Do you know the Brief Insights series of books? It’s similar to the Very Short Introductions series, in which a broad topic is covered in one concise, well-written volume. The many titles are as far-ranging as Kafka, Music, Existentialism, Literary Theory, Relativity, Statistics, and Modern China. Recently I read the volume Postmodernism, by Christopher Butler, an Oxford University English professor. In this book, Butler explains postmodernism’s roots in the works of Derrida, Foucault, and Barthes, as well as its rise in the context of the avant-garde. Butler explores postmodern expressions in politics, visual arts, literature, architecture, and music, showing how postmodernism has broadened our cultural tolerance and opened doors of pluralistic expression. But he also discusses postmodernism’s failure as a tool for democratic negotiation, as well as its opposition toward humanistic concepts of individual agency and responsibility. More...

In August my wife and I went to see the rock band Rush in concert in Salt Lake City. For forty years Geddy Lee, Alex Lifeson, and Neil Peart have been making records and touring the world. Now in their late fifties, they played as well—or better—than ever. The concert, held in the outdoor Usana Amphitheater, drew middle-aged fans, teens with their parents, and one couple, I noticed, who clearly looked to be in their sixties. The band put on a great performance lasting nearly three hours, without an opening act. It was quite a night.

Few people are neutral about the music of Rush. Folks either love them or hate them. As I stood in the crowd, singing along with Geddy, I was struck more than ever by the peculiarity of the life’s work of three nerdy guys from Canada. Geddy’s high voice rings out as he sings Neil’s lyrics—some of the most meaningful lyrics in the rock canon. Geddy plays his bass and Alex plays guitar, while both of them enrich their sound with the occasional use of keyboards and pedal synthesizers. Meanwhile, Neil leans into his massive drum set, hammering away like a mad scientist. These guys are truly a singular phenomenon in the history of music, with a sound of their own. People don’t mistake other bands for Rush. And this is one of the things that makes them great—their unapologetic insistence on being themselves. Simply put, they’re a lesson in authenticity. More...

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A few weeks ago, a family member asked me a question. “Okay,” she said, “tell me one more time … what you mean when you say literary?” She admitted that she’d once thought the word was only used by certain people to assert their superiority over others. “Are there actual standards?” she asked.

How would you have answered? More...

In 1964 The Rolling Stones had a hit with the song “Time is on my Side.” You know the tune. In the lyrics, the speaker talks about a girl who’s playing the field. He says, “You’re searching for good times, but just wait and see. You’ll come running back to me.” The stance of the speaker is patience, confidence. Okay, maybe some male arrogance, too. The lyrics make me think about the relationship of the writer to the muse. The writer is a lover who can choose to desperately chase the muse … or wait for her. Patience is the best approach. Kenneth Atchity says as much in his book A Writer’s Time. Too many writers wait for the muse to begin to write. But Atchity says “she is the last person you want to depend on”: “If you write only when she beckons, your writing is not yours at all. If you write according to your own schedule, she’ll shun you at first, but eventually she won’t be able to stay away from your workshop.” More...