet so you don't have to fumble in the back of the book looking for them.
Is the earth 6,000 years old? Or is it 10,000? Who cares facts? A talking snake in the Garden of Eden? Who cares facts? My friends tell me that the Bible is the truth, the actual truth. But who cares facts? Evolution true? Global warming real? Irrelevant. Who cares facts? Thinking of stepping on ice that is a quarter of an inch thick? You might care facts. The Incans, Aztecs, Mayans and others engaged in sacred, ritual sacrifice of human beings, including children, as part of their faith that such acts would insure the fertility of the crops, ward off evil, and nourish and propitiate the gods, among other things. (You have stated in your commentary that worship is the enactment of myth, and ritual is a form of sacred play. Some kind of sacred play here!) But such worship cannot fail. And the Inquisition? Thousands of heretics burned at the stake to rid the world of evil. (Worship cannot fail.) For the sake of one Truth? One Truth with a capital T is not postmodern, but fundamentalist. I have a friend and I have relatives who believe that I am going to hell. They worship a God that is going to send me there. Their worship cannot fail? Really? It would be hard to find a question more absurd or dangerous than the last line of this sonnet.
I appreciate the beauty and sensuality of the piece. Descriptions are specific and clear. I find them exciting. I am there.
As a person who identifies as atheist, I reject what feels to me a need/desire for some diety's approval. I believe I understand the author's intent to blend the sexual with the divine, and in that sense, the objective is met. I, personally, stand with the men in the joy of their sexuality aside from a diety. Celebrate it! It's wonderful!
Vern, I was touched by #101. Yes, we are all against sex trafficking and the ugly side of the exploitation of women. But I know that for many men, perhaps women, too, for whom there is great loneliness in not being able to have a partner or connect intimately with another human being.
More important than just sex is to be able to have a conversation with another person, even if you pay for it. I see one of our important ministries the will to engage those who have no one to love or care for them. Particularly elderly men with no close family or little in the way of friends.
I've always believed that, when you walk into an elevator, a kind greeting to the other person standing there may be the only time that day someone spoke to them. You just never know.
--With permission, withholding name
Kansas City, MO
Thanks for Noticing: The Interpretation of Desire
"Vern Barnet is to sonnets what Robert Mapplethorpe is to photography."
PEEKING AT THE SECOND EDITION
Comments on selections before publication
Jump to the comment by Patrick Neas on this sonnet:
54. Barcelona: Scrawl
Renunciation is not enough. You must act.
Yet action mustn’t dominate you. In the heart of action,
you must remain free from all attachment.
They told me to take a street-car named Desire, . . .
and ride six blocks and get off at—Elysian Fields!
Desire actually started across the street . . .
to hear what Love might have to say.
YOU agonize and call me Krishna; walk
three times Las Ramblas and decide to yield
to rouge. Or pride in not. Your choice, such talk,
such sin, such vision of the battlefield!
Then humble when you held me late that night
in my pure yearning bed I now recall,
when in us trust and sleep could reunite,
field’s rounded rest, now feint in this traced scrawl:
Like Gaudí’s spires, this troth erects your touch
above the ground, though of the ground, the field
of faith. I quivered in your sky-filled clutch.
and wondered how it happened you were healed.
O Fields of Being, O Grounds of Praise,
O Arrows of Desire, make dance each phrase.
The EPIGRAPH is from Peter Brook’s production of the Hindu epic, the Mahabharata, of which the Bhagavad Gita is the famous scripture in which Krishna as god advises Arjuna entering the field of battle. E2: from the Tennessee Williams 1947 play, A Streetcar Named Desire, Act 1. E3: from James Baldwin’s 1983? “Guilt, Desire, and Love.” Gaudí designed Sagrada Familia basilica, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, in Barcelona. Under construction since 1882, the spires were, I found in 1994, terrifying to ascend. Theologian Paul Tillich called God the ground of being; see his 1951 Systematic Theology, v1, p238. A remote physical analogy is the Higgs field which gives mass to fermions. Las Ramblas is a Barcelona district of temptations where rouge cosmetics suggests prostitution. Feint/faint: feint means sham; faint means faded, timorous, unfounded, or a swoon. Sin: In Puccini’s La fanciulla del West, Minnie declares una suprema verità d’amore: fratelli, non v’è al mondo peccatore cui non s'apra una via di redenzione! — “a supreme truth of love: brothers, there is no sinner in the world to whom a path of redemption does not open!" Quiver is a pun. Arrows of Desire: from the Preface to William Blake’s 1804 Milton, often called “Jerusalem,” sung as a patriotic hymn written in 1916 by Anglican Hubert Parry. Also think of the arrow in Bernini’s St Teresa.
