Knots and Crosses

knots and crossesKnots and Crosses: An Inspector Rebus Novel by Ian Rankin, 2/5

This has about the same depth, complexity and uniqueness as the plot of an average episode of any old crime TV show.  The story unfolds in a way that leaves the reader as clueless throughout as the main character seems to be and the ending feels rushed, with no real payoff.  The most interesting part of the book was multiple appearances of the unusual word “outwith,” which is Scottish for “outside” or “beyond.”

[Why I read it: I enjoyed the first season of Rebus (a TV show based on Rankin’s literary character) but the show did a complete cast reboot for the second season and I didn’t like the new actors (or the new writers and director, for that matter) at all.  While reading reviews, looking for some commiseration, I was surprised that several people liked the new series because they felt it was truer to the books’ portrayal of the character.  Realising I was one of those annoying people who have an opinion on the movie but have never even read the book, I hastened to remedy the situation and was punished for my sins with the first novel, which so failed to inspire me to read any more books in the series that I can’t even imagine how it inspired a TV show.]

The Weight of Glory and Other Addresses

weight of gloryThe Weight of Glory and Other Addresses by C.S. Lewis, 5/5

I half-expected C.S. Lewis’ intellectual style to be unsuited to the short-speech format, but was only slightly surprised to find that he is as brilliant a writer of sermons as a writer of books.  Of the nine essays in this collection, I found “The Weight of Glory” to be the most challenging and “Is Theology Poetry?” the most encouraging, both addressing, to some extent, struggles I am currently experiencing.

My deepening distaste for humanity in general and aversion to interaction with humanity in particular made some parts of “The Weight of Glory” difficult to read and almost impossible to believe (though I have fewer reasons to doubt Lewis’ assertions than to trust them).

It may be possible for each to think too much of his own potential glory hereafter; it is hardly possible for him to think too often or too deeply about that of his neighbour.  The load, or weight, or burden of my neighbour’s glory should be laid on my back, a load so heavy that only humility can carry it, and the backs of the proud will be broken.  It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you say [saw?] it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare.  All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations.  It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics.  There are no ordinary people.  You have never talked to a mere mortal.  Nations, cultures, arts, civilisations – these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat.  But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit – immortal horrors or everlasting splendours (18).”

Luckily, Lewis can comfort as well as he convicts and I found the following excerpt (greatly weakened by the lack of supporting context) to be a welcome antidote to the noxious mélange of malaise and meaninglessness to which I have been lately putting up an admittedly feeble resistance:

If, on the other hand, I swallow the scientific cosmology as a whole, then not only can I not fit in Christianity, but I cannot even fit in science.  If minds are wholly dependent on brains, and brains on biochemistry, and biochemistry (in the long run) on the meaningless flux of the atoms, I cannot understand how the thought of those minds should have any more significance than the sound of the wind in the trees.  And this is to me the final test.  This is how I distinguish dreaming and waking.  When I am awake I can, in some degree, account for and study my dream.  The dragon that pursued me last night can be fitted into my waking world.  I know that there are such things as dreams; I know that I had eaten an indigestible dinner; I know that a man of my reading might be expected to dream of dragons.  But while in the nightmare I could not have fitted in my waking experience.  The waking world is judged more real because it can thus contain the dreaming world; the dreaming world is judged less real because it cannot contain the waking one.  For the same reason I am certain that in passing from the scientific points of view to the theological, I have passed from dream to waking.  Christian theology can fit in science, art, morality, and the sub-Christian religions.  The scientific point of view cannot fit in any of these things, not even science itself.  I believe in Christianity as I believe that the Sun has risen, not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else (91).”

[Why I read it: it was given me as a birthday present and I am always eager to read anything nonfiction by C.S. Lewis.]

