As to when the first people populated the American subcontinents is hotly debated. Until recently, the Clovis people, based on evidence found in New Mexico, were thought to have been the first to have arrived, some 13,000 years ago. Yet evidence gathered from other sites suggest the Americas had been settled at least 1,000 years prior to the Clovis. The “Clovis first” idea, nonetheless, was treated as gospel, backed by supporters who, at least initially, outright discounted any claims that suggested precedence by non-Clovis people. While such a stance smacked of fanaticism, proponents did have a solid claim: if the Clovis peoples crossed the Bering Strait 13,000 years ago, only after it had become ice-free, how would a people have been able to make a similar trip but over ice?
A recent school of thought, backed by Weber, provides the following answer: pre-Clovis people reached the Americas by relying on a sophisticated maritime culture, which allowed them to take advantage of refugia, or small areas in which aquatic life flourished. Thus they were able to make the long journey by hugging the coast as far south as to what is today British Columbia. Additionally, they were believed to have fashioned a primitive form of crampon so that they would be able to dock in these refugia and avail themselves of the microfauna. Still, such a theory begs the question as to how such a culture developed.
The Solutrean theory has been influential in answering this question, a fact that may seem paradoxical—and startling—to those familiar with its line of reasoning: the Clovis people were actually Solutreans, an ancient seafaring culture along the Iberian peninsula, who had—astoundingly given the time period—crossed into the Americas via the Atlantic ocean. Could not a similar Siberian culture, if not the pre-Clovis people themselves, have displayed equal nautical sophistication?
Even if one subscribes to this line of reasoning, the “Clovis first” school still have an objection: proponents of a pre-Clovis people rely solely on the Monte Verde site in Chile, a site so far south that its location begs yet another question: What of the 6,000 miles of coastline between the ice corridor and Monte Verde? Besides remains found in a network of caves in Oregon, there has been scant evidence of a pre-Clovis people. Nonetheless, Meade and Pizinsky claim that a propitious geologic accident could account for this discrepancy: Monte Verde was located near a peat bog that essentially fossilized the village. Archaeologists uncovered two wooden stakes, which, at one time, were used in twelve huts. Furthermore, plant species associated with areas 150 miles away were found, suggesting a trade network. These findings indicate that the Clovis may not have been the first to people the Americas, yet more excavation, both in Monte Verde and along the coast, must be conducted in order to determine the extent of pre-Clovis settlements in the Americas.
For much of the 20th century, paleontologists theorized that dinosaurs, like reptiles, were ectothermic, their body temperature regulated externally. These scientists, however, based their conclusions on faulty reasoning, claiming that scaly skin was common to all ectotherms (birds, which are ectothermic, do not have scaly skin) and that the dinosaur’s size could account for ectothermy (some adult dinosaurs weighed as little as ten pounds). Supplanting this theory is an entirely new line of thought: dinosaurs were actually mesothermic, neither warm- nor cold-blooded. By taking this middle ground, some paleontologists maintain that dinosaurs were faster than a similar-sized reptile yet did not require as much food as a similar-sized mammal. To substantiate this theory, paleontologists intend to study how birds, the dinosaur’s closest extant relative, might have at one time been mesothermic.
At the peak of tulip mania in Holland, in March 1637, some single tulip bulbs sold for more than 10 times the annual income of a skilled craftsman. It is generally considered the first recorded speculative bubble. The term “tulip mania” is now often used metaphorically to refer to any large economic bubble (when asset prices deviate from intrinsic values).
The event was popularized in 1841 by British journalist Charles Mackay. According to Mackay, at one point 12 acres of land were offered for a Semper Augustus bulb. Mackay claims that many such investors were ruined by the fall in prices, and Dutch commerce suffered a severe shock. Some modern scholars, however, feel that the mania was not quite as extraordinary as Mackay described. Some even argue that not enough price data remain, historically, to represent an all out tulip bulb bubble.
In her 2007 scholarly analysis Tulipmania, Anne Goldgar states that the phenomenon was limited to “a fairly small group”, and that most accounts from the period are based on a few contemporary pieces of propaganda. While Mackay’s account held that a wide array of society was involved in the tulip trade, Goldgar’s study of archived contracts found that even at its peak the trade in tulips was conducted almost exclusively by merchants and skilled craftsmen who were wealthy, but not members of the nobility. Thus, any economic fallout from the bubble was very limited. Goldgar, who identified many prominent buyers and sellers in the market, found fewer than half a dozen who experienced financial troubles in the time period, and even of these cases it is not clear that tulips were to blame. This is not altogether surprising. Although prices had risen, money had not exchanged hands between buyers and sellers. Thus profits were never realized for sellers; unless sellers had made other purchases on credit in expectation of the profits, the collapse in prices did not cause anyone to lose money.
