Tuesday, August 22, 2017

The Tufts University To-Do List for the Incoming ''Class of 2021''

The Tufts University To-Do List for the Incoming ''Class of 2021''

Students heading into their first year of college at Tufts this fall this year are mostly 18 and were born in 1999.


  1. They are the last class to be born in the 1900s, the last of the Millennials --  enter next year, on cue, Generation Z! 
  2. They are the first generation for whom a “phone” has been primarily a video game, direction finder, electronic telegraph, and research library.
  1. In college, they will often think of themselves as consumers, who’ve borrowed a lot of money to be there.
  2. .
  3. They have largely grown up in a floppy-less world.
  4. They have just recently heard of the cli-fi genre term coined by a Tufts alum from the Class of 1971.

  5. There have always been emojis to cheer them up.
  6. The Panama Canal has always belonged to Panama but Taiwan is not part of Communist Red China.



  7. They are the first generation to grow up with Watson outperforming Sherlock.                                                                                


  8. In their lifetimes, Blackberry has gone from being a wild fruit to being a communications device to becoming a wild fruit again. 

  9. They may choose to submit a listicle in lieu of an admissions essay.
  10.     

  11. .

  12. Once on campus, they will find that college syllabi, replete with policies about disability, non-discrimination, and learning goals, might be longer than some of their reading assignments.

  13. .
  14. Whatever the subject, there’s always been a blog for it.                         
  15. .
  16. Globalization has always been both a powerful fact of life and a source of incessant protest.
  17. A movie scene longer than two minutes has always seemed like an eternity. 

  18. .
  19. They have only seen a Checker Cab in a museum.


  20. As toddlers, they may have taught their grandparents how to Skype.

  21. .
  22. The BBC has always had a network in the U.S. where they speak American.
  23. .
  24. Wikipedia has steadily gained acceptance by their teachers.



  25. Women have always scaled both sides of Everest and rowed across the Atlantic.


headlines

The story that landed on Arlene Schneider’s desk was a Frugal Traveler column about the bars and clubs of South Beach, Fla., and her job was to write the headline that would appear in print.
Her solution? “Tonight I’m Gonna Party Like It’s $19.99.”

“That one took me no time at all,” said Ms. Schneider, who has spent most of her 18-year tenure at The Times as a copy editor. “It was a gift. I just typed it out.” ]

Readers often assume that reporters write their own headlines. In fact, they rarely do.

Most headlines at The Times, print headlines in particular, are written by editors experienced in the task.

“I think of it as a puzzle,” Ms. Schneider said. “You have to condense the essence of a story into a very finite space, and you’re governed by — well, by a laundry list of rules.”


The guidelines are daunting: Get at the crux of the story, but don’t give away the ending. Use slang sparingly, and always avoid tabloid-like provocation. If a headline runs more than a single line, don’t end a line with a preposition, an adjective or an article (“a” or “the”) — and, while you’re at it, make the lines roughly equal in length. Also, don’t pilfer (“step on”) a savory nugget from the “lede” (the top) or the “kicker” (the bottom) of the story.


(The Times’s style guide offers a colorful elucidation: Obvious wordplay, such as Rubber Industry Bounces Back, “should be tested on a trusted colleague the way mine shaft air is tested on a canary. When no song bursts forth, start rewriting.”)


