The Cold War: a new history by John Lewis Gaddis
This is a new history because of the addition of new knowledge from newly available Soviet sources and a history that can cover the Cold War from beginning to end with some excellent insights. Every section of every chapter contained information that made me think "really??? Wow!" I learned quite a lot reading this book and it was quite enjoyable doing so. Again, this stuff is dynamite. Five stars.
1984, Orwell
Gaddis' book includes Orwell's book in his discussion of the way the world looked to be divided up among totalitarian states in the late forties. Having that history in mind definitely added to my understanding of the book, but I also could see why it's considered a classic: it did not seem dated or stilted in any way. It was historical and modern and a gripping read even though as a person immersed in my culture, I pretty much knew most of the Newspeak and how it was going to end. I did learn a new Newspeak term: Facecrime! Five stars.
Animal Farm, Orwell
Less amazing than 1984, but perhaps only because I knew the premise and that is mostly all there is to the book. Orwell does have some charming turns and turns of phrase, and overall I can see why the book is still read. I read it to prepare for Koba the Dread (see below, unless I don't finish it this month). Four stars.
Koba the Dread: Laughter and the Twenty Million, Martin Amis
The last of my Soviet reading for a while, Amis does me the favor of reading a bookshelf full of firsthand accounts of Stalin's life, rule, and atrocities. The book is searing, yet very well written (like being punched in the face very expertly). I had to take a few hours yesterday to finish it off, since reading a little bit every day was really dragging out the sad. Good summary, well structured, philosophy at the end linking it to people he knows (Christopher Hitchens and his dad Kingsley, especially). A great book that I don't necessarily want to ever read again. Five stars.
Global Frequency: Planet Ablaze, Ellis
Global Frequency: Detonation Radio, Ellis
Excellent premises, excellent structure for an exciting adventure introducing new one-time-only heroes in each story. BUT the short format and new heroes in each means only minimal development of each character. Three stars.
Hello please!: very helpful and super Kawaii characters from Japan, Alt and Yoda
Not the characters made just to adorn your pencil case, but the more practical characters, like the Tokyo Police Department's mascot, the character that informs you not to overload the dryer, and (my favorite) the winged kitty against government bribes. Very educational. Four stars.
My favorite part of the Oscars is watching the Cavalcade of Death, the tribute to the artists who died the previous year. The New York Times has their own cavalcade (but pictures for only 27 of them, including a very upsetting one of Marcel Marceau out of makeup). So far, my favorite is:
"Joseph E. Gallo, 87, winemaker who turned to cheese."
What a tragic way to die!
It's utter Xmas genius: one song, far too many artists. Something very like it may arrive in your Xmas mix disc next year...
Here are the books that Junior really likes in the book The absolutely true diary of a part-time Indian:
The Grapes of Wrath
Catcher in the Rye
Fat Kid Rules the World
Tangerine
Feed
Catalyst
Invisible Man
Fools Crow
Jar of Fools
I'm a big fan of the BBC News website (and go to some trouble to get to the Domestic version—and not just because it doesn't have ads), though every so often they run a piece that makes me (usually not literally) tilt my head and say “Huh?” With few exceptions, these stories are in the Health section. Here's today's example: the headline is “Humour ‘comes from Testosterone’”; a more accurate summary of the article would be “Men were ruder to unicyclist than women; researcher concludes hormones are the reason, and further fancies this has something to do with humour.”
“The idea that unicycling is intrinsically funny does not explain the findings,” said Professor Shuster.Ah, the simplest explanation. The “study” appears so badly designed that I'm not convinced there are any findings, much less that hormones are the simplest explanation. Oy.
The simplest explanation, he says, is the effect of male hormones such as testosterone.
“The difference between the men and women was absolutely remarkable and consistent,” said Professor Shuster.
How could I have lived this long without hearing of the brainfuck programming language?
Here's a niche that hadn't occurred to me: mail-order catalogs for prisoners.
(via The Straight Dope)
The Codebreakers: The Story of Secret Writing, Kahn. Non-fiction. This is one of the standards of the field, and it touches on a surprising array of subjects, including the Rosetta Stone (which was, after all, a code-breaking challenge). Even if you're not of the class of geek that must read this, it does have plenty of goodness, but do mind the caveats after the jump.
While it is a must-read, it is also a bit of a slog in spots. I understand there was an abridged version issued some years ago, and I can empathize with the impulse, though I also understand that they excised the details of the codes and the methods for breaking them, which is not what slows this thing down. It is, rather, the org charts, to say nothing of the biographical details of virtually every person introduced that bring things to a crawl. If the details provided insight into why the people went into the field, or committed their treason, it would make sense; but it just seems like Kahn, in the spirit of Christopher Tolkien, doesn't want any scrap of material to go to waste.
