Pathways

Star Trek Voyager: Pathways
© 1998 Jeri Taylor
438 pages

Star Trek Pathways throws Voyager’s entire bridge crew (save Captain Janeway) into an alien prisoner-of-war camp where tenants are expected to fend for themselves, Andersonville-style. While Commander Chakotay, Commander Tuvok, Lieutenants Paris and Torres,  Ensign Kim, Neelix, and Seven establish a shelter for themselves, survive the harsh surroundings, and attempt to find a way out, they tell stories to pass the time — stories about themselves, the stories of their lives that brought them to Voyager. Because Jeri Taylor helped produce the show, and wrote this novel while Voyager aired, Pathways (and its sister volume, Mosaic) enjoyed the exceptional status of being regarded as canon, if only temporarily. 

While the metaplot that holds the stories together isn’t much (they build a transporter to escape, ho-hum, but Janeway uses an interesting little trick to guide the group to safety), but the stories themselves deliver more character development than we were able to see on the show. They answer questions — how did Chakotay and Torres come to join the Maquis? Why did Tuvok enter Starfleet, resign it, and then begin a second career years later?   What was the accident that led to Tom Paris’ disgrace and imprisonment? — and add depth to the relationships of the characters, especially Chakotay and Paris. They’re introduced as characters with bad blood between them, but Taylor’s story shows that this isn’t true from Paris’ perspective — it’s very well done, especially given how strong the bond between those two is in the Voyager relaunch. Seven doesn’t have much of a story to tell — as she says, “My parents sang ‘Happy birthday, Annika. Then the Borg took us.” —  so Kes visits Neelix in a dream and tells her story in that way. I didn’t like Kes in one of the first episodes I saw her in, so she’s never really grown on me — but even so, I enjoyed her here.

The book would have been most enjoyable during the series’ run, but if there are any Voyager fans or readers out there who’ve not read this one, by all means look for it. Considering the strength of the Voyager relaunch — it has met universal praise from readers at TrekBBS — Pathways can still serve as an intro to the characters for those just getting into the series.

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Sharpe’s Fury

Sharpe’s Fury
© 2006 Bernard Cornwell
337 pages

Winter 1811: most of Spain lies under the flag of the Emperor Napoleon, and the British army has beaten a retreat to a fortified corner of Portugal. Cadiz, the last city of the sovereign Spanish, is under siege.  While Richard Sharpe has no business being there, a mission to blow up a bridge right under French noses didn’t go exactly as he planned, and he found himself washed down the river following history’s wake — right into Cadiz, where he enters the service of the Duke of Wellington’s brother involving a little domestic derring-do. Most book heroes would be content with surviving what Sharpe survives,  and more would consider their task done if they manage to do what Sharpe accomplishes by the book’s midpoint — but Sharpe, being Sharpe, manages to get himself involved in a battle where the odds are more against the valiant redcoats than they’ve ever been.

Bernard Cornwell delivers yet another novel full of action and suspense, with his Napoleonic hero surviving treacherous priests,  plots of blackmail, several explosions, the uncertain loyalty of Spanish allies, and a dragoon-filled final battle in which he tracks a nemesis. As mentioned before, I like the books which set Sharpe and his chosen men alone by themselves, and this book offers plenty of that when our favored scoundrel becomes a secret agent of sorts.  Fury is another solid hit in this series.

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This Week at the Library (12 October)

After reading several tomes in Will Durant’s Story of Civilization series, I’m rather…full of epic history at the moment, particularly religious history, so I returned Christianity: the First Three Thousand Years for some lighter fare. I have three recent reviews waiting to be finished or written: The Lost Hero, Rick Riordan;  Sharpe’s Fury, Bernard Cornwell; and The Complete Guide to Walking for Health, Fitness, and Weight Loss by Walking Magazine’s Mark Fenton.

This week…

  • The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I’m in the mood for mysteries, but I put down a Harry Bosch novel because I’m tired of mysteries that start with corpses. Aren’t there any authors who write non-murder mysteries?
  • The Age of Reason Begins, by Will Durant. It’s only 600 pages, practically an airport novel after The Age of Faith and The Reformation….and it begins with Queen Elizabeth, which is promising. Looking forward to the dawn of Science and the Enlightenment. 
  • Active Living Every Day, by…Steven Blair, Andrew L. Dunn, Bess H. Marcus, Ruth Ann Carpenter, and Peter Jaret.   I’ve started getting up early and doing an hour of brisk walking in the mornings, and do another 30 or so minutes in the afternoon. My goal has been to create an active lifestyle to be maintained the rest of my life, and so I’m doing a little reading to educate myself.  