COMMENT ON 54. Barcelona: Scrawl
The Glory of the Gita, Gaudí and God
Vern Barnet, who has expanded my mind in so many ways over the years, has been especially enlightening when it comes to the concepts of NeoBaroque and Postmodernism. Vern’s collection of sonnets, Thanks for Noticing: The Interpretation of Desire,
My reading of Postmodern philosophy is limited, and my knowledge of its concepts is very basic. My impression is that it is skeptical of accepted truths and of the distinctions between so-called high and low art. Michael Daugherty’s Metropolis Symphony, which depicts various episodes in Superman’s life, seems to me to be a Postmodern work, with its combination of lowbrow comic strip and highbrow symphony.
I thought that Postmodernism doesn’t make judgments about works of art; but when I asked Vern about this, he said this is incorrect.
“Postmodernists are willing to make judgments, but they always say these judgments are not free of cultural prejudice or disposition,” Vern told me. “And the difference between the Postmodernist and the Modernist is that the modernist thinks that you can make a judgment free of cultural predisposition.”
The way Vern sets so many disparate cultural references side by side in prolific footnotes strikes me as Postmodern, but Vern disagrees.
“I think that's just modern,” he said. “Think about T.S. Elliot, who's certainly a Modernist. In 'The Wasteland,' his early poem of fame, he draws upon all sorts of things, Greek, Latin, German, Sanskrit. But he's definitely a Modernist. So Modernists are not always bad guys. Modernists do recognize diversity.”
The first thing that comes to mind when I think of NeoBaroque is Stravinsky’s ballet Pulcinella, which is his Modernist arrangement of music by various Italian Baroque composers. I think of NeoBaroque as being ornamental and curlicue in matters of design and thought, like the films of Federico Fellini or the writing of Jorge Luis Borges.
Likewise, the lavish and engrossing footnotes which Vern provides for Thanks for Noticing have a baroque extravagance.
“The elaborate apparatus of epigraphs and glosses could easily be considered rather dense ornamentation of the sonnet itself,” Vern pointed out. “Shakespeare, a Renaissance writer, displays characteristics of the Baroque. He sometimes ornaments his sonnets with the repetition of a word in various forms in each part of the sonnet, each of the three quatrains and the couplet. This sonnet of mine plays with various forms of the word field within the same four-part placement: battlefield, field's, field, Fields. Part of the pleasure of NeoBaroque art is discovering such repetitions."
The role of the viewer is important in both PostModernism and NeoBaroque, as in Thanks for Noticing.
“My sonnets, like many poems, require the reader's engagement to construct the reader's own experience and interpretation; but unlike many poems, the demands (or various opportunities) I make are extraordinary in their complexity,” Vern said.
For a trivia hound like myself who loves going down Wikipedia rabbit holes, Vern’s footnotes are a veritable treasure trove. He says the notes and epigraphs are meant to be like the program notes at a classical concert, which help set the music in historical context and shed light on its composition.
“Reading one of these sonnets is like meeting a stranger with a friend,” Vern says. “If you want, you can skip the friend's introduction, the epigraphs, and meet the stranger directly by speaking the sonnet aloud. But if you want to know the stranger's background, consider the notes and the glosses that follow. There are people who have read my stuff and like to read the notes first, which is sort of getting a bio before you meet the new person.”
The notes for all of Vern’s sonnets are replete with wide-ranging cultural references. For "Barcelona: Scrawl," the notes reference Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia basilica, the Bhagavad Gita, a Tennessee Williams play, and an opera by Puccini. If, as Vern says, this is an introduction to a new friend, it is a highly cultured and spiritual friend.
The sonnet opens with three epigraphs, the first a quotation from the Bhaghavad Gita about renunciation. They are words that the charioteer Lord Krishna spoke to Pandava Prince Arjuna on the battlefield just as the Kurukshetra war between the Pandavas and Kauravas was about to break out.
