If I had to have a cause, this would be it.
Muhammad Yunus, who as you all probably don’t know/care (I’m assuming it’s Americans reading this, and therefore not really down with international news), just won the Nobel Peace Prize.
The reason he won is the due to the program he lays out in his book, Banker for the Poor: Micro-Lending and the Battle Against World Poverty. In it, he talks about micro-credit and its use as an effective means to combat true poverty.
What is micro-credit, you ask? Simply this: how much would it take the poorest of the poor to start up an entrepreneurial enterprise in order to bring themselves to a level of subsistence, if not higher. The idea is that with very small loans, loans that regular banks wouldn’t even consider due to a number of erroneous factors, people can buy raw materials or tools that will enable them to produce a service or product that they can then sell in order to earn more money. Clearly it is a little more complicated that that, but here’s the catch: It’s not that much more complicated.
Which is a great catch, if you ask me.
Yunus demonstrates how that such a program is not only feasible, but almost universally successful. Once he starts his lending program in his native Bangladesh, the Grameen Bank, he consistently proves the nay-sayers wrong time and time again. It’s almost uncanny, but this program appears to be that silver bullet that people have been looking for so long.
This is truly the most inspirational book I’ve ever read. Here’s a man, who through the grace of privilege and talent, rises to a position of prominence, and instead of just sitting back on his laurels, decides to do something to make the world better. Disregarding almost every known economic practice for eradicating poverty, he starts from scratch, starts small, and in the end, has produced something both valuable and beautiful.
And what’s great is that he paints the picture so well.
Maybe it seems like he’s the luckiest man in the world (because it is pretty amazing, at first, how successful he was at reaching the right people with the right attitudes). But then you realize that it’s not the poor who need to make these contacts. Rather, it’s the rich and powerful who have to decide that this is a viable solution, and they’re the ones who will have the right contacts anyway. Yunus is a gifted story-teller, and he brings a very dry story off in a wholly excellent way. He doesn’t belabor points, he doesn’t bog you down with anecdotes, he doesn’t bore you with statistics. What he does with those three things, though, is give you enough of each that in the end you are almost fully conversant in the problems at hand, and how to go about fixing them. He doesn’t give you all the technical information that would be irrelevant for the average reader, but he doesn’t hold back anything that would be useful in making an objective opinion.
I think one reason I enjoy the idea so much, too, is because this is sound fiscal conservatism, but with a human side. The idea here is not charity – Yunus in fact eschews charity as being a false prop. This is not welfare, either. Loans are loans – they are meant to be paid back, and they are used to stimulate personal economies. The people themselves come up with their own business plans and work to find a niche in which they can be successful enough to obtain another loan, expand, and so on. This is the Jeffersonian/Lincoln idea of conservatism, in which each man (and now, of course, woman) has a business (or land) to call their own, in which they derive their livelihood.
And, ideally, it’s without government interference.
That’s the rub: getting governments out of the “welfare” business. That is not to say that governments shouldn’t strive to gain healthcare and other benefits for their citizens. However, as Yunus points out, government programs inevitably mean bureaucracies, which in turn means either corruption, wasted resources, or both. Tax dollars end up paying the bureaucrats, and not truly fund the programs they work for. By creating private banks to issue these loans, Yunus is calling for an elimination of the middleman, and his success is proof that this will work.
The largest setback I see is how this system would work in a First World country, such as the U.S. Yunus points to successful programs hear, but he also lists the drawbacks of trying to start such a program in our country. In a poor country, a radical shift has a higher likelihood of catching on, because there is less institution to bog it down (which is not to say it’s a walk in the park, either). In the US, where the Welfare system practically promotes people not working, work needs to be done on a legislative level in order to allow for people a chance to use the loans to get off of Welfare, and not be immediately ineligible once they receive the loan.
Still, it is important to remember that these loans are designed to help the poorest of the poor, and, unfortunately, many people who consider themselves poor are actually incredibly well-off compared to these bottom-dwellers. That’s why Yunus felt the need to redefine “poor” to reflect just who he is talking about. Micro-lending can eventually help these “not-so-poor,” but our priority must be to make it possible for everyone to survive.
Perhaps my greatest problem with his program is that it will be running into a wall, soon. Micro-lending is a fantastic idea, but until governments acknowledge it as being, for now, the most effective solution, trade barriers will only limit the ability of these loans to take on their fullest potential.
I highly recommend this book to everyone. If you don’t think it works, at least hear him out. If you want to learn more about it, of course, read it. The big thing is that this is not theory, this is practice. And that’s what makes the difference compared to every other economic principle. Yunus did not win the Nobel Prize for Economics. He won it for Peace. That’s got to mean something.
Here's a link to purchase the book (I'm going to start doing this from now on, but obviously check it out of your local library if you don't want to own it. I'm putting Barnes and Noble links because that's where I shop, but again, choose wherever you want):
Banker for the Poor: http://search.barnesandnoble.com/booksearch/isbnInquiry.asp?z=y&EAN=9781586481988&itm=1
Here's a link to Grameen's web-site:
http://www.grameen-info.org/
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Thursday, December 21, 2006
An Illuminating Text
I'd love to one day do a search and see just how many reviews of the book Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer actually used the above title. I'm sure there were a great deal, but I'm also sure that I'm way too lazy to figure it out.
That said, I'm not exactly sure just how illuminating the book really was. You may remember from my review of Beasts of No Nation (or, more likely, you don't) how I didn't like the story because the language was hard to get past. My point was that the story should always come first, and the language second.
Well, I need to amend that.
You see, I guess what really bothered me about the language in that story was that I wasn't entertained by the story. Foer, however, creates a character whose language, while not exactly English, is hilarious because of his mistakes. Alex, a Ukrainian translator, has the trouble that any non-native speaker would have with English, since there are dozens of words that mean sort of the same thing, but not really. As such, we get phrases such as “I am a premium person,” “disseminate currency” (for spending a lot of money), and “manufacturing z’s” (a personal favorite of a friend of mine).
The story, too, is very non-traditional, in the way it jumps between times and narrative styles. Half the book is letters from Alex to “the hero”, who happens to be named Jonathan Safran Foer. He discusses how the translation and writing is going, and also tells Jonathan about his personal life as well. Obviously the point is that although Jonathan is traveling to learn about his own story, we, as the reader, end up learning much more about Alex in the end.
The other parts of the book follow the actions of either Jonathan’s ancestors or the near-present action of Jonathan actually coming to the Ukraine. Some of this is interesting, some of it isn’t: in the end, this is not the story you really care about. You care about Alex, and his interpretation of the events, and how he eventually applies them to his own life. Not that the other parts are not well written (although, Foer does occasionally fall into that modern-novel trap of incorporating stream of consciousness despite the fact that it’s incredibly hard to read, and novels are supposed to be entertainment, and . . . you can see other rants of mine on this topic in both past and future posts), but the story is ultimately unresolved as far as Jonathan goes. In the end, or perhaps even in the beginning, I think that Foer knew he had something great going with Alex, and didn’t spend the time necessary to develop the other plots more fully. It would be interesting to think that one of the results of this was having Alex write the story in the novel anyway.