Forever Rumpole

forever rumpoleForever Rumpole: The Best of the Rumpole Stories by John Mortimer, 3/5

Rumpole, an irreverent, outspoken and devastatingly sarcastic barrister, specialising in criminal law, is the scourge of judges but the delight of juries (who he entertains) and the criminal classes (who he generally gets acquitted).  The character is appealing, but I felt that the stories were lacking in complexity and substance.  Also, it’s challenging to respect a character who is portrayed as having the reputation, amongst criminals, of a guaranteed procurer of “not guilty” verdicts.  I’d rather read a story about the defence of an innocent, decent person than the defence of someone who’s only a petty thief and con-man and thus would never have committed the murder in question…

[Why I read it: I’ve been meaning to watch the TV show but just got around to the book first, thinking it sounded like fun.]

The Universe in a Nutshell

universe in a nutshellThe Universe in a Nutshell by Stephen Hawking, 4/5

This book’s strengths and weaknesses balance very well with those of Hawking’s older work, A Brief History of Time, making this an excellent companion to the latter.  Where A Brief History is old and short on illustrations, The Universe in a Nutshell is updated (2001) and illustrated in a style that can only be described as luxurious.  Additional topics covered include a chapter on the future of biological and technological innovation, as well as a chapter on p-branes.

Despite these improvements, the layout of the new book feels uncomfortably disjointed for the subject matter – the meaty parts of the text are interrupted by large pictures, captions and info boxes.  I actually prefer the drier, straightforward presentation of A Brief History.  Additionally, I feel that many parts of this book are not as clearly communicated and I missed the tone of charming humility and open-mindedness that was evident in such abundance in the older version.

The illustrator’s website is definitely worth a look.

[Why I read it: I was looking for a more modern Hawking book with which to follow the aged A Brief History of Time.]

Kant and the Platypus

kant and the platypusKant and the Platypus: Essays on Language and Cognition by Umberto Eco, trans. from the Italian by Alastair McEwen, 1/5

I have had to quit books before.  In fact, of the 185 books I’ve read over the last 26.5 months, I’ve quit four.  This, however, is the first one I’ve had to abandon for the sole reason that it is simply too hard for me to understand.  Not only did I fail to understand the concepts, I couldn’t even understand the words used to describe the concepts.  My usual method of relying on context to understand the odd piece of unfamiliar vocabulary was useless in the face of incomprehensible context.  Eco spouts Latin (all of which McEwen leaves untranslated) like he’s suffering from some strange, academic form of Tourette’s, while throwing around words like “infundibular” and “columbarium” with the airy abandon of someone who owns stock in dictionary.com.  I made it to page 69.  Oh, the disgrace…and the irony – that I should find a book on language and cognition to be unreadable.

[Why I [tried to] read it: saw it on an online list of must-read philosophy books, found the title intriguing and mistook the author for Italo Calvino.]

Killing Floor

killing floorKilling Floor by Lee Child, 3/5

This has an entertaining and well-structured, though by no means unique, plot.  The writing style is unintentionally hilarious, with short, macho sentences and strangely frequent occurrences of the word “graunch” (ok, maybe three times doesn’t count as “frequent,” but it definitely is strange).

Another trademark is the use of numerous minute observations and descriptions, which have no plot significance and, combined with Child’s limited and repetitious vocabulary, lead to some strange effects.  One of these is “The Sucky Rubber Door Seals.”  Having initially described how the police station’s “plate-glass doors…sucked against rubber seals” and “sucked shut” (7), Child proceeds to use this exact description with a frequency that can only be described as weird.  For example, on page 50, the “big plate-glass door of the station house…sucked against the rubber seal.”  Page 131: “…the big glass door sucked open.”  Page 150: “the station house door sucked open.”  Page 246: “I heard the glass door suck open.”  Page 449: “Pushed open the heavy glass door against its stiff rubber seal.”  Weird.  I’d have to say that the doors aren’t the only thing about the book that sucks…  Still it’s a fun read and, for a first novel, even impressive.

[Why I read it:  I heard good things about the series from my dad and, though I hated the movie, I thought the Jack Reacher character had potential to amuse.]