When he's not boring the reader to tears, Kahn provides some brain grist; for instance:
The objective is self-preservation. This is the first law of life, as imperative for a body politic as for an individual organism. And if biological evolution demonstrates anything, it is that intelligence best secures that goal.I could not help contrasting this sentiment with the Bruce Sterling story that asserts (somewhat convincingly, to me) that intelligence is generally not a survival trait (and, really, check out the cockroach and the shark; brains of a thermostat, and they're surviving just fine).
A man can always sustain his convictions in the face of apparently hostile evidence if he is prepared to make the necessary ad hoc assumptions. But although any particular instance in which a cherished hypothesis appears to be refuted can always be explained away, there must still remain the possibility that that hypothesis will ultimately be abandoned. Otherwise it is not a genuine hypothesis. For a proposition whose validity we are resolved to maintain in the face of any experience is not a hypothesis at all, but a definition.That would be the difference between science and faith.
The decipherment of cunieform showed that what the West had regarded for centuries as God-given truths had come merely from the human minds of a pagan civilization and, by undermining the divine authority of the moral law, helped pave the way for the ethical and philosophical revolution of today.I think that's the inherent danger of requiring some sort of Divine enforcement as the heart of your morality: if the only reason you can think of to behave is that Santa is watching you all the time, once you get the idea that Santa might not know when you're awake, the behavior is liable to slip some. Despite the song's exhortation, being good for goodness's sake doesn't seem to be an option.
I Am a Strange Loop, Hofstadter. Non-fiction. I am (it turns out, several months later) not going to be able to say in this review everything that I want to. IAaSL is at a first approximation a deeper exploration of some of the recurring themes in Hofstadter’s work: most notably, consciousness (which he asserts is equivalent to a “soul”, and I don't see a lot of reason to differ on that point), how it arises, and what it means.
Hofstadter spends a lot of time in the book asserting that my model of you is an extension of your consciousness. For a number of reasons, I am unable to buy it: I'm fully prepared to accept that my consciousness is more or less an accident of the way my senses work, and, especially, how my sensory/processing system feeds back into itself. My model of me, though, is based on observations of my actions, not the same direct feedback that brought me to consciousness. Similarly, my model of you doesn't have any direct feedback relationship with your senses. Yes, you can tell me what you know about why you do things, but 1) no one has perfect knowledge of why one does things, and 2) your reports are delayed by time and filtered by both your senses and your model of you. My model of you is never going to surprise me with some insight into itself.
The time-sensitivity in feedback is, I think, a vital element that I'm not sure Hofstadter sufficiently respects. I'm fascinated by the study that showed our inability to tickle ourselves is very tightly time-limited (if you delay the result of my action enough (and it doesn't take much), I will find it more tickling than if you don't).
One thought that keeps coming up for me goes something like this: I am (i.e., my consciousness is) the total of my memories and my sensory input. So, who am I when I'm amnesiac? And variations on that theme. I find that a much more interesting rat hole to climb down than debating whether a loved one lives on (in anything more than a metaphorical sense) in the memories of others.
Thought-provoking, as Hofstadter always is, but not his best-directed effort.
Menlo Park NJ, July 13 1885
(added a new tag for Edisonblog! so you can find the other entries)
Woke (is there such a word) at 6 oclock-- slipped down the declivity of unconciousness again until 7. arose and tried to shave with a razor so dull that everytime I scraped my face it looked as if I was in the throes of cholera morbus. By shaving often I too a certain extent circumvent the diabolical malignity of these razors -- if I could get my mind down to details perhaps I could learn to sharpen it, but on the otherhand I might cut myself- As I had to catch the 7.30 am train for New York I hurried breakfast, crowded meat potatoes, eggs, coffee, tandem down into the chemical room of my body I've now got dyspepsia in that diabolical thing that Carlyle calls the stomach, rushed and caught train-- Bought a New York World at Elizabeth for my mental breakfast-- Among the million of perfected mortals on Manhattan island two of them took it into their heads to cut their naval chord from mother earth and be born into a new world, while two other less developed citizens stopped two of the neighbors from living-- The details of these two little incidents conveyed to my mind what beautiful creatures we live among, and how with the aid of the police, civilization so rapidly advances--
Went to New York via DeoGrosseo Street ferry- took cars across town- saw a woman get into car that was so tall and frightfully thin as well as dried up that my mechanical mind at once conceived the idea that it would be the proper thing to run a lancet into her arm and knew [ed: knee?] joints and insert automatic self feeding oil cups to diminish the creaking when she walked-- Got off at Broadway- tried experiment of walking two miles to our office 65 5th Ave with idea it would alleviate my dyspeptic pains-- It didn't -- Went into Scribner & Sons on way up and saw about a thousand books I wanted right off. Mind No 1 said why not buy a box of fluff and send to Boston now- Mind No 2 (acquired and worldly mind) gave a most withering mental glance and mind No 1 and said You fool, buy only two books, these you can carry without trouble and will last you until you get to Boston, Buying books in NYork to send to Boston is like "carrying coals to Newcastle" of course I took the advice of this Earthly adviser-- Bought Aldrich's Story of a Bad Boy which is a spongecake kind of literature, very witty and charming- and a work on Goethe Schiffer by Boynsen which is soggy literature a little wit + anecdote in this style of literature would have the same effect as baking soda on bread, give pleasing results.