I know I’m a Johnny-come-lately to this novel. I’d been meaning to read it for a long time, considering I’d seen it every time I would walk into a Borders or Barnes and Noble. It was always one of the books on that table in the front of “Must Read” books that I’m o-so-curious to figure out how they determine which books make the cut. It has that funky cover and comes in a variety of colors, but for some reason I never purchased it. I think part of me didn’t want to read it because it was too trendy (a term I wonder about in regards to literature). I also remember hearing mixed reviews from various people that I tend to respect. In the end, though, I decided to buy it with a gift-card I had (a great arbitrator in purchasing decisions that can’t be made), and I’m pretty glad I did. While not the greatest book I’ve read even this year, it certainly is literature worth consuming. I’m not sure where Foer will end up in the pantheon of his generation’s writers (and I use generation loosely to include Chabon, Eggers, Palanhuik, Foster Wallace, and other writers of that ilk), but I know this book will be remembered fondly with one of the more memorable characters to be penned.
I’m sure the book sales probably help him sleep well at night, too.
I would like to note that I have not yet seen the movie, but I am again hesitant, because I hear that it is not that good, which totally makes sense, because books that are so narrator driven rarely make the leap to the silver screen.
Remember this: If you see a movie based on a book, and you see the movie first, you must be sure to go read the book regardless of how much you liked/disliked the movie. The reason for this is because if a book was considered good enough to be green-lighted into a movie, then it is usually a very good book. Just because they mangled it on the screen does not mean the author had equally mangled it on the pages of his or her novel. It is always important to remember that movie companies are out solely to make money, and they are not going to risk optioning a book that they don’t think is great when they could just as easily pay a lot less for someone to make any movie that ends up starring The Rock.
That said, I'm not exactly sure just how illuminating the book really was. You may remember from my review of Beasts of No Nation (or, more likely, you don't) how I didn't like the story because the language was hard to get past. My point was that the story should always come first, and the language second.
Well, I need to amend that.
You see, I guess what really bothered me about the language in that story was that I wasn't entertained by the story. Foer, however, creates a character whose language, while not exactly English, is hilarious because of his mistakes. Alex, a Ukrainian translator, has the trouble that any non-native speaker would have with English, since there are dozens of words that mean sort of the same thing, but not really. As such, we get phrases such as “I am a premium person,” “disseminate currency” (for spending a lot of money), and “manufacturing z’s” (a personal favorite of a friend of mine).
The story, too, is very non-traditional, in the way it jumps between times and narrative styles. Half the book is letters from Alex to “the hero”, who happens to be named Jonathan Safran Foer. He discusses how the translation and writing is going, and also tells Jonathan about his personal life as well. Obviously the point is that although Jonathan is traveling to learn about his own story, we, as the reader, end up learning much more about Alex in the end.
The other parts of the book follow the actions of either Jonathan’s ancestors or the near-present action of Jonathan actually coming to the Ukraine. Some of this is interesting, some of it isn’t: in the end, this is not the story you really care about. You care about Alex, and his interpretation of the events, and how he eventually applies them to his own life. Not that the other parts are not well written (although, Foer does occasionally fall into that modern-novel trap of incorporating stream of consciousness despite the fact that it’s incredibly hard to read, and novels are supposed to be entertainment, and . . . you can see other rants of mine on this topic in both past and future posts), but the story is ultimately unresolved as far as Jonathan goes. In the end, or perhaps even in the beginning, I think that Foer knew he had something great going with Alex, and didn’t spend the time necessary to develop the other plots more fully. It would be interesting to think that one of the results of this was having Alex write the story in the novel anyway.
I know I’m a Johnny-come-lately to this novel. I’d been meaning to read it for a long time, considering I’d seen it every time I would walk into a Borders or Barnes and Noble. It was always one of the books on that table in the front of “Must Read” books that I’m o-so-curious to figure out how they determine which books make the cut. It has that funky cover and comes in a variety of colors, but for some reason I never purchased it. I think part of me didn’t want to read it because it was too trendy (a term I wonder about in regards to literature). I also remember hearing mixed reviews from various people that I tend to respect. In the end, though, I decided to buy it with a gift-card I had (a great arbitrator in purchasing decisions that can’t be made), and I’m pretty glad I did. While not the greatest book I’ve read even this year, it certainly is literature worth consuming. I’m not sure where Foer will end up in the pantheon of his generation’s writers (and I use generation loosely to include Chabon, Eggers, Palanhuik, Foster Wallace, and other writers of that ilk), but I know this book will be remembered fondly with one of the more memorable characters to be penned.
I’m sure the book sales probably help him sleep well at night, too.
I would like to note that I have not yet seen the movie, but I am again hesitant, because I hear that it is not that good, which totally makes sense, because books that are so narrator driven rarely make the leap to the silver screen.
Remember this: If you see a movie based on a book, and you see the movie first, you must be sure to go read the book regardless of how much you liked/disliked the movie. The reason for this is because if a book was considered good enough to be green-lighted into a movie, then it is usually a very good book. Just because they mangled it on the screen does not mean the author had equally mangled it on the pages of his or her novel. It is always important to remember that movie companies are out solely to make money, and they are not going to risk optioning a book that they don’t think is great when they could just as easily pay a lot less for someone to make any movie that ends up starring The Rock.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Adding to the stack
Every so often (while I'm still reading a book; currently engaging Everything is Illuminated), I'm going to throw up some quick hits about books I've read in the past and reviewed for a list-serv my friends and I have (because that's how nerds get down). Stuff I'm adding now will be bold (just in case you happen to want to care what I originally wrote).
This is one such post (December 29, 2005):
Just finished two completely different books: Frankenstein and Prep (the latter by Curtis Sittenfield). If you've never read Frankenstein, it's a lot different from what you may know of the story. It's decent and surprisingly compelling. As I'm sure you're aware, Frankenstein is not the monster, but rather the name of the doctor. The book is told from both the monster's and Frankenstein's perspective, and it's hard to consider this a "horror" story in the same sense as the movies try to portray it. Sadly, there is no Igor.
Prep looks like a girl's novel, and in essence it is, because it's about a girl, but it's also well written (this sentence, I'm realizing, is so incredibly sexist that it makes an incredibly strong case for proofreading e-mails before you send them out). For you city dwellers, I'd say read it on the subway and see if any cute girls comment on it to you. (I'd actually recommend this tactic with a lot of books -- or rather, I'd say that a lot of people read certain books on the subway as a way to try to induce others to notice them. It would be interesting to interview some people and see if they choose reading material based a little bit on how it makes them appear intellectual. Food for thought. In fact, I plan on doing this in the near future as part of a joint Master's thesis/get-better-at-chatting-up-girls thing I'm working on).
I started reading Don Quixote, and maybe eventually I'll get around to finishing it, but for now I don't think I can read about episode after episode of this poor, crazy Spaniard constantly flailin' and failin' (which, amazingly, is the review the New York Times Book Review gave the novel when it came out). I'm actually a little disappointed in myself for not finishing this, mostly because I pride myself on finishing everything, even books I don't like. But this is 600 pages of "not exciting". I also feel like, I saw the Man of Lamancha, so I know the story, and no one is singing, so this is boring. One day I will got back and get this thing done, just to get it out of the way.