Heroes of the Dawn

heroes of the dawn coverHeroes of the Dawn: Stories of Fionn and the Fianna by Violet Russell, 5/5

Given the prominent “School Edition” on the cover, the large text inside and the lack of any sort of author biography, I fully expected this to be a childish retelling of Irish legends, popularised for an American audience.  I was wrong.  The stories are beautifully and simply told by Violet Russell, née North, wife of Irish Nationalist and writer George “AE” Russell (whose Wikipedia article is well worth a read).  There is no higher qualification needed for a recorder of myths than to be able to write, without pretension, what can be found in the beginning of the dedication “to Brian and Diarmuid”:

When you were small, and could not read for yourselves, and the long winter twilights were wearisome to you – sitting by the fire while the shadows played with each other over the room I told you these stories of ancient days, when magic and mystery and the folk of the other world were part of every one’s belief.

It is because you cared for them that I have re-written some of those about Fionn and his warriors, thinking that other children might wish – as you did – to know something about the old gods so often mentioned in the legends, and about Fionn and the Fianna Eireann.

The art by Beatrice Elvery is, even in this stripped-down, black-and-white, school version of the book, exceptional.  My battered copy is missing the frontispiece (and the last page, irritatingly), but I scanned in the rest of the images since a convenient collection doesn’t seem to exist elsewhere on the internet.

A little research revealed quite a bit about the book’s author and illustrator…if only I could find out something about the book’s previous owner, who scrawled name and address several times amongst the pages.  Plunket Stewart of Barrack Street No. 12, I’m thinking of you!

[Why I read it: obeying my compulsion to check the contents of vintage books that have no title printed on the spine, I found this in a Missouri antique store.  I’m always on the look-out for lesser-known mythologies (basically anything that’s not Greek or Roman).]

Finding Your Element

finding your elementFinding Your Element: How to Discover Your Talents and Passions and Transform Your Life by Ken Robinson, 3/5

If only someone would write a self-help book for people who are too cynical and pessimistic for self-help books.  Not that it would help.

Anyway, I skimmed through this but was feeling much too depressed to ponder any of the ponderous questions that lurked at the end of every chapter or to do any of the numerous thought-exercises.  I know that makes this review about as legitimate as a review of a diet book that was read while eating Twinkies, but what can I say – when you’re not thinking positively, then “thinking more” (which is, practically speaking, the solution Robinson proposes) does not seem likely to help.  Also, the book’s subtitle makes me want to puke.  And the cover is too colourful.

[Why I read it: I ordered it from the library after watching an interesting interview with the author.   However, it turned out to look a heck of a lot like your ordinary, bullshit self-help book and I was in a bad mood anyway, so I lost interest and only read it very late at night, when my brain was too tired to process the book on theoretical physics that I was also in the middle of.]

 

A Brief History of Time

a brief history of timeA Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking, 4/5

If I learned anything from this book, it is that theoretical physics is an unfortunate area of interest for skeptical non-geniuses like myself.  When the skeptic in me complains about a lack of compelling evidence in support of complicated concepts, the non-genius assures me that I wouldn’t be able to understand such evidence anyway.

This book covers much more than just the topic of time, ranging from an overview of basic physics to an in-depth analysis of black holes.  I appreciate the tone of the book, which is enthusiastic without being overbearing or condescending.  Hawking demonstrates the rare virtue of valuing what is right over simply being right.  I especially appreciate how he expresses his doubts about the existence of God in a respectful and thought-provoking way instead of indulging in the vicious and insulting approach that has been popularised in recent years by many members of the scientific community.

My main complaint about the book is its age.  It has been fifteen years since the last update, which is quite a long time in terms of scientific advancement.  It killed me every time Hawking mentioned a theory that would likely be proved or disproved in “the next few years” because I know that such events have likely happened, but are too technical for me to learn about on my own.

Having established my basic inability to question or critique this book’s content and method of presentation, here is a brief sampling of some bits that made my brain really happy:

1. The strange fact that “we can measure time more accurately than length” (22).
2. Rockets have to travel more than 7 miles/second to escape earth’s gravity (42).
3. The concept that something can be both finite and without edges or boundaries (47).
4. Particles with spin 1/2 “do not look the same if one turns them through just one revolution: you have to turn them through two complete revolutions” (69).
5. If you picture real numbers on an x-axis, then imaginary numbers can be represented by the y-axis – being “in a sense numbers at right angles to ordinary real numbers” (139).
6. That Hawking’s “no-boundary” description of the universe closely matches both my own personal conception of God and God’s description of himself as “I am who I am.”

