iPad’s Writing Kit

Tim Maly has a sketch of a new iPad app, and I wonder if anyone here is using it. Any reports?

Confession: I use an iPad and I carry it in a ClamCase — and I love it though I think the space bar on the keyboard is not as smooth as it could be. When I write on the iPad, which I occasionally do on an airplane, I use Notes. It works as a seamless conversion to MSWord.docx. But, I wonder about this app.

One of the core features and frustrations of Apple’s iPad experience is that you can only use one app at a time. Joanne McNeil once lauded the iPad’s lack of multi-tasking, saying that it was a focus machine. “It’s putting a constraint on me … and my worst multi-tabbing, unfocused habits.” iOS 4 has since introduced multi-tasking, but that’s in the form of allowing apps to stay resident in memory. You can still only look at one thing at a time. This can be a real benefit, but it gets problematic if you are working on a single task that requires more than one tool. EnterWriting Kit by developer Anh Quang Do.

Most iPad writing apps like WriteRoomiA Writer or Daedalus Touch focus on doing one thing well. Often their big selling point is that they are a “distraction-free writing environment,” meaning the only thing you can really do on them is type text into a file. If you write like I do–which is to say: in a constant flow between checking notes, looking things up and typing–none of these work for completing drafts.

 

Perhaps we have the more original English accent

Fascinating report from Mental Floss about the so-called English accent vs. the American accent:

As for the “why,” though, one big factor in the divergence of the accents is rhotacism. The General American accent is rhotic and speakers pronounce the r in words such as hard. The BBC-type British accent is non-rhotic, and speakers don’t pronounce the r, leaving hard sounding more like hahd. Before and during the American Revolution, the English, both in England and in the colonies, mostly spoke with a rhotic accent. We don’t know much more about said accent, though. Various claims about the accents of the Appalachian Mountains, the Outer Banks, the Tidewater region and Virginia’s Tangier Island sounding like an uncorrupted Elizabethan-era English accent have been busted as myths by linguists. …

Around the turn of the 18th 19th century, not long after the revolution, non-rhotic speech took off in southern England, especially among the upper and upper-middle classes. It was a signifier of class and status. This posh accent was standardized as Received Pronunciation and taught widely by pronunciation tutors to people who wanted to learn to speak fashionably. Because the Received Pronunciation accent was regionally “neutral” and easy to understand, it spread across England and the empire through the armed forces, the civil service and, later, the BBC.

Across the pond, many former colonists also adopted and imitated Received Pronunciation to show off their status. This happened especially in the port cities that still had close trading ties with England — Boston, Richmond, Charleston, and Savannah. From the Southeastern coast, the RP sound spread through much of the South along with plantation culture and wealth.

After industrialization and the Civil War and well into the 20th century, political and economic power largely passed from the port cities and cotton regions to the manufacturing hubs of the Mid Atlantic and Midwest — New York, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Cleveland, Chicago, Detroit, etc. The British elite had much less cultural and linguistic influence in these places, which were mostly populated by the Scots-Irish and other settlers from Northern Britain, and rhotic English was still spoken there. As industrialists in these cities became the self-made economic and political elites of the Industrial Era, Received Pronunciation lost its status and fizzled out in the U.S. The prevalent accent in the Rust Belt, though, got dubbed General American and spread across the states just as RP had in Britain.

Once More, With Feeling … (RJS)

Pete Enns has recently published a book The Evolution of Adam: What the Bible Does and Doesn’t Say about Human Origins and this means the inevitable must occur. No, not backlash, name-calling, admiration, or fawning … it is the inescapable cyber-space book tour.  As part of the now normal tour promoting his book Pete published a short column on the Huffington Post yesterday:  Once More, With Feeling: Adam, Evolution and Evangelicals. Before we dig deeper into the book this post brings up some topics worth discussing.

First from the Huffington Post:

Evangelicals have been butting heads with evolution for 150 years. A lot is at stake.

If evolution is right about how humans came to be, then the biblical story of Adam and Eve isn’t. If you believe, as evangelicals do, that God himself is responsible for what’s in the Bible, you have a problem on your hands. Once you open the door to the possibility that God’s version of human origins isn’t what actually happened — well, the dominoes start unraveling down the slippery slope. The next step is uncertainty, chaos and despair about one’s personal faith.

One of the major premises of The Evolution of Adam is that we need to rethink the intent of Genesis in its ancient Near Eastern context.

Since the 19th century, through scads of archaeological discoveries from the ancient world of the Bible, biblical scholars have gotten a pretty good handle on what ancient creation stories were designed to do.

Ancient peoples assumed that somewhere in the distant past, near the beginning of time, the gods made the first humans from scratch — an understandable conclusion to draw. They wrote stories about “the beginning,” however, not to lecture their people on the abstract question “Where do humans come from?” They were storytellers, drawing on cultural traditions, writing about the religious — and often political — beliefs of the people of their own time.

What questions does Genesis 1-3 intend to address?

What is the purpose of the Genesis and the Biblical discussion of origins?

[Read more...]

A Life and Heaven of Holiness

Jonathan Edwards was a Puritan pastor, a theologian — he was a human being enthralled with God and whose deepest yearning was for the beauty of holiness.

I am reading Michael J. McClymond and Gerald R. McDermott’s The Theology of Jonathan Edwards (Oxford, 2011), and want to offer a few observations of their chps that sketch the major elements of that life — including the shape of his intellectual life, his intellectual context, and his spirituality. [I like this book; right pace and crystal clear prose.]

The only son, 10 sisters (all of whom were over 6 feet tall), with a father who was a rigorous pastor (Timothy Edwards) and a grandfather who was more open (Solomon Stoddard), precocious, intelligent, and heir to a spiritual tradition in Connecticutt and then pastor in Northamption Mass. He preached twice every Sunday (Sabbath) and gave a lecture of sorts on Wednesday; he studied constantly (12-14 hrs per day) and meticulously took notes and wrote miscellanies and books. He was an introvert, austere and disciplined. He was absorbed with union with God — the beauty of the Lord and holiness, the utter goodness of God, and absolute harmony of all things under (a sovereign) God. His theology was shaped by debates of his day, most notably with “Arminians” (a term with a wide and wider meaning).

Is Edwards’ spirituality sufficiently shaped by Jesus? Why do the authors have nothing about Edwards’ theology of love (God, others) in this sketch of spirituality? Is it encased in their emphasis on “enjoyment”? Did Edwards overdo holiness at the expense of love?

Puritanism is about an inner cultivation of a God-pleasing spiritual life and a subjection of all things, church and society, to Scripture. Puritanism went through quakes of demand and laxity, and among his predecessors — Stoddard and Timothy — there was a major debate about the half-way covenant. Baptism as a child (they were Calvinists) but the need of a relation for full membership; what of those who had children who had no “relation” or witness to a special experience of grace? Some said their children could be baptized; others said no. His father said No; his grandfather not only said Yes but also permitted open communion (it was a converting grace). Jonathan apparently tightened up from Stoddard’s view toward Timothy’s view – to no small consternation in his church.

Jonathan Edwards was a man in pursuit of God and holiness and longed for a heaven of holiness. [Read more...]