I remember reading somewhere that this was the greatest novel ever written, but I wonder now who exactly was claiming that, were they just saying that to feel enlightened and intelligent, and if they had actually read other novels. Because, realistically, the book is barely a novel to begin with. It's practically a serial, with each chapter or two essentially being a complete story, that all end up contributing to a whole.
If you've read it, let me know what you think, and if I should bother.
This is one such post (December 29, 2005):
Just finished two completely different books: Frankenstein and Prep (the latter by Curtis Sittenfield). If you've never read Frankenstein, it's a lot different from what you may know of the story. It's decent and surprisingly compelling. As I'm sure you're aware, Frankenstein is not the monster, but rather the name of the doctor. The book is told from both the monster's and Frankenstein's perspective, and it's hard to consider this a "horror" story in the same sense as the movies try to portray it. Sadly, there is no Igor.
Prep looks like a girl's novel, and in essence it is, because it's about a girl, but it's also well written (this sentence, I'm realizing, is so incredibly sexist that it makes an incredibly strong case for proofreading e-mails before you send them out). For you city dwellers, I'd say read it on the subway and see if any cute girls comment on it to you. (I'd actually recommend this tactic with a lot of books -- or rather, I'd say that a lot of people read certain books on the subway as a way to try to induce others to notice them. It would be interesting to interview some people and see if they choose reading material based a little bit on how it makes them appear intellectual. Food for thought. In fact, I plan on doing this in the near future as part of a joint Master's thesis/get-better-at-chatting-up-girls thing I'm working on).
I started reading Don Quixote, and maybe eventually I'll get around to finishing it, but for now I don't think I can read about episode after episode of this poor, crazy Spaniard constantly flailin' and failin' (which, amazingly, is the review the New York Times Book Review gave the novel when it came out). I'm actually a little disappointed in myself for not finishing this, mostly because I pride myself on finishing everything, even books I don't like. But this is 600 pages of "not exciting". I also feel like, I saw the Man of Lamancha, so I know the story, and no one is singing, so this is boring. One day I will got back and get this thing done, just to get it out of the way.
I remember reading somewhere that this was the greatest novel ever written, but I wonder now who exactly was claiming that, were they just saying that to feel enlightened and intelligent, and if they had actually read other novels. Because, realistically, the book is barely a novel to begin with. It's practically a serial, with each chapter or two essentially being a complete story, that all end up contributing to a whole.
If you've read it, let me know what you think, and if I should bother.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Third Place in my Book
Top three favorite book? Definitely.
Microserfs, by Douglas Coupland, has made the case to enter into that arena, coming right in under Ender's Game and the as-yet discussed White Teeth, by Zadie Smith.
I think what makes this book so great for me is the style. Written as journal entries, this was blogging before it got popular (the book was published in 1995). Our knowledge about everything comes from the narrator, and everything therefore comes from his perspective. Clearly, Coupland is not the first person to use this narrative-style, but I think he does so exceedingly well that it’s easy to forget that the narrator is also a character in the book. If it wasn’t for him quoting other people saying his name, you might think that this is an omniscient third-person, instead of someone experiencing everything and then telling you about it.
To me, this is a good thing. Why? you ask. Because remember, this is supposed to be someone’s journal. I use “I”, not my name, when doing these blogs. It at once keeps you in the story, and keeps the story personal.
Other good things:
* It is a journal. He talks about everything. And yet, his (Dan’s, the protagonist) thoughts are really interesting. If he hasn’t had a grand insight, someone else around him did. In a way, this is how other people wished they could blog. It helps Coupland that he can make the stuff up. Because, in the end, it is also a story, and a story that has climax and resolution and is therefore satisfying. I don’t feel like this story in any way lets me down. The pieces are presented, and in the end, they fit together to form a great picture.
* It’s a fascinating look at both 90’s tech culture and culture as a whole. As the title implies, the main characters all start off working for Microsoft. So throughout you get an in-depth look at the corporate culture of that company, and then of Silicon Valley and it’s plethora of companies. Dress, speech, products, social interactions: Coupland inundates you with details that somehow seem fascinating. Coupland is writing for my age group (I’m a little too young), but at the same time I still grew up during all the changes he writes about, and so I can easily connect. Throughout the book, all the characters philosophize about various segments of life, and although you might think: Who actually has conversations like these all the time, but then Coupland is careful to remind you that these people are, in fact, highly intelligent/creative people. So nothing they say is really out of character.
* The product they are designing is so cool, that I wish it was real and that I was playing with it right now. Essentially a digital Legos program (Legos feature quite prominently in the story), it just seems like the kind of computer game I would have played when I was younger and would try to play now if I could find a version that worked on today’s computers. I am a Legos nerd (check this out: http://www.mocpages.com/), so this only helped urge my fascination with this book. The fact that there are Legos on the cover is one of the reasons I bought the book in the first place (Because, as people, it is clear that we do judge books by their covers. You have to. At some point, the only way you can know if you want to read something or not is to let it past that first, sometimes crucial, litmus test: what does the cover do for me?)
(By the way, for some reason Microsoft Word recognizes "Lego," but not "Legos." Is there a plural to "Lego" that I am as yet unaware? Should it just be "bricks" and "beams" and such? The first person to give me a satisfactory answer at eyeoflondon@hotmail.com wins a prize).
One insight that the book brings up is that Starbucks has apparently found a way to keep water liquid above 212 degrees Fahrenheit. Now, I don’t drink coffee, but I do occasionally stop in there for hot chocolate or tea, and I am convinced this is true. (Remember, this is written in 1995, so at the time this idea was probably very insightful).
Overall, I completely recommend this book for anyone ages 25 to 40. If it does not awaken something inside of you, then you either didn’t have a very creative childhood or you are completely dead inside.
Which makes me (modestly) wonder why you’re reading my blog in the first place.
I’m also curious to know how many people read the book and then try to start their own sub-conscious file (as Dan does – again, read the book).
Enjoy.
Microserfs, by Douglas Coupland, has made the case to enter into that arena, coming right in under Ender's Game and the as-yet discussed White Teeth, by Zadie Smith.
I think what makes this book so great for me is the style. Written as journal entries, this was blogging before it got popular (the book was published in 1995). Our knowledge about everything comes from the narrator, and everything therefore comes from his perspective. Clearly, Coupland is not the first person to use this narrative-style, but I think he does so exceedingly well that it’s easy to forget that the narrator is also a character in the book. If it wasn’t for him quoting other people saying his name, you might think that this is an omniscient third-person, instead of someone experiencing everything and then telling you about it.
To me, this is a good thing. Why? you ask. Because remember, this is supposed to be someone’s journal. I use “I”, not my name, when doing these blogs. It at once keeps you in the story, and keeps the story personal.
Other good things:
* It is a journal. He talks about everything. And yet, his (Dan’s, the protagonist) thoughts are really interesting. If he hasn’t had a grand insight, someone else around him did. In a way, this is how other people wished they could blog. It helps Coupland that he can make the stuff up. Because, in the end, it is also a story, and a story that has climax and resolution and is therefore satisfying. I don’t feel like this story in any way lets me down. The pieces are presented, and in the end, they fit together to form a great picture.