“The advice that Krishna gives Arjuna is to act without attachment to the fruit of the act,” Vern says. “And what that means is that all we can do is what is set before us, given the circumstances, to do our duty, but not worry about the consequences. And the reason that's important is we never can know what the ultimate consequences of what we do is going to be anyhow. We're not in ultimate control. Krishna or God or the universe is ultimately going to determine that; we do not bear the weight of the universe on our shoulders. All we can do is the best we can do.”
For Vern, as for me, the other highlight of the Gita is when Prince Arjuna requests that Krishna allow him to see Krishna’s universal form as the cosmic universe.
“Arjuna receives a manifestation of the full nature of Krishna,” Vern said. “And there's this awe inspiring -- one might even say horrible -- revelation of the way the universe works, which includes the horrors of wars and disasters as well as the delights of love and beauty. All of that is part of the universe.”
Vern says that this God is a revelation of the universe and the way things work, and that's very unlike the Western notion of an all-loving God.
“This revelation is both beautiful, awesome, and horrible,” Vern says. “And learning to accept that, and loving the opportunity to be alive in all of its agony and bliss makes for a full life of affirmation.”
It’s curious, and maybe even a little jarring that "Barcelona" Vern opens with one of the most important Hindu scriptures, but then the second epigraph is taken from A Streetcar Named Desire, Tennessee Williams’ steamy play about Blanche DuBois and Stanley Kowalski. Also injecting a note of eroticism is the reference to Las Ramblas (La Rambla in Catalan), Barcelona’s most important thoroughfare filled with shops and religious institutions, but near the harbor end of the street, a red light district.
“So you have this place of sexual temptation in one part of the city and in another part of the city, you have this world heritage site of Sagrada Familia,” Vern said. “You have a tremendous contrast in Barcelona and that feeds into the background for the sonnet. I think some people, especially with the reference to Las Ramblas (La Rambla in Catalan) and the contrast with the sweetness of the experience of the companions together in bed, might see it as a contest between temptation of sexual attraction with a love imbued with a kind of transcendent loyalty.”
The third epigram, from James Baldwin, makes this match between desire and love explicit.
Vern has structured Thanks for Noticing after the liturgy of the Mass. "Barcelona," which Vern calls a “sonnet of bliss,” is, appropriately, in the Gloria section of the book. Although "Barcelona" seems to be based on personal experience, Vern says the sonnet does not necessarily depict an actual event.
“In my view, poetry is a revelation of an experience, not a news report,” Vern says. “So this is not a literal transcription of an event. It's more important for the poem to expose something transcendent rather than to record an incident. I'm not just fudging, I’m staking out a principle of interpreting poetry.”
Whether referencing the Gita, Tennessee Williams, or Baldwin, or causing us to ponder our place in the cosmos, Thanks for Noticing has a mind-blowing richness that, like the best writing, will reward rereading and contemplation.
A Bio for Patrick Neas is pending.
Jump to the comment by David Nelson on this sonnet:
Haec enim omnia signa carnis, quae a terra sumta est,
quam in se recapitulatus est, suum plasma salvans.
YOU chose the bench with me to worship Him
this Advent Sunday, readying our souls
for His new birth; we venture on time’s rim,
our thews made free by ancient swaddled scrolls.
You grasped my hand and valid held it strong;
then to the rail we went and supped with Christ,
the sacred feast that makes all sorrow song
when to His table we are thus enticed.
In skin he vests: God comes to us on earth,
as He was born a mortal like us two.
A stable was His place of sated birth;
a tree makes art, this tract of troth, the pew.
What is beyond mere plat and plot is thus —
the Mass begets his humble flesh in us.
