This book explores the possibility of using the twentieth-century "process" philosophy of Alfred North Whitehead to modernize the thirteenth-century metaphysics of St. Thomas Aquinas in order to make better philosophical sense of the evolutionary processes of the world. Due to certain limitations, neither philosophy has been able to provide satisfactory metaphysical accounts of the world. In joining the two, these individual limitations are avoided, and the advantages of each—Thomistic metaphysics with its deeper ontology, Whiteheadian metaphysics with its ability to account for the evolutionary advances now apparent in the universe—provide a revised theory that is a kind of "process-enriched Thomism."

The first five chapters of Aristotle's De Generatione et Corruptione distinguish creation and destruction from mere qualitative change and from growth. They include a fascinating debate about the atomists' analysis of creation and destruction as due to the rearrangement of indivisible atoms. Aristotle's rival belief in the infinite divisibility of matter is explained and defended against the atomists' powerful attack on infinite divisibility. But what inspired Philoponus most in his commentary is the topic of organic growth. How does it take place without ingested matter getting into the same place as the growing body? And how is personal identity preserved, if our matter is always in flux, and our form depends on our matter? If we do not depend on the persistence of matter why are we not immortal? Analogous problems of identity arise also for inanimate beings. Philoponus draws out a brief remark of Aristotle's to show that cause need not be like effect. For example, what makes something hard may be cold, not hard. This goes against a persistent philosophical prejudice, but Philoponus makes it plausible that Aristotle recognized this truth. These topics of identity over time and the principles of causation are still matters of intense discussion.

Until the launch of this series over ten years ago, the 15,000 volumes of the ancient Greek commentators on Aristotle, written mainly between 200 and 600 AD, constituted the largest corpus of extant Greek philosophical writings not translated into English or other European languages. Subjects covered in this, the third and last, volume of translation of this work include: why the elements are four in number; what's wrong with Empedocles' theory of elements; how homogeneous stuffs, particularly the tissues of a living body, come to be and consist of the elements. The volume also contains very important discussions of causes, particularly of efficient cause, and of necessity in the sphere of generation and corruption. It is of interest to students of ancient philosophy and science (the commentary draws on earlier philosophical and medical texts); of Patristics and Christian Theology (it allows comparison of Philoponus' later creationist doctrine with his earlier ideas about generation); of medieval philosophy (this text was known to the Arabs; it is used by Avicenna and Averroes); and to anyone with interest in the metaphysics of causation, emergence, necessity and determinism.

These chapters of Aristotle's treatise are about physical interactions. In his innovative commentary, Philoponus discusses Aristotle's idea that certain qualities of the elements are basic. In what way are they basic? he asks. To what extent can the other qualities be reduced to the basic ones? And if the other qualities depend on the basic ones, how is it that they can vary independently of each other when the basic qualities change? Philoponus develops the idea that the other qualities merely supervene on the basic ones, rather than resulting from them. Moreover, physical qualities admit of different ranges of variation, and so have different thresholds at which they appear or disappear. Philoponus also discusses Aristotle's idea that the elements and their basic qualities survive potentially when mixed together. He explains this by drawing a third sense of 'potential' out of Aristotle's texts to take the place of the two senses which Aristotle explicitly recognises. Philoponus adds further restrictions to Aristotle's principles of causation. Black can contaminate white, but the black in ebony does not have the right matter for affecting the white of milk. He asks why fluids can affect each other more easily than solids. In every case, Philoponus takes Aristotle's discussions further, and his ideas on the dependence of some qualities on others are very relevant to the continuing philosophical debate on the subject.

An urban neighborhood remakes itself every day—and unmakes itself, too. Houses and stores and streets define it in one way. But it’s also people—the people who make it their home, some eagerly, others grudgingly. A neighborhood can thrive or it can decline, and neighbors move in and move out. Sometimes they stay but withdraw behind fences and burglar alarms. If a neighborhood becomes no longer a place of sociability and street life, but of privacy indoors and fearful distrust outdoors, is it still a neighborhood? In the late 1960s and 1970s Carlo Rotella grew up in Chicago’s South Shore neighborhood—a place of neat bungalow blocks and desolate commercial strips, and sharp, sometimes painful social contrasts. In the decades since, the hollowing out of the middle class has left residents confronting—or avoiding—each other across an expanding gap that makes it ever harder for them to recognize each other as neighbors. Rotella tells the stories that reveal how that happened—stories of deindustrialization and street life; stories of gorgeous apartments with vistas onto Lake Michigan and of Section 8 housing vouchers held by the poor. At every turn, South Shore is a study in contrasts, shaped and reshaped over the past half-century by individual stories and larger waves of change that make it an exemplar of many American urban neighborhoods. Talking with current and former residents and looking carefully at the interactions of race and class, persistence and change, Rotella explores the tension between residents’ deep investment of feeling and resources in the physical landscape of South Shore and their hesitation to make a similar commitment to the community of neighbors living there. Blending journalism, memoir, and archival research, The World Is Always Coming to an End uses the story of one American neighborhood to challenge our assumptions about what neighborhoods are, and to think anew about what they might be if we can bridge gaps and commit anew to the people who share them with us. Tomorrow is another ending.