* It’s a fascinating look at both 90’s tech culture and culture as a whole. As the title implies, the main characters all start off working for Microsoft. So throughout you get an in-depth look at the corporate culture of that company, and then of Silicon Valley and it’s plethora of companies. Dress, speech, products, social interactions: Coupland inundates you with details that somehow seem fascinating. Coupland is writing for my age group (I’m a little too young), but at the same time I still grew up during all the changes he writes about, and so I can easily connect. Throughout the book, all the characters philosophize about various segments of life, and although you might think: Who actually has conversations like these all the time, but then Coupland is careful to remind you that these people are, in fact, highly intelligent/creative people. So nothing they say is really out of character.
* The product they are designing is so cool, that I wish it was real and that I was playing with it right now. Essentially a digital Legos program (Legos feature quite prominently in the story), it just seems like the kind of computer game I would have played when I was younger and would try to play now if I could find a version that worked on today’s computers. I am a Legos nerd (check this out: http://www.mocpages.com/), so this only helped urge my fascination with this book. The fact that there are Legos on the cover is one of the reasons I bought the book in the first place (Because, as people, it is clear that we do judge books by their covers. You have to. At some point, the only way you can know if you want to read something or not is to let it past that first, sometimes crucial, litmus test: what does the cover do for me?)
(By the way, for some reason Microsoft Word recognizes "Lego," but not "Legos." Is there a plural to "Lego" that I am as yet unaware? Should it just be "bricks" and "beams" and such? The first person to give me a satisfactory answer at eyeoflondon@hotmail.com wins a prize).
One insight that the book brings up is that Starbucks has apparently found a way to keep water liquid above 212 degrees Fahrenheit. Now, I don’t drink coffee, but I do occasionally stop in there for hot chocolate or tea, and I am convinced this is true. (Remember, this is written in 1995, so at the time this idea was probably very insightful).
Overall, I completely recommend this book for anyone ages 25 to 40. If it does not awaken something inside of you, then you either didn’t have a very creative childhood or you are completely dead inside.
Which makes me (modestly) wonder why you’re reading my blog in the first place.
I’m also curious to know how many people read the book and then try to start their own sub-conscious file (as Dan does – again, read the book).
Enjoy.
Friday, December 8, 2006
Two books, same story. . .
. . . and both worth reading.
I apologize for the length of this one, but I had already written it, and I messed up, and now I’m pissed, but I feel like I need to do this, and you don’t really care, so. . .
The two books are Devil in the White City by Erik Larson and The Alienist by Caleb Carr. The don’t actually tell the same story, but they have a number of similarities.
1) Same time period (Devil 1893 and abouts, Alienist 1896)
2) They both take place in major American cities; Chicago for the former, New York for the latter.
3) The both feature serial killers, and in particular, the murderer Dr. H.H. Holmes.
Here’s where they diverge: Larson’s book is non-fiction, Carr’s is fiction. However, both are exceedingly easy to read, in that they are engrossing, informative, and entertaining. In fact, both read like novels (which is good for Larson, but especially good for Carr), in that they develop central characters who all go through trials, tribulations, and triumphs. There are good guys and bad guys. Setting is incredibly important, and the details are immaculate: If you are wondering what American cities were like at the turn of the 19th Century, then these two books should fill you in nicely.
The use of Holmes is interesting, because in one book he is a central character (Larson’s), whereas in the other, he is more of a side-note. Still, Carr’s book clearly owes a great deal to the story of Holmes, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that the true story very much so influenced his fictional one.
In Larson’s book, Holmes is one of two parallel stories, both of which I find fascinating (truth be told, I find the Holmes story the lesser of the two). The other story is that of the planning, building, and running of the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair. The exhibits, the architecture, the people involved, the achievements: all of it is intensely researched and soundly presented. The challenges that the fair had to overcome were enormous, even by today’s standards, and the fact that it not only took place, but was at the time the most successful non-military event in history is pretty amazing. Couple this with the story of Holmes and the ensuing investigation into his crimes, and you’ll understand why “devil” is in the title.
Carr’s book pays tribute to Holmes, in a way, and shows New York’s seedy underbelly. Granted, I didn’t think there were too many other ways to do such a thing, and yet The Alienist manages it just fine. Just as it is great that Larson writes like a novelist, it is equally commendable that Carr researched like a historian. He provides a picture of 1896 New York that would help a high school English teacher define imagery. Furthermore, he weaves the developments in psychology and criminal investigation techniques from that time period seamlessly into his story, which I guarantee will make people go: So that’s why we do that now.
In the midst of all that history is a very good crime/detective story that moves surprisingly fast for something that doesn’t miss a step in the process. In other words, I never once found my self thinking, Well, that was convenient. The detectives in the book are methodical, and Carr is careful to illustrate that without us being lost in the drudgery of what would constitute the majority of investigating.
My major fault with this book is that the ending. The investigation, the plot, ends in an acceptable manner (in that I didn’t feel there was a lack of resolution). However, although the main ending works for me, the characters’ resolutions are paltry: a single page.
Perhaps it’s just me, but when I invest so much time and energy (mental energy, folks; I’m not breathing hard and sweating as I read) into a story, only to be left in the lurch – well, there’s a reason why women want to cuddle at the end of making love.
I personally believe that a great story relies on its characters, and Carr’s book most certainly does. As such, there is an expectation that said characters not only move the plot along, but in the end, do something that allows the reader closure. I don’t necessarily need everyone to get married (although “they lived happily ever after” is a popular ending for a reason), but I do want to know how their lives turn out in the end. Remember, as an author, you went to the trouble of producing characters that I could either relate to or at least empathize with, and then you want me to just turn off my feelings for them?
Or maybe I just need to realize they’re fictional, and move on.
Either way, it’s basically a trifle when compared to the whole, and I enthusiastically recommend The Alienist and Devil in the White City.
One final note: In The Alienist, one of the major characters is New York City Police Commissioner, Theodore Roosevelt.
To that, I must simply say “Bully!”
I apologize for the length of this one, but I had already written it, and I messed up, and now I’m pissed, but I feel like I need to do this, and you don’t really care, so. . .
The two books are Devil in the White City by Erik Larson and The Alienist by Caleb Carr. The don’t actually tell the same story, but they have a number of similarities.
1) Same time period (Devil 1893 and abouts, Alienist 1896)
2) They both take place in major American cities; Chicago for the former, New York for the latter.
3) The both feature serial killers, and in particular, the murderer Dr. H.H. Holmes.
Here’s where they diverge: Larson’s book is non-fiction, Carr’s is fiction. However, both are exceedingly easy to read, in that they are engrossing, informative, and entertaining. In fact, both read like novels (which is good for Larson, but especially good for Carr), in that they develop central characters who all go through trials, tribulations, and triumphs. There are good guys and bad guys. Setting is incredibly important, and the details are immaculate: If you are wondering what American cities were like at the turn of the 19th Century, then these two books should fill you in nicely.
The use of Holmes is interesting, because in one book he is a central character (Larson’s), whereas in the other, he is more of a side-note. Still, Carr’s book clearly owes a great deal to the story of Holmes, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that the true story very much so influenced his fictional one.