I also have The Odyssey.

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The Good German

The Good German
© 2001 Joseph Kanon
512 pages

Berlin, summer 1945. The heart of the most infamous empire in history lies in ruins, battered by bombs and ravaged block by block by Russian artillery.  Its contents sacked and its people abused by the victorious Soviet army, nothing remains but rubble, piles of bodies, and broken spirits. The allies of World War 2 are meeting for the Potsdam conference, but such a story is not the reason why reporter Jacob Gesimar has come. Gesimar lived in Berlin years ago, before war forced him to exit, and he visits the sad metropolis not to gloat in victory or take in the spectre like a tourist, but to look for the girl he left behind. In the opening ours of the conference, an American body washes up on a Berlin lakeshore — the body of a man alive only hours before, who stood beside Gesimar as they flew into Berlin together. One man’s death is of no interest to the allies, but Gesimar works to solve the mystery of it by himself — if nothing else, there’s a story to be had.

The Good German is a busy novel, for the man’s death is not an isolated incident. More will follow, and as Geismar continues to work his way through an intelligence network of retired Berlin cops and black marketeers, he begins to realize there is a story of international proportions building around him — the start of another war, and he may perish with its opening shots. The “busy-ness” intensifies throughout the novel: plot twists and general action multiply with every chapter, but Joseph Kanon is spinning another mystery besides, having Gesimar ask more questions: how could the beloved Berlin of his youth have given itself over to be Hitler’s capital? How could his neighbors, good people all, become Nazis and willing participants in one of the most horrific exercises in human history, the Holocaust?  The questions lie over the setting like a cloud of dust, ever-haunting Jacob and the reader, especially once multiple plot threads converge and those questions become personal.

The Good German is definitely readable: the immediate postwar setting is unique. I don’t know of any other novels which take place so soon after the peace: Berlin is literally lying in ruins, and the Allies are only just organizing their occupation. It’s depressing, but more depressing is the fact that such savagery could rise in Germany, the land of “poets, thinkers, and storytellers”: barbarism from civilization.  The novel was best when Jacob grappled with these questions, as he did throughout. The bulk of the novel is its mystery, which turns the novel into an action-thriller by the end, but it grew so complicated that I lost interest.  The plot of a novel is almost like a musical piece: there are various elements at work — some subtle, some obvious — and pacing is critical. As the plot grows, the number of elements at play multiplies, and a good thriller may read like a jazz piece sounds — intense, active, exciting.  The Good German was so over-busy, though, that it seemed like noise by the time I was finished. I would still recommend it for the reflective aspects, however.

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The Union Club Mysteries

The Union Club Mysteries
© 1987 Isaac Asimov
210 pages

Evening falls in New York City, and inside the aristocratic Union Club, four gentlemen sit ensconced in their usual chairs in the club library. Three talk softly among themselves while a fourth — an older gentleman with a white, puffy mustache — seems to doze. But their conversation makes a turn that interests his still-awake ears, his somnolent mind springs to life, and he takes a sip of his scotch and soda. Griswold has awoken, and that last bit of conversation reminds him of a story…

So begin thirty evenings inside the Union Club, wherein Griswold — formerly in the employ of a shadowy government Department which gave him plentiful opportunities to solve domestic mysteries and international espionage plots — regales or abuses his dining comrades with a mystery from his life, a story which he expects them to solve by the end.  If they do not — and they never do — he faithfully explains the solution.  Although the setting seems similar to the Black Widowers — a stag club who meet once a month for conversation and drinks — Griswold’s tales are much shorter, and the appeal of the stories is different. While Black Widowers stories feature the gentlemen discussing literature, science, history, art, and the like in order to find a solution to a given mystery, here the burden is laid entirely upon the reader, and the solution is often more subjective than in a Widower’s story. It’s a bit like working a crossword puzzle in that in reading, you must try to think like Asimov, to find some odd angle at which to hang the plot.   The solution’s clue is usually obvious, but the trick is  matching Asimov in thinking of why that clue is relevant.

I enjoy little puzzlers like these, and have reading a tale or two at lunch every day since I received the book in the mail. Although the stories aren’t nearly as entertaining as the Black Widowers tales, I enjoyed most of the mysteries and even solved a fair few of them. There were a few groaners, but on the whole I’d recommend this to short-mystery or Asimov readers.