The Irenaeus (130?-202) EPIGRAPH is from “Adversus Haereses” (Against the Heresies), 3:22:2: “For all these are tokens of the flesh which have been derived from the earth, which he had epitomized in Himself, disposing salvation to his own handiwork.” Advent Sunday is the first Sunday of the Christian liturgical season of preparation for Christmas, the nativity of Jesus. Bench is another word for pew, usually made of wood, as was the cross, the tree on which Jesus was sacrificed. Communion may be received at a rail after bread and wine become the sacrament of the body and blood of Jesus the Christ through their consecration on the holy table. “At the end of the Twelfth Century a Latin theologian, Berengarius of Tours, was condemned for his teaching on the Eucharist. He maintained that because the presence of Christ in the Eucharist elements is ‘mystical’ or ‘symbolic,’ it is not real. The Lateran Council . . . condemned him and . . . simply reversed the formula. It proclaimed that since Christ’s presence in the Eucharist is real, it is not ‘mystical.’ . . . Western theology thus declared that . . . [the] ‘mystical’ or ‘symbolic’ is not real, whereas . . . [the] ‘real’ is not symbolic. This was . . . the collapse of the fundamental Christian mysterion, the antinomical ‘holding together’ of the reality of the symbol and of the symbolism of reality, . . . a collapse of . . . Christian . . . ontological sacramentality.” —Alexander Schmemann, 1963/1973 For the Life of the World: Sacraments and Orthodoxy, p128-129. Alas, then, for those like Wittgenstein who, during the war, “saw consecrated bread being carried in chromium steel. This struck him as ludicrous.” —Lectures & Conversations on Aesthetics, Psychology, and Religious Belief (n.d., LCCN 66-19347), p53. Vests: A priest, sometimes regarded as an image of Christ, wears vestments. Thews means muscle or sinew, hence bodily strenth. Art: “No one is more tiresome than the person who can . . . never . . . believe anything . . . unless it appears to be real. One must be willing to allow that symbolic things also mirror realities . . . .” —Aaron Copeland, 1939/2011 What to Listen for in Music, p179.
COMMENT on 78. Advent: What is Real?
Advent has always been a day and a season when my imagination kicks into high gear. As a child it had more to do with hanging stockings and wrapping presents to place under a decorated tree in the living room. Becoming a student of theology I learned a deeper meaning of waiting and celebrating the wonders of incarnation. My intellectual understanding continues to change as the years add up, but the gift and wonder of imagination never wanes. Next Advent, as a senior citizen, I want to be more like that child and allow my imagination to soar. Imagination is the ability to create mental images, concepts, and ideas that are not present in our immediate sensory experiences. It allows me to visualize possibilities beyond what is currently known or understood. Advent someday, as I am led or supported toward the altar rail to taste the bread and drink the wine, may allow me to ignore arguments about “real presence”, “sacrament or symbol”, “mystical or real” and look into the Eucharistic mirror and see the Sacred wink back at me. --The Reverend Dr David E Nelson
Jump to Anton Jacob's comment on this sonnet:
84. Postmodern Faith: What is Truth?
My God, is this a dagger that I see?
Am I observing actors in a play?
Is this a dream or film of tragedy?
or just computer games where I’m to slay
with it? Perhaps I’m high on LSD
or wearing VR glasses that display
an archetype if not a snickersnee.
Is this getik, menok, or Judgment Day?
Oh no, no dagger but Christ’s cross, that tree
which bares illusions in one Truth, one Yea!
It tears and it repairs reality
and wakes us to attend and watch and pray.
I know the Gospel is a pious tale,
but who grabs facts when worship cannot fail?
Pilate put the question to Jesus; John 18:38. Perhaps anticipated by the ancient Jain teaching of anekantavada, the doctrine of multiple viewpoints, Jean-François Lyotard described Postmodernism as “incredulity toward meta-narratives” such as theological systems or myths regarded as literal reality. In the 1957 Opus Posthumous: Poems, Plays, Prose, p163, Wallace Stevens wrote, “The final belief is to believe in a fiction, which you know to be a fiction, there being nothing else. The exquisite truth is to know that it is a fiction, and that you believe it willingly.” W H Auden wrote, “It is as meaningless to ask whether one believes or disbelieves in Aphrodite or Ares as to ask whether one believes in a character in a novel; one can only say that one finds them true or untrue to life. To believe in Aphrodite and Ares merely means that one believes that the poetic myths about them do justice to the forces of sex and aggression as human beings experience them in nature and in their own lives.” The client following a therapist’s suggestion to “place your father in this chair and tell him how you feel” may appear little different from one who prays. Religion is more about commitment than certainty. Perhaps Vico (1710) anticipated Postmodernism with his Verum factum principle: truth is not observed; it is constructed. The first line derives from Shakespeare’s Macbeth, 2, 1, “Is this a dagger which I see before me?” An exquisite example of the problem of distinguishing dream from reality is portrayed in the Illustration to the Second Prose Poem on the Red Cliff by Qiao Zhongchang (Northern Song Dynasty, 960-1127) at the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art in Kansas City, MO. LSD is a psychedelic or entheogenic drug. VR is Virtual Reality. Key terms from pre-Islamic Iranian thought reinterpreted in the epistemology of Suhrawardi (1155-1191), “Sheikh al-Ishraq,” the Master of Illumination, are getik (the ordinary world) and menok (a heavenly realm, perhaps akin to Plato’s realm of forms, or archetypes as in the New Testament’s Hebrews). Judgment Day cf «Love Locket». The Christian Gospel includes the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus the Christ, a figure paralleled in other religious traditions. A snickersnee is a large knife that can be used for fighting. Tree: cf «Barren Golgotha». Facts: “We are poor passing facts” —Robert Lowell, “Epilogue,” Day by Day, 1977. Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1817 Biographia Literaria, XVI: wrote of the “willing suspension of disbelief for the moment, which constitutes poetic faith.” This sonnet uses only three end-rimes.