In Larson’s book, Holmes is one of two parallel stories, both of which I find fascinating (truth be told, I find the Holmes story the lesser of the two). The other story is that of the planning, building, and running of the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair. The exhibits, the architecture, the people involved, the achievements: all of it is intensely researched and soundly presented. The challenges that the fair had to overcome were enormous, even by today’s standards, and the fact that it not only took place, but was at the time the most successful non-military event in history is pretty amazing. Couple this with the story of Holmes and the ensuing investigation into his crimes, and you’ll understand why “devil” is in the title.
Carr’s book pays tribute to Holmes, in a way, and shows New York’s seedy underbelly. Granted, I didn’t think there were too many other ways to do such a thing, and yet The Alienist manages it just fine. Just as it is great that Larson writes like a novelist, it is equally commendable that Carr researched like a historian. He provides a picture of 1896 New York that would help a high school English teacher define imagery. Furthermore, he weaves the developments in psychology and criminal investigation techniques from that time period seamlessly into his story, which I guarantee will make people go: So that’s why we do that now.
In the midst of all that history is a very good crime/detective story that moves surprisingly fast for something that doesn’t miss a step in the process. In other words, I never once found my self thinking, Well, that was convenient. The detectives in the book are methodical, and Carr is careful to illustrate that without us being lost in the drudgery of what would constitute the majority of investigating.
My major fault with this book is that the ending. The investigation, the plot, ends in an acceptable manner (in that I didn’t feel there was a lack of resolution). However, although the main ending works for me, the characters’ resolutions are paltry: a single page.
Perhaps it’s just me, but when I invest so much time and energy (mental energy, folks; I’m not breathing hard and sweating as I read) into a story, only to be left in the lurch – well, there’s a reason why women want to cuddle at the end of making love.
I personally believe that a great story relies on its characters, and Carr’s book most certainly does. As such, there is an expectation that said characters not only move the plot along, but in the end, do something that allows the reader closure. I don’t necessarily need everyone to get married (although “they lived happily ever after” is a popular ending for a reason), but I do want to know how their lives turn out in the end. Remember, as an author, you went to the trouble of producing characters that I could either relate to or at least empathize with, and then you want me to just turn off my feelings for them?
Or maybe I just need to realize they’re fictional, and move on.
Either way, it’s basically a trifle when compared to the whole, and I enthusiastically recommend The Alienist and Devil in the White City.
One final note: In The Alienist, one of the major characters is New York City Police Commissioner, Theodore Roosevelt.
To that, I must simply say “Bully!”
Monday, December 4, 2006
I'm not ashamed
When the title is immediately defensive, I would hope intrigue is piqued. The reason I attest to my "not shamed" status is because the book I just finished is not what a lot of adults would consider proper reading material for a twenty-five-year-old.
But fitting into molds has never been a top priority for me.
(Fitting into pants, on the other hand, is a goal that is usually one step ahead of me).
To preface my reading choice, let it be known that I recently built some shelves (in theory, this could be true), and unearthed boxes of paperbacks that had been seemingly lost. Said books put onto said shelves, a number of long-forgotten favorites emerged. Now, as I mentioned, I'm not exactly "old," per se, and therefore, a lot of my favorites aren't always of the adult-variety (and no, not that "adult" variety).
So the book I read was Sixth Grade Secrets, by Louis Sachar.
First, you may recognize the author. You should recognize him, because he's one of the more famous children's and Young Adult writers in America. Among other things, he's known for the Wayside School series and Holes (which they made a movie out of). I highly recommend these books as well, for people of all ages (especially Holes, which, as YA literature, falls in that wonderful in-between category that I mentioned in my post about Ender's Game http://arch-reader.blogspot.com/2006_11_01_archive.html (yes, I'm sure it's incredibly tacky to cite my own blog four-posts in)), and the movie for Holes is surprisingly good, too.
What makes Sachar so great is his style. He's got a quirky sense of humor that completely ignores the idea of condescending to kids, but rather tends to say: "Hey, this is funny and clever, and if you get it, great, and if not, oh well." I don't think he wants readers to not get his humor, but he doesn't pause to help you understand that humor, either. He also doesn't bother to build up to it -- you are in the thick of it from the moment you start reading.
A lot of it is in the details: for instance, when describing one of the main characters, it's important for him to note that she wears clean underwear everyday. Clearly this gives us a good insight into the fastidious nature of the person, but it does so in a way that seems unnecessary.
All the better for us.
Sixth Grade Secrets is about a girl who doesn't lie, a boy with a crush, and the wackiness that ensues. In between, secret clubs (which are forbidden in the school they go to) are formed, rivalries are sparked, and a teacher with a penchant for making kids copy dictionary pages is kept constantly on his toes (if you read a lot of Sachar, you'll notice that his adult figures in the books also tend to be a lot cooler than most adults - witty word-play, talk to kids like equals, etc.). I'd like to say there's more to it than that (and, obviously there is), but it's a short book, and I'd hate to give away all the little twists and turns that make the story complete.
And it is a complete story. That's the amazing thing about this book (and most "children's novels."): they are whole stories, with developed characters, and full Greek plots. You may feel silly reading such a book, but you won't be reading something silly. I think you have to respect that.
On a sadder note, it appears that I not only plagiarized once, but twice -- let me explain.
When I was in high school, I had a Spanish teacher (not that she was Spanish, she taught Spanish) who had never taught before. She had the unfortunate luck to have an Honors class full of Juniors and Seniors for the last period of every day. As such, discipline quickly became an issue. To keep the story short, she would often tell someone that they had detention for talking. Said person would immediately protest, and blame someone else for the talking. Now, that person had detention. After a while, my friends and I caught on, and we would rat out each other with false accusations, just so they'd get detention. Kind of like a witch hunt.
One of my friends suggested I write a story based on this experience, and so I kind of did. Here's where it gets a little "plagiarizy" and whatnot. I kind of took that idea, and mixed it with the rising action of the movie School Ties, and made a sort of dark "power of the mob" story set in school. Now, to be clear, I didn't actually plagiarize - the story was uniquely my own. But on the flip-side, not only is that story loosely suggested by School Ties, but apparently also by a certain scene in Sixth Grade Secrets. I don't think I actually remembered this book when I wrote the story, but nevertheless, I'd like to be honest about it.
In summation:
Read Sixth Grade Secrets, Holes (and watch the movie), and the Wayside Series.
Watch School Ties (pretty good movie with Brendan Frasier and Matt Damon).
Don't plagiarize.
But fitting into molds has never been a top priority for me.
(Fitting into pants, on the other hand, is a goal that is usually one step ahead of me).
To preface my reading choice, let it be known that I recently built some shelves (in theory, this could be true), and unearthed boxes of paperbacks that had been seemingly lost. Said books put onto said shelves, a number of long-forgotten favorites emerged. Now, as I mentioned, I'm not exactly "old," per se, and therefore, a lot of my favorites aren't always of the adult-variety (and no, not that "adult" variety).
So the book I read was Sixth Grade Secrets, by Louis Sachar.
First, you may recognize the author. You should recognize him, because he's one of the more famous children's and Young Adult writers in America. Among other things, he's known for the Wayside School series and Holes (which they made a movie out of). I highly recommend these books as well, for people of all ages (especially Holes, which, as YA literature, falls in that wonderful in-between category that I mentioned in my post about Ender's Game http://arch-reader.blogspot.com/2006_11_01_archive.html (yes, I'm sure it's incredibly tacky to cite my own blog four-posts in)), and the movie for Holes is surprisingly good, too.