Instead, The Times aims for something more restrained. And humor, when it surfaces, is often of the wry, witty variety. “Finding the right tone is one of the most important things,” said Sean Ernst, who, as an assistant news editor, often writes headlines, captions and other display type for the printed paper. “It’s a disservice to both the reader and the reporter if a serious news article is accompanied by a headline that’s too flippant. On the other hand, if a story is light or offbeat, you don’t want a headline that’s stiff or boring.” (For an especially cold N.F.L. playoff game, Mr. Ernst penned the following: “49ers Feel Joy, if Not Their Toes.”)
Using a startling quotation can be effective, as can singling out a particularly salient number or fact, said Mark Bulik, a senior editor who writes a weekly in-house report on successful headlines. Personalizing a story can also be helpful, he added.
“But the main things are simply vivid wording, a conversational tone and internal tension,” he said. (“Internal tension,” he explained, “is when two elements of the headline are at odds, creating a mystery that can only be solved by reading further.” An example from a recent business story: “Meet the Shareholders? Not at These Shareholder Meetings.”)
Contextual considerations matter too. “We try to work with the accompanying photos,” Ms. Schneider said, “to make everything fit together as a package.”
The context a printed paper provides is a big part of what separates print headlines from digital ones. Unless an obituary is the top one on a page, for example, its print headline should not state that the subject has died; a reader can infer as much, given where the article appears. Its digital headline, however, invariably includes explicit mention of the death.
Optimizing digital headlines for search results also accounts for differences. Editors try to incorporate key terms, including the names of some people who might be too obscure to land in a print headline.
But the goal for both platforms is the same: headlines that will reach and draw in as many people as possible. And that often requires hard work.
Except, of course, when it doesn’t.
“Many of my memorable headlines simply came to me in a flash,” Ms. Schneider said. “I could have thought all day about them, and it wouldn’t have done me any good at all.”

Hot New Genre Alert: Get to Know 'Cli-Fi'


Hot New Genre Alert: Get to Know 'Cli-Fi'

Hot Genre Alert: Get to Know Climate Fiction

What’s your favorite genre? Memoir? Science fiction? Romance?


What about cli-fi? LINK:cli-fi.net


Oh, you’re kind, but I didn’t sneeze. I said cli-fi. Climate fiction.


The genre crept up on me before I knew it had a name. I had been eating up dystopian novels, like breakout YA series The Hunger Games and critically acclaimed Station Eleven.
Then, after moving to coastal Florida, where rising sea levels due to climate change is daily local news, a kernel of an idea popped in my mind. I told a friend the premise for a story that I couldn’t truly describe as dystopian, but didn’t fit into the supernatural mold of science fiction, either.
That’s when she told me about climate fiction, which the Chicago Review of Books defines as “a genre of literature that imagines the past, present and future effects of climate change.”
I know, it sounds grim. But this genre, which has emerged with some strength in the wake of the 2008 economic crisis, is about emotion over academics. Good climate fiction, it seems, doesn’t have to get bogged down with the science of the reality of a warming earth.
Instead, it focuses on universal feelings of loss and grief, adapting to change or the pull of science versus faith.

Cli-fi: It’s everywhere!

Margaret Atwood is a self-proclaimed cli-fi writer. Barbara Kingsolver’s latest novel, Flight Behavior, is in the genre. Ian McEwan’s got a cli-fi novel, 2010’s Solar.
Climate fiction has even snuck into my headphones, thanks to legendary actor LeVar Burton’s new podcast, Levar Burton Reads. In “What it Means When a Man Falls From the Sky” written by Lesley Nneka Arimah (and excellently told by Burton), Nneoma is a mathematician who can relieve others’ grief caused by the washing away of several continents and the worldwide turmoil that followed it.
Although we get snippets of information about the events relating to the changing climate throughout the story, Arimah provides additional context in this passage:
The girl lowered her eyes to her lap, fighting tears. As though to mock her, she was flanked by a map on the wall, the entire globe splayed out as it had been seventy years ago and as it was now. Most of what had been North America was covered in water and a sea had replaced Europe. Russia was a soaked grave. The only continents unclaimed in whole or in part by the sea were Australia and what was now the United Countries but had once been Africa. The Elimination began after a moment of relative peace, after the French had won the trust of their hosts. The Senegalese newspapers that issued warnings were dismissed as conspiracy rags, rabble-rousers inventing trouble. But then the camps, the raids, and the mysterious illness that wiped out millions. Then the cabinet members murdered in their beds. And the girl had survived it.
It all feels appropriately post-apocalyptic, but ultimately the story focuses on how Arimah’s characters react and adjust to the new world they live in with those they love. There’s not much reflection in the form of nostalgia, but rather analysis of how great change has settled on human shoulders.