COMMENT on 84. Postmodern Faith: What is Truth?
On Knives: Vern Barnet’s ‘Postmodern Faith: What is Truth?’
Knives…. Dr. Vern Barnet’s sonnet titled, “Postmodern Faith: What is Truth?” plays with metaphors of the knife. It begins with a quote from Shakespeare’s Macbeth, “My God, 'is this a dagger that I see?'” Raising questions pertinent to perception and conception, from LSD to VR (that might mirror archetypes), Barnet wonders if a snickersnee is displayed. Towards the conclusion of the sonnet, he takes us to “Christ’s cross” as no dagger but nevertheless as an instrument that “tears and…repairs reality,” thus waking “us to attend and watch and pray.”
Every seeing is a seeing from some angle, and for human becomings, that is always and unavoidably conditioned by time and place in history and culture. One of postmodernism’s patron saints is Friedrich Nietzsche (Cahoone calls him “the godfather of postmodernism”), who argued that there are no facts, only interpretations, and that perspectivism is the only way to see. “Henceforth, my dear philosophers,” writes Nietzsche, “let us be on guard against the dangerous old conceptual fiction that posited a ‘pure, will-less, painless, timeless knowing subject’; let us guard against the snares of such contradictory concepts as ‘pure reason,’ ‘absolute spirituality,’ ‘knowledge in itself’: these always demand that we should think of an eye that is completely unthinkable, an eye turned in no particular direction, in which the active and interpreting forces, through which alone seeing becomes seeing something, are supposed to be lacking; these always demand of the eye an absurdity and a nonsense.” When we seek to freeze life in this manner, argues Nietzsche, it is a type of revenge on life.
In other words, the quest for the one, pure, objective, correct, absolute, incontestable truth—metanarrative––a quest characterizing the history of much of Western philosophy, religion, and more—is a fool’s quest. Lyotard’s concern reflected the historical atrocities, which social critics from the Frankfurt School to postmodern thinkers saw as culturally rooted in the West’s drive for the one perfect, timeless, and unchallengeable truth, a drive that went on secular steroids during and after the Enlightenment in dialectical relationship with the priorities of capitalism’s instrumental reason. As Lyotard states, “The nineteenth and twentieth centuries have given us as much terror as we can take. We have paid a high enough price for the nostalgia of the whole and the one, for the reconciliation of the concept and the sensible, of the transparent and the communicable experience.” As I have written elsewhere, “Postmodernism is a highly varied movement of the last sixty years that promotes the idea that all human knowledge is relative to its historical and cultural context, and that modernism’s attempts to find the one true and rational blueprint for organizing human life has been misguided and contributed to some of the horrors of the twentieth century.”
If I understand the argument of Max Horkheimer and Theodor Adorno, the dialectic of Enlightenment on the cultural level between secular reason, on the one hand, and religious faith and mythology, on the other, resulted in the demise of religious mythology and its bastardization into fundamentalism and consequently to the disenchantment of life, the world, and the universe. However, that very triumph of Enlightenment reason in service to the alienating structures of bourgeois priorities resulted in a new mythological faith with a legitimation of domination and alienation. This has resulted in a dehumanizing world in which individuals measure themselves according to their monetary worth, while feeling controlled by powers of which no one appears in charge. Among the results are increased vulnerability to the resentments thereof which make fertile ground for fascism.