What makes Sachar so great is his style. He's got a quirky sense of humor that completely ignores the idea of condescending to kids, but rather tends to say: "Hey, this is funny and clever, and if you get it, great, and if not, oh well." I don't think he wants readers to not get his humor, but he doesn't pause to help you understand that humor, either. He also doesn't bother to build up to it -- you are in the thick of it from the moment you start reading.
A lot of it is in the details: for instance, when describing one of the main characters, it's important for him to note that she wears clean underwear everyday. Clearly this gives us a good insight into the fastidious nature of the person, but it does so in a way that seems unnecessary.
All the better for us.
Sixth Grade Secrets is about a girl who doesn't lie, a boy with a crush, and the wackiness that ensues. In between, secret clubs (which are forbidden in the school they go to) are formed, rivalries are sparked, and a teacher with a penchant for making kids copy dictionary pages is kept constantly on his toes (if you read a lot of Sachar, you'll notice that his adult figures in the books also tend to be a lot cooler than most adults - witty word-play, talk to kids like equals, etc.). I'd like to say there's more to it than that (and, obviously there is), but it's a short book, and I'd hate to give away all the little twists and turns that make the story complete.
And it is a complete story. That's the amazing thing about this book (and most "children's novels."): they are whole stories, with developed characters, and full Greek plots. You may feel silly reading such a book, but you won't be reading something silly. I think you have to respect that.
On a sadder note, it appears that I not only plagiarized once, but twice -- let me explain.
When I was in high school, I had a Spanish teacher (not that she was Spanish, she taught Spanish) who had never taught before. She had the unfortunate luck to have an Honors class full of Juniors and Seniors for the last period of every day. As such, discipline quickly became an issue. To keep the story short, she would often tell someone that they had detention for talking. Said person would immediately protest, and blame someone else for the talking. Now, that person had detention. After a while, my friends and I caught on, and we would rat out each other with false accusations, just so they'd get detention. Kind of like a witch hunt.
One of my friends suggested I write a story based on this experience, and so I kind of did. Here's where it gets a little "plagiarizy" and whatnot. I kind of took that idea, and mixed it with the rising action of the movie School Ties, and made a sort of dark "power of the mob" story set in school. Now, to be clear, I didn't actually plagiarize - the story was uniquely my own. But on the flip-side, not only is that story loosely suggested by School Ties, but apparently also by a certain scene in Sixth Grade Secrets. I don't think I actually remembered this book when I wrote the story, but nevertheless, I'd like to be honest about it.
In summation:
Read Sixth Grade Secrets, Holes (and watch the movie), and the Wayside Series.
Watch School Ties (pretty good movie with Brendan Frasier and Matt Damon).
Don't plagiarize.
Saturday, December 2, 2006
Beasts of No Nation still Burdensome
Let's just be clear, here: some of my titles will not be that clever. And, if you don't like puns and/or word-play, none of them will be clever.
That being said, let me begin:
Beasts of No Nation, by Uzodinma Iweala is one of those books that is probably acclaimed before it even reaches the presses. In a way, that is rightly so, because the story and subject are perfectly suited for critical praise.
I am not going to be such a person.
Now, first, do not get me wrong. The book is not terrible. In fact, I'd venture to say it's actually pretty good.
But it's not entertaining, either. And, even though it's art-as-social-commentary, if you expect people to curl up on a cold winter day and read, you might want to capture some sort of world that compels us ot read more.
Rather, the book tends to repell, and on numerous fronts. Right away you are met with language. The words are English, to a degree, but the syntax is not. The grammar is not. A lot of the words are not (that is, not really words at all). As poetry, I could take this, and perhaps this shouldn't be classified as a novel, but rather as an epic poem. But it was sold as a novel, and therefore was designed to be read as a novel, but failed to work as such. Iweala creates the voice of Agu to be a distinctive dialect, and I am an objective enough reader to accept that. But since the entire narrative is Agu's, what we, as readers, are subject to is hacking and slashing our way through language to get at story.
People will probably say: the language is not that dense. And they are correct. But, the language needn't be dense at all. I think there is something of gimmick afoot, and that's what makes me hesitate in regarding this book as something more than it is: a fairly realistic story of a child-soldier in Western Africa.
Which, of course, further repells the reader. This book is not for the faint of heart. Not graphically violent, but not rated PG, either. Agu's world sucks, and he lets us know how bad it sucks. I wish to be clear, though. That this is repellent is the nature of the story. I don't think Iweala wrote the book to help someone be cozy in front of the fireplace - the story was meant to jerk them out of our comfortable world and show them that not everyone is doing so well. If you are going to write about off-putting things, though, don't put us off with the way you tell it, too. Give us a chance to understand why it's so bad in language we understand, that's all I ask.
Another young writer that I read, Angie Cruz, did something similar in her book Soledad. Throughout the entire novel, there are no quotation marks. There was dialogue, but no quotation marks. So that meant constantly going back after you realized that someone was now talking, disrupting the narrative flow. Again, the story could have been fantastic (it wasn't, but it wasn't terrible, either), but instead all I remember is having to fight through some writer's device in order to get the information.
The fact that these people, pretty much my age, have published novels and I don't - doesn't even factor into my opinion.
Honestly, though, I think Iweala wrote a strong book. But I feel it could have reached and touched a wider audience by mixing his lyrical dialect with more straight-forward prose. And I really think that critics love this book for the exact reason I don't like it.
That being said, let me begin:
Beasts of No Nation, by Uzodinma Iweala is one of those books that is probably acclaimed before it even reaches the presses. In a way, that is rightly so, because the story and subject are perfectly suited for critical praise.
I am not going to be such a person.
Now, first, do not get me wrong. The book is not terrible. In fact, I'd venture to say it's actually pretty good.
But it's not entertaining, either. And, even though it's art-as-social-commentary, if you expect people to curl up on a cold winter day and read, you might want to capture some sort of world that compels us ot read more.
Rather, the book tends to repell, and on numerous fronts. Right away you are met with language. The words are English, to a degree, but the syntax is not. The grammar is not. A lot of the words are not (that is, not really words at all). As poetry, I could take this, and perhaps this shouldn't be classified as a novel, but rather as an epic poem. But it was sold as a novel, and therefore was designed to be read as a novel, but failed to work as such. Iweala creates the voice of Agu to be a distinctive dialect, and I am an objective enough reader to accept that. But since the entire narrative is Agu's, what we, as readers, are subject to is hacking and slashing our way through language to get at story.
People will probably say: the language is not that dense. And they are correct. But, the language needn't be dense at all. I think there is something of gimmick afoot, and that's what makes me hesitate in regarding this book as something more than it is: a fairly realistic story of a child-soldier in Western Africa.
Which, of course, further repells the reader. This book is not for the faint of heart. Not graphically violent, but not rated PG, either. Agu's world sucks, and he lets us know how bad it sucks. I wish to be clear, though. That this is repellent is the nature of the story. I don't think Iweala wrote the book to help someone be cozy in front of the fireplace - the story was meant to jerk them out of our comfortable world and show them that not everyone is doing so well. If you are going to write about off-putting things, though, don't put us off with the way you tell it, too. Give us a chance to understand why it's so bad in language we understand, that's all I ask.