Waited one hour for the appearance of a lawyer who is to cross-examine me on events that occurred 11 years ago-- went on stand at 1130-- He handed me a piece of paper with some figures on it, not another mark, asked in a childlike voice if these were my figures, what they were about and what day 11 years ago I made them-- This implied compliment to the splendor of my memory was at first so pleasing to my vanity that I tried every means to trap my memory into stating just what he wanted-- but then I thought what good is a compliment from a 10 cent lawyer, and I waived back my recollection. A lawsuit is the suicide of Time. -- Got through at 3 30 PM-- waded through a lot of accumulated correspondence mostly relating to other peoples business-- Insull saw Wiman about getting car for Railroad Telegh experiment-- will get costs in day or so. -- Tomlinson made Sammy mad by saying he Insull was Valet to my intellect = Got $100 met Dot and skipped for the Argosy of the Puritan Sea; ie Sound Steamboat, -- Dot is reading a novel-- rather trashy. Love hash. -- I completed reading Aldrich's Bad Boy and advanced 50 pages in Goethe then retired to a "Sound" Sleep
I'm not sure why I find this video so charming, but I sure do.
Got one? Perhaps this catchy little song will convince you to get smoke alarms. But only for free if you're in London.
Kinda reminiscent of Chindogu, but I never wanted to make Chindogu as bad as I want to make some of these things. Especially the fork teeth.
An item in Cute Overload on injured UK Hedgehogs (which are significantly more attractive than the South African Hedgehogs kept as pets in the US, but you can see how the UK ones would TOTALLY TAKE OVER if they lived in the Northwest as one of their favored foods is slugs) links to an article on the hedgehogs that are too weak to hibernate which led me to St Tiggywinkles Wildlife Hospital (!!!!!!). Look at those guys. Holy Crap.
Amma takes me in her arms and I melt naturally into her embrace. Everything goes black. There is noise out there, but it seems to just become an indecipherable hum. It's just calm and comfortable in my head and heart.
Her robes are beautifully fragrant, and for the rest of the day I keep getting wafts of it, distracting me momentarily from whatever I'm doing.
Un Lun Dun / China Mieville (Y)
Not only a fun and nicely illustrated adventure through a fantastical city, but also bends and breaks the rules of genre to great effect. Five stars.
Shanghaied to the moon / Michael J. Daley (Y)
Nice to have an old-style nuts and bolts space adventure for the younger set. Three stars.
Twisted / Laurie Halse Anderson (Y)
For Mock Printz, quite good, though not totally fabulous literarily. The protagonist's changes are quite well reflected in the changes in writing style through the book. Three stars.
The secret world of American communism / Harvey Klehr, John Earl Haynes, and Fridrikh Igorevich Firsov
A new look at historical controversies over the Communist Party of the USA in light of newly-available (well, newly in '92) documents from the Soviet Archives. Quite satisfying to read about history and have new and firm answers provided! The CPUSA was funded and the upper levels were run on orders of the Soviet Union. The various members at lower levels may have had any number of good intentions, but the upper levels' loyalties were firmly with the Soviets, with many a spy ring operated and rapid changes in position based on the foreign policy needs of Moscow. This stuff is dynamite! Five stars.
Harmless / Dana Reinhardt (Y)
Another for the Mock Printz. Felt like I was going through a book by the numbers. Pick a theme (lies and sexuality), pick a format (three alternating voices), pick some characters (the shy good one, the bad girl, the confused one), and start ticking off boxes. Bah. No stars.
Now you see her / by Jacquelyn Mitchard (Y)
Another Mock Printz. Less annoying than Harmless, but sure seemed like wasted opportunity. The narrative is told by a person who turns out to have a borderline personality, but at the end of the book she's on the way to being ok. So less of the mirror-world thriller than just turning out to be a problem novel. Bah again. No stars.
The absolutely true diary of a part-time Indian / by Sherman Alexie ; art by Ellen Forney (Y)
Another Mock Printz, but this one should win. The blurb on the back from Neil Gaiman says that it'll be winning awards and being banned. It has already started the awards, so let's wait for the banning. It's one of those books that gets inside your guts and makes you laugh and cry. Awesome. Five stars.
The new policeman / Kate Thompson (Y)
Another Mock Printz, which I will give four stars for being well structured and having realistic family relationships and generational baggage in a family of traditional musicians in Ireland. But since this is my forum, I shall air my two complaints: assigning authorship of folk tunes to fairies may be all charming and stuff, but shows an appalling lack of faith in human creativity, and a land without time could hardly specialize in music what with time being pretty vital to the whole undertaking. So there. Still four stars.