Another intellectual development of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries with some likeness to postmodernism was carried, primarily first, by the pioneer anthropologists and then deeply cultivated by what I’d call the metamythologists. These are the likes of Mircea Eliade, Joseph Campbell, Alan Watts, William Irwin Thompson, to a lesser extent Carl Jung and followers, and many others. Their cross-cultural investigations and correlations of humanity’s mythologies have helped us get away from the narrow and sometimes violent provincialisms and dogmatisms of so much of the world’s religions to appreciate the challenging and liberating aspects of nature’s and culture’s marks of transcendence. “An experience of transcendence has always been part of the human experience,” writes Karen Armstrong, and she echoes Campbell when she writes, “A myth…is true because it is effective, not because it gives us factual information.” In a footnote for a different sonnet, Barnet writes that “a myth is a story that reveals the nature and structure of sacred reality.” It might not be wrong to suggest that the metamythologists and postmodernists, each in their way in their respective venues in modernity’s alienated cultural segmentations, have been doing much the same thing. They have sought to contribute to the liberation of souls and bodies from the unnecessary spiritual and material brutalities of the societies of human becomings. These are not minor objectives.
Barnet has fruitfully mined the canons of the metamythologists, whom he cites regularly, even having studied under Eliade. They serve him well for his, if you will, sonnetical remythologizing of human desire, including its erotic and mystical drives that, I think he suggests and, if so, I agree, cannot be separated. They come to us as two-edged swords, though, as mystics and lovers have always discovered. The ecstasies of human love and of mystical union are always shadowed by their opposites—whatever you want to call them at any given time—heartbreak, tragedy, loss, alienation, dark night, fear, anxiety, terror. Which brings us back to the dagger of Christ’s cross. “Indeed,” writes the unknown author of the Christian epistle to the Hebrews, “the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” At their best, so it seems to me, that is the project of the metamythologists and postmodernists alike. They exegete and deconstruct and interrogate to tear and repair human existence and open up to us the authentic realities of the thoughts and intentions of our hearts; and, perhaps, in the process, alongside the Gospel’s “pious tale,” waking “us to attend and watch and pray.”
The cornerstone, still, of any discussion of postmodernism, and which Barnet cites in a footnote, is Jean-François Lyotard’s statement, “Simplifying to the extreme, I define postmodernism as incredulity toward metanarratives.” However, the common core of postmodern sentiment is the insight that there really is no escape from an angle of seeing. Ironically or paradoxically, this insight at the center of postmodern thought is true of postmodernism itself. Defining postmodernism is near impossible, which the leading postmodern advocates acknowledge and probably embrace. Postmodernism is “contested terrain between moderate and extreme postmodernists,” notes Stephen Best and Douglas Kellner, referring to complete ultraskeptics and relativists, on the one hand, and, on the other, to those still in pursuit of constructs on which to do philosophy and social critique in light of that understanding that we cannot stand nowhere. Simply stated, there is no ultimately objective and infallible blueprint that can be imposed on reality or society without violence and atrocity.
Armstrong, Karen. A Short History of Myth. Edinburgh: Canongate, 2005.
Barnet, Vern. Thanks for Noticing: The Interpretation of
Desire. Kansas City, MO:
Best, Steven, and
Douglas Kellner. The Postmodern Turn. New York & London:
ed. From Modernism to Postmodernism.
and Theodor W. Adorno. Dialectic of
Jacobs, Anton K. “Postmodernism.”
In The Sage Encyclopedia of the Sociology
of Religion, vol. 2. Edited by Adam Possamai and Anthony J. Blasi, 598-599.
The Postmodern Condition: A Report on
Twilight of the Idols and The Anti-Christ. Translated by
On the Genealogy of Morals. Translated by Walter Kaufmann
The Will to Power. Translated by Walter Kaufmann and
Henry Regnery Co., 1973.
--Anton K. Jacobs, Ph.D., Instructor, Kansas City Art Institute
Author of Religion and the Critical Mind; My Country, My Faith, & Me; and a few other things.