Another young writer that I read, Angie Cruz, did something similar in her book Soledad. Throughout the entire novel, there are no quotation marks. There was dialogue, but no quotation marks. So that meant constantly going back after you realized that someone was now talking, disrupting the narrative flow. Again, the story could have been fantastic (it wasn't, but it wasn't terrible, either), but instead all I remember is having to fight through some writer's device in order to get the information.
The fact that these people, pretty much my age, have published novels and I don't - doesn't even factor into my opinion.
Honestly, though, I think Iweala wrote a strong book. But I feel it could have reached and touched a wider audience by mixing his lyrical dialect with more straight-forward prose. And I really think that critics love this book for the exact reason I don't like it.
Friday, December 1, 2006
I Read I, Robot
That's right, folks. I had read it before (and before the movie came out as well), and this is kind of a joint venture.
First, the book.
If you've never read science fiction (and I mean, actual science fiction, and not fantasy), or do read science fiction, but have never read I, Robot, by Isaac Asimov, then there is probably a serious problem with your reading list. I, Robot is not only part of the science fiction literary canon, but probably deserves a place in the American literary canon as a whole.
Which makes it required reading.
The book itself is definitely not the greatest story ever told. In fact, it's not even the half-dozen greatest stories ever told, which is really what the "novel" amounts to. The book is, in theory, the musings of one of the first great robotocists, Susan Calvin (the name might sound familiar, but I assure the character is not). Realistically, the book is a collection of short stories bound into a single purpose by the o'-so-clever narrative device of the interview. It is mildly successful in this regard. What it is incredibly successful in doing, though, is establishing the Three Laws of Robotics, which will become very important in the rest of the Robot Series.
Here's where you should be impressed:
The stories are logical, adhere completely to the Three Laws, and are a pretty interesting look into what the future may be like.
Here's where you might not be impressed:
It's slightly repetitive, the characters do not seem to have multiple dimensions, it's completely dialogue driven, and the dialogue is not super-inventive. It's also a bit dated (considering that some of the stories of the "future" occur in 1996).
Still, you'll keep reading because you want to find out how they figure out what the newest dilemma is, how it meshes with the Three Laws, and what are the solutions. And, then, of course, it is a great primer to read the Robot Series, which is more or less an actual novel series with the same characters.
That is, the same characters from the movie.
Sort of.
Because the plot of the movie, I, Robot, is more closely aligned to Asimov's second book in the series, The Caves of Steel. In it, a detective is assigned to investigate the death of a scientist, and this human, like almost all humans, distrust and dislike robots. The detectives name is not Spooner, as Will Smith's character is, but it's the same guy.
That's why the credits state "Inspired by the work of Isaac Asimov." Not even based, "inspired." My friend would argue that the movie was not very "inspired" at all, but then again, he's a huge Asimov fan as well as working on a Ph.D. in robotics. Those facts aside, he does have a point: why call the movie I, Robot, and then pretty much completely disregard the tenets set forth in said book? Robots seriously do try to harm humans, and despite some flimsy pretenses about "the greater good," (which you will find in the book), they are doing so in clear violation of the First Law, something the book is determined to say is impossible. In this regard, the movie is an abysmal failure, and it's sort of sad that one of the most beloved science fiction books is so grossly abused for sheer commercial gain.
That being said, I liked the movie. It was fun. The action was good, the special effects were good, the dialogue was decent, and it had all the charm of a Will Smith movie without all the Wild, Wild West baggage. Yes, the movie is not the book. It's not even Asimov, truthfully. But it is entertainment, and for that, you can't find much fault. Part of the problem with movie adaptations of books (and the cliche is almost universally true: the book is always better), is that devoted fans are devoted for a specific reason. Those reasons generally do not find their way to the silver screen. Even as great as the Lord of the Rings movies were, I can still hear my friends grumbling about the lack of Tom Bombadill in the Fellowship (which should help demonstrate just how geeky me and my friends are).
Anyway, go read the book. Read the rest of the series. And then read Asimov's true masterpiece, The Foundation series. His style is simple, and yet his ideas are definitely profound. He tails off, at the end (considering he picked up the series decades later), but the man is one of America's most prolific and important writers.
And then go watch the movie again, and remember that said gifted writer was in no way involved.
Peace.
First, the book.
If you've never read science fiction (and I mean, actual science fiction, and not fantasy), or do read science fiction, but have never read I, Robot, by Isaac Asimov, then there is probably a serious problem with your reading list. I, Robot is not only part of the science fiction literary canon, but probably deserves a place in the American literary canon as a whole.
Which makes it required reading.
The book itself is definitely not the greatest story ever told. In fact, it's not even the half-dozen greatest stories ever told, which is really what the "novel" amounts to. The book is, in theory, the musings of one of the first great robotocists, Susan Calvin (the name might sound familiar, but I assure the character is not). Realistically, the book is a collection of short stories bound into a single purpose by the o'-so-clever narrative device of the interview. It is mildly successful in this regard. What it is incredibly successful in doing, though, is establishing the Three Laws of Robotics, which will become very important in the rest of the Robot Series.
Here's where you should be impressed:
The stories are logical, adhere completely to the Three Laws, and are a pretty interesting look into what the future may be like.
Here's where you might not be impressed:
It's slightly repetitive, the characters do not seem to have multiple dimensions, it's completely dialogue driven, and the dialogue is not super-inventive. It's also a bit dated (considering that some of the stories of the "future" occur in 1996).
Still, you'll keep reading because you want to find out how they figure out what the newest dilemma is, how it meshes with the Three Laws, and what are the solutions. And, then, of course, it is a great primer to read the Robot Series, which is more or less an actual novel series with the same characters.
That is, the same characters from the movie.
Sort of.
Because the plot of the movie, I, Robot, is more closely aligned to Asimov's second book in the series, The Caves of Steel. In it, a detective is assigned to investigate the death of a scientist, and this human, like almost all humans, distrust and dislike robots. The detectives name is not Spooner, as Will Smith's character is, but it's the same guy.
That's why the credits state "Inspired by the work of Isaac Asimov." Not even based, "inspired." My friend would argue that the movie was not very "inspired" at all, but then again, he's a huge Asimov fan as well as working on a Ph.D. in robotics. Those facts aside, he does have a point: why call the movie I, Robot, and then pretty much completely disregard the tenets set forth in said book? Robots seriously do try to harm humans, and despite some flimsy pretenses about "the greater good," (which you will find in the book), they are doing so in clear violation of the First Law, something the book is determined to say is impossible. In this regard, the movie is an abysmal failure, and it's sort of sad that one of the most beloved science fiction books is so grossly abused for sheer commercial gain.
That being said, I liked the movie. It was fun. The action was good, the special effects were good, the dialogue was decent, and it had all the charm of a Will Smith movie without all the Wild, Wild West baggage. Yes, the movie is not the book. It's not even Asimov, truthfully. But it is entertainment, and for that, you can't find much fault. Part of the problem with movie adaptations of books (and the cliche is almost universally true: the book is always better), is that devoted fans are devoted for a specific reason. Those reasons generally do not find their way to the silver screen. Even as great as the Lord of the Rings movies were, I can still hear my friends grumbling about the lack of Tom Bombadill in the Fellowship (which should help demonstrate just how geeky me and my friends are).
