'...discusses virtually all the musical writings which figure in this tome of the Oeuvres completes and may even be read as a companion volume, providing a key to the understanding of its various texts...O'Dea's vividly textured and finely nuanced reading of Rousseau's musical imagination plainly does complement the Pleiade collection in two striking ways...it offers a general interpretation of the place of the philosophy of music in Rousseau's thought that is addressed to concepts which flit in and out of particular works, articulated in a voice whose clarity of tone is unmatched by a chorus of editors. Second, it pursues its case across a range of texts spread far beyond the limits of any collection of Rousseau's essays on music.' - Robert Wokler, French Literature This new study of Jean-Jacques Rousseau suggests that his early articles on music for the Encyclopidie give a unique insight into his thinking on aesthetics, affectivity and desire. Rousseau is shown as moving subsequently between two opposed tendencies. He celebrates the voice as the vehicle for the most intense moments of human experience but also frequently attacks the surrender to passion implicit in that celebration, denouncing the arts and arguing that women must be confined to the domestic sphere.

Reconstructs the life of the French literary genius whose writing changed opinions and fueled fierce debate on both sides of the Atlantic during the period of the American and French revolutions.

Focuses not so much of the professional aspects of teaching, but on the learning aspects of an education student's initial teaching experience. Covers an overview and getting started, making the most of the opportunities, managing difficult situations, preparing for assessment, and looking forward to the next stage. No index or bibliography. Annotation copyright by Book News, Inc., Portland, OR

Narcissus, or The Lover of Himself is a play of staggering mediocrity. Jean-Jacques Rousseau, better known as a social thinker than as a playwright, claims to have written it as a young man of eighteen, some twenty years before it was performed for King Louis XV on December 18, 1752. It flopped and never saw the stage again in Rousseau's lifetime. In his preface to the play, penned after its failed production, Rousseau avows that he kept himself from publishing it for as long as he held onto some regard for his reputation as an author. This is a fairly measured judgment, for a work the caliber of Narcissus would certainly not bolster Rousseau's status. The plot, characters, language, and comedic elements come off as weak or incomplete. Hence, the reader (or spectator) could understandably question the play's merits, and the need to publish it. But had Narcissus never been, neither would its preface. This afterthought, two decades in the making, becomes, in many ways, a much more interesting opening act to the comedy that follows. It is rich in philosophy and criticism, madly buzzing with paranoia, and surprisingly convincing in its proposition that the arts and sciences, the pursuit of knowledge, the cultivation of letters, and all the trappings of civilization are destructive forces, harmful to man's morality. It is an apology for having experimented with writing literature in his foolish youth and, at the same time, a justification for the existence of his art. The preface, in which he writes, "I must, despite my reluctance, speak of myself," is fully narcissistic. Peering over Rousseau's shoulder, we, too, see his reflection: a man with reason on his side, standing against his enemies, his age, and, indeed, the world. Daniel Boden's translation of Narcissus and its preface is true to the voice, times, and incongruities of Rousseau. In the afterword that crowns this edition, Simon Critchley situates the play and preface in their historical context, makes connections to other works by Rousseau, comments on the philosophy put forward in the preface, reflects on what brings the classics to the stage, and proposes, quite simply, that theater is narcissism.