There is no dispute that prices for tulip bulb contracts rose and then fell in 1636–37, but even a dramatic rise and fall in prices does not necessarily mean that an economic or speculative bubble developed and then burst. For tulip mania to have qualified as an economic bubble, the price of tulip bulbs would need to have become unhinged from the intrinsic value of the bulbs. Modern economists have advanced several possible reasons for why the rise and fall in prices may not have constituted a bubble. For one, the increases of the 1630s corresponded with a lull in the Thirty Years’ War, which occurred between 1618 and 1648. Hence market prices were responding rationally to a rise in demand. However, the fall in prices was faster and more dramatic than the rise, and did not result from a sudden resurgence in the war.
Dickens is so brilliant a stylist, his vision of the world so idiosyncratic and yet so telling, that one might say that his subject is his unique rendering of his subject, in an echo of Rothko’s statement, “The subject of the painting is the painting”—except of course, Dickens’s great subject was nothing so subjective or so exclusionary, but as much of the world as he could render. If Dickens’s prose fiction has “defects”—excesses of melodrama, sentimentality, contrived plots, and manufactured happy endings—these are the defects of his era, which for all his greatness Dickens had not the rebellious spirit to resist; he was at heart a crowd-pleaser, a theatrical entertainer, with no interest in subverting the conventions of the novel as his great successors D.H. Lawrence, James Joyce, and Virginia Woolf would have; nor did he contemplate the subtle and ironic counterminings of human relations in the way of George Eliot and Thomas Hardy, who brought to the English novel an element of nuanced psychological realism not previously explored. Yet among English writers Dickens is, as he once called himself, part-jesting and part-serious, “the inimitable.”
狄更斯是一个十分伟大的文体家，他对世界的理解十分破除传统印象，并且十分生动，以至于一个人可能会说他的主题就是对他的主题的独特渲染，在一个Rothko的陈述的回应中。“绘画的主题是绘画”——当然，除了，狄更斯的伟大主题并不是这么主观和排斥，却很大程度上是对他能描绘的世界。如果说狄更斯的散文小说有什么“缺点”——过度的情节剧，多愁善感，复杂情节，以及人造的欢乐结局——这些他的时代的缺陷，在这样的时代对于他的所有伟大才能，狄更斯没有足够的反叛精神去承受；他内心是一个取悦观众的人，一个戏剧逗乐者，并没有兴趣来颠覆小说传统，像他的伟大的继任者D.H. Lawrence, James Joyce, and Virginia Woolf那样。他也不凝视细小和讽刺性的对于用George Eliot和Thomas Hardy的人类关系将计就计，这两个人将一种细微的之前没有探索过的心理真实感带入英语小说。然而在众多的英语作家中，狄更斯是，像他曾经称呼自己的一样，一半戏谑一半严肃的作家，是“不可效仿的”。
To describe a style as Faulknerian or Beckettian or Nabokovian conjures up a host of literary moods, dispositions, and temperaments that coalesce to form an imprint as distinctive as a genetic code. This imprint, a trace-code of the authorial DNA, is our primary way of distinguishing the focused person who writes from that “bundle of accidents and incoherence that sits down at breakfast,” as Yeats somewhat comically described the writer of prose.
Yet however expert we become in deciphering the authorial code, we can never know the person who writes directly through her writing. This is an odder claim than it may initially appear, when you consider that the writer may divulge the most intimate secrets of her inner life through the very things she chooses to write about and by the way she writes about them. I want to make an even odder claim and insist that the person who writes never appears to us except as a figment of our imagination.
So this is what I am conveying in the case of Virginia Woolf, when I say I am “imagining” Virginia Woolf. I do not mean by this that I am making her up or attributing qualities to her that she may not indeed possess. Quite the opposite. It is Woolf who makes things up, who makes herself up—that is what it means, at a very fundamental level, to have an imagination and to use it in your writing. What I fabricate is an image of her that has slowly formed in my mind—a figment I call it—from the impressions, some more concrete than others, that I collect as I am reading her. This figment of the author may coexist with, but should never be mistaken for, the “figure of the author.” I suspect it matters little to most readers whether the author as a literary figure is dead or alive or temporarily missing in action. On the other hand, the figment, being a subjective creation and not a rhetorical or literary personification, has a different reality and possesses a different importance in the mind of the reader. The figment of the author that attends us in our reading tends to be evanescent, but is never insubstantial in its impact upon us.