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The Reformation

The Reformation: A history of European civilization from Wyclif to Calvin: 1300-1564
© 1957 Will Durant
1025 pages

Although titled as a work of religious history, The Reformation is almost more a continuation of The Age of Faith in covering the final two hundred years of the medieval epoch not just in Europe, but in the Islamic and Turkish worlds as well. For Europe, these are centuries of transition: philosophy and humanism have been gaining in strength, and the old feudal kingdoms are becoming increasingly powerful states with masters who resent the power of the Bishop of Rome over their mutual subjects’ lives.  The economic revival is well on its way: captialism has already triumphed over feudalism. Soon will come the Enlightenment, the Industrial Revolution, and the dawn of modernity…but first, the tree of liberty shall be fed with the blood of saints and heretics, and the manure of brain-droppings from such personalities as Luther and Calvin.

I have never liked Luther, and I regard Calvin with even cooler regard:  their ideas of predestination are miserable, and their Sola Scriptura doctrine has been a heavy fetter upon the necks of European civilization, keeping backs bent in worship of a book that was written, translated, compiled, and published by men of diverse and sometimes objectionable agendas. Though I will admit the Judeo-Christian literature has some wonderful verses in it, there are also a great many horrific ones, ones that deserve to be cast into the dustbin of history.  I regard with contempt many arrogant and sadistic claims made by people using this book as their source.  Still, I have given these ‘gentlemen’ a token of gruding respect in that they slew a great tyrant and made it easier for individuals to free themselves. They reduced the power of the Roman church and made religion a local affair:  someone could flee John Calvin’s psychotic dictatorship in Geneva as easily as going to another Swiss canton — but before the Reformation, a man condemned by one priest was condemned by all of Europe.  However, my reading of The Age of Faith, The Renaissance, and The Reformation has made this view a bit harder to hold. In Durant’s history,  I have seen the Church consistently pale in influence compared to the rise of absolutist monarchies, powerful economic forces, and intellectual tides that would lead to the Enlightenment. Its continuing moral corruption and game tolerance of humanism made it increasing irrelevant. But then came Luther and Calvin, re-energizing the populace of Europe about religion, and with them the despicable monsters of Puritanism and biblical literalism.

This is a great book in scope, spanning virtually aspect of civilized life: politics, economics, everyday living, religion, music, art, literature, and architecture. Religion is a consistent thread throughout the text, but as I read this seemed to me a book driven by powerful personalities — Leo X of Rome, Francis I of France, Henry VIII of England, and most of all, Charles V of the Holy Roman Empire.  If you ever need to consider Charles V’s place in history, look no further than this, The Reformation.  Charles’ conflicts with Francis and the Roman church essentially create the world of the Reformation — a world in which Luther was protected by German princes, and his religion used to spark a nationalistic fire in Germany that would allow the Empire to exist completely free of Roman influence — a feat more easily accomplished by the fact that Germany was never completely conquered by the Roman empire, never Latinized. Teutonic culture never fell before Rome, and Luther gave it a chance to reassert itself and assert its own completely temporal mastery of Europe.  The Holy Roman Empire’s far-reaching politics appear in almost every chapter of the book. What led to the separation of the Church of England from Rome? Not doctrine — not Luther, not Calvin — but politics. Henry’s needs of state led him to seek an annulment of his marriage from Katherine of Aragon — an aunt of Charles. The Pope may have well given that annulment, but at the time he happened to be a prisoner of Charles.  Charles isn’t going to let the Pope allow his aunt to be divorced, and so Henry  simply  has to go around the pope’s authority. Throughout the tome, religion and politics prove to be fiercely intertwined creatures.  Using this book as a source, I might well write a paper on the thesis: no Charles V, no Reformation.

This is a  thoroughly impressive history which is ended perfectly by Durant’s epilogue, where he assumes the voices of three persons — a Catholic, a Protestant, and a humanist — arguing with one another over the virtues and failings of the Reformation.

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Walking with Dinosaurs

Walking with Dinosaurs: A Natural History
© 1999 Tim Haines
288 pages

A dull pre-dawn light spreads across the horizon, illuminating a landscape covered in forest. Rivers trace silvery lines through the dense vegetation, and along their banks icy puddles are melting. It is the beginning of spring at the South Pole.

Take a trip into another world, a world perfectly alien yet somehow familiar — a world like Earth, but without ice caps, with a surface covered by massive ferns and an endless variety of strangely beautiful and terrifying creatures, the dinosaurs. For 160 million years these great beasts were the dominant species, as ubiquitous as we mammals are today — but 65 million years ago, their time on Earth came to a terrifying end. Tim Haines walks us through their lives, from the appearance of the first small dinos (220 MYA) to their end. As they rose to rule, the Earth changed beneath their feet, Pangaea giving way to the familiar arrangements of continents we know today. The result is a fascinating and visually stunning work reminiscent of David Attenborough’s The Lives of series.