Hints of cli-fi also welcome

But you don’t need an entire story packed with global-warming details to dip your toe (OK, maybe not the best metaphor?) into the cli-fi genre.
Take, for instance, the short story “Fulfillment” by Chantal Aida Gordon. Focusing on a woman finding her place in the artificial intelligence industry in a future version of our world where oversharing on social media has long been considered gauche, there’s just a whiff of cli-fi to sets the scene early on:
Some attributed the reversal to the whipping storms, rising sea levels, a hip-height rain rivers that had become a constant in the forecast. Stranded, intoxicated, drowning, their survival rooms washed away, people along the eroding coasts needed to share their locations and desperation.
And then it’s back to protagonist Celine and her relationships with her parents, her coworkers and even Glenn, her personal robot. Gordon provides just enough context to put us in Celine’s world, then moves the plot onward.
I asked Gordon to ask how she would categorize her story, since to me it falls into a captivating gray area. She suggested both sci-fi and the umbrella genre it shares with cli-fi, speculative fiction.

Ready to try a little cli-fi?

Let’s be honest: I’m a cli-fi newbie. But I’m an enthusiastic one, mulling over details to weave into my work in progress that takes place about 15 years beyond the present.
If you’re interest in trying your hand at this genre, here are a few tips, from one newbie to another:
  • Read, read, read. Soak up these wonderful novels. The Chicago Review of Books shares a few titles recommended by the man who coined the term cli-fi, if you’re looking for suggestions beyond the pieces noted above. Dissent Magazine also has a great primer on the genre with recommendations. Let yourself get carried away in the story, but take note of where climate-change elements are the most blatant or subtle.
  • Start with short exercises or scenes. Play with cli-fi in your Morning Pages, as a warmup exercise in your writing group or when you have an idea you haven’t fleshed out. Consider the details you include carefully and why those details would be important — or excessive — for your readers.
  • Don’t overdo it on the science. It’s counterintuitive to throw science out the window when writing about climate change, but remember that you’re not a scientist (unless you’re a scientist and a writer, in which case, you win this round). Don’t fall down a research hole about climate change but forget to develop your characters and plot. You can even write early drafts without the inclusion of specific scientific facts. Write the story first, then supplement scientific gems to support that story later. Remember, cli-fi is speculative fiction! Go ahead and speculate.
Have you noticed the cli-fi writing trend? Would you try writing some of your own, or would you rather read books from this genre?
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Friday, August 18, 2017

High-brow "cli-fi" novel from 2011 set for Hollywood debut in September 2017


As 2017 progresses toward the second half of the year, a new cli-fi movie by Hollywood director Wim Wenders (a native of Germany) is set to debut in September at a famous film festival in Spain. The movie is titled "Submergence" and it's based on a novel of the same name by Irish author J.M. Ledgard. Starring the big Scandinavian star of the moment Alicia Vikander.








The cli-fi novel was first published in the UK in 2011 and later in the USA in 2013, and it was positively reviewed in'' New York" magazine by literary critic Kathryn Schulz. She called the novel "high-brow cli-fi" and said it was the best book she had read in 2013, the year she reviewed the novel.
"With its passages on ocean overfishing, ocean acidification, and climate change, 'Submergence' is partly highbrow cli-fi, an emerging genre of ecological dystopia," she wrote.








Wenders will open the 65th annual San Sebastian Film Festival in Spain with a screening of ''Submergence.'' Wenders and Vikander will travel to Spain to present the film on September 22.
''Submergence'' also stars James McAvoy, with location shooting across Berlin, Madrid, Toledo and multiple locations in France and Djibouti, according to the Hollywood Reporter. The screenplay is by Erin Dignam.

McAvoy and Vikander play their roles as a hydraulic engineer, James More, and a bio-mathematician, Danielle Flinders, who fall in love in a rural hotel in France. After they depart for dangerous missions, it is revealed that More works for the British Secret Service and is taken hostage in Somalia. A cli-fi thriller, this movie packs a punch, according to those who have seen it, and it joins a list of modern cli-fi movies slowly flooding our awareness of the Anthropocene.

Canadian Indigenous history and climate change explored in Stratford's stage play 'The Breathing Hole'

Canadian Indigenous history and climate change explored in Stratford's stage drama 'The Breathing Hole'


Actors Ujarneq Fleischer, left, and Johnny Issaluk rehearse a scene for the The Breathing Hole in Stratford, Ont. on Thursday, June 15, 2017. THE CANADIAN PRESS/Hannah Yoon


STRATFORD, Ont. — Reneltta Arluk wanted to acknowledge the origins of the story told in her Statford Festival production “The Breathing Hole,” so the director took the project to the North.