It was Woolf who alerted me to the inevitability of these figments, of their power to shadow and ultimately affect our intellectual and emotional relation to what we are reading. The first concrete piece of advice she gives the reader in “How Should One Read a Book?” is to try to become the author, but then, in a reversal that becomes more and more typical of her as she becomes confident in her own opinions that she can afford to qualify and, when necessary, disregard, she admits her inability to follow her own advice.
Most scholarship into the sudden disappearance of the Olmec civilization 2,500 years ago has focused on the change in meteorological conditions favorable to subsistence crops. Much of this research, though, has overlooked the role that changing geography, most notably the course of rivers, played. The Coatzacoalcos River, the main river passing through La Venta, could have had notable tributaries diverted as a result of climate change, leading to not only severe flooding in certain areas, but also to a lack of sufficient water for subsistence crops planted near the erstwhile alluvial plain. Such a view, however, fails to account for the resilience of a people capable of transferring crops and moving settlements as need be. What was more likely responsible for the downfall of the Olmec civilization was internal dissent brought on by ecological change, since a leadership unable to control events was likely to be perceived as weak. Without the central governance needed to adapt crop subsistence patterns, the Olmec likely became a collection of feuding clans and thus within a few generations all but disappeared.
Which of the following, if true, would best undermine the theory the author of the passage provides for the sudden disappearance of the Olmec?
Much of the flooding that resulted came not from any diverted tributaries but by rainfall that intensified over the course of a decade.
Not all the major subsistence crops were planted along the Coatzacoalcos River.
Internal dissent was long offered as a theory for the disappearance of the Mayans, but in recent years there is near unanimous agreement that the disappearance was mostly caused by meteorological phenomenon.
The Olmec split into two groups that warred persistently for several decades before both succumbed to meteorological changes that made settlement of the area virtually impossible.
The Olmec leadership successfully relocated settlements near one of the new tributaries of Coatzacoalcos, yet years of constant flooding precluded the growth of subsistence crops.
Compared to regulations in other countries, those of the United States tend to be narrower in scope, with an emphasis on manufacturing processes and specific categories of pollution, and little or no attention to the many other factors that affect environmental quality. An example is the focus on controlling pollution rather than influencing decisions about processes, raw materials, or products that determine environmental impacts. Regulation in the United States tends to isolate specific aspects of production processes and attempts to control them stringently, which means that some aspects of business are regulated tightly, although sometimes not cost-effectively, while others are ignored. Other countries and several American states have recently made more progress in preventing pollution at its source and considering such issues as product life cycles, packaging waste, and industrial energy efficiency.
Environmental regulation in the United States is also more prescriptive than elsewhere, in the sense of requiring specific actions, with little discretion left to the regulated firm. There also is a great reliance on action-forcing laws and technology standards.
These contrasts are illustrated nicely in a 1974 book that used a hare and tortoise analogy to compare air quality regulation in the United States and Sweden. While the United States (the hare) codified ambitious goals in statutes that drove industry to adopt new technologies under the threat of sanctions, Sweden (the tortoise) used a more collaborative process that stressed results but worked with industry in deciding how to achieve them. In the end air quality results were about the same. Similar results have been found in other comparative analyses of environmental regulation. For example, one study of a multinational firm with operations in the United States and Japan found that pollution levels in both countries were similar, despite generally higher pollution abatement expenditures in the United States. The higher costs observed in the United States thus were due in large part, not to more stringent standards, but to the higher regulatory transaction costs. Because agencies in different countries share information about technologies, best practices, and other issues, the pollution levels found acceptable in different countries tends to be quite similar.
The author of the passage would disagree with which of the following?
Some nations are likely to put more focus on regulating industry than allowing industry a measure of autonomy.
Varying levels of regulation often lead to similar levels of pollution.
There is a complete lack of transparency in the different standards used by countries.
The United States tends to regulate only a few aspects of the overall production process.
Analogies can aptly summarize the primary differences between the environmental practices of two countries.
Keys: 3. 文末提到agencies in different countries share information about technologies, best practices, and other issues|不同国家的机构分享技术的相同信息，最佳实践和其他问题，表明国家间技术标准透明分享，这是作者认同的观点，因此第三个选项a complete lack of transparency|缺乏透明性与作者观点相反。
Sleep-learning experiments are notoriously difficult to conduct. For one thing, one must be sure that the subjects are actually asleep and stay that way during the “lessons.” The most rigorous trials of verbal sleep learning have failed to show any new knowledge taking root. While more and more research has demonstrated the importance of sleep for learning and memory consolidation, none had managed to show actual learning of new information taking place in an adult brain during sleep.