The universe would be completely self-contained and not affected by anything outside itself.  It would neither be created nor destroyed.  It would just BE” (141).

7.  A process called “renormalization” cancels out seemingly absurd infinities by introducing other infinities (173).
8. String theory’s “strings” have length but no other dimension (174).

On four-dimensional space-time:

Einstein made the revolutionary suggestion that gravity is not a force like other forces, but is a consequence of the fact that space-time is not flat, as had been previously assumed: it is curved, or “warped,” by the distribution of mass and energy in it.  Bodies like the earth are not made to move on curved orbits by a force called gravity; instead, they follow the nearest thing to a straight path in a curved space, which is called a geodesic.  A geodesic is the shortest (or longest) path between two nearby points.  For example, the surface of the earth is a two-dimensional curved space.  A geodesic on the earth is called a great circle, and is the shortest route between two points (Fig. 2.8).  As the geodesic is the shortest path between any two airports, this is the route an airline navigator will tell the pilot to fly along.  In general relativity, bodies always follow straight lines in four-dimensional space-time, but they nevertheless appear to us to move along curved paths in our three-dimensional space. (This is rather like watching an airplane flying over hilly ground.  Although it follows a straight line in three-dimensional space, its shadow follows a curved path on the two-dimensional ground.)  The mass of the sun curves space-time in such a way that although the earth follows a straight path in four-dimensional space-time, it appears to us to move along a circular orbit in three-dimensional space” (30).

On extra dimensions:

Why don’t we notice all these extra dimensions, if they are really there?  Why do we see only three space dimensions and one time dimension?  The suggestion is that the other dimensions are curved up into a space of very small size, something like a million million million million millionth of an inch.  This is so small that we just don’t notice it: we see only one time dimension and three space dimensions, in which space-time is fairly flat.  It is like the surface of a straw.  If you look at it closely, you see it is two-dimensional (the position of a point on the straw is described by two numbers, the length along the straw and the distance round the circular direction).  But if you look at it from a distance, you don’t see the thickness of the straw and it looks one-dimensional (the position of a point is specified only by the length along the straw).  So it is with space-time: on a very small scale it is ten-dimensional and highly curved, but on bigger scales you don’t see the curvature or the extra dimensions” (179).

On popular science:

In Newton’s time it was possible for an educated person to have a grasp of the whole of human knowledge, at least in outline.  But since then, the pace of the development of science has made this impossible.  Because theories are always being changed to account for new observations, they are never properly digested or simplified so that ordinary people can understand them.  You have to be a specialist, and even then you can only hope to have a proper grasp of a small proportion of the scientific theories.  Further, the rate of progress is so rapid that what one learns at school or university is always a bit out of date.  Only a few people can keep up with the rapidly advancing frontier of knowledge, and they have to devote their whole time to it and specialize in a small area.  The rest of the population has little idea of the advances that are being made or the excitement they are generating” (185).

[Why I read it (twice): the Internet loves Stephen Hawking and I grew tired of being constantly reminded that I’d never actually read anything by him.  My enthusiasm during the first reading was a little diminished by feelings of mental inadequacy, so I read it through again, hoping to clarify the difficult bits.  I was certainly less bothered the second time around, but I think that was more because of a shallow familiarity with the content than from any mental breakthroughs.]

Ragged Dick

ragged dickRagged Dick: Or, Street Life in New York with the Boot Blacks by Horatio Alger, Jr., 2/5

Surprisingly, being a paedophile is not the fault that most disqualifies Alger from being an author of children’s books; he is also a terrible writer.  The story is unbearably preachy and contrived.  Its only merits are historical – documenting old time speech patterns and providing a interesting glimpse of a young New York City.  I wanted to give it 1/5, but decided to be more generous since some of its failings are simply common characteristics of 19th century literature and it was written for children, after all.

[Why I read it: the rest of my family read it and I had never come across anything by the author, though I recognised his name.]