Consultations and workshops were held with Qaggiavuut, a Nunavut-based performing arts society, to ensure the play was inclusive and reflective of the Inuit community.




“It was tough, to be honest, because it was reconciliation,” said Arluk. “(Colleen Murphy) has written this play with all of these Inuit people in it. And how do you navigate what is authenticity and what is not? And that’s what we went up there to do. … That land has to hear the stories that inspired it.
“When you put Indigenous people onstage, Indigenous people sit in the audience, too,” she added. “And if they feel like something isn’t ringing true it takes them out of the story.”
“The Breathing Hole” centres on the 500-year saga of a polar bear named Angu’juaq, which translates to “a big man” in Inuktitut. Audiences follow Angu’juaq from birth in an Inuit community in 1534 to an encounter in 1832 with English explorer Sir John Franklin and his crew.
The journey continues through to the 21st century, looking at the lives of a biologist and security guard working for an oil company, and a future devastated by global warming.
While Angu’juaq is a focal point, Arluk said both she and Murphy wanted to emphasize the toll drastic environmental change has on individuals.
“One of things that Colleen talks about is that people don’t connect the Arctic to people,” she said.
“It is Inuit that is feeling the impact of climate change because of the gasses, chemicals that go up, because of how pollutants travel to the North. But people will get behind the endangered species of a polar bear rather than really look at how a whole society or a whole community are affected by climate change.”
Inuk actor Johnny Issaluk valued the opportunity to give voice to his community in his theatrical debut.
“It’s pretty much how we lived and where we came from; the storyline of my father, where he came from,” said the Iqaluit-based Issaluk, originally from Chesterfield Inlet on the west coast of Hudson’s Bay.
“Seeing it first-hand and then reading the story — it’s so accurate. … It’s important to showcase where we come from. Not only that, but what’s going on up there in any form or another.”
Miali Buscemi said the opportunities for Indigenous artists to tell their own stories are improving.
“To play a character or to play a person that is Inuk, it is important to me,” said Buscemi, who grew up in Kimmirut on the southernmost tip of Baffin Island.
“It’s only now in recent years that Indigenous actors are playing their own roles because for many years they didn’t, even in film and TV, which is largely what I’ve done from 2007,” she added. “Even there, they always hired other people that looked Indigenous or could pass for Indigenous.”
Arluk said she hopes “The Breathing Hole” will help pave the path for the Indigenous actors within the production to take on new projects.
“That’s something I feel like we can do as part of this Canada 150 reconciliation,” said Arluk. “On another level, I really think that it’s important that our stories get told — and this is just a part of that process.
“Another thing is we have to actually acknowledge our engagement into the environment,” she added. “When you’re having these discussions about climate change, it’s not going to go back — it’s only going to go forward. …
“We have to accept climate change like we have to accept death — and we’re still deniers.”
“The Breathing Hole” will be onstage at Stratford’s Studio Theatre until Sept. 22.

Follow @lauren–larose on Twitter

Thursday, August 17, 2017

A powerful *cli-fi* novel by J.M. Ledgard published in 2011 and in 2013, which was positively reviewed in the New York Mag by Kathryn Schulz is now a cli-fi movie starring big star Alicia Vikander, directed by master director from Germany Wim Wenders.

A powerful *cli-fi* novel by J.M. Ledgard published in 2011 and in 2013, which was positively reviewed  in the New York Mag by Kathryn Schulz is now a cli-fi movie starring big star Alicia Vikander, directed by master director from Germany Wim Wenders.