Recently, however, researchers chose to experiment with a type of conditioning that involves exposing subjects to a tone followed by an odor, so that they soon exhibit a similar response to the tone as they would to the odor. The pairing of tones and odors presented several advantages. Neither wakes the sleeper (in fact, certain odors can promote sound sleep), yet the brain processes them and even reacts during slumber. Moreover, the sense of smell holds a unique non-verbal measure that can be observed – namely sniffing. The researchers found that, in the case of smelling, the sleeping brain acts much as it does when awake: We inhale deeply when we smell a pleasant aroma but stop our inhalation short when assaulted by a bad smell. This variation in sniffing could be recorded whether the subjects were asleep or awake. Finally, this type of conditioning, while it may appear to be quite simple, is associated with some higher brain areas – including the hippocampus, which is involved in memory formation.
In the experiments, the subjects slept in a special lab while their sleep state was continuously monitored. As they slept, a tone was played, followed by an odor – either pleasant or unpleasant. Then another tone was played, followed by an odor at the opposite end of the pleasantness scale. Over the course of the night, the associations were partially reinforced, so that the subject was exposed to just the tones as well. The sleeping volunteers reacted to the tones alone as if the associated odor were still present – by either sniffing deeply or taking shallow breaths. The next day, the now awake subjects again heard the tones alone – with no accompanying odor. Although they had no conscious recollection of listening to them during the night, their breathing patterns told a different story. When exposed to tones that had been paired with pleasant odors, they sniffed deeply, while the second tones – those associated with bad smells – provoked short, shallow sniffs.
The team then asked whether this type of learning is tied to a particular phase of sleep. In a second experiment, they divided the sleep cycles into rapid eye movement (REM) and non-REM sleep, and then induced the conditioning during only one phase or the other. Surprisingly, they found that the learned response was more pronounced during the REM phase, but the transfer of the association from sleep to waking was evident only when learning took place during the non-REM phase. The researchers suggest that during REM sleep we may be more open to influence from the stimuli in our surroundings, but so-called “dream amnesia” – which makes us forget most of our dreams – may operate on any conditioning occurring in that stage of sleep. In contrast, non-REM sleep is the phase that is important for memory consolidation, so it might also play a role in this form of sleep-learning.
The US Constitution established both gold and silver as the basis of US currency: that is to say, it established a bimetallic standard for currency. This remained in place for about a century, until the Coinage Act of 1873, which embraced a “gold only” standard, a monometallic standard, effectively dropping silver as the basis of currency. Over the next several decades, advocates of bimetallism and advocates of the “gold only” standard fiercely debated.
The “gold only” advocates, such as William McKinley, argued that shifts in the relative value of the two precious metals could lead to wild fluctuations in the values of currency in a bimetallic system. Early in the United States history, Alexander Hamilton had tried to fix the gold-silver exchange rate by fiat, but of course, such restraints only inhibit the natural development of a free market.
Unemployment was high in the depression caused by the Panic of 1893, and many argued that these economic challenges had been triggered by abandoning bimetallism. One of the more prominent advocates of bimetallism was William Jennings Bryant: indeed, bimetallism was the very center of his presidential campaigns in 1896 and 1900, both of which he lost to McKinley. Bryant articulated the popular view that a “gold only” standard limited the money supply, and thus favored those who were already quite wealthy, against the interests of working people of all professions. He famously expressed this argument in his “Cross of Gold” speech at the 1896 Democratic National Convention, in which he argued that continuing the “gold only” standard would “crucify” the honest laboring classes on a “cross of gold.”
Despite the eloquence of Bryant’s arguments, history strongly favored the “gold-only” standard. The argument that increasing the money supply would lead to greater prosperity strikes us now as naïve: of course, we now understand that increasing the monetary supply can lead to runaway inflation, which hurts everyone. Furthermore, gold did not remain as limited as the advocates of bimetallism imagined. In the 1890s, scientists discovered a cyanide process that allowed workers to extract pure gold from much lower grade ore, thus significantly increasing domestic gold production. Additionally, the discovery of two immense gold deposits in South Africa substantially increased world gold supply. Thus, the “gold only” standard allowed for ample currency, and even robust prosperity in the 1920s, so bimetallism died a quiet death.