After a short introduction in which Haines makes general observations about dinosaur evolution and the problems inherent in attempting to piece together their behavior, our tour of the past is divided into six sections, spanning from the Triassic (dawn of the dinosaurs) to the late Cretaceous, which is home to familiar beasties like the Tyrannosaurus Rex and the Triceratops.  In between, nearly every species of dinosaur familiar to pop culture is mentioned, with the odd exception of velocioraptors, who became so popular after the release of Jurassic Park. Each setting focuses on a local ecosystem, and begins by introducing the climate and our players. We then follow the various species of dinosaurs through a year, season , or even an entire lifecycle.

Most of the text is presented as a documentary — based partly in fact, partly in inference, and partly on reasonable guesses. The author mentions that one species of flying dinosaurs spent most of its life riding on the backs of a larger species: in the introduction, he points out that this is completely speculative, as barring time-travel it’s not as though we could witness such an event, nor are fossil records likely to comment on interspecies relations. Set off in large blocks throughout the chapters are sections which are strictly scientific, explaining the contributions of a particular geological formation, or commenting on the evolution of birds. Visually, Walking with Dinosaurs is stunning — a marvel. The quality is astounding for a work done in 1999: the pictures look like photographs, and the creatures aren’t merely flat inserts in a background. Somehow they have been modeled in such a way as to appear real, as though they were looking the reader in the eye  as he gazes in wonder at their size, their form, their coloration — such savage power and grace!  Haines and the visual artists have truly made the world of the Mesozoic come alive with incredible detail, and I’d recommend this easily to anyone interested in dinosaurs — especially readers who have children.

Related:
New dinosaurs label (retroactively applied to Dinosaur Lives by Jack Horner, as well as Michael Crichton’s two novels.)

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This Week at the Library (28 January)

This past week has mostly been about The Reformation, which I am 2/3rds of the way through. It started out strong (The Age of Faith, part 2), but boy — hundreds of pages about fanatics screaming at and killing each other gets tiresome quickly. Happily I’m now in jolly old England, where Henry VIII’s third wife has just died in child birth and he’s looking for lucky number four.

I’m also an asteroid’s throw from finishing off Walking with Dinosaurs. We’re in the Cretaceous. 
Today at the library, I picked up…
  • The Odyssey, translated by E.V. Rieu and illustrated by John Flaxman. I read The Illiad a few weeks back, so this seemed appropriate. It’s sort of low priority, though, because I’ve got The Reformation to finish.
  • Christianity: the First Three Thousand Years, Diarmaid MacCulloch. This is a Really Big Book that I have no business picking up while I’m busy with The Reformation, but I keep wanting to read it and so I decided to bring it home with me today.
  • Sharpe’s Fury, Bernard Cornwell.  Obviously I’ll be wanting some leisure reading at some point, if only to get relief from the constant murderous frenzy of the Reformation.
  • annnnnd The Good German, by Joseph Kanon, because Germany’s national day is coming up soonish and I want to do some appropriate reading. I meant to do some German-related reading last year, but forgot the date I was looking for. I didn’t want to read a book about World War 2, but hang me if almost every book in my library isn’t about the Nazis or the Holocaust or some other similar subject. I have a little book on the German Empire I could read, I suppose, but in the end I decided to look for a novel set in Germany and found this, the story of an American journalist who looks for his old German sweetheart in postwar Berlin.  Next year I’ll use the internet to look for some better German reading — something set in the Weimar years, say. 
I also have three books in the post, though none of them are from my ‘books of interest’ list. I won one in a contest, and the other two are a couple of rare Asimov paperbacks that surfaced on eBay and Amazon while I was fishing for copies of The Roman Republic and The Roman Empire.  One of them is a collection of mysteries which I am quite looking forward to.
And to end, a quotation.