Anyway, go read the book. Read the rest of the series. And then read Asimov's true masterpiece, The Foundation series. His style is simple, and yet his ideas are definitely profound. He tails off, at the end (considering he picked up the series decades later), but the man is one of America's most prolific and important writers.
And then go watch the movie again, and remember that said gifted writer was in no way involved.
Peace.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Time to enter the crazy world of blogging
Hello world.
I'm David.
Now that we've been properly introduced, I figured I'd let you know what I plan to do with this here blogging page.
My hope is help everyone get a little perspective on the various texts I produce, read, and observe.
Now, for those unfamiliar with the broad literary-analsisy term "text", you're in for a real treat. Basically, a text is anything that conveys information, and this allows it to go beyond the simple book to encompass everything from movies, music, literature, and newspapers, to art, billboards, and even the internet itself. Granted, this is a simplistic view (and also, granted, it is the view I adhere to; it's not necessarily "truth"), but I think you'll understand what I mean as I post more. Mostly I'm going to write about books, movies, music, and television, but every so often I might delve into other arenas.
I also might start tempting fate, and posting my own "original" texts (the scare-quotes are to indicate how little self-esteem I have in this regard (and how much false modesty I therefore try to display)).
Who am I, and why should you care about my opinions? I'm no one. I just happen to consume a great quantity of texts, I like to talk, and I have the unfortunate stigma of "English Major" permanently attached to my being. As such, I tend to have a great deal to say about "stuff" and "things."
I'll start with my favorite book for my first installment.
Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card is a novel that I think all writers one day aspire to write. No, I don't think all writers want to write science fiction (although, deep down, I think a lot of them do, but can't, because it's actually very difficult (more on this later)), but I do think they want to write the complete, critically acclaimed book that becomes an instant classic and is beloved by children and adults alike.
Hyperbole? Perhaps. I do love this book, and I'd gladly fight a war of words on its behalf. But, with anything, you can take my word for it, or you can take the words of the text itself. Is it the greatest piece of writing ever? No, it's not. There are flaws. But unlike a lot of books, the flaws are not so glaring as to render the reader unable to function. Few and far between, everyone I've known who has read the book has never focused on them, but rather has sang its praises.
First off, it's a cool premise. Near future, war with aliens, children geniuses, school in space, zero-gravity laser tag. That in itself would probably make an enjoyable story, and, oh wait, it did. It's called "Ender's Game", and it's a short story. What makes the novel so incredible, at least for me, is that it goes beyond the mere glitz-factor of the Battle School, and plays up psychological, historical, political, and emotional aspects as well. Truth be told, the latter is the least emphasized of the listed aspects, and this is one of the "flaws" someone might find, but in the end, Card does a good job of giving us enough to establish that these are not just characters, they are human characters.
Honestly, I could go on and on about this book, but I'd prefer if everyone just read it. Then, write back to me what you think, and let me know if you would keep this book on your shelf or not. Before I figuratively go, though, let me take up the point I had made earlier about this book being for children and adults. I will say this until my face goes blue: Young Adult literature (YA) is the hardest thing to write in the world. Young people are picky, have short attention spans, and possess much smaller vocabularies while demanding much more explanation. Card has written a book that not only endears itself to children right away (with a cast of children, including the protagonist and most of the antagonists), but allows them to enter a complex, adult world without feeling condescended to. On the flip-side, adults have a book were the complexities are expanded with deeper readings and analysis, but isn't bogged down so that they miss out on the adventure and intrigue.
In case you're interested in learning more about Card, visit his web-site at http://www.hatrack.com/. To see what some other people think about Card (and not in a particularly gracious manner), check out this and some of its links (for the interest factor, if nothing else) http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2005/5/28/22428/7034.
Until next time. . .
I'm David.
Now that we've been properly introduced, I figured I'd let you know what I plan to do with this here blogging page.
My hope is help everyone get a little perspective on the various texts I produce, read, and observe.
Now, for those unfamiliar with the broad literary-analsisy term "text", you're in for a real treat. Basically, a text is anything that conveys information, and this allows it to go beyond the simple book to encompass everything from movies, music, literature, and newspapers, to art, billboards, and even the internet itself. Granted, this is a simplistic view (and also, granted, it is the view I adhere to; it's not necessarily "truth"), but I think you'll understand what I mean as I post more. Mostly I'm going to write about books, movies, music, and television, but every so often I might delve into other arenas.
I also might start tempting fate, and posting my own "original" texts (the scare-quotes are to indicate how little self-esteem I have in this regard (and how much false modesty I therefore try to display)).
Who am I, and why should you care about my opinions? I'm no one. I just happen to consume a great quantity of texts, I like to talk, and I have the unfortunate stigma of "English Major" permanently attached to my being. As such, I tend to have a great deal to say about "stuff" and "things."
I'll start with my favorite book for my first installment.
Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card is a novel that I think all writers one day aspire to write. No, I don't think all writers want to write science fiction (although, deep down, I think a lot of them do, but can't, because it's actually very difficult (more on this later)), but I do think they want to write the complete, critically acclaimed book that becomes an instant classic and is beloved by children and adults alike.
Hyperbole? Perhaps. I do love this book, and I'd gladly fight a war of words on its behalf. But, with anything, you can take my word for it, or you can take the words of the text itself. Is it the greatest piece of writing ever? No, it's not. There are flaws. But unlike a lot of books, the flaws are not so glaring as to render the reader unable to function. Few and far between, everyone I've known who has read the book has never focused on them, but rather has sang its praises.
First off, it's a cool premise. Near future, war with aliens, children geniuses, school in space, zero-gravity laser tag. That in itself would probably make an enjoyable story, and, oh wait, it did. It's called "Ender's Game", and it's a short story. What makes the novel so incredible, at least for me, is that it goes beyond the mere glitz-factor of the Battle School, and plays up psychological, historical, political, and emotional aspects as well. Truth be told, the latter is the least emphasized of the listed aspects, and this is one of the "flaws" someone might find, but in the end, Card does a good job of giving us enough to establish that these are not just characters, they are human characters.
Honestly, I could go on and on about this book, but I'd prefer if everyone just read it. Then, write back to me what you think, and let me know if you would keep this book on your shelf or not. Before I figuratively go, though, let me take up the point I had made earlier about this book being for children and adults. I will say this until my face goes blue: Young Adult literature (YA) is the hardest thing to write in the world. Young people are picky, have short attention spans, and possess much smaller vocabularies while demanding much more explanation. Card has written a book that not only endears itself to children right away (with a cast of children, including the protagonist and most of the antagonists), but allows them to enter a complex, adult world without feeling condescended to. On the flip-side, adults have a book were the complexities are expanded with deeper readings and analysis, but isn't bogged down so that they miss out on the adventure and intrigue.
In case you're interested in learning more about Card, visit his web-site at http://www.hatrack.com/. To see what some other people think about Card (and not in a particularly gracious manner), check out this and some of its links (for the interest factor, if nothing else) http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2005/5/28/22428/7034.
Until next time. . .
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