A powerful *cli-fi* novel by J.M. Ledgard published in 2013, which was positively reviewed here in the New York Mag by Kathryn Schulz is now a cli-fi movie starring big star Alicia Vikander, directed by master director from Germany Wim Wenders.
"With its passages on overfishing, acidification, and climate change, Submergence is partly highbrow ***cli-fi,*** that emerging genre of ecological dystopia." -- NY MAG in 2013
So 4 years later, Wenders will open the 65th San Sebasti...an Film Festival in SPAIN with ''Submergence. ''Wenders and Vikander will travel to Spain to present the film on Sept. 22.
Submergence also stars James McAvoy. Shot across Berlin, Madrid, Toledo and multiple locations in France and Djibouti, the screenplay is by Erin Dignam, and based on the cli-fi novel by J.M. Ledgard.
McAvoy and Vikander play a hydraulic engineer, James More, and a bio-mathematician, Danielle Flinders, who fall in love in a remote hotel in Normandy. After they depart for dangerous missions, it is revealed that More works for the British Secret Service and is taken hostage in Somalia.
BOOK REVIEW from 2013 -- http://www.vulture.com/…/schulz-on-jm-ledgards-submergence.…
LINK: - http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/…/wim-wenders-submergence-…
Submergence, Ledgard’s second novel, came out in England in 2011. But it didn’t appear here until March, when it was published, to inexplicably minimal fanfare, by the small but excellent Coffee House Press. This is why writers have day jobs, and, since 1995, Ledgard has worked for The Economist, where he currently covers war and politics as the East Africa correspondent.