For hundreds of years, he pointed out, men had debated free will, predestination, heaven and hell, Christ and the Trinity, and other difficult matters; no agreement had been reached; probably none would ever be reached. But none is necessary, said Castellio; such disputes do not make men better; all that we need is to carry the spirit of Christ into our daily lives, to feed the poor, help the sick, and love even our enemies. It seemed to him ridiculous that all the new sects, as well as the old Church, should pretend to absolute truth and make their creeds obligatory on those over whom they had physical power; as a result a man would be orthodox in one city, and become a heretic by entering another; he would have to change his religion, like his money, at each frontier. Can we imagine Christ ordering a man to be burned alive for ordering adult baptism? […] What a tragedy (he concluded) that those who had so lately freed themselves from the terrible Inquisition should so soon imitate its tyranny, should so soon force men back into Cimmerian darkness after so promising a dawn! 

p. 486, The Reformation. Will Durant. 
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Discourses and Enchiridon

Discourses and Enchiridon, Epictetus
© 1967, translated W.A. Oldfather

Stoicism might be introduced to the lay reader as Buddhism for the west. Students of Stoicism often take inspiration from Buddhist philosophy, given the common emphasis on mindfulness and freedom from desire. The original teachings of Stoicism have been lost to history, but modern students may rely on the works of its later students — particularly, Roman authors like Marcus Aurelius, Seneca, Musonius Rufus, and Epictetus.  Aurelius and Epictetus are our greatest sources for Stoic thought, but despite the fact that I’ve been a student of Stoicism since 2008, I’ve never given his works a proper reading beyond Sharon Lebell’s interpretation of his Handbook (Enchiridon), The Art of Living.

The Discourses are more substantial than the Meditations of Aurelius or Lebell’s handbook: while those two are collections of short aphorisms, sayings, and thoughts,  the Discourses consist of lectures and dialogues collected one of his students. In addition to lecturing on detachment, self-discipline, and the pursuit of virtue, Epictetus also works through basic logic with his students. Someone completely new to Stoicism might be better off reading William Irvine’s A Guide to the Good Life, which introduces the philosophy to modern audiences, but it’s still accessible to newcomers. Epictetus’ central idea is that there’s essentially two types of things in life: that which we control, and that which we can’t. We can’t control what happens (either around us or to us), or what other people do — but we can control our reaction, and  this is the important matter. To the Stoics, the only good is virtue: it is its own reward as well as its own mandate, meaning that virtuous behavior is wise behavior and wise behavior recommends itself.  Epictetus’ emphasis on detachment is notable: for him, the body is literally just a vessel which his spirit is being carried around in, and it matters not to him whether that vessel is broken or burned. It gives him self-assurance in the face of threats of physical violence. He is very much the teacher, constantly advising his students to train their will, and often making allusions to physical training. In this translation Epictetus comes off as a sarcastic old cuss with a no-nonsense attitude who emphasizes the importance of putting philosophy into practice, not just studying it.

Epictetus’ voice has been a sobering source of strength in the past few weeks as I read through it, and I recommend this collection to students of philosophy.

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Marcus Aurelius

Marcus Aurelius: A Life
© 2009 Frank McLynn
684 pages

Few figures in history can compare to Marcus Aurelius, and fewer still favorably.  Adopted into the royal family, this last of the Five Good Emperors has sat in silent judgment of politicians for over fifteen hundred years, his life a standing reproach to their selfishness and indulgence. In the opinion of biographer Frank McLynn, he remains the greatest of Rome’s leaders despite the limitations of his reign. In Marcus Aurelius: A life, McLynn examines the life of this dour philosopher-king as it played out in the late second century — a time of great wars, famine, and pestilence that demanded a leader of a great character. Such was Aurelius.

This biography is outstanding for its thoroughness, examining the full context of Aurelius’ life.  The story of the Roman emperor is the story of Rome, and this biography could serve just as well to educate someone on the late 2nd-century Empire as it would on the emperor himself. McLynn offers lengthy treatments of Rome’s economic status and deterioration, its history of relations with the German tribes and reviving Parthian empire, and of course an exploration of Stoicism, where McLynn compares Aurelius’ influences and contributions as a philosopher. After the death of the emperor, the focus shifts to his enduring legacy — to the black mark on his record left by allowing his wretched son Commodus to succeed to the throne, to the literary influences of the Meditations throughout the centuries.

McLynn is both sympathetic and critical of his subject. While not a fan of Stoicism — he criticizes its emphasis on detachment even from family members as inhuman — McLynn  clearly admires the standards the emperor set for himself as a leader and a man. He has a somber respect for Aurelius, who seems like something of a tragic, but great figure: an Atlas who takes the burden of the world on his shoulders, even though he’d rather be reading, but never complains about it. Aurelius is the model of composure and self-discipline, always counseling himself to take the failures of others in stride, but pushing himself to grow beyond his own.

If you are interested in Aurelius, I heartily recommend this book — especially notable for its context — but  a five-part lecture on him that is available on YouTube.  I have them arranged in a playlist you should be able to access here. If not, the first video is here.

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