========


Schulz on J.M. Ledgard’s Submergence: The Best Novel I've Read This Year

By
“I can call spirits from the vasty deep,” the Welsh rebel Owen Glendower boasts in Shakespeare’s Henry IV. “Why, so can I, or so can any man,” replies his co-conspirator, Sir Henry Percy, better known as Hotspur. “But will they come when you do call for them?”
In his new book, Submergence, the Scottish writer J. M. Ledgard calls spirits from the vasty deep — the Hadal zone, to be precise, 20,000 feet beneath the surface of the ocean. He calls them from the wadis and salt flats of the Somali desert; from the firelit intimacy of a hotel in winter on the coast of France; and from that deepest, vastiest place of all, the solitary confinement of consciousness. And they do come, all of them — forming, together, the best novel I’ve read so far this year.
The story itself is straightforward. On holiday in France, a man and a woman meet and fall in love. She is Danielle (Danny) Flinders, a biomathematician searching for microbial life in the least hospitable parts of the ocean. He is James More, a British spy posing as a water engineer. Sometime after their seaside idyll — which we only learn about in flashbacks — he is taken hostage by members of Al Qaeda in Somalia. As the book unfolds, Danny, unaware of James’s plight, sets off to explore the hydrothermal vents beneath the North Atlantic. James, meanwhile, is beaten, interrogated, and dragged by his captors from place to place: an improvised prison in Kismayo, a makeshift camp in the Somali badlands, a skiff on the Indian Ocean laden with weapons and the carcasses of sharks, a mangrove swamp where the jihadists hide out from American forces.
As a plot unmoored from its prose, this could be a film treatment for the next Bond movie, or jacket copy for John le Carré. But Ledgard is up to something very different here. The real subject of his book is scale: the vastness of time and space, and the impossibility of squaring either one with our own experience. James works on the human scale: “He was concerned with alleys, beliefs, incendiary devices.” Danny works on the geologic one, “in a part of the Hadal deep whose unlit clock ticked at an incalculably slower speed.” You could put all of Great Britain above her head, Ledgard observes, and its highest peak would not break the water’s surface.
That’s an arresting image, but it is also, figuratively, the problem: What is over our heads is over our heads. As a species, we are terrible at grasping the trans-human scale, a failing that has dire practical consequences. (With its passages on overfishing, acidification, and climate change, Submergence is partly highbrow cli-fi, that emerging genre of ecological dystopia.) But it also provokes an existential paradox. We know that, in the scheme of things, we are insignificant, ephemeral, fated to die. Yet we go on brimming with our own centrality, unable to shake the sense of mattering. Like the real scale of the world, the real scale of the self eludes us. Ledgard, channeling James, puts it concisely: “There were many things he had not properly imagined. Death was one, the ocean was another.”                                
Submergence, Ledgard’s second novel, came out in England in 2011. But it didn’t appear here until March, when it was published, to inexplicably minimal fanfare, by the small but excellent Coffee House Press. This is why writers have day jobs, and, since 1995, Ledgard has worked for The Economist, where he currently covers war and politics as the East Africa correspondent.
That background serves him exceptionally well. For starters, he is wonderful with facts, which drift through the dark waters of this book like epistemological luminescence. We learn that the vertical migration of certain marine creatures is equivalent to birds flying from their nests into outer space. We learn about a species of squid whose two mismatched eyes require it to swim at a 45-degree angle to see out of both. We learn about Sumerian legends, Somali ecology, Finnish painters, the iconography of angels.
And, of course, we learn about the terrorist network in Africa and the Middle East. Ledgard supplies credible details: a Muslim doctor who believes UNICEF is a “cover for the Crusaders,” a suicide bomber whose cell phone shows Ryan Giggs scoring a goal for Manchester United, young recruits “walking for days in jeans and sandals, shouldering their guns like skis.” But Ledgard also has a conscientious reporter’s respect for complexity. James is a sympathetic protagonist but not a hero, and he knows where he stands: neither wholly aligned with nor wholly innocent of England’s history in Africa.
Likewise, the kidnappers do terrible things, but Ledgard neither dehumanizes nor excuses them. At one point, a 14-year-old girl, the victim of a gang rape, is stoned to death in a town square. The well-handled horror of the scene inheres not just in the violence but in its ritualism, which makes the murder almost uneventful. The crowd gathers, the men stack their stones and throw and mostly miss and move in closer, the whole thing passes in an afternoon as might a soccer match or the shadow on a sundial; about suffering they were never wrong, the old masters.
It’s easy to see why Philip Gourevitch, the journalist best known for his work on the Rwandan genocide, has praised this book. I heard echoes of him here, especially in Ledgard’s ability to look steadily yet without voyeurism at violence. Spy novel or not, I heard some Le Carré as well; dread accumulates in Submergence like numbers ticking upward on the depth gauge of a sinking sub. I also heard Anne Carson — her way of drawing humans to scale against time; her precise, world-consuming keening. (“One characteristic of sea creatures is their constant movement,” Ledgard writes. “Not grief, not anything can stop them.”) Above all, I heard W. G. Sebald: his meditative quality, the dreamscape structure of his books, his habit of playing the most traumatic passages in history with the damper pedal down. T. S. Eliot famously claimed that great books retroactively influence their predecessors. After I read Submergence, Sebald’s consummately perambulatory work suddenly struck me as having had something liquescent and underwater about it all along.
But then, after reading this book, everything struck me as somewhat liquescent. Like water, text is a medium, but no other novel this year has left me so immersed. I started Submergence one afternoon, cut short a social event that evening to keep reading, stepped off a train at midnight with twenty pages left, and stood under a light on the platform to finish them.
In those pages, as Danny descends toward the ocean floor, one of her colleagues cuts the lights in their submersible. Out of the darkness, two worlds surge forth — one tiny and fragile, the other immense and ancient: “Everything that belonged to them disappeared, except the light on the switches and on the emergency lever. The water was alive with bioluminescent fish.” It’s a tense scene turned suddenly transcendent.
That, writ large, is the magic trick of this strange, intelligent, gorgeously written book. Ledgard shows us the emergency lighting of our internal universe, and the alien vastness of the outer one. He does not attempt to reconcile them, or to console us about our fate. He doesn’t have to. The one way our minds register scale correctly is through the feeling of awe, and the one consolation of consciousness is our ability to share it. Submergence is a dark book, but in such an unusual sense: Ledgard turns out the lights, and everything, inside and out, begins to glow.
*This article originally appears in the July 8, 2013 issue of New York Magazine.

Tuesday, August 15, 2017

Australian climate change communicators -- scientists, novelists, screenwriters -- see cli-fi TV dramas and movies as ways of facing global warming issues with emotional heft

Australian climate change communicators -- scientists, novelists, screenwriters -- see cli-fi TV dramas and movies as ways of facing global warming issues with emotional heft


http://www.bunburymail.com.au/story/4858318/cli-fi-forum-sees-tv-drama-as-one-solution-to-global-warming/?cs=36




Adriana Verges




  1. Garry Maddox已認證帳戶 @gmaddox 2 小時前

  1. 2 個喜歡



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    1. Great Idea! We all need to find ways of getting the message of Climate Change spread widely. The cli-fi revolution
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    1. Great 'thinking outside the box' from colleague Adriana Verges.
    1.  BRAVO! see cli-fi.net          

    1. Garry, great piece in smh on cli-fi forum ideas for TV dramas, movies.    
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